The Loyal Heart (19 page)

B
ELLE DIDN
'
T LIKE FISH
. S
HE ESPECIALLY DIDN
'
T LIKE
going to the fishmonger early in the morning for Cook. Honestly, she wished Cook would send Emerson every once in a while. That man loved fish and he didn't even mind getting up an hour before dawn.

But of course it didn't really matter what she wanted. Sometimes a woman had to do the job that was asked of her, and this was hers.

After throwing on her cloak and a thick wool scarf to tie around her neck and face, she made the thirty-minute walk to the docks. In the middle of the day, it was a nice journey. Walking in the dim morning light on half-empty streets was another story. To make matters worse, a fog had come in with the tide and blanketed the outside market in cold mist. It was enough to make a girl wonder if she could ever get warm again.

As she got closer to the fishmonger, more people filled the streets. Roughnecks, sailors, and dockworkers were moving slowly through the haze, as were the unfortunate women who had worked the night before. In the middle of it all were domestics like her.

After sidestepping a pair of freedmen standing outside one of the cotton warehouses, she at last got to the pier where her favorite fishmonger set up shop.

“You're here early, Belle,” Sam said with a smile.

“I am.” She hated sounding so glum when she knew Sam had already been out in the gulf and had returned. “How was your catch this morning?”

“Good.” He grinned. “Good enough to sell you a fish or two.”

His good nature was infectious. “You always say that,” she replied, stifling a giggle.

“You always laugh when I say it too. Makes me proud to get you to smile.”

“You're my only reason to smile on this errand. You know I'm not one for getting out early.”

He pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “You wound me every single time you come, Belle.” He started to say more, then shuttered his expression.

Surprised by his sudden change in attitude, she turned to see who he was staring at. It was Sheriff Kern. He was talking with some of the men coming off an expensive-looking freighter. She was surprised. The docks usually weren't where the local law enforcement presided. She'd learned they had their own set of rules and regulations. In the distance was another surprise—Mr. Winter. Though she hadn't had much reason to mix with the clerk, Belle certainly recognized him.

But his being down at the docks at sunrise was even more of a surprise than Sheriff Kern.

“You still friends with him, Belle?” Sam asked under his breath.

“Who?”

“Kern.”

Belle finally stopped staring and turned back to her friend. “I wouldn't say we're friends, exactly. He's the sheriff.” Remembering what she had overheard about Kern's service and imprisonment, she added, “He fought bravely during the war.”

“We all fought, one way or another.”

“He also has friends in high places.”

“What does that even mean?” he scoffed.

“It means we don't run in the same social circles, Sam. He's a good four steps above me.”

Sam grunted. “Hardly that. You're better than some of the folks I've seen him keep company with, I'll tell you that.”

Wondering if he was referring to Mr. Truax, she asked, “Who have you seen him talking to? Anyone in particular?”

“You know Kyle Winter?”

“I know who he is. And I saw him standing nearby.” Curious now, she asked, “Are you saying they spent time together this morning?”

Sam shrugged.

She was confused . . . unless the sheriff was doing some detective work. That had to be it. Surely the sheriff couldn't condone Mr. Winter's behavior toward Mrs. Markham. After all, she overheard that he and Mr. Truax were going to work together to solve Mrs. Markham's problems. After glancing around to make sure no one else might be listening, she said, “I doubt they're friends. After all, Mr. Winter treats Mrs. Markham badly and Sheriff Kern is her friend.”

“I just assumed anyone who would be friends with Winter would not be a friend of yours.”

“No, maybe not. Mrs. Markham doesn't deserve how Mr. Winter has treated her. But why do you think Sheriff Kern—?”

“Sheriff,” Sam interrupted, suddenly straightening his shoulders. “Good morning.”

Sheriff Kern nodded. “Morning, Sam.” Turning to Belle, he smiled slightly. “I was hoping you might be out this morning.”

She wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd told her he'd decided to move to New York City. “Oh? I wasn't aware you spent much time in this part of town.”

“I do when I have business here. Then someone told me you often come here on this day of the week, so I thought perhaps if we could take a walk together.”

“Kind of hard to be walking with your hands full,” Sam mumbled.

Kern turned to Sam. “Do you have a problem this morning?”

Across from her, Sam stiffened. “No.”

Though Belle wasn't sure what Sam had been getting at, as though Sheriff Kern was not being quite everything he said he was, warning bells were going off in her head. “Thank you, Sheriff, but I had best go right home.”

Holding out her hands, she practically grabbed hold of the fish Sam had wrapped in paper and hugged it to her chest. “Fish don't keep for long, you know.”

But to her surprise, Kern didn't shy away. “How about I walk you home, then?”

“Well, I, um . . .”

“I insist.” He took her elbow and guided her away from Sam's stall and along the narrow passageways of the fish market. Though his hold was strong and unforgiving, she noticed it wasn't painful.

She also noticed that she couldn't help but be aware of his touch. Afraid to meet his gaze, Belle kept looking in front of her. When they got back to Market Street, she pulled her elbow away from his grasp. “There is no need to keep ahold of me, sir. I'm not going to run away.”

“I wasn't trying to keep you,” he said impatiently. “Only navigate through the crowded market.” He waved a hand toward one of the many abandoned buildings on the edge of the warehouse district. “You know it's not safe here. Half the buildings are barely standing after the last storm. You could get hurt.”

“By a collapsing building?”

“Vagrants and rats live around here too. I promise, neither are suitable company for you.”

He was looking out for her. Trying to shield her. She stiffened as she realized she appreciated his efforts. It was so unexpected. He stopped and looked at her curiously. “Is anything wrong? You seem out of sorts.”

“I am fine. I am simply not good company this early in the morning.”

“I hope that is all it is.” After they walked another half block, he said, “As I said, I was hoping to see you. I want to speak to you.”

“About what?”

He glanced her way. “Well, how are things at the boardinghouse?”

“About the same. We got two new boarders last night.”

“Any other visitors?”

“No . . . well, no, unless you count the older Mrs. Ruth Markham and Miss Viola Markham.”

Sheriff Kern's eyebrows rose. “They were there? Did they spend the night?”

“Oh no. They came in, talking about how they were going to be getting the house soon. We all thought we were going to get fired, for sure. But then Mr. Truax practically ran them off.”

“I see.”

Belle wasn't sure what he saw. “Has anything happened, sir?”

“I'm not sure,” he said slowly. “I plan to ask Mr. Truax about his conversation with those women, though.”

They were back in Mrs. Markham's neighborhood. The streets were wider, palm trees and mossy Spanish oaks lined yards, and far fewer people were out than when Belle preferred to be stirring.

Maybe because it felt as if they were the only two people
around, their conversation felt more intimate. “Is there a reason you are worried about that?”

To her surprise, Sheriff Kern now looked even more uncomfortable. “I simply want to make sure Mrs. Markham is in no danger.”

That, for Belle, was the last and final straw. She was tired of him circling around their conversation, asking things yet not giving her a reason why he was so concerned. “Sir, are you sure it's Mrs. Markham you are worried about?”

He drew to a stop. “Please explain yourself.”

“If you had really cared about her, you would have tried harder to figure out who sent her that very first letter. Instead, you made her feel like a fool. And then, when everyone started disparaging her character, you could have put a stop to it.”

“And how would I have done that without causing her more undue gossip?”

“I don't know. But it seems to me that you could have tried. Mr. Markham gave his life for the cause. But you—and half the people in this town—act like that wasn't good enough.”

“I did not start that talk.”

“But you were in a position to finish it, sir. I know that. You could have done something, but you didn't.” No longer caring that he was the one in the position of power and she was just a maid, Belle added, “You didn't want to offend the wrong people so you ignored her pain. Just like when someone started sending her awful, hateful letters you didn't want to get involved.”

His brow wrinkled. “Belle, I promise, I had no idea who wrote those letters. I still don't know.”

“But you didn't even act like you cared to find out. And by your reaction to the news that Mr. Markham's sister and mother came by, you must somehow know how they have been treating
her. They act like Mrs. Markham is no better than a harlot. So does half this town. But you have let that talk continue. Only now that Mr. Truax is here do you seem to care.”

He was pale now. “Perhaps you have a point.”

“I know I do,” she bit out as she turned to face him on the street in front of the Markham mansion. “Just as I know I am right about you not wanting to get involved, I know Robert Truax has done more to help her than you ever tried. And that is wrong.”

“I am trying to make up for it now.”

“I see.” His tone was earnest, his expression haunted. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe he was talking to Kyle Winter to help Mrs. Markham, and she was tempted to ask him if that was the truth.

However, it was more important that she concentrate on Mrs. Markham herself. Actually, what she needed to do was stop trying to figure out if Sheriff Kern was her ally or one of the reasons her employer was so miserable.

“Do you have anything else to tell me?” he asked quietly.

“No. Just that I hope you will help Mrs. Markham solve her problems as soon as possible.”

He stilled. “Is there a specific reason you are stating this?” Though she knew her employer deserved her loyalty, something told her the sheriff could indeed be an ally. Heaven knew Mrs. Markham needed more of those. She let her anger go.

At last, she said, “Because maybe I know we don't have much to lose. You see, before Mr. Truax arrived, we were worried that Mrs. Markham wasn't going to survive much longer. However, with Mr. Truax's arrival, I think she now has a reason to live and to be strong.” Lifting her chin, she said, “Maybe I want a reason to live and be strong too.”

His demeanor changed.

“Do you think I could ever be that reason, Belle?” His voice was plaintive, his gaze hopeful.

Her mouth went dry as she stared at him. He was handsome. He was powerful. When she'd first arrived in Galveston from Louisiana, she would have given anything for a man like him to even give her the time of day.

But now? Well, it seemed she was starting to want more out of life. She was starting to want people in her circle of friends whom she could depend on. People who cared about her even when things weren't going her way. She wanted a man who cared enough to take risks.

She simply wasn't sure if he was that man. She wasn't sure if she could trust him. Apparently, Sam did not.

“I don't know,” she finally replied.

Instead of getting mad, he stared at her. “Will you give me a chance?”

Belle swallowed. Here she was, standing with Jess Kern as dawn was breaking overhead. He was asking for her to give him a chance to make amends. To prove that he was good enough for her.

All while she was holding a newspaper full of smelly fish.

It was unbelievable. It was also . . . well, it was also rather flattering.

“I will think about it, Sheriff Kern. If you really want a chance.”

“I do.” Looking over her, he suddenly smiled. “Will you call me Jess now?”

“Of course not. It isn't proper.”

“Will you call me Jess in the early mornings . . . when you are holding fresh fish?”

She couldn't hide a slight smile. “Perhaps.” She walked into the house then. Holding the fish to her like a newborn babe.