Kathleen Y'Barbo (20 page)

“Have you ever formed a hypothesis only to stumble onto evidence that refutes your theory?”

“Of course.”

“What did you do?”

What an odd question. “I discarded the theory. Or rechecked the source of the evidence to be sure it was impeccable and irrefutable.”

“No issue with the source,” he said with what sounded like a touch of humor. “Though the source may have issues with me as I try and decipher what I’m to do next.”

“You do realize you’re making no sense.”

“Neither is God right now.” At her surprised look, he shrugged. “I assure you the issue does not lie with Him.”

“We aren’t talking about scientific theories anymore, are we?”

Kyle offered a wry smile. “You’re quite the investigator. Are you sure you’re not in law enforcement? A Pinkerton agent, perhaps? That would be too much.”

Millie laughed even as she noticed that her companion had cleverly and smoothly changed the emphasis of the conversation. She decided to allow it.

He gestured toward the balloon. “After you,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “But I still say no woman should marry for any reason except for love.”

“Spoken like a man who was never told he was an embarrassment to his family,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked toward the craft.

“There is where you are wrong.”

He caught up with her then, turning her to face him once more. His gaze swept her face as his knuckle traced her jawline.

The beginnings of a grin touched his lips. “Never apologize for who you are, Millie. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. Be happy that is how God made you.”

“Thank you,” she said a moment later. “For making me laugh.”

“What?” he said as he assisted her onto the flying device and then secured himself in place. “You didn’t think I was serious?”

Millie shook her head as he buckled her in and then readied the balloon for flight. “I did not think to debate the point at all. There is no response for it.”

Leaning back against his broad shoulder, she closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp night air.
Be happy that is how God made you.
If only she might.

When the device jolted upward, she opened her eyes. They ascended slowly and then turned away from the farm to retrace their path back to Memphis. By the time they arrived back on Adams Street, the brownish purple shadow that had covered most of the lunar surface was waning.

“Thank you for one last flight,” she said when he had tethered the flying device and helped her to climb inside her sanctuary.

Now was the time to say goodbye and watch him leave. And yet she couldn’t say the words. She didn’t want him to go just yet.

“You know,” she said as she shrugged out of the coat and handed it back to him. “It occurs to me that while my chain is still at the jewelers, the wheel cypher is not. I wonder...”

He made a great show of pulling out his watch to check the time. “I suppose I have a few minutes to spare.”

“Then make yourself comfortable and I will go get it.” She paused. “I wonder if you would like some coffee. Or tea? Maybe cocoa?”

“Whatever you are having,” he said as he closed the window and turned to face her.

“Coffee it is.” Her gaze swept the room. Something seemed different, but she could not decide what it was. “It would be terrible if someone
were to find you here, so would you mind staying very quiet while I am gone?”

“And hide should someone other than you come in? Maybe behind the drapes or out on the ledge?” He smiled as he dipped his head. “As you wish.”

She looked him over carefully to see if he was teasing. As she left, she still was not certain.

Making her way downstairs, Millie slipped into her bedchamber and called for her maid. Her nightclothes had already been laid out, and the bed coverings were turned back.

“Do you need help, Miss Millie?” Bridget asked when she arrived.

“No, thank you. But a pot of coffee would be lovely.” She paused. “With milk, sugar, and an extra cup.”

If the maid thought the request odd, her expression gave no indication. “Yes, ma’am.”

While she waited, Millie went to the place where she had hidden the cypher and slipped it into her pocket. A glance in the mirror sent her scurrying for her comb and extra hairpins.

She had almost repaired the damage to her hairstyle when Bridget returned with the tray and placed it on the bedside table. “Anything else, ma’am?”

“No, that is all, Bridget. Thank you.” Millie gathered up the tray. “Is my father home yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Fine. Do not wait up for me. I can see myself to bed later.”

“Yes, Miss Millie. Good night.” She returned to the servants’ quarters as Millie hurried down the hall and up the back stairs to her attic hideaway.

She found Kyle stoking the fire. When the door opened, he straightened, the poker in hand.

“It’s just me. No need to hide behind the drapes.” She shut the door and then moved to place the tray on the table by the fire.

A log cracked in the fireplace, sending a spray of sparks upward as she poured her guest his cup of coffee and then set the pot aside. Distracted, she watched the display a moment longer than she might have were she alone. Then she turned to catch him observing her.

“I take back my earlier statement,” she said as she poured milk into his cup.

“Oh?”

“I think you just might be a Pinkerton agent. Or a detective of some
sort. The question is, what sort?” She gave him an appraising look. “Do you work for the railroads? Or perhaps you’re a detective for hire. But that would bring us back to the Pinkertons, would it not?”

His smile was sweet and swift. “I would not be much of a detective if I admitted to it, would I?” He took a sip of his coffee and then said, “Did you bring the cypher? I’ve been thinking about this, and I may have a solution.”

When Millie handed it to him, he set his cup on the tray. As he turned the wheels and contemplated the puzzle, she took the opportunity to study him.

Kyle was a handsome man, a man with that lovely combination of Gaelic features not altogether unpleasant and yet on him quite impressive. Hair of midnight black teased his collar and fell across his forehead as he busied himself turning the golden rings one by one.

Cheekbones dusted by thick dark lashes were turned golden in the fire’s light, as was the cleft in his chin. His lips—lips she had kissed more than once—were soft, almost feminine in their fullness. Her gaze moved to his hands. They were strong and agile as he worked the concentric circles of gold into some sort of pattern he alone seemed to know.

When he paused to glance up at her, Millie felt no compunction to look away. “Having any luck with that?” she inquired innocently.

“I do not believe in luck,” he said as he went back to his task.

And then there was a soft
clink
and the cypher fell apart in his hands. He chuckled as he opened his palm and produced the results.

“There you go,” he said. “One opened wheel cypher, a very old scrap of paper, and a small key of some sort for the lady.”

Millie reached over and allowed him to put the pieces into her hand. “How did you do that?”

He picked up his cup and leaned back against the chair cushions, his smile broad. “A guess.”

She laughed. “No, truly.”

“Truly,” he echoed. “Because these are old gold coins, I thought maybe calling on the name of an old Barataria pirate might do the trick. I lined up the notches so that they spelled his name, and there you have it.”

Her gaze met his. “Lafitte?”

“You’ve heard of him.”

She laughed to cover the feelings bubbling up. “Oh, Kyle. Even in
Memphis we know of Jean Lafitte. But I tried using his name and it didn’t work.”

“Perhaps our methods were not the same. At least the cypher has opened.”

“Yes, it has.” She reached for one of the coins. “They are small and hollowed out inside. Not at all what I thought a doubloon would look like.”

“That’s because this is not a typical doubloon.” Kyle held one of the coins up to the firelight. “These are gold escudos. Spanish in origin.”

“Were they all so small? These are barely the size of a dime.”

“The sizes varied, but yes, they were small.” He flipped the coin over and held it where she could see it. “See that
S
there just barely visible beneath the place where the coin has been hollowed out?”

“Yes.”

“That means this one was minted in Seville. And from what remains of the date, it appears this is a very early example. Likely prior to 1810.”

Which would fit with the time when Jean Lafitte was prowling the waters and taking treasures for his own. Millie let out a long breath. Mama’s tale was becoming all too real.

“What can you tell me about its contents?” Kyle asked. “Perhaps a connection from your family back to Jean Lafitte? That would certainly prove interesting.”

“I know nothing of these things,” she said carefully. “I’m seeing them now for the first time.” As to his question about Lafitte, that would remain unanswered for as long as she could manage it.

Millie was almost painfully aware Kyle was now studying her. His had to be a fortunate guess, for how could he know? No one knew. Mama made sure to tell her that because of what the taint of scandal might bring, she was not to tell anyone of the connection to the famous pirate. It was all conjecture, just theories of hers made with no substantiation from Mama or any other source.

And yet it all fit. Well, mostly.

The piece of paper, a scrap not much bigger than a folded calling card, fluttered to the floor. Kyle bent and retrieved it.

“This is old,” he said as he carefully opened the creased page, “and there is nothing here, though we both know there are ways to hide writing that
would stand the test of years.” He held the page to the light. “Or it could have been folded around this tiny key to keep it from rattling inside and means nothing at all.”

“Yes, I suppose that is possible.”

“I have the capability to study the paper, though of course all of that is back home in my workshop.” He looked up. “What were you expecting? Some kind of treasure map?”

His tone indicated jest, but something in his expression made her think he was serious. She smiled even as the teasing topic touched far too close to the truth.

The coins might bring a small sum, but nothing like what she anticipated as she listened to her mother’s stories. And if there was a treasure map on the scrap of paper, it had been lost long ago...unless she could find a way to make whatever was missing from the page reappear, and then the real treasure would be found when the key met its lock.

Kyle took a sip of his coffee. “I find it ironic that a pirate’s name opened the cypher. So, tell me, Millie. Is treasure associated with the contents of your charm?”

“That is a direct question,” she said, smiling. “I will counter it with my own. Are you a railroad detective or perhaps one of those mysterious Pinkerton men?” She slid him a playful look. “Or are you merely a mad scientist who is clever enough to pose as one?” She shook her head. “No, I suppose you would be a detective posing as a scientist who...” She fell into laughter and he joined her. “Now I’ve confused myself. Who are you, Kyle?”

He dipped his head before meeting her gaze once again. “Persistence is a quality I admire, as is deflection when done well. And you have done both quite well. So I will answer one question, and then you must do the same for me, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“I am not a railroad detective.” He paused. “So, the cypher. Tell me about the treasure. And yes, I am aware I have not phrased this as a question. Would you like me to?”

“Normally I would insist on following the rules, what with my background in the Descartes scientific method and all.”

“Really? I am much more interested in his scientific treatise on
The Passions of the Soul,
but go on.”

“I see,” Millie said as she collected a breath.

Though she knew the treatise to which he referred was an analysis of emotions and their result in action, the very sound of the title in his unique mix of Southern drawl and something else set her pulse racing.

Her companion sat back, allowing the firelight to slant over his features, turning what God had rendered merely handsome into a man most breathtaking. That the inventor and aviator she knew only as “Kyle” was also brilliant...

“Millie,” he said slowly, “You are stalling.”

“I am.”

She tucked the key, scrap of paper, and gold pieces into her pocket and picked up her cup. She thought a moment about the safety of confessing her secret and then decided to throw caution to the wind. If this man could fly across the Memphis sky and best the cypher that had eluded her for a decade, perhaps he could offer insight into other things of importance.

After a glance into his eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I must depend on your word of honor to keep what I am about to tell you a secret.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? I do not know you. I—”

“You have my word, Millie. However, I will release you from your part of the bargain if you do not feel you should answer.”

Something in his eyes told her this was true. She picked up the pieces of the cypher and its contents. She felt the chill of metal in her palm.

“The key,” he said. “What do you suppose it opens?”

“A lock would be the obvious answer.” She gave him a half smile and then shook her head. “Now to put the two together. That is where you could assist me.”

Kyle set his cup aside and asked for a gold coin and the scrap of paper. She handed them to him and watched with interest as he studied first the coin, turning it all directions and looking through its hollowed-out center.

Then he turned his attention to the torn piece of paper and looked at both sides carefully. “If I could just get this back to—”

“Your workshop? Yes, well that is not possible at the moment. So, given what you see here, what are your thoughts?”

Kyle rose, set the paper and coin on the worktable, and began to scan the books. When he crouched down to inspect a selection of books she had thought were hidden well enough, she heard his chuckle.