Page 8 of Cloaked in Beauty

She collected the other photographs and handed them to him as well. “As for my daughter, she used to play a game with my husband based on the ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ children’s story. She felt safe whenever she donned her hooded cape. She wore it the night of the fire. I think she wears it still. Well, a larger one, of course.” A fond smile touched her lips as she pointed to Scarlett’s neckline in the top photograph. “You have to look carefully, but there are hints of a cape in every photograph.”

Sure enough, once he knew what to look for, Philip recognized evidence of gathered fabric draping behind her shoulders.

Mrs. Radcliffe grabbed hold of his forearm and held tight. “Find my daughter and bring her home to me, Mr. Carmichael.”

With nothing to go on but an outdated likeness of the girl’s guardian, a train route, some roughly sketched landscapes, and a cape, the task would be outrageously difficult, yet the challenge of it beckoned, fueling his determination and purpose. He didn’t know how he was going to find the Radcliffe heiress, but if God wanted him on this case, he wasn’t about to argue.

“You have my word, ma’am. I won’t come back without her.”

3

CASS COUNTY, TEXAS

Nothing stirred Letty Hood’s imagination quite like watching a lumberjack swing an ax. All that manly vigor and strength. The thump of the blade notching the wood. The rhythmic rasp of the saw as a pair of lumbermen worked together to fell the tall pine. The shout of “Timber!” in a deep, masculine tone seconds before the crack of breaking wood echoed through the forest. Could anything be more romantic?

Well, she supposed plenty of things could be more romantic. Like actually making eye contact with a man and sharing a smile. Or taking his arm during a stroll along the river. Or being swept across a ballroom floor in a skirt-swirling waltz.

Hard to do any of those things while in seclusion, however. Hence her mooning over lumberjacks from a distance.

Letty sighed and rolled from her belly onto her back, trading her view of husky woodcutters in the forested valley below for fluffy white clouds drifting across a pale blue sky. She plucked a long stem of needlegrass and twirled it around her finger.

“I know I shouldn’t complain, Lord. I should be grateful to be alive and safe. And I am. Truly. I have Grandmother and my books. And you, of course.” A cold nose jabbed her in the chin. Letty giggled as she ruffled her fingers through the fur at the red wolf’s neck. “I’m grateful for this ragamuffin, too. No girl could ask for a more loyal companion.”

As if satisfied with her recognition, Rusty licked the side of her face, then bounded off to chase whatever small creatures he could flush from the undergrowth.

“I have much to be thankful for,” Letty acknowledged as she rubbed dog slobber from her cheek. “Yet I can’t help wishing for more. For someone special to love. And for that someone special to love me in return.”

Like what Mama and Daddy had shared. Memories of her parents had faded over the last decade and a half, but she’d clung to a handful of impressions. Daddy’s deep chuckle blending perfectly with Mama’s melodic laugh. How they’d hold hands as they strolled through the garden. The times Mama would come up behind Daddy and rub his shoulders as he read the newspaper. The special smiles they reserved only for each other. And her favorite memory of all—the time Daddy caught Mama under the mistletoe. He’d dipped her backward over his arm and kissed her full on the mouth. The staff had cheered, and Mama’s face had turned as red as her hair, but the way she and Daddy had looked into each other’s eyes afterward had stamped an impression on Letty’s heart that could not be forgotten.

Love. Pure and unbreakable. That’s what she craved.

Grandmother told her to be patient. She’d have her pick of gentlemen callers after she turned twenty-one and returned to Houston. But Letty wasn’t sure she wanted to resume Scarlett Radcliffe’s life. A life of weighty responsibilities and societal expectations. A life where her wealth would make her the target of fortune hunters and schemers eager to take advantage of her inexperience. Becoming the Radcliffe heiress held little appeal. Yet she couldn’t remain Letty Hood forever, roaming the woods with her pet wolf and hiding from the truth of her heritage. So she would go back. At least temporarily. She’d honor her father and mother as Scripture taught, but she’d find a way to do that as the woman she’d become, not the one she might have been had her uncle not driven her into hiding.

A rhythmic thudding broke through Letty’s wishful thoughts. She jerked upright, grabbing her hood and pulling it over her head as she scrambled to her feet.

Horses. At least two. Heading her way.

She sprinted down the hill to where the trees grew thicker, desperate for the cover they’d provide. “No one can see you.” Her grandmother’s constant warning rang in her ears.

Had her uncle found her? Letty’s heart pounded as she raced deeper into the trees. The hooves sounded closer, but she struggled to determine their direction.

“Don’t panic. Fear steals your sense, and good sense is a woman’s best weapon.”

Letty skidded to a halt and pressed her back against the largest pine within reach. Instinct urged her to keep fleeing, but Grandmother’s training held her in place.

Look. Listen. Assess. Plan. Execute.

Forcing herself to inhale through her nose a couple of times to get her breathing under control, she attuned her ears to her surroundings. No hoofbeats. Had the riders stopped?

Leather creaked somewhere to her left, as if a man was standing up in his stirrups. Letty turned her face in that direction as she reached for the knife sheathed at her waist.

“Did ya see where he went?”

A man’s voice. Close.

Letty pivoted slowly, keeping her body behind the tree as she carefully peered into the thicket.

“He’s here somewhere. I can feel it.”