"I understand Mr. Monteigne is a friend of your family's. Will he be staying here for any length of time?"
She was supposed to be the one asking questions. Evie made a vague gesture. "He has business with the Hardings, I believe. Tell me, Mr. Hale, if I go to the cemetery, will I find graves for the Howells? I have already written Evangeline about what you said, but the mail takes so long, I thought I'd find out what I could on my own. My letters are likely to reach her before there is time for her to write you and you to respond."
"I can see no harm in your visiting their graves. I would be delighted to escort you. Do you have time now?"
Mr. Hale was a very polite man. Evie smiled at him approvingly. She wished he wasn't so darn ethical about keeping family secrets, but she couldn't complain if the family lawyer was an honest man.
"I have to stop in the bank. I don't wish to delay you."
"There's no delay. We're already here." He opened the door for her and escorted her inside.
She didn't want him watching her as she tried to deposit Daniel's check. It was going to be a tricky business as it was. Evie bit her lip in frustration and glanced around the tiny building. There was one teller's booth behind bars and a desk in the far corner of the room behind the teller. She could see the safe built into the wall behind the teller. It wouldn't take much to rob this place.
Sighing, she patted Mr. Hale's hand. "If you'll just wait here for me, I'll be right back."
The teller was only a few steps away, but if she talked low, perhaps he wouldn't hear. She removed the check and stepped forward to transact her business.
Several minutes, several smiles, and several blushes and reassurances from the male teller later, Evie returned to Mr. Hale. Daniel now had his very own bank account.
"Your brother is lucky to have a sister like you." Hale opened the door. "Your maiden name is Mulloney, then?"
So he had heard. Evie held her chin up. "Yes. We're originally from Ohio, but we've lived in the South for some considerable time now. The war was devastating to us all." Distraction worked best at times like this.
"I'm certain. Was your husband from around here, by any chance, Mrs. Peyton? There are still remnants of a Peyton family in these parts, but I don't remember an Alexander Peyton. That was your husband's name, correct?"
Evie tried not to tighten her grip on the lawyer's arm as they entered the churchyard. "Alexander grew up in Natchez, sir, but it is possible there are cousins."
"It's quite a coincidence your coming to Mineral Springs to teach, and then taking on the Rodriguez children, if so, Mrs. Peyton." Hale stopped before two small, nondescript gravestones and pointed at them with his cane. "There lies the Rodriguez children's maternal grandparents."
Evie could just barely make out the inscription: James and Rosita Peyton.
Chapter 27
Staring at the gravestones, Evie uttered several noncommittal remarks about her husband's wandering cousins, and allowed Mr. Hale to lead her toward the grander monuments in the Howell family plot. She refused to reveal how shaken she was as she listened politely to his explanations. He pointed out the patriarch of the family, Cyrus Howell, his wife beside him, a son who had died at an early age, and various and assorted relatives. But none of the graves were new. Tyler had said the Hardings' mother had recently died.
Evie placed her gloved hand on the lawyer's frock-coated arm and turned away. "I'm afraid my friend will be terribly disappointed. She is only my age. It seems most of those people were much too old to be her parents. But I do thank you for your time, sir."
Hale hesitated, then led her farther down the same path. "All the Howells aren't buried in the family plot, of course. Wives are usually buried with their husbands. Louise Howell Harding, for instance, was Cyrus's daughter. She's buried in the Harding family plot. I believe you are acquainted with the Hardings? It was a tragic accident."
They stopped before a newly erected monument, and Evie held her breath as she scanned the writing. She scarcely paid attention to the name of Randall Harding. Her whole being focused on the name below it: Louise Evangeline Harding, born 1829, died 1870.
Evie quivered. She reached out a hand to touch the stone, but didn't