by Addison Cain
All the kid knew was that the sheriff had come, telegram in hand. In response, Charlie had started drinking.
Pushing open the screen, Matthew walked right up to her. “Where is it, Charlotte?”
Smacking her lips, Charlie brushed him off. “Where’s what?”
Calm, Matthew gave his brother one warning. “Nathaniel, get inside now.”
Nathaniel did just that, looking worried, but wise enough to mind his own.
Matthew tried again, keeping his voice low. “Where is it, darlin’?”
Bleary, bloodshot eyes lost just enough edge to well. “If I give it to you, will you leave me alone?”
He nodded and held out his hand. A crumpled ball of paper came from her pocket, Matthew standing to read the telegram by the porch light.
Evangeline Elliot passed away in her sleep yesterday. Cremation took place this morning, ashes spread in the garden as requested. We are exceedingly sorry for your loss.
His scowl deepened, Matthew folded the Western Union missive. Knowing both Nathaniel and Eli were watching from inside, Matthew crouched before his golden girl and cupped his hands to her cheeks.
Her lower lip trembled, and Matthew could see she was fighting with every fiber of her being to keep her expression angry.
She whispered, “You said you’d leave.”
“There ain’t nothing that could keep me from you right now.”
That was all it took. Charlotte began to bawl, trying to hide her face from the man stroking warm thumbs over her wet cheeks. When he put his arms around her, she clung to him, and sobbed all the harder. Ignoring the worried looks of his kin, the gawking patrons, Matthew picked her up and carried her upstairs. He got her out of her dress and put her to bed.
Climbing in beside her, Matthew gave her time, held on tight, and stroked her until Charlotte passed out dead drunk.
It was midday before Charlie groaned into her pillow. A shuffling noise near the door let her know Matthew waited. Peeking open an eye she found he was already moving his ledger from his lap, reaching towards the bureau where a glass of water waited. Dropping in two Alka-Seltzer, he offered it up.
Taking the medicine, cotton-mouthed and ill, she thanked him. “I’m sorry, uhhhh, about last night.
“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for.”
“Yeah, there is.”
“No, Charlotte,” Matthew’s voice came harder, “there ain’t.”
Too tired to argue, horribly embarrassed, she swallowed all the liquid and let him take the glass away.
Walking out the door, Matthew said, “Get dressed. There’s something I wanna show you.”
After Charlie stumbled into a dress and made her puffy face look somewhat decent, she found Matthew waiting downstairs. Without a word, he took her hand and led her outside, walking them both straight into the woods.
Ten minutes later they stood inside her wreck of a house.
Light filtered in where portions of the roof and walls were missing, plant life grew out of the floor. But between faded wallpaper and cracked masonry, it was still beautiful.
“Here’s how I see it,” Matthew looked around the parlor, nodding to himself. “You lived your life for your mama, made sure she was well-tended. Because of you, she was blessed enough to pass in her sleep, real gentle.” Pale eyes darted down to find Charlotte gnawing her lip.
Charlie could see what he was not saying, what he was trying to show her. This house he was going to build for her was the symbol of the future she once never thought was possible. There was hope and a whole world just waiting.
“When I was sitting on the porch…” Charlie swallowed, took a shaky breath, and continued her confession, “When I was sitting on the porch, I was numb at first. Then I felt this odd wave of relief. A part of me was glad she was dead, Matthew.” Forcing herself to look him in the eye, Charlie asked, “What kind of woman does that make me?”
“I won’t act like I know what you been through—what you denied yourself or how you struggled to care for your mama. But I do know that you felt liberated cause that’s what you were. God set you free when he set her free. You don’t have to live in your dead brother’s shell no more. She is at peace, you can be too. In the meantime, grievin’ is natural.”
Her fingers tightened in his, Charlie nodding sadly.
“I got men coming to start work on the house tomorrow.” Matthew surveyed bracken and rotting walls. “They’re gonna need direction from you. You can change whatever you don’t find pleasin’, arrange the rooms to suit you.”
This was her fresh start to choose whatever future she wanted. “Careful what you offer, Matthew, I might just get carried away.”
Threading his fingers through her hair, Matthew rubbed where he knew her head must ache. “It will be a fine house, Charlotte.”
Back at Devil’s Hollow, Charlie flipped through the paper, reading yet another article featuring Gangster Tommy Kennedy’s Rising Fame. Matthew, at her elbow, tallied accounts, Nathaniel staring off into space at his side.
Charlie was far less distraught, had even smiled once or twice since their return. But when the screen door swung and Eli pranced into the room with something tucked under his coat, Matthew glared.
The last thing he needed was something stupid coming out of Eli’s fool mouth setting her off again.
Eli, oblivious to the outright growl coming from his cousin, stood proud as a peacock. “Put that paper down and hold out your hands, Miss Charlie.”
Before she knew what was what, Eli stuffed a striped kitten into her palms.
Unsure what the hell to do with it, Charlie dangled the tiny animal at arm’s length. The kitten stared at her, Charlie stared right back, both creatures confused.
The scrawny thing made a little mew.
Her scowl faltered. When it began to purr, a slow-spreading smile brightened Charlie’s face.
Eli, certain down to his bones the kitten would cheer her up, grinned. “Miss Miller’s house cat had a litter few weeks back. What you gonna name him?”
Charlie pulled the kitten to her breast. “Aren’t you just the fluffiest little baby kitty. You’re so cute with your big ol’ eyes and blue bow round your neck.”
Matthew’s shocked scoff caught the kitten’s attention.
In response, Charlie fawned all over the purring cat. “Don’t worry about big, bad Matthew, Gus. He’s harmless.”
Knowing better than to keep a cat at the table, Charlie moved to her rocking chair, where she cuddled up close to her kitten.
Nathaniel, just as surprised to see Charlie act so girly, found himself amazed Eli had done something right for once. Funnier still was the look on his brother’s face. Watching Matthew just about jump when Charlie let out a girlish giggle, required a proper smart-ass response.
“Damn…” Nathaniel slapped a wicked leer on his face. “If she goes all soft over one mangy, flea-bitten mongrel, imagine what she’ll be like cooing over your first baby.”
It wasn’t even hard for Matthew to picture it—a tiny infant in his golden girl’s arms, her face soft as she smiled down. His scowl vanished, Matthew liking the image before Nathaniel ruined the moment by adding, “And the way you been ruttin’ after her, big, bad Matthew, it’s safe to say you’ll be building a cradle come Christmas.”
Ignoring Eli’s laughing snorts, Matthew looked to his older brother and leveled him with a glare, shocking his kin by agreeing. “I imagine you just might be right.”
Chapter 13
His most reliable supplier sitting across the desk, Beaumont scowled, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He knew what Matthew was waiting for, information on the man who’d cut Lottie. Before he might get to business, there was a pause, the strike of a match, and a dense cloud of tobacco smoke. “Listen, Matthew. As I hear it, there’s a juke joint outside Charleston—place called Friendly’s—where a man with a scar down his cheek has been asking around for work.” Beaumont settled his elbows on the table, cocking a brow. “A fr
iend of a friend thought you might want to make an appearance.”
Charleston wasn’t so far from home, a few hours out of the way at most—leaving that man awful close to Charlotte. Business done, Matthew stood ready to get the hell out of Chicago and straight down to Friendly’s.
“One more thing, Matthew.” Beaumont tapped his finger on the table. “I’d go tonight, if you get my drift.”
Oh, he got it. Not to say that Matthew didn’t have trouble trusting a man like Radcliffe. “This friend of a friend, who is he?”
Radcliffe grinned, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The whiskey—if it could even be called whisky—was warm, sliding slippery-like down Charlie’s gullet. It was her second time wasting a night in the hind legs of West Virginia’s capital city, wandering shit holes a man like Roy Beachum might frequent. The turn of events, her sitting there in the shadows, was as cliché as it was routine.
Friendly’s was just charming, from the bloodstains on the floor to the reek of vomit in the corners. Over the years she’d been in a million bars just like it, felt at home sitting back against the wall, observing.
All signs had pointed to Charleston, a city almost large enough a wounded man like Roy might disappear. But with his friends dead, he’d be looking for new cronies. Friendly’s was just the place for making contacts, boasting a rough crowd and a bad reputation.
Beachum was in the area, and frankly, the chase and the subterfuge needed to placate Matthew was getting grating. Things needed to be wrapped up, Charlie aware she’d have to leave Charleston soon if she was going to beat Matthew home from Chicago.
Six hours and still no Roy…
From under a dirty brim, sapphire eyes measured each man who came through the door. She listened for whispers, gossip, bawdy stories, that same sour whiskey clutched in her fist.
And still nothing.
But Friendly’s was the key, she knew it. She just had to be patient—and maybe prepare to duck—as it looked like a brawl was ready to break out. Shouting got louder, two drunks beginning to posture just as the door opened. A wiry nobody with a scar traipsed in, far too cocky for a man about to enjoy an unmarked grave.
Wise enough not to grin outright, Charlie settled for a nasty smirk. She could’ve raised her glass to him, watching him limp towards the flashier whores. In fact, she couldn’t have asked for better. The cover of an impending fight would make dragging the man out go unnoticed, and Roy was even cornering himself by offering cash to a hooker who would take him someplace private upstairs. Everything would get wrapped up right on time for her to hop a train and be back at Devil’s Hollow in time for breakfast.
Roy didn’t seem too picky on choice of company, choosing the first he clamped eyes on. Her prey marched upstairs, arm in arm with a woman sporting flaming red hair. Pushing away from the wall, Charlie walked to another lady of the evening, prepared to make the lucky girl a decent proposition. She needed access upstairs, and the girl in her dirty yellow dress would make a couple easy bucks without having to do a damn thing. Once upstairs, she’d hogtie Roy, beat some answers out of him, and drag him off with no one the wiser.
It was perfect. Or it would have been had the door not opened again, had two familiar men not sauntered right into Friendly’s reeking of trouble. Cursing the foulest language she knew, Charlie pulled down her brim and decided on the direct approach—aka: directly avoiding a glowering Matthew and angry looking Nathaniel.
Charlie shoved cash at the whore, took her arm and dragged the woman towards the stairs before either man might clamp eyes on her. She knew how to be quick, how to get in and out, and if she played her cards right, the Emerson brothers would never know Roy, or she, had been there.
All hell broke loose behind her the moment her boot hit the first step. The brawl began. It didn’t matter which drunken redneck swung first, it didn’t matter why, but it gave her pause. Bar brawls could get downright nasty. Even knowing the Emersons were solid fighters, Charlie could not help but look over her shoulder just to make sure they were all right.
Her boys were back to back, right by the bar, and heavily caught up in the midst of the scuffle. Matthew took a hook to the jaw, his assailant knocked out cold, shattered nose changing the fool’s face forever. Her smirk was inevitable; Matthew was a damn fine boxer. And where Matthew was formidable, Nathaniel was downright scary.
They’d be fine.
Shaking her head, preparing to turn back up the stairs, Charlie thanked God she’d hesitated. One last glance and she found Eli shoving through the door. The swing of the wood caught a stranger, and not two seconds later a man the size of a mountain took a swing at the overeager kid in retaliation. Clocked in the back of the skull, Eli fell, the bottle used to peg him shattering in a rain of green glass.
The giant who hit him held up the broken stump, laughed at the look of it, and went in for the kill. But Charlie was already there. The second she’d seen the boy, she’d rushed the crowd, picking up a broken table leg on the way. Heart in her throat, she roared, cracking the makeshift bat against the skull of a stranger who threatened one of hers. The goliath fell, so still Charlie was certain she’d killed him.
But there wasn’t any time to give two shits. Reaching down to sharply yank one befuddled Eli off the floor, Charlie yelled, “Get on your feet, Eli! Stay behind me!”
The kid couldn’t have looked more shocked to see her spin and swing at the next man coming their way. She was a devil with that bat, knocking teeth out without mercy, jabbing guts until men pitched forward to find her knee catch their chins.
In the middle of the madness, after a spray of blood shot from the face of the next chump foolish enough to charge her, Charlie unintentionally locked eyes with her future husband. She had no clue how he did it, but Matthew crossed through the melee, shoving men aside like a maniac once he’d seen just who had saved his cousin. Once close, he made a grab for her, hefting her like a sack of flour over his shoulder. Storming out, Nathaniel dragged a bleeding Eli in tow.
The sound of the fight diminished, cold air making her sweat steam. “Goddamn it, Matthew! Put me down!”
He did just that once they were clear of the saloon, dropping Charlie so he might back her against his truck. Grey eyes became molten steel. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
Throwing the chair leg in a fit of temper, Charlie hissed, “Roy Beachum is upstairs fucking a redhead as we speak. And instead of hog tying the bastard before he can run off, I saved Eli from a goddamn giant looking for blood.”
Nathaniel didn’t wait for orders. Hearing what she’d said, he charged back inside to fetch Roy before the goon might slither off.
The way Matthew was breathing, chest rising and falling, it was clear he was beyond furious. “How did you even know he was here?”
“How the fuck do you think I knew? I’ve been tracking him since I got out of the hospital. The better question is how the hell did you know?” Then it hit her. Radcliffe had squealed. “I’m going to fucking kill Beau…”
Nostrils flared, Matthew grit his teeth and growled like a dog.
One look at him and Charlie lost it. “I was honest about what I am, so stop looking at me like that. You have no right to be angry.”
“You listen here, Charlotte. Listen good.” He was fuming, grey eyes murderous as he gripped her arm. “This will never happen again, you hear me? Sneaking around like you are is gonna get you hurt.”
“Hunting men is what I do best… I’ll do as I please!”
“It ain’t your place no more,” he thundered, about ready to tie her up and drag her off. Hell, he’d even gag her if he had to. “If I ever find you out looking for some sack of shit criminal, God help you woman. No table leg is going to save you from the hell I will bring down upon you.”
Her hands came to his chest, shoving with all her might. “And just what hell might that be?”
Matthew got a good grip on the slippery woman, using his mass to hold
her still. Pinning her, watching her continued struggles, to fight as if she were stronger, made the point for him. Charlie continued to lose until she was panting, hair disheveled… caught like a cornered animal.
When he had her still, Matthew spoke the hard truth. “You think you’re so tough, so goddamn dangerous? Guess what, little Blackbird,” he tugged her wrist, forcing her to see the red scar. “You do miss, and you do bleed.”
Desperation hitched her voice. “And so do you, Matthew. Don’t you get it? Roy was only a hired thug. Someone is coming after you, and I aim to find out who.”
He grimaced in an attempt to control his fury. “I don’t need your help.”
Poking his chest, she railed, “Open your eyes! You would’ve never found him if not for me. Who do you think ran Roy’s name past Beau? I called him this morning looking to see if the jackass knew who the fucker worked with! And that son of a bitch dragged you in where you don’t belong. Walkin’ in there all puffed up and dangerous… If Roy had laid eyes on you, he would’ve taken one look and run. Then I would have to find him all over again!”
Biting down the retort cooking on his tongue, Matthew looked away. It was long seconds before he could get past the anger and say what he was feeling. “I thought you were dead. Ain’t never felt so scared like I did the moment I saw you half-naked, crumpled in a pool of blood. You were white as a ghost, Charlotte.”
All the wind went out of her sails. “Oh, Matthew, I’m not gonna die on you.”
One hand came to her face, Matthew ignoring the swelling in his knuckles so he might wipe blood splatter off her cheek. “This ain’t the life I want for you. It ain’t the life you want for yourself. It’s time for you to set it aside and let the menfolk do their duty.”
Pressing against the heat of his palm, Charlie closed her eyes, exasperated that it had to be spelled out. “You can’t just expect me to sit back, to wait and wonder. Not when I can find out what’s going on.”
