Bandit's Hope (39 page)

Cackling, Hade watched him go, the corners of his eyes crinkled with glee. "I hope he don’t fall in and drown. It wouldn’t be near as much fun around here without old Sonny, would it?"

Dodging Hade’s grasping fingers, Nathan slid the last fish on Tiller’s plate. Hade leaned over and snatched it before Tiller could take a bite. "Let’s don’t be greedy, boys."

Leering, he took a deliberate bite then tilted his chin. "So, what do you say, Tiller? Are you ready to ride with us again? We’ve got big plans, and I think you’d fit in real nice." He swiveled to Nathan. "Don’t you think so, Nate?"

Nathan shrugged. "I’m not sure Tiller’s cut out for robbing banks."

Hade licked his fingers then wiped them on his britches. "Sure he is." He pointed. "With that guileless face, he could spin one of his yarns while we emptied the safe. They’d be so caught up in his tale, they wouldn’t notice until we were long gone." He winked. "How about it, Tiller boy? Can we count on you?"

Tiller slowly set his plate aside. "I don’t know, Hade. It’s like Nathan said. I wouldn’t be good at robbing banks."

Hade’s features hardened. "Now you listen up…. I’ve invested years in training you. I don’t take kindly to folks running out on me."

Tiller gnawed the side of his lip. "I’m not running out on anybody. It’s time to split the sheets, that’s all."

Chest heaving, Hade pushed to his feet. "We ain’t splitting nothing but the take, you hear?" He loomed over Tiller with his fists clenched. "You owe me, boy."

His fury raging to the surface, Tiller stood, but Nathan stepped between them. "Settle down, boys. There’s no call to get riled."

Shoving him aside, Hade advanced on Tiller.

Tiller took a step toward him, his hand on his knife.

The frying pan sailed toward them from the brush, spinning across the dirt and landing at their feet.

Wide-eyed, Hade stared dumbly at the greasy skillet. "What the—" He glanced around. "Where’s Sonny?"

A large rock arced from the other side of the camp, landing three feet away and rolling past them. Then another that struck the fire, flipping a burning limb into the air and raising a spiral of glowing embers.

With a shout, Hade spun in a circle as a storm of sticks, stones, and pinecones showered from the sky.

Tiller grinned. A familiar storm.

"It’s come-to-judgment-day, pretty boy," Hade roared. "They’re on us, and it’s your fault."

Down and up so fast Tiller couldn’t react, Hade drew back the skillet and swung. With a shout, Nathan leaped, shoving Tiller out of the way. The heavy pan hit the back of Nate’s head with a sickening thud. He dropped without a whimper.

The clearing erupted with running feet and loud voices just as Hade pulled the pistol at his side. "You’ve been both blessing and curse to me, son. I should’ve cut my losses and let you go."

Tiller braced for a bullet, his soul crying out to God, his heart to Mariah.

Four hundred pounds of mad Indian sailed at Hade, knocking him to the ground. The gun went off, firing harmlessly into the trees.

Uncle Joe strolled up and ground his heel into Hade’s hand until he howled and turned loose of the gun. Justin and Christopher scrambled off Hade’s winded body, standing over him with clenched fists.

Feeling sick, Tiller knelt over Nathan’s prone body. He called his name and heard an anguished echo from behind him in a stranger’s voice. Shading his eyes against the sun, he glanced up.

The man gazing down at Nathan, his face white with concern, stirred distant memories of mud and misty swamps. "Who—"

The familiar stranger went down on one knee and touched Nathan’s back. "Is he alive?"

Tiller stared, afraid to blink. "Wyatt Carter? It can’t be."

Nathan groaned, and Tobias Jones pushed close to see to his wound.

Standing on shaky legs, Tiller gaped in disbelief as Nathan’s long-lost brother hovered by his side. "Where … where’d you come from?"

Against the shouting voices circling Hade and Sonny, a woman’s quiet sobs reached Tiller’s ears. Heart pounding, he spun. "Mariah?"

A tall man with pitch-colored hair held a slight figure against his chest, her long hair the color of a redbird. Clenched fist pressed to her mouth, she wept as one who mourned.

Dazed, Tiller tilted his chin while scenes from another life rushed through his head.

The two moved toward him, enveloped him, and he knew for sure. "Hooper?" Tears blurred his vision. He blinked to see them better. "Ellie, it’s really you?"

Wailing, she wrapped both arms around him and clung with all her might.

Hooper, one hand resting on Ellie’s neck, the other gripping Tiller’s, gazed at him with streaming eyes. "Thank God we finally found you."

"You’ve been looking for me?" He didn’t realize he was crying, too, until he heard his wavering voice.

Hooper nodded. "For most of the last ten years."

Tiller wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "But why?" he whispered.

Ellie lifted her head and smiled sweetly. "Why do you think, silly boy? We’re your family, and we’ve come to take you home."

FORTY-FOUR

M
ariah yanked the pins from her hair, kicked off her shoes, and rolled off her stockings. She longed to climb on Sheki’s bare back, bury her fingers in his mane, and soar along the river until the rushing wind eased her fears.

She settled for a barefoot run through the cool grass in the backyard then over the weedy verge to the distant riverbank. Padding across the warm bank, she relished the swishing sand between her toes. Gathering her skirt, she lowered herself to the ground and swung her legs into the cold water.

The loose soil swirled, disturbed by her toes, and silvery minnows shot in every direction. Mariah held very still. Soon the water cleared and the curious minnows returned to peck at her skin for a taste.

The Pearl had always been a refuge from the shunning she endured from both sides of her bloodline. As a child, she spent hours exploring along the banks, listening to the mockingbird’s song, and watching eagles soar overhead.

Today her haven withheld its comfort. The water felt too cold on her feet, the sun too hot on her head. The water lapping the hem of her chemise wicked clammy moisture to her skin. Leaning back on her arms, she closed her eyes and let the promise of the Lord’s enduring love still the pounding of her heart.

Mother’s influence had endowed her with a strong spirit. How else could a girl of her tender age endure what she had? Yet through those trials, she’d learned the depths of her weakness and her desperate need for God.

"Great Father, bring my love safely home."

The words were barely past her lips when a distant, tinny voice called her name.

Mariah’s head jerked up. Shading her eyes from the water’s glare, she squinted down the meandering ribbon of water. The shimmering outline of approaching riders quickened her pulse. A waving hat and a thatch of orange hair brought her to her feet in a stumbling run.

Tiller spurred Sheki to a gallop and raced to meet her. They reached her fast, and Tiller leaped from the saddle before Sheki came to a full stop.

His arms and shoulders cloaked her, his fingers tangled in her hair. He held her so near she felt a part of him, his racing heartbeat pounding in her ears. Pulling her head back, he kissed her, smoothing damp strands of hair from her face with gentle hands.

Lifting his head, he breathed a shaky laugh. "Does this mean you don’t despise me?"

Too overcome to speak, she nodded helplessly.

He frowned and shook his head. "You’re letting me off too easy. I lied to you. To all of you."

"You didn’t lie. You withheld the truth. I’m guilty of the same."

He furrowed his brow but continued. "It’s my fault Otis got hurt."

She lowered her lashes. "I hurt Miss Vee."

"I hid things from you about my past."

"I hid worse things from you."

Tiller held her at arm’s length. "Why does my apology sound like yours instead? Maybe you’d better tell me what’s going on."

Clinging to his hands for courage, Mariah confessed the ugly story of Mother’s deathbed promise. She didn’t spare herself any sordid detail, from rolling her poor father’s body into an unmarked grave, to tricking simpleminded Gabe, to deeming Tiller an unfit prospect to marry.

She ended with how she’d deliberately deceived poor Miss Vee, robbing her of grieving for her lost love.

Listening quietly, Tiller didn’t interrupt, though he blinked a few times in disbelief. Before he could respond, Uncle Joe rode up with his family. Tiller stepped away from her and beamed up at Hooper, Wyatt, and Ellie.

These people, strangers before now, held the power to put such joy on Tiller’s face? To bring a peace and rest of soul she’d never seen in his eyes before?

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a surge of jealousy. What would Tiller choose? Would he stay with her at the inn or return with them to North Carolina? Might he possibly ask her to go with him, and could she make the heartrending choice?

Hooper shoved back his hat. "When you’re done here, we need to wash up and meet around the table. We still have a lot to talk about."

Tiller placed his arm around Mariah’s shoulders. "We’ll be up in a minute." He raised his face to Uncle Joe. "If that’s all right with you, sir."

Uncle Joe smiled and nodded, and the four of them rode toward the barn.

Turning Mariah to face him, Tiller’s lively green eyes darted over her face. "Everything we’ve done will right itself with God’s help and time to heal, on one condition."

She drew back. "And that is?"

"If you agree to marry me because you love me, not just to save the inn."

This time Mariah grinned. "You doubt my feelings after that kiss?"

Tiller chuckled and pulled her close. "Maybe we’d best have seconds and find out for sure." Before their lips met, he released her and plunged his hand in his pocket. "First, I have something for you."

He came up with the cloth bag that held her coins and dropped it into her hand. "I never meant to leave you, Mariah. Going with Hade was the only way to get this back."

Mariah touched his cheek. "I had assurance of that truth from a couple of witnesses."

He frowned his confusion, and she laughed. "Otis for one. My heart for another."

Recalling Hade Betts’s lifeless eyes, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. "What happened out there, Tiller? Won’t those men come riding back for you?" She shook the coins. "For this?"

"Not for triple the amount." His eyes glowed with mischief. "In fact, they’ll cross the street when they see me coming."

She gasped and covered her mouth. "No they didn’t!"

He chuckled. "I’ve never seen two men so scared."

Her brow rose. "Two men?"

The teasing left his voice. "Nathan Carter’s hurt. We brought him as far as Tobias’s house. They’re treating him there."

She touched his face. "Your family explained about Nathan. Is he hurt badly?"

Tiller caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. "We don’t know yet." Pain shone from his eyes. "Nathan jumped between me and Hade, Mariah. He got hurt trying to save me. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it."

Holding hands, they led Sheki to the barn. While Tiller saw to the horse’s food and water, Mariah brushed his coat to a glossy sheen with loving hands, stopping often to smooth his neck and nuzzle his silky face.

"Mariah?"

She glanced at Tiller over Sheki’s back. "Yes?"

"I know you could tend this old feedbag all night, but I’m so hungry his oats are starting to look tasty."

"All right," she said, focused on Sheki’s grooming. "Just one more minute."

Tiller ducked beneath the horse’s neck and caught her hand. "If I prance and whinny and let you throw a saddle on my back, will you come inside and feed me?"

Laughing, Mariah hung up the brush and traced the faint sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "Granted, you bear the markings of a fine Indian pony, and you do share Sheki’s love for food." She patted his cheek. "We’ll forgo the prance and whinny and do without the saddle, but you may carry me if you’d like."

With a growl, he swept her off her feet and whirled her out of the barn. Staring into her eyes, he carried her to the house.

Stopping by the pump to wash up first, they hurried onto the porch. At the threshold, she paused to search his face. There were still many questions, and she’d put them off for as long as she could. Mariah sensed the answers, good or bad, waited beyond her kitchen door.

Tiller turned the knob and led her inside.

The back door opened to the sound of laughter and the smells of home. Never so glad to be in a place in his life, Tiller hung up his hat and ambled into the dining room.

His usual place next to Joe sat empty, as if in welcome. He swung into the chair and smiled at Hooper, Ellie, and Wyatt, shaking his head at the miracle of breaking bread with family.

Mariah and Dicey bustled in to ladle stew. Parading in and out from the kitchen, they passed bowls filled with seasoned green beans, buttered squash, sliced tomatoes, onions, and bread, the bounty from their shopping trip to Canton.