Desiree opened her eyes. “There was a brother. Killed at Shiloh. He never mentioned anyone else.”
“What did he ask you to do for him?”
Her lips parted as if she were about to speak. Nothing came of it.
Call repeated his question and was met with the same nonresponse. “I know you think you’re not saying a word, but your silence is telling.” When she remained quiet, he switched tacks. “Who else did he see when you weren’t available?”
“I don’t think I like that question, sugar.”
The way she lifted her chin and tilted her head reminded Call of Laurel Morrison. The similarity faded as soon as Desiree spoke. He put the question to her a second time.
“There was no one else,” she said finally. “You can ask Mrs. Fry if you like. He always asked for me, and why wouldn’t he? I treated him like the gentleman he was, and you know what?”
“Hmm?”
“He treated me like a lady.”
“Which you certainly are.”
Desiree cast her eyes at her folded hands and spoke on a breath of air. “Which I certainly used to be.”
In that moment, Call clearly saw what she had been and what she had become. She represented the demise of the Old South. She was both a victim and a survivor, a daughter of the plantations, privileged and mannered, fallen on hard times and making her way as best she could. He doubted the gambler who’d brought her to Falls Hollow had been the first of his ilk to seduce her with promises. All these long years since the end of the war, she’d been robbed of what had been the best of her. Almost. She still had the memory of that other life.
Call asked again, “What did he promise you?”
“A new beginning.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere that wasn’t here. I didn’t care.”
“When is it supposed to happen?”
Desiree said nothing.
Call thought he understood the reason for her silence. “The new beginning was supposed to have already begun, is that it?” He didn’t wait for her response. “You believed he was going to take you with him.”
“He made me believe it,” she said quietly. “They always make me believe.”
She wasn’t looking at him, but Call nodded his understanding anyway. “I’m not the law,” he said. “I work for Mr. Stonechurch. What you tell me about the robbery is for my use, no one else’s. I’m not going to march you to the sheriff’s office.”
She smiled crookedly, without humor. “You won’t have to. It’s possible you’ll see Rayleigh Carter when you’re leaving. He’s here most Sundays.”
“You’d have to point him out. I haven’t met him yet.”
“He wears a tin star. That should help.”
“Right.” Call took a breath and released it slowly. “Has he spoken to you about Josiah Pye?”
“No. I don’t think he’ll be interested in tracking Josey until a reward has been posted. Has it?”
“Not yet. Maybe not ever. That’d be up to Mr. Stonechurch. Would you be motivated by a reward?”
“Motivated to do what?”
“Tell me how Josey did it. You got the strongbox for him—I know that—and you kept it until he asked for it. I saw some broadsheets in the parlor. Looks like you read theRocky Mountain News.”
“Yes. So?”
