by Addison Cain
His older brother smacked his lips and gave a taunting grin. “Well now, little brother, look who finally grew some hair on his balls and scrounged up the nerve to ask her.” Batting his eyelashes, Nathaniel cooed, “How’d you do it? Down on one knee with a fist full of posies?”
Matthew checked the fittings on the still, almost smirking. “Not exactly.”
Looking plum shocked to see Matthew with even a hint of a grin, Nathaniel leaned back and waited.
Shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, Matthew shrugged. “She was being difficult, so I put her over my knee and tanned her hide until she said yes.”
Nathaniel fell flat on his ass. Red-faced and slapping the ground, he laughed until it hurt. Even Matthew joined in, two rich voices echoing off the rafters of their shanty in the woods.
Not ten miles away Ruth and Charlotte baked the weekly bread for the grill, Charlie trying to ignore the uncovered, angry red seam on her forearm.
The afternoon before, the good county doctor had nodded and clucked his tongue, pulling out itchy stitches and claiming she’d healed nicely. Then the old coot gave her a peppermint, his rascally grin unmistakable. Even Matthew had given her a look as if to say she had it coming after all her fussing. Eager to get even, Charlie popped the candy in her mouth, thoughts turning a very different direction.
Years ago, she’d heard the Chicago boys jaw about a popular local whore who’d sucked peppermint candy and then used her tongue to chill the skin. She’d pick some up at the general store, then Charlie would see who got the last laugh.
“I keep seeing that look on your face, Charlie.” Ruth cocked her chin, a playful leer on her lips. “Looking all dreamy and smiling to yourself. You gonna tell me why or should I just take a guess?”
Blushing at being caught thinking dirty thoughts, Charlie muttered something not nearly as salacious as what she’d been imagining, “Matthew asked me to marry him.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Ruth singsonged, kneading her dough. “Was it real romantic?”
“Ummm, not exactly…” Maybe she should not have said anything. “He uhhh…”
Grinning like a loon, Ruth cocked a brow. “He uhhh what?”
“Well, I said no.”
Her friend shrank, smile gone. “Why on earth would you say no? That man is crazy about you. Wait,” green eyes narrowed, “you’re still smiling. What happened?”
“Well he, uhhh…” Charlie was not sure if she should tell her, worried Eli might find out and then she’d never hear the end of it.
“Yeah, we already covered that part.” Ruth rolled her eyes. “Spit it out. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna tell Eli.”
Charlie bit her lip, pulled her hands from the dough and admitted, “I said no… then Matthew spanked me until I said yes.”
You could have knocked Ruth over with a feather—her jaw was just about on the floor. Next thing you know, the girl was laughing so hard she was crying.
Charlie joined in, shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing.
“I can’t…” Ruth was breathless, trying to form words, “I just…”
Charlie wiped a tear and just kept on laughing. “I know…”
After almost ten solid minutes of cracking up, Ruth sat back in a kitchen chair and looked at her dear friend. “That just might be the funniest thing I have ever heard… and gosh do I wish I hadn’t promised to not tell Eli.”
“Don’t you dare tell a soul!”
They finished up their baking, Ruth snickering every time their eyes met. Before Charlie returned home, she drove into Gap Mills, rushed through the late winter chill and set the small bell chiming above the general store door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elliot.” The shopkeeper, Mrs. Fletcher, sent her a warm smile. “I’m glad to see you all healed up. Whole town was in an uproar at what was done at Devil’s Hollow.”
Mortified, Charlie froze. The thought she might be the latest local gossip hadn’t occurred to her. Embarrassed, she found the few other customers gawking, a few nodding a greeting as if they were familiar.
Mrs. Fletcher stepped nearer. “Word is Mr. Emerson wouldn’t budge from your side, good man.”
The door opened behind her. Attention diverted, Charlie offered up a silent prayer of thanks, only to cringe when Mrs. Fletcher greeted the new customer, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fontanne. What can I get for you today?”
“Nothing today.” The old hag came up behind Charlie. “I just popped in to have a word with Miss Elliot.”
Goddamn it.
Turning, trying to keep her face polite, Charlie met the eyes of one of the meanest women on God’s green earth.
Mrs. Fontanne raised her chin. “I’ve been hoping to run into you for some time.”
Cocking a brow, Charlie straightened her shoulders and braced for whatever horrible thing was coming.
“It has been pointed out to me that I was not as courteous as I ought to have been.”
Holy shit the old woman was apologizing.
“I hope we can put it behind us.”
“Of course, Mrs. Fontanne.” Charlie lowered her brows, and smiled just enough. “And thank you for taking such good care of me when I was friendless and new in town.”
Unsure if the young woman was mocking her, Mrs. Fontanne offered a handshake. When Charlie took it, the woman turned her newly scarred wrist so she might see the damage, while asking the question every person milling about the general store was dying to know, “It true you shot those five men who broke in?”
An old gossip never changes her stripes. Monotone, Charlie answered, “Couldn’t say. I don’t remember a thing.”
Undaunted, Mrs. Fontanne pressed, “That must’a been one nasty wound.” She looked up to inspect Charlie’s neck for signs of the bruises, disappointed to find nothing more than fading yellow smears. “We all heard about Mr. Emerson carrying you into the hospital, man near to losing his mind. Heard tell, they had to pry your body out of his arms. That he threw a first rate fit when they wouldn’t let him come with you.”
“He’s gonna be my husband,” Charlie blurted out stupidly, uncomfortable with all the attention.
“He is powerful influential round here…” Old beady eyes narrowed, and Charlie realized Matthew was the reason for this new cordial behavior.
“I thank you for your concern, Mrs. Fontanne.” Speaking quickly, Charlotte pulled out her wallet and looked to the shopkeeper. “Mrs. Fletcher, I’d like a small bag of peppermints.”
The transaction was handled and Charlie hurried out the door, tired of being Monroe’s afternoon sideshow.
Back at Devil’s Hollow, she hardly made it inside the door before Eli rushed up to take the big basket of bread. “Sure does smell good. How’s my Ruth?”
“She’s doing fine. We had quite a laugh today.” She explained, taking off her coat, while Eli put the bread in the pantry.
Nathaniel, mid-swallow, heard her and choked.
A few sharp slaps between the shoulder blades seemed to set the red-faced drunk to rights. “You okay, Nathaniel?”
When he caught her eye, Charlie leaned in close, and could see it plain as day on his face. Ignoring where Matthew stood at the grill, certain he was giving his brother a death glare in the mirror, Charlie whispered, “Ruth thought it was pretty damn funny too.”
Nathaniel lost it, had to get up and walk out the back, laughing so hard it hurt the whole way.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Eli asked, brushing flour off his hands.
Innocent, Charlie took her seat. “Who knows?” Looking at Matthew standing all large, she gave him a tiny wink and set the peppermints on the bar. “Seems Mrs. Fontanne is suddenly my new best friend. I wonder just what inspired that, Mr. Emerson?”
Glad he was off the hook for telling Nathaniel, and a little embarrassed she had obviously told Ruth, Matthew grunted, “I spoke with her husband.”
Charlie grew cheeky, trilling her nails against the bar. “A
wful sweet of you.”
Sliding a plate of lunch before his woman, Matthew leaned over, giving her a look that warned she best not argue over what he was about to say. “We have a run to make tonight, so I went to town this morning and booked you a room at the boarding house.”
Charlie lost her smile. “Why?”
“You won’t be staying here alone.”
After hearing Mrs. Fontanne’s account of Matthew’s panic when she’d been hurt, Charlie felt a bit sympathetic. That said, she still found it unreasonable for him to expect a woman like her to go into hiding when the menfolk were gone. Frowning, she sighed, “What time should I check in?”
His brow raised, Matthew looked at her long and hard, having anticipated resistance, backtalk, a quarrel. Her easy acceptance was… unexpected. “We’ll be leavin’ in an hour.”
Chapter 10
The Emerson boys made decent time, arriving at Radcliffe’s warehouses with an hour to spare. Jacky Brindle waited to greet them, the slimy yes-man, directing his men to unload the truck under the eye of Nathaniel and Eli. Inside, Matthew took the customary seat across from the big man in charge.
“Listen, Matthew,” Beaumont counted out stacked bills as he spoke, “we’re gonna need another two hundred gallons in four days’ time, if you can handle it.”
Matthew nodded, his eyes narrowed at the simpering Tommy standing cocky at Beaumont’s back.
“How’s Lottie?” Tommy asked, grinning like he’d just stolen another New Year’s kiss.
Matthew reached into his pocket and withdrew a cigar. Striking a match, he lit the tip of his tobacco and took a quick puff. “Seems you haven’t heard.” Pale eyes went back to Radcliffe. “Men broke into my home when Charlotte was alone, ‘bout two weeks back.”
“What the hell was she doing out there?” Tommy snarled, stepping closer. “You’re her guard dog… so fucking guard her.”
Matthew’s eyes moved slowly as they traveled past Radcliffe to lock on the hated face of the handsome gangster. “Last time you called me that I laid you flat on your ass, son.” The intensity of his gaze went back to Beaumont, though his words were for the pretty boy at his back. “I suggest you shut the fuck up and let the men speak.”
Beaumont’s smirk was gone, his lips a line. “Tommy, get out.”
Face one of disgust, Tommy crossed to the door. Once the insufferable jackass was gone, Matthew pulled the cigar from his lips and growled. “She killed them all but one. I’m looking for the son of a bitch that ran away.”
The gangster was working his jaw something fierce. “Did they have at her?”
Matthew shook his head. “She shot most of them as they came through the door. Two broke in the back, got up behind her. One wrapped his hands round her neck, banged her skull hard enough it cracked the plaster. She shot the motherfucker point blank. I’m still scraping his guts off the paint. The last one came at her with a knife, sliced her arm deep before she grazed his leg with buckshot. He ran off, but she was barely breathing by the time I made it back. Charlotte was laid up in the hospital for five days.”
Dead fury sat on Radcliffe’s face. “Lottie know who he was?”
Matthew gave the smallest of head shakes and put the cigar back between his lips. “No.”
Steepling his hands before him, Beaumont narrowed his eyes. “What does the bastard look like?”
“‘Bout my height, wiry… blond hair cut close on the sides, long on top. Thin mustache and a scar down his left cheek.”
Beaumont went through a mental list of goons who might match the description, nodding to himself as he considered. “I’ll ask around.”
“You do that.” Matthew stood and lifted his payment from the desk between them.
Leaning back in his chair, Beaumont leveled a warning at the brawny man. “You know she’ll hunt him down. Lottie can be a vindictive little cunt. She’s sweet on you and I know from personal experience that she looks after those she counts as her own. She won’t let an attack on your business slide. Best keep a close eye on her.”
It was bare naked in his gaze—pure unadulterated rage. “I will be the one who personally takes a fuckin’ ax to the man who hurt my girl. I would consider it a… personal favor… for any information you may come across.”
The cocky grin returned to Radcliffe’s mouth. “You don’t want to be owing favors to men like me.”
Matthew drew an irritated breath, knowing he had to tell the man or it would stir up trouble come Easter. “She’s gonna be my wife.”
“That so?” Beaumont drew out the words, amused as he condescended and held out his hand. “Well, son, looks like you will be spending a lot more time in Chicago.”
Matthew took the mobster’s hand and shook it, rigid as he looked Beaumont dead in the eye.
Radcliffe cocked his head at the door, signaling their meeting was at an end. “I’ll let Martha know to set an extra place at Easter dinner.”
Once the Emerson boys drove off and it was only Radcliffe in the office, Charlie snuck up right behind him, sitting a hip on his desk. “This vindictive little cunt knows a band of hired thugs when she sees one.”
Beaumont looked up, his surprise hidden by decades of unsavory business experience. After lighting a cigarette, he crooned, “Why do I have the sense you’re gonna get yourself in a lot of trouble when Matthew finds out you’re here?”
She grinned, showing her teeth. “And just what makes you think he’ll find out?”
Radcliffe took her arm and pushed up the sleeve to see the long tracks of stitch marks before leaning towards her neck and the barest hint of fading bruises. “You really agree to marry that menacing country boy? He’s got a scary reputation, little girl.”
Winking, she answered, “You want to give me away at the wedding?”
Beaumont leaned back in his chair and waited for her to get to the point.
Charlie’s voice was smooth as butter, the girl reaching out to straighten Radcliffe’s tie. “I know you have the feds in your pocket. They the ones who attacked Devil’s Hollow?”
There was a touch of respect in his voice. “The feds are running scared of your Mr. Emerson. Every time they come at him, a lot of their men mysteriously disappear.”
Sapphire eyes narrowed to slits. “Was it you? You going after him cause of me?”
He gave her a warning look. “Last thing I want is to stir up trouble with the Emersons.”
Charlotte nodded and hummed, thinking it over. “Well then, I have a present hog-tied at your back door. I picked up two of Bugsy’s men lurking nearby. What do you say we have a nice long chat with them… for old times’ sake?”
The words came out in a puff of cigarette smoke. “That’s my girl.”
She eyed the dozens of guns lined up against the wall. “I’m his girl now.”
Blue eyes sparkled at her. “You’ll always be my girl, Blackbird.”
She kissed his cheek with a bashful smirk. “Come on, you ol’ charmer. Pauli the Tooth and Fernando Carrera aren’t going to shoot themselves.” She looked to the ceiling and considered, “Well, Pauli might… he’s pretty dumb.”
Beau let a deep rumble shake his chest. “How much you want for them?”
“Consider it a personal favor.” Her eyes grew sharp. “But should you get wind of anything…”
“I don’t want to be owing favors to a woman like you,” Beaumont teased.
Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. “Very funny, Uncle Beau.”
The interrogation was fruitless; it was clear early on Bugs had nothing to do with the attack on Devil’s Hollow either. Pauli and Fernando did however have a great deal of info useful to Radcliffe… and would spend the last remaining hours of their lives having it tortured out of them—bad men, being murdered by a bad man.
If her attacker was in Chicago, no doubt Beaumont would get wind of it. Problem was, in her gut Charlie was sure whoever the man was, he was not going to be showing his face for some time.
Sitting in th
e cart of a freight train she’d hitched a ride on, Charlie mulled over what she’d heard and what she knew. She’d shot that man good, but not enough to kill him. He would have had to pick the lead out, and only the real ballsy sort did that alone. Seeing as he ran off, coward was written all over him. He went to a doctor or hospital after driving as far as he could, considering blood loss and pain.
Plan in hand, Charlie jumped off the train outside of Gap Mills, sneaking into Fontanne’s Boarding House quiet as a ghost. Sun up, all traces of her illicit activities washed away, Charlie was at a pay phone making calls, two steps ahead of Matthew’s manhunt by the time the Emersons crossed the county line.
It’s funny what a box of candy can do for a woman. The nurses at Huntington hospital were full of grins when Charlie offered the treat.
Chattering away, she put on a show. “I heard from our cousin that he went and shot himself in the leg. He’s a bit of a troublemaker, but my mama asked me to stop by and see if he was okay.”
The young nurse shook her head in apology. “Well, ma’am, Roy Beachum was checked-out nigh on two weeks ago.”
“Well don’t that beat all.” Looking downright disappointed, Charlie memorized the soon-to-be-dead man’s name. “After I come all this way… Maybe it’s for the best. Word is he got a bit rough, nasty scar down his cheek and everything.”
The woman agreed, only happy to have another bite of chocolate.
Charlie said goodbye, and went straight to the small town’s hotel, found he’d never stayed the night, then asked around the local general store. Roy Beachum had got out of Dodge. But she had a name, she had his general direction pointed straight at Charleston—therefore she had the power.
The drive home took two hours and it was almost supper by the time her car pulled up outside Devil’s Hollow. Matthew was sitting on the porch, sipping coffee and looking downright petulant. “Where you been?”
Waving a package, Charlie gave an innocent smile. “When I went to the general store yesterday, there were a lot of questions and a lot of poking at my arm. I thought Charleston might be a better place to shop today. I got some long gloves to keep the scar covered until it’s not quite so shocking to the people of Gap Mills.”
