Heart Shaped Leaf
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“You’re not going back to town again, are you?”
“No, I’m staying.”
That was all he said. And it was the only thing needed for her to accept his decision. He had no desire for an explanation or a fight about it. There were other things that could be fought over and won. The future of their unborn child wasn’t one of them.
“It’s too dangerous here,” she finally agreed. “We both know that better than anyone else. But we also know that it isn’t because there is something wrong with us or our baby. We have nothing to fear. Nothing can harm your child.”
She reached out to touch his hand but then let her fingertips slip through his. “I’ll stay in this cabin until my due date,” she decided after a moment, then turned toward the door as if determined to leave before he could change his mind.
But she stopped when he took hold of her wrist, holding on so tightly she almost cried out in surprise.
“Don’t go.” It came out more like an order than anything else, so low and soft that it was barely audible above the wind. But she heard him and she waited patiently while he gathered up his reins, mounted his horse, and followed her out of the canyon.
They rode in silence except for the occasional call of a raven searching for its mate high above. She tried to concentrate on her riding instead of wondering how long it would take them to reach the ranch.
Her hands shook by the time they returned to the ranch. Her body felt numb from riding, but the pain inside seemed stronger even than before.
The next morning, he left her alone. That was probably wise since she spent most of the day sitting in the rocking chair by the window, staring out at the desert without really seeing it.
She wanted him beside her, yet feared every moment that he might leave her. What did she do now? Where would she go with the baby once she arrived at the ranch house? Did she even want to go? How did one live on a cattle ranch these days anyway?
He didn’t return until late afternoon, but then he was in no mood to talk with her. They ate supper together, talked little during the meal, and then he went outside to saddle his horse. She watched as he pulled on the reins and led his horse to the corral just below the main house. He hadn’t gone far when she called him.
“Where are you going?”
His voice sounded distant, distracted, so unlike anything she had ever heard before. “To the saloon.”
What was he thinking? “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to her, took off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he bent down so that he could look into her eyes. He seemed so tired; exhausted by worry and the constant fighting. But it was his face that made her heart flutter. So much like her own. So very close…
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Maggie,” he admitted. “My life is upside down.”
She couldn’t say anything, so she simply stared at him until he spoke again.
“I love you,” he told her. “But there is something else I feel. A feeling I’ve never experienced before.” He looked away from her to the ground between them, and then he slowly straightened up. “I thought I knew exactly who and what I was and now… now, I have no idea.”
She stood quietly watching him until he finally asked, “Will you marry me?”
She nodded her head in response, unable to form words at such a moment. She was shocked speechless and completely unprepared. She had never expected such a proposal—and certainly not from this man.
“When?” she finally managed to ask after a few seconds.
He sighed as though relieved. “Next week, if you like. The first available preacher will be arriving any day now to perform the ceremony.”
Her knees began to shake when she heard him say this. This was happening fast. Too fast!
“How do I get there?”
“We’ll take two horses, so we can cover as much distance as possible,” he said as he lifted her into the saddle behind his own. She leaned against his hardback as she held on tight to the reins in front of her. “You’ll need to stop in town to pick up some things you forgot, but that shouldn’t take long. Then we ride west to the mountains where your family is located.”
Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest as she watched the land fly by beneath her. Was she crazy to think about agreeing to marry him? It was only a week or two ago that he had told her she wasn’t good enough for him.
But she was pregnant with his child. What did it matter what he thought?
***
It took a full day to cross the desert to get to the closest train station. It was late evening when they arrived in town. After a quick supper and a short rest, they set out early in the morning toward the ranch, riding along the tracks for several miles before they turned off.
Maggie’s belly kept her awake the whole night, so she decided to sleep for half an hour in the saddle. By the time she woke up, she had reached their destination. The first thing that struck her was the beauty of the place. Not that she saw too much of it under a cloudy sky.
The sun was still hiding behind the clouds when they arrived, but the ranch house looked magnificent with its wide porch and white picket fence. It appeared to be well built, with stone steps leading down to a beautiful garden that surrounded it on all sides. She had never seen anything so lovely.
“Come inside,” he said, pulling on his hat as he guided the horse toward the barn. “Someone will show us around later.”
As they rode closer to the house, she could see the figure of a young woman standing beside a flower bed. It was the very same girl that had been helping the cook and had come to help her after her fall.
Maggie recognized her immediately and felt a rush of fear flow through her when she spotted the pistol holstered at her waist. Had this young woman already been hired by the man in black?
She didn’t have to ask, because he said nothing as he stopped the horse.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the young woman greeted them warmly. “Mr. O’Toole has been telling me all about you.”
She didn’t reply, but instead stepped aside and led them toward the house without another word.
As they followed her to a back door, Maggie couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. How did this young woman know them? And why would she even want to help her? Why hadn’t anyone offered to take her in during all these years?
As they entered the kitchen, they were both surprised at how different everything was from what they’d seen on the outside. Inside, it was bright and airy, with tall windows and plenty of room to move around. The walls were painted in bright colors, and there was a large wooden table in the center of the room. On either side of the window sat two large chairs facing each other.
“Please, come in and let me introduce myself,” the young woman said in an accent she could only describe as Irish. Her dark hair fell in curls just below her shoulders; her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled and her lips were rosy red.
She was wearing a simple white blouse over a light-blue skirt. It was obvious she had no idea who these strangers were or what they wanted. But it seemed to please her when she saw them following her.
O’Toole walked across the room to join her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Kelly.” He extended his hand in greeting. “My wife, Lillian, is also here to welcome you. You’ll be sharing the upstairs bedroom.”
“Thank you,” she replied, shaking hands with him, then holding onto his arm as they left the kitchen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she added in response to his question when they returned to the foyer.
Lillian was standing nearby in the middle of the room. She was wearing a dress that made her look like a movie star. “How do you like our home?” she asked as she smiled broadly. “I hope Mr. O’Toole hasn’t bored you with all his stories.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Maggie replied politely. She was trying not to stare at the woman, but the pretty dress and matching pearls were too hard to resist. “This is beautiful.”
“It is indeed,” Lillian agreed. She motioned toward a doorway. “If you’d care to follow me, I’ll show you where you can freshen up before we sit down to dinner.”
As they headed for the stairs, Maggie noticed that O’Toole had remained behind. Was it because he planned to stay away from the house while they talked? Or perhaps it was because he wasn’t interested in meeting this young lady. Either way, he didn’t seem too happy about her being there.
At the top of the staircase, Maggie saw their hostess waiting at the end of the hall, ready to offer them a guided tour. “This way, please,” Lillian said. “And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”
“We won’t, ma’am,” Maggie replied as she glanced at O’Toole. He was sitting in one of the chairs, looking uncomfortable. Did he feel threatened by this young woman?
“The master bedroom is on the second floor,” Lillian told them as they walked up the hallway. “There are three downstairs rooms, and your room is right next to mine. We’re close so you’ll be able to come up whenever you need something.”
Maggie had to admit that it was very tempting to simply walk into their room and take a nap. They’d barely arrived, and she felt tired and restless from all the traveling. But she forced herself to keep walking until they reached the open door on the far end of the corridor.
“Here you go,” Lillian said, pointing to a double bed. “You might be used to beds more spacious than this, but this is the best we could fit into such a small room.”
Maggie turned to see that the bed took up almost half of the space in the room. But it was clean and freshly covered with blankets and sheets. There was enough room around it so that she wouldn’t trip on the bedside table and lamp as she came out of her clothes.
“Is there a closet?” Maggie asked. “Or should I hang my clothes in the bathroom?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lillian replied. “I’ll take care of your things.”
She walked past them, taking the clothing from Maggie’s hands. Then she went through them carefully, placing each item neatly on the bed, and arranging the skirts and blouses in a way that would allow them to be stored underneath. As she worked, she hummed a soft tune.
Lillian continued with the rest of Maggie’s belongings; once everything was in place, she closed the wardrobe and shut the door. “Everything will be washed and ironed, so you don’t have to worry about doing it yourself. Just leave it for me.”
“Oh, that’s so nice,” Maggie exclaimed. “I didn’t expect a house like this to have someone like you.” She paused, realizing that Lillian must be expecting them to say something else. “I mean…” She cleared her throat nervously. “Thanks for having us.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Lillian replied, smiling. “Mr. O’Toole has told me how much you appreciate good food.”
“It’s true,” Maggie assured her.
“Very well, then, let’s go down to the dining room,” Lillian said as she headed to the stairs. “If you’ll wait for me, I’ll bring us both some tea first.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Maggie followed her downstairs as Lillian explained the layout of the house. The kitchen, which was located in a separate room from the living quarters, had been converted into a dining room. It seemed very small and cramped, but the table was large enough to seat six people.
In fact, they could probably squeeze another two or three at the end of the long wooden table, although it was too narrow to sit comfortably side by side.
“I’ll bring us some tea now,” Lillian announced as she led them back toward the kitchen. “Please help yourselves to whatever looks appetizing.”
Maggie looked over the food. Fried chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, peas, salad, biscuits… Everything was arranged on the table, but there wasn’t nearly enough for a family of four. So why did they prepare so much? Perhaps it was for the benefit of the hired men who sometimes dropped by for lunch or dinner.
They ate quickly, and soon they were ready to start talking shop. Maggie took a seat between the two ranch foremen and waited for Lillian to come to the head of the table.
“So what brings you here?” O’Toole asked after she poured them all cups of steaming tea. “What kind of business do you have?”
“I’m investigating an assault,” Maggie began. “A man was attacked last week while coming home from church, and his attackers left him injured and unable to defend himself against them.”
O’Toole sat forward, leaning across the table toward Maggie. “Was it Mr. O’Bryan? What happened? Tell me.”
“It was the other way around,” Maggie told him. “He was assaulted by three strangers, who knocked him down and robbed him before fleeing.”
“And you believe these men attacked him?” O’Toole pressed.
“There seems to be no doubt that he was beaten badly,” Maggie explained. “But his injuries don’t match those I’ve seen on his attackers’ victims, so I can only assume the wounds were inflicted when the men tried to escape.”
“Why does it matter if the attacker used the same methods as the ones I’ve seen?” O’Toole asked.
“Because they might belong to the same ring or group,” Maggie told him. “These men may even work for the same boss. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that their employer paid them extra for attacking a priest instead of a commoner.”
“But the attackers didn’t steal anything,” O’Toole pointed out. “How would a boss pay them more money for beating someone up?”
“Perhaps they expected to find valuables on his person,” Maggie suggested. “Maybe it was a religious zealot, and the attack was intended to punish a sinner.”
“Could that really happen in a town like this?” O’Toole asked.
“It happened in Denver,” Maggie reminded him. “I’m not trying to alarm you, but just keep that in mind while we’re here. The people of this area tend to trust each other—that’s part of what makes them so peaceful. But I think it’s wise to remember that criminals are never far away.”
“I’ll make sure the men in this community know about that,” O’Toole promised.
“Good.”
“Do you need any help with your investigation?” O’Toole asked. “Or do you have all you need right now?”
“Actually, I came here today because I’d heard rumors that this place had some ties to one of our killers,” Maggie answered. “I thought I should come to see what was happening for myself.”
She paused, looking at the faces staring back at her expectantly. She hadn’t wanted to give them any hint as to where she was coming from until after they had learned the identity of the victim. It would be embarrassing if they figured out who she worked for before she gave them a chance to identify him.
So she decided to tell them now. But since O’Toole had already made it clear that he knew nothing about the murder, there seemed little point in lying to him. “I’m working on the case of Thomas Deverill,” Maggie told him.
“The body found in Denver belonged to a man who shared his name. That was the only connection I could make. I also suspect that he might be buried near here, but my search for evidence is still ongoing.”
“I’m sorry,” O’Toole said sadly. “That’s terrible news.”
“Yes, it is,” Maggie agreed. “I wish it had been different.”
“Is it possible that Mr. Deverill died the same way?” O’Toole asked.
“No, the wounds on his body aren’t similar to those that his attackers sustained,” Maggie explained. “And the timing suggests that the murders were unrelated.”
“But we must look into it nonetheless,” O’Toole argued. “Mr. Deverill was a good friend of mine. We grew up together, played sports, and went hunting together. He always kept himself clean-shaven, so the fact that his attackers shaved off his beard is disturbing. Did anyone see what these men looked like?”
Maggie shook her head. “Not much,” she admitted. “All I saw was their backs. And I can only describe them as tall men with dark hair, wearing long coats.”
“Dark hair?” O’Toole frowned. “Are you certain? I didn’t notice that.”
“What color are yours?” Maggie asked.
O’Toole smiled ruefully. “Mine is light brown. You might not be able to tell by looking at me alone.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Maggie said. “So far, there has been no sign of the killer in Denver, and I think you’ll find that the two killings are entirely unrelated.”
“You mean you don’t want us to get caught up in your investigations,” O’Toole surmised. “I understand.”
Maggie sighed. “I’m trying to keep you safe,” she explained. “And I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt because of something I did or didn’t do.”
“Then I’m grateful for your concern for my safety,” O’Toole said. “We’re both working toward the same goal. So let’s join forces and try to catch the killer before he strikes again.”
The End