Redeeming Lies Read online

  Although the man did not change that expression of careful scrutiny, he did grant her a warm smile and a polite bow. She perceived in the distinct twinkle of his eye that the man might be a bit of a rascal.

  The doctor answered, "I do believe they would be agreeable." Turning his attention back to David, he added, "I trust that your trip was uneventful, other than being called to assist this lovely young woman in distress."

  From that quick glance in Maddie's direction, she detected a moment of hesitation before he answered. Odd he should choose not to mention the man’s death—her father’s death. She assumed he thought the experience on the Shoshone train platform might be too much to share with a woman already in distress. It seemed in his character to be so considerate.

  "It was. . .it was enlightening to observe the change in terrain. I also had a chance to complete a story by Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. As you know very well, time for such luxuries is rarely granted in our profession." He laughed lightly. She rather liked the sound of it.

  "I agree, Dr. Reynolds. I, too, have a book selected for the long train trip back to Boston. It would be a delight and rare experience to complete it." He clapped a large hand on David's shoulder and with his other pointed the way. "Let's get you both settled. I've arranged for a wagon to deliver your crates to my office tomorrow, if that's all right with you, Dr. Reynolds."

  With his hand still holding Maddie's elbow, Dr. Reynolds gently guided her in Dr. Thornton's wake. Thornton retrieved two of Dr. Reynolds’ bags, hefting both with little difficulty before Reynolds protested. In long strides, he led them across the station platform to where waited a handsome buggy drawn by an even more handsome bay horse with delicate features and a luxurious ebony mane and tail. Maddie knew a little about good horse stock and guessed that the gelding had cost the doctor a considerable sum.

  Dr. Thornton's chest inflated. "He's a handsome boy, isn't he? Came to me as a gift for treatment. Our bank manager's young daughter took a nasty fall from a roof. If you can imagine that? There's a story I won't tell right now. But with the help of a pious, praying mother, and a gift of mercy from the Almighty, she recovered to full health. She's still a daredevil, but I think the lass learned at least one lesson."

  He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, admiring the horse for a long moment, then seemed to realize the problem as David and Maddie must have seen it. "Oh! Yes! The buggy is hardly equipped for more than two. Hmm. Well, then...yes." He turned to David, his eyes reflecting amusement at the situation. "You and the young lady take it. I live just a block away. It's a fine night for a walk, and I daresay you can't miss the boarding house. Easy to find on the north side of town, close to the river, only about four blocks away. I believe I gave you the address, yes?"

  Dr. Thornton held Maddie's hand as she navigated the step up. He and David shook hands.

  "You can't miss the house. It stands off from the rest, a three-story, stately yellow house." Dr. Thornton rocked back on his heels and waved them off. As David clucked to the bay, the older doctor called after them, "I'll meet you at the office tomorrow at nine. Tell Evan he can leave the bay at the livery. He knows where it is."

  For a block or more, the two rode in silence, except for the clip clop of the bay’s shoed feet on the hard-packed street. The town appeared to have pulled down the shades and locked its doors for the night. However, Maddie recognized the familiar glow of electric light seeping from the edges of window shades and curtains. Few towns she’d passed through in the past three days boasted of such a modern convenience. Even in the ambient light she discerned that the buildings were well-maintained, many wearing a fresh coat of paint. This, too, was something that distinguished Ketchum from many towns along her route.

  It occurred to Maddie that this was Dr. Reynolds' first glimpse of the town in which he would practice. She peered at him from the corner of her eye. His expression reflected an interest as keen as hers, but for reasons she assumed far more noble than hers. No doubt, the young doctor was considering the needs of his new community and how he might serve them, while she was assessing the ways she might benefit from her prosperous new surroundings. She pulled her gaze from him and felt a shudder of repulsion at her thoughts—so like her father’s would have been.

  Due to some forethought on the part of the early residents, the streets lay in straight lines as though drawn on a grid. As a result, finding the boarding house did not prove to be a problem. The three-story house rose before them at the end of a wide avenue, golden light streaming out from large windows like beacons guiding them to safe harbor.

  As the young doctor pulled up rein on the runabout, the front door opened and a man emerged, large enough to fill the door frame. A woman's laugh following him onto the wide veranda. The woman, tall and slender, stepped out, a graceful figure silhouetted in the opening. Unaware as they were of the visitors, the man pulled the woman into a close embrace.

  Dr. Reynolds cleared his throat louder, breaking the couple's spell. They squinted into the dark.

  The man's sonorous voice called out, "Is that Dr. Reynolds?"

  David answered as he jumped from the carriage, making his way to the porch steps. "That's correct. You must be Mr. Hartmann." He extended his hand as the man sprang down the steps.

  "Yes, sir! But please, call me Evan. Glad you made it. We feared you might have been delayed. The Short Line still hasn’t kept to a dependable schedule." Evan, standing a good head taller than David, glanced over the doctor's shoulder at Maddie. "Oh! You've brought a friend, I see."

  Maddie took in the man and woman, assuming they were married and, most probably, the proprietors of the house. Before David could assist her, Evan offered a hand as she stepped from the carriage.

  "Welcome, miss. Here, let me take your bag."

  Maddie pulled the bag tight to her stomach, gripping it with two hands. "No, thank you." Realizing that the reply may have sounded curt, she softened it with a quick smile. "Really, it's no problem and not at all heavy."

  His face reflected a moment of either bewilderment or bemusement. “As you wish.”

  Once more, David explained her presence. "This is Miss Alexander. We were on the train together from Shoshone. Miss Alexander, this is my host, Mr. Hartmann." The doctor removed his hat, addressing the woman. "You must be Mrs. Hartmann."

  The woman glided down the steps, offering him her hand, a broad smile touching her eyes. "I am indeed, Mrs. Evan Hartmann. Welcome to our home."

  "Thank you. I wanted to inquire if you might have an extra room. Miss Alexander has had a trying few days and finds herself in a position of requiring a room for a short time. Might you be able to oblige her request? I would consider it a personal favor."

  Mrs. Hartmann turned her soft gaze to Maddie. "I'm sorry to hear of your trouble, Miss Alexander. Of course we can provide a room for you." She stretched out her hand to Maddie, the smile growing even wider. "Come! Let's get you settled." When Maddie didn't move, she wiggled her fingers to invite Maddie to take her proffered hand. Maddie hesitated for only a moment before accepting her warm hand.

  With its cheerful yellow wallpaper bedecked with white sprays of roses, the parlor was as welcoming as the wide front porch with its rocking chair and swing. It appeared a room decorated for everyday use and not just rare occasions or for impressing guests. Two cozy overstuffed chairs flanked the sides of a brick fireplace that even at this late hour glowed with embers. Another wider divan faced the fire.

  Maddie wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Hartmann might not have been sitting there just before their arrival, perhaps with their arms around each other as she'd seen them do earlier on the porch. She glanced over her shoulder to see Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Hartmann squeezing through the doorway with the doctor's luggage.

  Mrs. Hartmann directed them to the stairs. "We've put you on the second floor next to the Longs. You'll meet them tomorrow. If you aren't too tired, Dr. Reynolds, I kept a pot of tea warm for your arrival. Come down for a while if you are inclined. We'd love
to have an opportunity to share some conversation and news of the territory."

  Evan chimed in as he climbed the stairs behind David. "That means Lena has a generous slice of apple crumble waiting for you, too, if I don't miss my guess."

  The delicious aroma drifting from somewhere at the back of the house verified Evan's statement. Despite the sandwich she'd recently consumed, her mouth watered. She stared into the fire for a while, drawn to the warmth. For the first time since her father had withdrawn her from the boarding school, she felt inexplicably safe.

  "You must be so exhausted, my dear." Mrs. Hartmann touched her shoulder. Maddie startled, pulling back.

  "Yes, I am, actually. Thank you for opening a room. I'm sure it won't be for more than a few days."

  "I asked Evan to move a few things out of the third-floor room. We've been using it for storage."

  "Oh, I'm sorry to be a trouble." Maddie experienced a sudden weakness in her knees. The chair by the fire beckoned her.

  "It's no trouble. I've been after him to move those things to the attic. And it's a lovely room, a little small, but quite cozy."

  The woman, like Dr. Reynolds, stood eye-to-eye with her. Most of her acquaintances were a full three to five inches shorter. For some unexplainable reason, she found it disquieting, taking from her an advantage she’d counted upon.

  "Why don't we step into the kitchen where I can offer you a cup of chamomile tea. You look as though you could use some."

  The woman seemed inclined to reach out to her. Maddie at once relaxed in the woman’s calm presence. In the next moment, she stiffened. This was not a time for womanly confidences shared over a cup of tea. "What I think I would prefer, if you don’t mind, would be to retire to a warm bed for the night." She managed a thin smile. “It’s been a very long day."

  "Of course! How thoughtless of me! Come! We'll see about the room right away."

  She led the way up a wide staircase to the third floor where two doors opened on either side of the landing. A smaller door that might have led to the attic stood between the two. Mrs. Hartmann opened the door to the right. "The room across from yours is for storage. I hope to use it for guests one day, but we have some furniture shuffling to do before I can offer it for boarders. Come!" She stepped aside, allowing Maddie entrance to the bedroom.

  It was as she described—small but cozy. Although the shared room at school was bigger, it was cold and austere. This room emanated warmth. Yellow was surely the woman's favorite color. Like the downstairs entry and parlor, the walls were painted the color of pale summer sunlight. A braided rug beside the bed woven in shades of ochre and light green gave Maddie the impression of a spring meadow. Tucked beneath one dormer window, a bed was spread with a bright log cabin quilt assembled from fabrics of all the glorious colors of summer, dominated by oranges, pinks, and purples. In a moment of weary delight, Maddie imagined that sleeping here would be like lying down in a carpet of wildflowers. The tension gripping her shoulders relaxed a little.

  Maddie met Mrs. Hartmann's searching eyes. She mumbled, "Thank you. This will be very nice." They were not the words she wanted to say, words that bubbled up within her, words that would better express gratitude for the unexpected kindness of this stranger.

  "I'm pleased that you approve." Mrs. Hartmann drew the lace curtains closed, then pulled a set of white towels from the dresser drawer and lay them on the bed. Maddie remained in the middle of the room and watched her as she picked up the pitcher from the washstand. The woman waited for a moment in the doorway before saying, "I'll bring some warm water. You can at least wash your face and hands. Tomorrow we will draw a bath for you if you like."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Hartmann, that would be most thoughtful." Maddie wondered how she must look before this elegant woman; her appearance, altered as it was, must make her appear nearly impoverished. "I want you to know I can pay for the room." The bag in her arms suddenly felt leaden.

  "Of course, you can, dear. Even if you could not, I wouldn't turn you away." The smile that had welcomed her returned, deepening the thin lines marking the corners of the woman's mouth. "Night is not the time for such talk of plans best made in bright sun. Settle in now as you will. I'll have Evan take this clutter across the hall tomorrow." She indicated with a tilt of her head the large trunk and two stacked chairs in the far corner of the room. "I'll return in a short while with the pitcher and perhaps that cup of tea as well." Then she was gone, on footsteps as light as a cat.

  Maddie collapsed onto the edge of the bed, the satchel sitting heavy and brooding on her lap. She unfolded her grip from the worn, leather handle, then pushed it to the far end of the bed. Pulling the gloves from her hands, she tossed them aside.

  She surveyed the room, taking in the thoughtful feminine touches she'd missed upon first inspection. The room showed recent modernization. An electrified lamp hung from the ceiling, two graceful, glass rose petal shades providing ample illumination to every corner of the room. To the right of the bed sat a sturdy rocker, looking as though it would have no difficulty holding the portliest guest. To soften its incongruous appearance beside the more delicate features of the room, someone had positioned a pillow exhibiting exquisite, floral-patterned needlework, a profuse bouquet of violets.

  With a groan, she threw herself backward onto the bed. She stretched her arms out on either side. Above her hung the glass rose shades, the details of which caught her attention. This home presented a dichotomy of impressions. The combination, though unusual, created a homey, pleasing atmosphere. She closed her eyes, her fingers tracing the intricate stitching of the quilt beneath her.

  Everything that had happened since seeing her father lying dead on the station platform stood out in sharp contrast to the events that had occurred since arriving in Ketchum. The kindness of the doctor and the unexpected welcome she'd received from these strangers were unexplainable in her confused state of mind. A vague sense of unworthiness began to seep into the corners of her reason.

  She opened her eyes with a start and glanced to the far edge of the bed. The bag was there, all dark leather and slouching handles. She sat up, glaring at it. The satchel was one she'd seen her father carry frequently, a bag made of fine cow skin leather and sturdy brass clasps. As her fingers touched the handle, an image sprang into her mind of her handsome father, elegantly attired. She closed her eyes again. Better to save this image than remember the pinched, blanched face she'd seen earlier today, the nearly vacant eyes of a man transformed by fear and failure. His words returned to memory, louder now, insistent. It will allow you to disappear. Sucking her cheek between her teeth, she fingered the clasp for a moment longer. She took in a long breath before opening the bag.

  When she released her hold on the handle, the satchel fell open a few inches. Something inside, hard with a metallic gleam, caught her eye. The long steel barrel met with a polished wood handle. The sudden metallic taste of blood in her mouth caused her to release her cheek from between her teeth, her mouth agape. Fascination pushed back her first fearful reaction. Her father had never carried a gun before. Never.

  As she pulled the bag open wider her breath caught. The gun rested atop a layer of stacked bills, faces of dead presidents staring back at her. Her hand, which had been steady until that moment, began to tremble. A storm of questions, starting with how and why rose like whirlwinds ripping away the safe walls and roof she had so carefully constructed for herself these past few years at school. The roar created by the carnage of that storm threatened to drown out all other thoughts. A light rap at the door gave her just enough time to snap the clasp closed before Mrs. Hartmann entered the room, a pitcher in her hands.

  "Here you are. I'll just place it on the dresser. Is there anything more I can do for you?"

  "No, thank you, Mrs. Hartmann." Maddie heard her tone, hoping Mrs. Hartmann had not noticed the strangeness of it.

  "My first name is Alena. I do hope you'll be comfortable calling me Lena, as my friends do. I would be so pleased if you woul
d." She hesitated a moment as though expecting something from Maddie. "We'll see you in the morning, then. I hope you sleep well. Goodnight."

  As soon as the door closed, Maddie leaped to her feet, hefting the satchel from the bed. She wrapped her arms around it, her eyes darting about the room. The bed provided the largest hiding area. Scrambling to hands and knees, she shoved the satchel to the far wall, then sat heavily on the floor, her back to the bed and the satchel hidden beneath it.

  Her mind spinning, she hugged her knees to her chest. Words of self-condemnation sat on her tongue, unspoken but burning. She'd become a thief, a liar, a cheat, undeserving of the kindness of these people. All that was due her was their contempt. How could she stay here, taking advantage of these kind people, pretending to be something she was not? A second question, more disturbing than the first, tightened the knot already forming in her stomach. How could she not?

  At the end of all thoughts of herself, her lost plans for a respectable future, her hopes for a normal life, she remembered that she had lost her father today. Although in recent years she had questioned his method of raising a child, his choice of professions, she had rarely doubted his affection for her. As rough and unpredictable as their lives had been, he’d always been there. This truth struck her as if someone had slammed a fist into her chest. The one person who had ever cared for her was gone. As hot tears streamed down her cheeks, she lay down upon the rag rug curled into a tight ball of self-pity.

  When her well of tears ran dry, she pulled herself up, resting her back against the bed. This was not to be. She could do something. Mrs. Emma Willard’s school taught her that, had shown her examples of capable young women who were daily overcoming the odds men had stacked against them. This was the time she’d been born into, a time when her wits could save her as well as any man.

  The satchel under the bed provided the means for her new beginning. When the Pinkertons came looking for her, she’d simply hand it over. With their penchant for investigation, they would surely conclude she’d had nothing to do with her father’s latest scam. Her lungs expelled a pent-up bubble of anxiety.