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The school day was long and hard, my level of distraction making it almost impossible for me to focus on the lesson plans. To compound my problem the children were overly excited by the news that one of the Walker brothers had been murdered and the other had disappeared from the jail during the night, and whispering kept breaking out whenever I moved to another corner of the classroom. With a tale straight out of a "penny-dreadful" novel unfolding right under their noses in Colorado Springs, it came as no real surprise to me that I had to struggle to maintain some semblance of order. But at the lunch recess Daniel's suspicions of Hank's involvement in the crime spread through my charges like wildfire--with speculation about my relationship with the saloon-owner adding fuel to the flames--and my attempt to teach World History in the afternoon was a complete waste of effort. Finally all of the children were gone except for Samantha Bing, who was patiently waiting for either Myra or Horace to come for her. The youngest of my pupils, Sam had become a particular favorite of mine, with her genuine sweetness and eagerness to learn. "Would you like a peppermint?" I sat down next to her and removed a small bag of candy from my skirt pocket. "Thank you." She popped the sweet into her mouth. "You're very welcome." "Miss Caitlyn--are you sad?" She looked up at me trustingly. "Do I look sad?" "Yes, ma'am." "We all feel sad sometimes." I tucked a loose curl behind her ribbon. "Papa was real sad for a long time--back when I was little." "I would imagine that he's much happier now that you've moved back here from St. Louis." I hid my amusement at how differently children and adults calculate the passage of years. "One of the big boys said that when you came to school this morning you'd been crying--because of Mr. Hank." "If you had a good friend who you knew hadn't done something that was wrong, but people were saying that he did, I'll bet that it would make you unhappy, too," I suggested lightly. "Mr. Hank is my friend." Her blue eyes seemed strangely familiar, and for a moment my breath caught in my throat as I wondered if Samantha Bing actually was Hank's daughter. The door opened and a breathless Myra came hurrying in. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "The bank was just full of customers, and every single one of them in a hurry. I got away quick as I could." "You're only a few minutes late." I felt a stab of envy as I watched her hug her child. "It gave me a little extra time to enjoy Samantha's company." "Are you okay?" Myra studied me. "This hasn't been the easiest day of my life," I admitted. "Why don't you come home with us?" she suggested impulsively. "Have supper with Sam and me?" "Since I have to feed my animals, why don't we go to my house instead? The kitten that I promised to Samantha will be ready to leave its mother in about two more weeks, and she needs to pick out the one that she wants." "Oh, could we, Mama, please?" "As long as we get you home before your bedtime, I don't see why not." "I don't have a meal ready, so we'll be eating something simple that doesn't take long to prepare," I warned, gathering up my belongings. "Anything I don't have to fix myself tastes real good to me." Myra smiled. The three of us made our way to the livery, and while Robert E brought out Storm and hitched up Myra's wagon, I went into the Mercantile, at the last minute adding tobacco to the pile of goods on the counter. "You takin' up the habit?" Loren asked mildly. "Or does this mean you know where Hank is?" "Neither one, I'm afraid, Mr. Bray." I paid for the items that he was wrapping. "Well, if you do see Hank, tell him I don't believe he done it. And a lot of other folks around here--they don't either." "Sheriff Simon is looking for the wrong man." I met his gaze. "Hank had absolutely nothing to do with this murder." "I found my Marjorie too late in life." He lightly touched my arm. "And lost her way too soon. But you got a chance to be happy. Grab on to it with both hands and hang on tight, girl. That's what I woulda told my Abigail, if I'd known back then what I know now." "Thank you." I nodded, realizing that the crusty shopkeeper had recognized and accepted my love for his friend. Rejoining Myra and Sam in front of the livery, I tied my horse to the back of their wagon and rode along with them, knowing that if I didn't my mare would prance sideways and snort in disgust at being held back for the entire distance--or given her head, would leave the slower animal behind to eat her dust. After a quick trip inside to change my clothes, I took care of the horses and cow, and Myra allowed Sam to feed the chickens while she gathered a basket of fresh eggs. We sat in the front porch rockers until dusk, chatting idly while Samantha threw sticks for Maggie and Zeke to chase, then left her to their care and went inside to begin the meal preparations. For a long moment Myra stood at the window, smiling wistfully as she watched her laughing daughter through the glass. "Wish we lived in a place like this--in a nice house, away from town, with all of this room for her to play." "She seems to be content no matter where she is." I brought ham and cheese from the pantry. "Sam's one of those children who are a sheer joy to be around." "It sure didn't start out that way," she admitted ruefully. "When Samantha was a baby she was fussy right around the clock. Seemed like all I ever had time to do was wipe her runny nose or her bottom. There were times when I thought I was gonna lose my mind if she didn't stop cryin'-- at least long enough for me to just get some sleep. I thought there was something wrong with me. That I must be a really awful mother. Now I think she was pickin' up on some of the tension between me and Horace." "I admire you for being willing to move back here for her sake-- especially when this is not where you really want to be." I began breaking eggs for our omelets. "When I got on that train to leave for St. Louis--when Horace and I first separated--I kept thinkin' of how I'd come here all them years before. Of all the dreams I'd had back then... When I met Hank he was the handsomest man I'd ever laid eyes on--just lookin' at him gave me all these funny feelings inside. And I thought if I waited long enough or was pretty enough or pleased him enough, I could make him love me, and then I'd be happy." She continued to gaze out the window. "After awhile I realized it wasn't gonna happen, and Horace came along, wantin' to give me the kinda life I'd always wanted. And I thought if I did everything right--if I was the perfect wife and mother--my dreams would all come true. That I'd finally be happy. But it wasn't enough. Now I know that the only dream that really matters is that little girl out there. And what makes me happy is knowin' that she's happy." "Mr. Bing seems to continue to have some hope that eventually the two of you will reconcile--or at least that's been my impression." "Horace is a good man." She moved to the work table and began tearing up greens for a salad. "We both tried real hard to make our marriage work--and ended up makin' each other miserable. I'm not lookin' to get married again. I probably never will. I belonged to Horace, same as I did to Hank. Now I belong to me. For the first time in my whole life, I'm free." "I felt like that when I went away to college," I confessed. "I had lived in my father's house all of my life--and I would have gone from being daughter to wife, if my fiance hadn't died in the war. Even with all of the rules that we were expected to follow, when I moved away to go to school I felt as if I was finally living my own life--taking steps in the direction that I wanted to go instead of following along with a plan that the rest of society had laid out for me." "You and Dr. Mike--and Colleen--are the only women I ever knew who've been to college." "Until I went there myself, I had known very few of them, too. In families like mine and Michaela's, a girl is groomed from birth to be a rich man's wife. For one of us to decide to enter a profession is considered an admission that we've failed at securing the right husband and creating a proper marriage. It simply isn't done. During the entire time that I was working toward my degree at Georgia Women's College, whenever I told someone that I was preparing to become a teacher the response was almost invariably, 'Honey, you're far too pretty to waste your life like that!" I admitted drily. "As far as they were concerned, I was taking a huge step downward on the social scale." "The Southern aristocrat's version of whorin'?" she giggled. "Well, at least something of a shame and a disgrace." I felt my cheeks turn pink, even as I returned her smile. "I would rather have gone to college than be married. I couldn't even read 'til I was fully grown. Never had a chance to learn." "I didn't know how to boil an egg until I was 18." I grinned. "For basically the same reason." "Do you ever miss havin' all them fancy dresses--and people to wait on you? The way you used to live?" "Most of what I miss are things that I never even thought about until I didn't have them any more. Like being warm--and having a real bath every morning. Curling up with one of those thousands of books that are in Riverview's library--and being able to grow vegetables of some sort nearly year-round." "Ashamed as I am to admit it, a part of me misses the laughin' and talkin' and the other girls at the saloon. I hated it every single time a man bought and paid for me, and I would do anything to keep from goin' back to that life, but after I left it was like I started to fade away. Like I was nobody... Except for that time Grace and Dorothy and me made it all the way to the top of Pike's Peak, I never felt like I was my own person." "I don't know how to put this without sounding offensive, but it's hard for me to picture you as...anything other than the way you are now." "My folks died a month apart, when I was 13. Left me to raise four brothers and sisters by myself, the next oldest to me just ten. My life probably woulda been a whole lot different if Ma had lived." "How old were you when you--went with Hank?" "Eighteen." She entered the pantry and returned with herbs, oil, and vinegar to dress the salad. "We'd been scratchin' what we could out of a piece of land Pa had been farmin', but there were too many bills I couldn't pay, and the credit had all dried up. I was at the end of my rope. Sometimes I think I did it for them--and sometimes I wonder if I wanted out so bad that I would've gone with him anyway. I was hungry for somebody to take care of me for a change, and Hank did--even though I didn't understand what I was tradin' for it. Not then." "He didn't explain to you about entertaining?" "Hank told me the straight truth--right from the beginning," she sighed. "But you can't understand what it's really like 'til you're the one layin' next to a stranger, knowin' yer about to give your body to him because he has the five dollars that it costs to buy you. Nobody can explain what it's like to know in dollars and cents exactly what yer worth." "I would probably be a lot angrier than you seem to be." I put water on the stove to heat for tea. "Who am I gonna be mad at? Hank? He came along when nobody else was offerin' any charity--and he put food in our empty bellies. He wasn't even needin' a new girl right then. But he paid off my debts, put money in the bank so Charlie could look after the younger ones, and kept to his end of the bargain. I was the one lyin' to myself. I looked up at this tall, handsome man with his blue eyes and long, golden hair, and I thought my fairytale prince had come. Hank told me plain-out what the deal was when he made it." "But you were a young, innocent girl, and he--" "Much as I'd like to blame it all on him, it wouldn't be fair," she interrupted me. "That day when Hank happened to ride through Tipton an' noticed me cryin' in front of the general store, I had no shoes, no money, and no idea what I was gonna scrape together to feed the kids for supper. For five years I'd plowed fields 'til my hands bled, washed, cooked, scrubbed, and tended the others from dawn 'til long past dark. I was already feelin' old before my time. The one man who made me an offer of marriage didn't want a ready-made family, but without a pa around there was plenty who made it clear they'd be willin' to pay for what they did want. With Charlie the only one bringin' in any cash money--an' the kids needin' clothes and new shoes before winter--it was only a matter of time before I had to sell the only thing I had that somebody wanted." "Would you believe that I didn't have any idea that saloon girls did more than serve drinks when I first arrived in Colorado Springs?" I asked quietly. "That I didn't know what 'entertaining' was?" "Yeah. I believe it." She laughed. "When you figured things out and come stormin' down to the Gold Nugget, madder than a little old wet bantam hen--frownin' up at him with both fists planted on your hips and tellin' him exactly what you thought--was when I knew Hank had finally met his match." "Myra, there's something that I've wanted to ask you--but if it's a question that's too personal, just tell me..." I swallowed hard. "Are you still in love with Hank?" "Part of me will always love him--he was my first, and that sticks in your mind, no matter how many more come after," she answered softly. "But what was between us was all over and done with a long time ago." "I was afraid that my relationship with Hank might...affect our friendship." "I've been watchin' him fall in love with you for months." She smiled. "The only thing I wasn't sure about was whether or not you loved him back 'til that day when you saw how bad he was hurt. Then I knew." "My face must have been an open book out on that porch." I sighed. "It's hard to hide feelin's that deep." "I have no intention of even trying to hide them any more." "I been knowin' Hank a lotta years, and bad as his temper can be, killin' Walker ain't the kinda thing he would do," Myra opined. "People been talkin' about it in the bank all day long, and I'm not the only one thinks that way." "Hank was with me for most of last night." I piled chopped ham and shredded cheese on the omelets and folded them over. "I know for a fact that he had nothing to do with it." "Did you tell Daniel that?" Not even blinking at my admission, she began to slice the bread. "I went to the jail to speak to him the first thing this morning." "An' he still had a warrant issued for Hank's arrest?" "Sheriff Simon is choosing not to believe me." "When I first met Daniel I thought he was a nice man--and not hard to look at either. But something in my gut's been tellin' me for months that he ain't exactly what he seems. I don't know what it is but workin' in a saloon taught me to pay attention when I get that kind o' feelin' about somebody." "He's pond scum," I opined levelly, tipping the omelets out onto our plates. "I've totally lost what little respect that I ever had for the man. Any idiot would realize that admitting publicly that Hank and I spent that much time alone--at that hour of the night--will make it impossible for me to continue living and working in this town, but Daniel had the gall to accuse me of lying to protect him. Mark my words: somehow, some way, I intend to prove that Hank is innocent." "You're gonna be real good together. He's needed a woman like you for a long time." She looked up her work, her gaze meeting mine. "Whatever 'a woman like' me is...?" I asked ruefully. "One who'll love him with her whole heart...but who's strong enough to meet him halfway and hold her own. Who'll see what's inside and do her best to help him be the man he could be." Myra's eyes held the sheen of tears. "I couldn't be that woman. But you are." "Hank and I are different in so many ways... Every bit of logic that I possess is arguing that the odds of a marriage between the two of us working out is something that even the most reckless gambler wouldn't place a bet on." "He's asked you to marry him?" A wide grin lit up her whole face. "He has, hasn't he? And you said yes!" "I suppose that the whole town will know anyway, after I wire my family with the news." I nodded slightly. "I'm thrilled--especially for Hank." She laid her hand on top of mine and squeezed. "Willya be gettin' married here or back in Georgia?" "Before we make any plans, first we have to clear his name." "But you will have a big wedding, won't you?" she asked wistfully. "When I was 16 I used to dream about coming down the staircase at Riverview on Daddy's arm, wearing a bridal gown made out of real Belgium lace, with every room in the house overflowing with gardenias, white roses, and magnolias--every white flower in season. And I would imagine our guests dancing in the ballroom...all of the mirrors reflecting back flowers and sparkling lights from the chandeliers. I never thought much about my groom--he was this faceless shadow dancing attendance on me." I grinned mockingly at my own youthful fantasy. "Now that I've found the man that I want to marry, none of those other things seem very important." "It still sounds awful pretty." She smiled. "I don't blame you for wantin' to go home to get married--where all your kin-folks can be there-- but I'd sure like to watch Hank and you walk down that aisle." "Right now, all I can think about is having him back, safe and sound, without a murder warrant hanging over his head. I don't care what I wear or where and when we get married. I only want Hank--here--now. With me." "Did he tell you where he was going?" "No." I shook my head. "And it's tearing me apart." "Hank's been takin' care of hisself his whole life," she reassured me gently. "He knows these mountains like the back of his hand." "But he still has a long way to go to recover from being shot. He's in no shape physically to be living outdoors in mid-winter--on the run from the Law." A door opened, and we both turned, smiling at Samantha as she entered the kitchen. "There you are!" Myra beamed. "Just in time to go wash your hands. Miss Caitlyn and I have supper on the table." After Sam had polished off the last piece of pie, I followed the child and her mother into the parlor, carrying a saucer of milk. When I called to them, three six-week-old puffballs of fur came bouncing into the center of the room under the watchful green eyes of Luna, the huge silver-point, long-haired tabby who had come with me from Georgia. Days before her kittens had been born she had lost her mate to the hated coyotes that prowled much too closely to the house after dark for my liking. Now I only felt safe in allowing her outside during the day when I was with her or when Maggie and Zeke remained close by. The two dogs considered everything that lived on my land their responsibility to herd for safe-keeping: the chickens, the cow, the horses, the cats, and even me, and although she still spat at them occasionally, the regal Luna had finally--if grudgingly--accepted the fact that the presence of two constantly vigilant canine bodyguards was simply her cross to bear. Sitting down on the rug with Samantha I watched her gently touch and make cooing noises at the eagerly lapping foursome, satisfying myself that she was old enough to own an animal that young and fragile. "The biggest kitten--the yellow one--is a boy," I explained quietly. "The two who look like Luna are girls." "I don't know how to pick." She fretted as they began wandering away from the empty bowl, stopping to wash their faces and paws. "If you'll sit here quietly, sooner or later one will choose you-- and it will be the right one. Somehow, you'll both know that you belong together. It works every time for me." Reaching up, I removed the dozens of pins that it took to keep my hair in place. "Sure wish it was that easy with men." Myra laughed. "Maybe it would be--if we weren't so busy looking for the things on our checklists." I watched the tiny tomcat, who had begun stalking the curls piled up on the quilt around my hips. "I wasn't interested in finding a man, but I would never have consciously chosen the one who my heart knew was right."
Waking instantly with the feeling that I was no longer alone in my room, I carefully reached for the gun that I had left on the bedside table. Sliding myself slowly up against the headboard, I cocked the pistol, the sound startling in the dead silence of midnight. "Get out," I growled, my eyes locked on the shadowy figure in the doorway. "Or plan on going out feet first." "Cait, no," he whispered. "It's me." "Hank!" I quickly put the Colt away. "Sure I'm welcome?" His voice was thick with emotion as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms. "I could have have shot you," I fussed, my hands moving instinctively over his body--searching to reassure myself that he was all right--before our mouths met and lingered. "I was hopin' to wake you up without scarin' the wits outta you," he apologized softly, taking off his gunbelt and placing it on the floor next to the bed. "Never occurred to me you might accidentally gimme a belly full of lead. Shoot first--ask questions later." "Oh, Hank." I buried my face against his throat. "Hank..." "Couldn't stay away," he confessed. "Musta told myself no a hundred time since I left here this mornin'--that I couldn't take the chance." "Thank God that you didn't listen--that you came anyway," I breathed. "It ain't safe--not for either one of us." "Please--just hold me," I pleaded, pushing the blankets aside as I lay back against my pillow and reached my arms up to him. "Mighta got myself inta trouble sooner, if I'd known bein' on the wrong side of the Law was what it took to worm my way into bed with the schoolmarm," he teased, his weight making the mattress dip as he shifted into a reclining position. "I've been worried out of my mind about you all day long." I snuggled into his embrace. "Learn anything new?" he asked quietly, his chin resting on the top of my head. "Nothing that you'll want to hear. There's a warrant out for your arrest. And you were right about Daniel--he claimed that I was lying when I told him where you were last night." "Better to 've kept quiet. All it'll do is cause you grief when the old biddies find out." "Do you honestly think that it matters to me what people say or think, if admitting that we were alone together would stop that sorry, mangy, skunk of a sheriff from charging you with murder?" I demanded. "Got a feelin' Daniel saw more'n a flash of McShane temper when you went by to talk to him." He grinned. "Sully made me leave before I was even halfway finished," I admitted ruefully. "If Simon was interestin' in blamin' this on anybody else but me, he would be talkin' to my girls--and Mark. He was behind the bar last night. Ten to one whoever done it was in the Gold Nugget, and they'd know who all was around--regulars and strangers." "The man who slipped into the jail was tall and blond--and that by itself was enough to convince Daniel that it had to be you." "Cole stabbed in the heart?" "Sully said that his throat was cut." "Must've been a deep, clean cut across the windpipe, or he woulda made noise and woke up Doyle." "All I know is that those stains on the floor are so deep that they will be there until the wood rots," I offered grimly. "Any sign either one of 'em fought?" "I saw a blanket on the floor...and the bunk had been slept on in the cell that must have been Doyle Walker's. That's all that I remember." "Think harder," he urged. "Any blood in Doyle's cell? Ya see any bloody footprints? Chamber pot spilled--or maybe the water pitcher?" "Both of the floors had just been mopped." "Figures." He took a deep breath. "Fool probably didn't even turn the place over to see what he could find before he told Su-lin to clean it up. That much blood, he shoulda lit all the lamps he could find, got down on his hands and knees, and searched every inch of Doyle's cell--bottom to top. Might've found nothin'--but hard as it rained, there was bound to be muddy footprints. An' if one man did it, more'n likely smears of Cole's blood--somewhere--either from the murder's hands or shoes. Know anything about trackin' you can tell by the size or shape of the sole or heel--or the way a man carries his weight--if it's one pair of footprints or two. Any missin' horses? Or a wagon?" "What?" I pulled back and frowned in puzzlement. "Whoever took Doyle Walker from the jail brought along a second horse or stole one. He weighs a good 230--not gonna ride double long with a man that size." "Nobody's said one word about how they got out of town," I realized suddenly. "Hell, Walker's a good six-four! Where do they think he was hid--underneath somebody's shirt?" he barked in frustration. "We gotta find out everything we can 'fore the trail gets any colder. Ask Sully for help. Ain't nobody any better." "But he and Daniel are--" "Don't matter to Sully that they're friends--he'll do what's right." "At least one good thing has come out of all of this." "What's that?" "I've been deemed no longer fit to become Mrs. Preston A. Lodge the Third." "Broke your heart, did he?" he teased. "I'm completely devastated." "Truth is, yer gonna get tarred with the same brush for not havin' better sense than to fall in love with somebody like me," he warned gently. "It won't be just Preston." "According to Mr. Bray and Myra, very few people in town believe that you're the one who killed Walker." "They'll change their tune by the time Daniel gets through. Much as they respect you, it's yer word against his--and he's the Law." "Wait a minute." I stiffened, suddenly sitting up. "How did you get into my house? I know for certain that both of my doors were locked. I checked them twice." "Anything can be locked, can be unlocked." Hank pulled my head back down against his shoulder. "That gun you were pointin' at me--you practice with it enough to hit what yer aimin' for? If the one came in on you hadn't been me?" "So far it's Caitlyn 12; Coyotes 1." "You and them coyotes." He chuckled. "If they're going to come sneaking around, trying to steal my laying hens and my cats, they deserve to end up as dog food." "Still might wanna think about askin' Sully and Michaela if you can come stay with them, just 'til we know where Doyle Walker is and who killed his brother. You don't need to be alone out here, with things the way they are." "This is my home. I'm not going anywhere," I insisted stubbornly. "Not unless you want to take me with you." "Wantin' ain't the problem--if I could be sure of keepin' you safe, we'd be twenty miles away by now." "Why don't you let me decide if it's worth the risk?" "Cause I couldn't stand to losin' you," he admitted softly. "That day in the bank, it was the first bullet I ever took I figure was worth the pain. No way I'm gonna let somethin' happen to you now--not if I can help it." "You can't seem to get it through your thick head that you mean just as much to me." Beneath my cheek Hank's shirt was wet with my tears. "Please--let me come with you." "Wish I could give you anything you ever asked me for." He stroked my hair. "But this time the answer's gotta be no." For several minutes we lay curled together, my legs entwined with his, both of us trying to come to terms with the depth of the feelings that bound us to each other--and the unexpected circumstances that were tearing us apart. Finally, I took several deep breaths, forcing my emotions back under control. "I bought you some tobacco--it's on my dressing table. Be sure to take it with you when you go." "Thought you hated smellin' smoke on my hair and clothes." His lips curved into a slight grin. "Tastin' tobacco when I kiss you?" "This seemed like a bad time for you to start trying to break the habit." "You'll hafta share a cigar now and then with Loren to keep him from knowin' you got it for me." "I'm sure that he already knows." I cupped my hand behind his nape and brought his mouth to mine again. "He told me that he had found what he needed too late--for me not to let happiness pass me by." "Sometimes that old man gives out real good advice." He held me more tightly. "Are those blankets that I gave you heavy enough?" I fretted. "Or is there anything else that you need?" "Besides you?" "You already have me." I unbuttoned the top of his shirt so that I could rest my cheek against his bare chest. "Cait, if there was any way I could, I'd make you my wife right now. Tonight." His breathing was slightly ragged as he cradled me against him. "Take you to the Rev and make him marry us." "Whether he wanted to or not?" I asked lightly. "Oughta be happy as a clam to see me tie the knot--to know I'm changin' my ways...or just havin' my way with one woman." Tilting my head back, he kissed me over and over again as his thumb lightly stroked my exposed collarbone. His lips moved down my neck, and I arched against him as his mouth found the sensitive juncture with my shoulder. "Hank..." Filled with a restless desire, I dug my nails into his back as his breath warmed the skin exposed by the scoop-necked garment, and he pressed a lingering kiss just above the lace edging of my gown. "I'd better go," he murmured. "Not yet," I begged. "Have to--for more'n one reason." He gently caressed my face. Reaching for the candlestick on the table he fumbled with a match, and a soft golden glow warmed the room. "Never knew a man could love a woman this much," he whispered, his eyes drinking in my passion-flushed cheeks, then moving hungrily down the soft white lawn fabric of my gown where it molded against the swelling curve of my breasts. "If I had known, I never woulda believed it could happen to me." |
