Healing Hearts Page 24

  Mother nodded slowly. “They love her, which means they would not only want to help her but would believe you, Gideon, if you explained her situation and her need for their help.”

  “It would be best if they hear it from you first and not from Mr. Bricks or Dr. Blackburn,” Father said. “That man could convince a mother to turn on her child.”

  “Or a father on his,” Mother pointed out.

  “I need to make certain Miriam is comfortable with this plan,” Gideon said. “She should get to decide what people know of her private concerns and how and when they find out. It is a courtesy she has been denied too many times.”

  “There are far too many people in this world who would not be nearly so considerate,” Mother said. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you are not one of those.”

  It was a rare moment of feeling something like pride from his mother. Gideon wasn’t entirely certain how to respond.

  “Is Miriam still resting?” Father asked.

  He nodded. “She seemed extremely worn down yesterday when she left. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to hear she was feeling poorly.”

  As if to contradict his declaration, footsteps sounded from the entryway. It seemed Miriam was awake after all. Perhaps she would let him hold her, comfort her, and, by so doing, he could regain some measure of peace himself.

  It was not, however, Miriam who stepped into the parlor. It was Tansy.

  “I’ve a cow that’s sick,” she said in her usual abrupt way. “Seems to have a touch of that hoofrot you found in another one last year.”

  “Are you certain it’s rot?”

  “Can’t say for sure. I ain’t a doctor.” Tansy eyed Mother and Father, then said, “I’ve left a jar of moonshine on your porch as payment.”

  She always did that: paying him before he rendered services. Life had taught her not to trust people, so putting him in her debt was her way of making certain he didn’t brush her aside. He also knew better than to insist he was still in her debt for all she’d done to see the town through the scarlet fever outbreak. Tansy was both proud and prickly. If she declared that doctoring her cow warranted a jar of sweet tea, then it did.

  He nodded. “I’ll come have a look. It might not be until tomorrow, though.”

  “When you can, but don’t drag your feet.” Tansy spun back around and left.

  Mother had moved to Gideon’s desk and began writing on a sheet of paper. “Besides the preacher and the town council, who else ought we to have over to make this appeal and explanation? Assuming, of course, Miriam agrees.”

  Gideon returned his mind to the issue at hand. “Mrs. Wilhite and Mrs. Carol. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. Mr. and Mrs. Clark. They have all grown very close to her. They will wish to help.”

  “Gideon?” Father’s tone was calm, but something in it instantly set Gideon on alert.

  Father motioned to the parlor doorway, where Rupert stood, barefoot, bareheaded, eyes filled with worry.

  Gideon knelt in front of the boy. “Is something the matter?”

  “I forgot.” Tears threatened beneath the surface of his words. He held up Miriam’s sketchbook.

  “Where did you get this?” Gideon had never known Miriam to let it out of her possession.

  “I forgot. She said I could make a picture for my ma, but that I should give it to you when I was done. I forgot.”

  That made no sense. Not the bit about letting him draw a picture—she’d done that before—but instructing Rupert to give the book to him. She guarded it very closely. It was important to her, invaluable.

  “Are you certain she wanted you to give it to me?”

  He nodded. “She said that she wanted you to see what was in it, or that you would want to see it. Something like that. I should have given it to you when I finished my drawing, but I forgot. I’m sorry, Doc.”

  The poor boy looked so disappointed in himself. Gideon pulled him into a hug. “I’m not upset with you. And I know Miss Bricks isn’t either.”

  “She was sad when she gave me the book yesterday.”

  Yesterday? Rupert might have forgotten about the book for an entire day, but Miriam wouldn’t have. Something wasn’t right.

  He offered Rupert a smile. “Go back on upstairs and rest. If you do, you can go home that much faster.”

  “You’ll give Miss Bricks her book?”

  “I promise,” he said.

  Father stepped up beside them. “I’ll walk Rupert back to his room. I want to hear more about the chicken he told me of a few days ago.”

  “Her name is Annabelle,” Rupert said. “Mr. Clark says she’s the prettiest chicken in the world.”

  Father scooped Rupert into his arms and carried him up the stairs.

  Gideon stood, holding tight to Miriam’s sketchbook. He had a terrible feeling, one he couldn’t shake.

  For a moment, he stood outside the door to the recovery room, willing himself to knock. He couldn’t convince himself his suspicions were wrong. She wouldn’t have left her sketchbook for him if nothing was amiss.

  He rapped his knuckles against the door. “Miriam?”

  There was no answer.

  He tried again. “Miriam?” Then again, more urgently. “Miriam.”

  Please answer. But he knew she wasn’t going to.

  “Mother,” he called back to the parlor.

  A moment later, she stepped into the entryway, a look of inquiry on her face.

  “Miriam isn’t answering, and it would feel less like an invasion of her privacy if you checked rather than me.”

  She switched places with him. “I’m opening the door, Miriam,” she said as she turned the handle. She inched the door open. After a quick look around the small room, she turned back to Gideon. “She’s not here.”

  He stepped past her and into the room. Empty. The bed was pristinely made, everything in perfect order.

  “I thought you said she was sleeping,” Mother said.

  “She said she was.” Where are you, Miriam? “It’s possible she went back to the hotel, hoping to get more rest than she would here.”

  “With her father and Dr. Blackburn staying there?” Mother asked doubtfully.

  Gideon knew it was far-fetched, but he didn’t have any other explanation. He made the very short walk faster than he ever had before.

  “Has Miss Bricks been here lately?” he asked Mr. Cooper once he reached the desk of the hotel.

  “I haven’t seen her here in weeks—other than the supper your family had here two nights ago.”

  Still, it wasn’t a guarantee she hadn’t been by. “I’m going to knock at her door.”

  Mr. Cooper’s expression grew concerned. “Is she ill? In some kind of trouble?”

  “Stars, I hope not,” he muttered.

  “I’ll go with you,” Mr. Cooper said. “If she’s in need of anything, I want to help.”

  “Have Dr. Blackburn or Mr. Bricks been here the last twenty-four hours?” Gideon asked as they climbed the stairs.

  “They had breakfast in the restaurant this morning.”

  “Did they talk about Miriam?”

  Mr. Cooper thought a moment. “Yes. They said the epidemic was all but over and she wouldn’t be staying at your house for more than a couple days longer.”

  Which meant, as of breakfast this morning, she wasn’t with them.

  When Mr. Cooper knocked at the door of her room, it slipped open. The bed was neatly made, the room left in perfect order, just like the recovery room. Her traveling trunk sat in the corner. Surely she would not have left without her belongings.

  Except, if she was on the run, she would be on foot. A trunk that large would be too cumbersome to carry. He opened the armoire doors. Empty. Her carpetbag was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t spot it in any drawers, on top or underneath any furniture.
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  Mr. Cooper counted out the money on the bureau. “It’s exactly what she owes for the room.”

  She’d paid her bill in its entirety and packed essentials. She really was gone.

  “Is she in trouble?” Mr. Cooper asked again.

  “I’m afraid she might be.” He needed to think, decide what to do next. “Can I rely on your discretion?”

  Mr. Cooper agreed without hesitation.

  “Thank you.” Gideon left as quickly as he’d come. He tamped down his growing panic.

  He needed to talk to Cade and Paisley. Miriam must have been desperate to run like this. She had nowhere to go, no means of supporting herself that wouldn’t give away her identity.

  The fight they were waging against Blackburn and Miriam’s father and the law itself was an uphill climb on its own. This new complication was more than merely that. He was genuinely terrified for her.

  There was a reason the women of the West needed their own deputy marshal looking out for them. The wild, untamed world around them was anything but kind and gentle. And it was never forgiving.

  The shed at the edge of the Faulkners’ pasture was empty, as were all the sheds and shacks and abandoned homes and outcroppings Gideon and Cade had searched. And, just as the others, this location didn’t show any signs of recent use.

  Gideon kicked at the wall. His worry for Miriam alternated between panic and anger. “Where is she?”

  “I’d wager either Pais or Andrew have come across her walking the road. She likely wants to put as much space between her and the town as possible.”

  It was sensible and logical, but Gideon felt in his gut it wasn’t accurate. She must have realized she would have been discovered missing by now and that they would go looking for her. She would be more likely to hide this first day or two so she wouldn’t be found. She likely thought that was all it would take for him to give up on her.

  “I don’t know where else to look.” He hoped Cade wasn’t equally bereft of ideas.

  “We can’t check everything; there are too many places she could be hiding.”

  “You aren’t helping,” Gideon muttered.

  Cade pulled himself up into the saddle. “She’s bright, Gid, no matter the foolhardiness of her plan. I’d wager she’s found shelter and something to eat. She’s likely as safe as she can be.”

  Gideon climbed into his saddle as well. “We need to find her before she moves on, or we never will.”

  Cade nudged his horse forward. Gideon followed suit. They moved at a quick clip, both scanning the area as they went, looking for some kind of clue. Miriam was somewhere nearby. She had to be.

  Yet they reached Savage Wells without any sign of her. They tied their reins to the hitching post in front of Gideon’s house, then made their way onto the front porch and through the door. Voices sounded inside.

  “Seems you’re to do a bit of doctoring,” Cade said.

  Terrible timing. But no one in his parlor—and there were a number of people—looked injured or ill. Paisley stood near his desk. She waved him over.

  He passed the Clarks, the Fletchers, Mrs. Wilhite and Mrs. Carol, the Endecotts, Mr. Cooper, and Miss Dunkle. It was an odd assortment of people.

  “You didn’t find her?” he quietly asked Paisley once he reached her side.

  She shook her head. “We need help, Gideon. We won’t find her alone, and it won’t be long before Blackburn and Bricks realize she’s gone. They’ll go looking for her.”

  Cade nodded. “And if they find her first—”

  “Understood.” Gideon looked out over the crowd. Miriam mattered to these people. They would help; he knew they would.

  “Andrew’s guarding the kitchen door,” Paisley said. “Your father will keep an eye on the front. Rally the troops while you can.”

  Gideon faced the gathering. Concerned, anxious faces looked back at him. He needed their help. Miriam needed their help. And here they were, ready. “Thank you for coming.”

  Mr. Fletcher chimed in. “Paisley said Miss Bricks is in some kind of trouble. You tell us what to do, Doc, and we’ll do it.”

  Though he would have preferred letting Miriam decide what and when to reveal her secrets, he no longer had that luxury.

  “Miriam is ill,” he said. “Not an illness like a fever or a cold, or anything short-term like that. And it isn’t anything catching.”

  The confusion on their faces only grew. He would have to provide more details.

  “On rare occasions, her body experiences unexpected tremors, strong shaking that she cannot control and which doesn’t have an identifiable cause. The episodes do not last long, and, other than rendering her quite tired and temporarily disoriented, they have no lasting consequences.” That was an oversimplification, but he needed Miriam’s allies to know that Blackburn’s portrayal of her condition was wrong. “These tremors cannot be prevented, neither can they be cured—not unlike the coughing fits you are prone to, Mrs. Carol, or the stiffness you experience in your knee now and then, Mr. Clark.”

  “Or like the headaches I have now and then?” Mrs. Fletcher suggested.

  “Yes, exactly.” They were accepting this far easier than he had feared. “As we have all seen, they in no way diminish her ability to be a good nurse or a good neighbor or a good friend.” The nods of agreement he received put the last of his worries to rest. “But there are people who use these bouts of illness to justify hurting her. They are in this town with the intention of forcing her to leave and locking her away.”

  “They’d put her in prison?” Mrs. Clark asked in horror. “Just because she’s ill?”

  Gideon nodded. “And I am afraid the laws of this land allow them to do so.”

  A rush of earnest, adamant voices denounced that revelation.

  “It’s Dr. Blackburn, isn’t it?” Mr. Cooper asked, not bothering with his usual faux-accent. He looked genuinely worried.

  Gideon nodded. “Yes. His arrival here was not the coincidence he made it out to be. He came for her.”

  “But her father is with him,” Mrs. Endecott said. “Surely her own father would stop him.”

  “Blackburn has convinced Mr. Bricks that locking Miriam away is for the best. We are working on convincing him otherwise.”

  The crowd muttered and murmured. Gideon held a hand up for silence.

  “As I said, we have people working tirelessly to try to untangle the legal web connected to this, but I need your help on another aspect of Miriam’s situation.” He took the length of a breath to will himself to talk about her current danger, about his inability to find her. “Her life is in danger. I have every reason to believe that if she is taken away, she will suffer horrifically, perhaps even die. And I firmly suspect she worried as much, if not more, about the consequences that may fall upon those she cares for were she to remain. Considering those two dire difficulties, she did the only thing she felt would secure her safety and ours. She ran.”

  Shocked silence descended on the room. Worry, concern, and surprise filled each face.

  “We don’t know where she is,” he admitted, even as a new surge of worry clawed at his mind. “We can’t find her. Cade, who has more expertise in this kind of thing, believes she is hiding somewhere relatively nearby to avoid the risk of being caught walking the roads.

  “Dr. Blackburn and Mr. Bricks will realize soon enough that she is gone; we cannot prevent that. So I am asking you, please, keep an eye out for her, look for her if you can do so without drawing notice. And, I beg you, if you find her, help her hide. Keep her safe. And, please, find a way to tell me.”

  Mrs. Wilhite rose and crossed to him, giving him a gentle, reassuring hug. Mrs. Carol joined her a moment later.

  “Don’t you worry, Doc,” Mr. Fletcher said. “We’ll look out for her. Not one of us will let anyone hurt her.”

  How he hoped that was a p
romise they were able to keep.

  Chapter 36

  Night was coming on fast. Their search south of town had come up empty. Gideon couldn’t keep still, couldn’t calm his thoughts. What if she’d wandered too far afield and was lost? What if she’d had a seizure and injured herself? Anything might have happened, and no one would ever know.

  And, to add to his worry, Blackburn and Bricks now knew she was gone.

  “What else is being done to recover her?” Dr. Blackburn’s question, on the surface, sounded like concern for Miriam. Gideon didn’t believe it for a moment. “She is ill and without a doctor’s care, yet you are not the least bothered.”

  Cade leaned back in his chair, his booted feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles. “Oh, I’m feeling plenty bothered, I promise you that.”

  “The judge in Laramie is scheduled to arrive in only a few days’ time. You will be required to hand her over to me.”

  Cade set a toothpick between his front teeth. “Can’t do that. I don’t know where she is.”

  “But he does.” Blackburn pointed at Gideon. “Require him to tell you. Force him to. It is your job.”

  Cade rolled the toothpick to one side of his mouth. “Are you telling me how to run my town?”

  Blackburn seemed to understand the tenuous nature of his situation. He pushed away from the desk and paced away.

  Gideon hadn’t left the doorway all evening. Andrew was still out searching, having agreed to ride all the way to the Bentley place—a ninety-minute ride—and back. He was the last hope Gideon had of finding Miriam before nightfall. He hated the thought of her out there, on her own, in the dark.

  “Her father is beside himself,” Dr. Blackburn said. “I don’t know how you intend to explain this to him.”

  “I would love the opportunity to ‘explain this to him,’” Gideon said tightly. “I think he ought to know a little more about you, Blackburn.”

  The façade of care and concern slipped quickly. “How dare you threaten me.”

  “Didn’t sound like a threat to my ears,” Cade tossed out.

  “Mark my words, both of you. She will be returned to where she belongs,” Dr. Blackburn said firmly. “And this time, she will not escape. I will make certain of it.”