by Craig, Emma
Jed muttered under his breath, “Shit.” To Karnik, he said, “You should be a damned well of sorrow, mister. Now what the hell are you doing here, and who hired you?”
“Really, Mr. Hardcastle! Can’t you see Mr. Karnik is still feeling poorly?” Tacita handed Karnik a glass of water, which he downed greedily.
It was too much for Jed. Forgetting his mother’s admonition to count to ten before he gave in to his temper—particularly when he was suffering from lack of sleep—he whacked the glass out of Karnik’s hand with the back of his own and sent it crashing against the stateroom wall. It shattered with a sharp explosion of glass, precipitating a shriek out of Tacita and another from Karnik.
Tacita was so startled that she loosened her grip on Rosamunda. The dog immediately took advantage of her mistress’s lapse by leaping onto the bed and heading directly for Karnik’s turban. Grabbing his ear lobe between her sharp teeth, she shook her head violently.
Karnik screamed in pain and terror. Tacita put her hands to her cheeks and watched, horrified.
For the first time all morning, Jed smiled. “If you want to do some real good, aim for the jugular, Rosie,” he advised mildly.
“Rosamunda! Rosamunda, stop that!”
“Aaiiiiieeee!”
Jed crossed his hands over his chest. “Let her be, Miss Grantham. Maybe the bastard’ll think twice about busting into other people’s staterooms if your dog chews his ears off.”
“Rosamunda! Rosamunda!”
“Get her off me! Please! I beg you!”
Rosamunda apparently decided Jed’s earlier suggestion to be a sound one. Leaving Karnik’s ear alone for the nonce, she pounced on his neck. Karnik’s hands closed over the vulnerable spot a second before she did so, and she only managed to close her jaws around a couple of fingers. Never one to waste time on idle regrets, she gnawed on them since she couldn’t reach his throat.
“Good dog,” Jed said, his smile broadening.
“Aaiiiiieeee!” Karnik shrieked again.
Daring to reach for Rosamunda, Tacita said, “Mr. Hardcastle!” in a reproving voice. It took some doing, but she eventually managed to pry her dog’s teeth from Karnik’s fingers.
Jed sighed. He appreciated that little rat this morning. He guessed it was only because he was tired, but he truly appreciated her. He admired her grit, too, especially in light of her mistress’s misapplied bleeding heart.
Although it went against the grain, he complied when Tacita demanded that he wet a towel and hand it to her. He guessed it was a good idea to bind Karnik’s wounds so he wouldn’t keep bleeding all over Tacita’s bed. He scowled when he thought of the nasty little burglar on her bed.
Jed glowered all the time Tacita was dressing the wounds on Karnik’s earlobe and hand. Rosamunda had to be tied up during the operation because she kept lunging at Karnik. She’d done her level best, but she hadn’t managed to inflict much damage, in spite of the bloody mess she’d left behind. Jed appreciated her efforts, even though he wished she’d shut up about it now. The damned dog’s yapping was about to bust his brain.
“There,” Tacita said after a while.
She stood aside and straightened, pressing a hand to her back as though it ached from having been bent for so long. Jed resented Karnik for that, too. And for Tacita’s subsequent question.
“Do you feel better now?”
“What do you care how he feels, dammit? He was rummaging through your private compartment.”
She turned to frown at him. “Well, I believe he’s been punished adequately, Mr. Hardcastle. After all, you and Rosamunda both tried to kill him.”
Rosamunda gave a particularly vicious growl. Jed didn’t blame her.
“He deserved it.”
With her lips squeezed into two tight lines, Tacita snapped, “Perhaps he was wrong to break into my stateroom, but if you expect to discover the reason for it, I believe you’d better wait to kill him until after he tells us why he did so.”
Karnik whimpered. Jed hated to admit that Tacita was right. Rosamunda subsided into a sulky heap of Yorkie fur.
Feeling about as crabby as he’d ever felt in his life, Jed said, “All right. I’ll question him.” He stalked over to Karnik, who cowered away from him. As well he should.
“Who hired you?”
Jed’s snarling question made Karnik hunch up further, until he looked like one of those gnomes from the Grimm’s fairy tale book Jed remembered from his childhood. A gnome with white sticking plaster on his ear and a hand swaddled in gauze. That turban he wore only added to the effect.
Before Karnik could answer, Tacita asked, “How do you know anybody hired him, Mr. Hardcastle? Perhaps he’s operating on his own.”
At her interference, Jed’s temper soared until his blood nearly boiled and his head roared. Clenching his fists and trying not to let them get away and thrash the man cowering in front of him, Jed said through gritted teeth, “Let me handle this, please, Miss Grantham.”
Tacita sniffed. “Well, it seems to me you’re going about it entirely wrong, Mr. Hardcastle.”
Rosamunda growled. Jed knew the dog was on his side. He wasn’t sure he’d thank her for it if he ever caught up on his sleep, but right now he approved.
“Please,” came a quavery plea from the bed.
Jed and Tacita ceased glaring at each other and transferred their frowns to Karnik, who shrank back even further.
“Oh, what do you want?” Tacita snapped.
“I want to confess.”
“Oh.” Tacita’s annoyance seemed to evaporate in a puff of surprise.
Not so Jed’s. “To what? Make it clear and quick if you don’t want that dog all over you again.”
“Really, Mr. Hardcastle!”
Tears began to leak from Karnik’s eyes. “Please,” he whimpered. “Please, anything but that.”
“Talk fast, then.” Jed ignored Tacita’s hot glare.
“I only came for the Eye. The Delhi Hahm-Ahn-Der Eye, sahib. That is all. The Eye. Which rightly belongs to the Great Goddess of the Temple of Hahm in Delhi, sweet madam. It is one of our most revered treasures, you see. Surely you will not continue to deprive the people of their treasure now that you know how very much they miss it.”
Tacita and Jed exchanged a blank look then returned their attention to Karnik.
“I beg your pardon?” Tacita asked politely.
Karnik said, equally politely, “The Eye, madam. The Great Delhi Hahm-Ahn-Der Eye.”
“What ham-and-rye?” Jed demanded, furious. “I thought a ham-and-rye was some kind of sandwich. What the hell are you talking about?”
“A sandwich?” Karnik looked as if it was taking all his strength not to cry. He clasped his hands together, but they must have hurt because he unclasped them again immediately. “No, no.” His voice was pathetic, pleading. “Not a ham-and-rye. The Hahm-Ahn-Der Eye. The eye—” He pointed a swaddled finger at his own frightened eyeball. “—the eye, which was stolen from the Great Goddess residing in the temple in Delhi.”
Tacita cocked her head to one side. “The eye? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of this eye, Mr. Karnik.”
“What the hell are you talking about, mister?” Jed took a menacing step toward the bad, sending Karnik scuttling back into a corner. His eyes began to leak tears.
“The Eye. Surely you know about the Eye, sir. Madam?” Karnik almost whimpered. He cast a pleading look at Tacita, who had proved more amenable to his distress thus far than had Jed. He apparently wasn’t encouraged by her expression, because he began to cry harder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Perhaps if you were to explain what this eye is, we might be able to help you.”
“Ah, to hell with it. Why don’t I shake him up a little more. He’s just trying to stall for time, Miss Grantham.”
“Indeed I am not doing any such thing! Please, sahib! You must believe me! I was hired to fetch back the Eye from the delightful Miss Grantham here! I have no other
purpose in the whole world! My entire life is devoted to the holy endeavor.”
Rosamunda’s head appeared out from where she’d buried it in her front paws and she snorted. To Jed, it sounded like she didn’t believe Karnik’s story any more than he did. Not for a minute.
“Bullshit,” he said, eliciting a gasp from Tacita. He scowled at her for being such a priss under the circumstances.
“Indeed, it is not bullshit, my most revered sir. It is the truth.”
“Do you know what this fellow’s talking about, Miss Grantham?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Hardcastle. I’m sorry, Mr. Karnik.” She gave the fellow a sympathetic smile.
Jed decided the time for both sympathy and diplomacy had passed. He grabbed Karnik by his unswaddled ear and dragged him upright. Karnik’s scream shot through his head like a gunshot and irritated Jed. He shook him.
“What the hell is this eye you’re talking about and who the hell hired you to find it?”
“You’re going to snap his neck, Mr. Hardcastle, and then you’ll never learn anything!”
Although the tug she gave his arm wasn’t strong enough to do much more than annoy him, her words gave Jed pause. He dropped Karnik like a sack of potatoes. The fellow rolled himself up into a ball on Tacita’s bed and sobbed.
“Please, Mr. Karnik,” Tacita said after giving Jed another good hot glare. “We don’t understand. I know nothing of any eye. If you’ll explain it to us, perhaps we can help you.”
“Help him? I’ll help him!” Jed muttered.
“You’re not helping at all, Mr. Hardcastle. Go away.”
Indignant—after all, he wasn’t the intruder here—Jed did as she asked. Since the room was small, about the only place to go away to was the corner in which Rosamunda had been confined. Unthinking, his feelings hurt, Jed squatted down and decided if that’s the way Tacita was going to be about it, he’d just let her handle everything.
“Here, Rosie,” he said in a hurt voice, and began to pet Rosamunda. He only realized what he was doing when Rosamunda’s soft growl penetrated his sleep-deprived brain. Immediately, he stopped stroking the dog, who had evidently inherited her peppery disposition from her mistress. Nevertheless, he listened, sulking along with Rosamunda, while Tacita interrogated her uninvited guest.
“Now, please, Mr. Karnik, stop crying and talk to me.”
Sniffling, Karnik did as she asked. After fifteen or twenty minutes of eavesdropping from his corner, Jed came to the conclusion that the little Indian really was after this eye, whatever it was, and that he really did want to return it to the Goddess, whatever that was. And, what’s more, he really thought Tacita had it. Jed also realized that, in spite of Karnik’s long explanation, Tacita still didn’t know what he was talking about.
Reluctantly, feeling very ill-used and miffy, Jed rejoined prisoner and interrogator at the bed.
“Are you sure you don’t know what this eye thing is, Miss Grantham?” He tried to keep his voice from revealing his grumpiness.
She shook her head, as puzzled as he. “No. I have no idea.”
“Perhaps my employer is mistaken, Miss Grantham,” Karnik offered hopefully. “Perhaps you are not after all the possessor of the Eye.”
“Brilliant deduction,” Jed grumbled. Tacita kicked him. He frowned at her.
“It won’t do any good to frighten him again,” she hissed.
Jed allowed as to how she was right. He didn’t like allowing it.
“Besides, somebody other than Mr. Karnik apparently believes I have this eye thing, too, whatever it is. If he went to all the trouble of sending Mr. Karnik after me, he’s not likely to give up now.” Another thought occurred to her and she drew Jed away from the bed. “Do you suppose this man is in cahoots with that awful Mr. Picinisco, Mr. Hardcastle?”
The thought had already occurred to Jed. He shook his head, not because he doubted it but because he didn’t know. Then he shrugged. Then, when Tacita looked like she was about to kick him again, he said, “Damned if I know. Shouldn’t think Pinkersnicky had enough money to hire anybody, not even this damned little poop.”
Turning abruptly toward the bed again, Tacita huffed, “I do wish you would cease your terrible swearing, Mr. Hardcastle.”
Jed frowned after her for a moment, as annoyed with himself for forgetting his manners and swearing as at her admonition. He rejoined her and decided to glare at Karnik for a while since he still felt like glaring. Karnik resumed whimpering.
“And you still want us to believe that this whatever-his-name-is fellow is the one who hired you?” Karnik had insisted from the beginning that he was employed by a person named Avinash Agrawal, but Jed wasn’t sure he believed him since Tacita had never heard of Agrawal. He had to acknowledge, however, that the little crook seemed to be so scared by this time, he probably wouldn’t withhold any information that might help his cause. The knowledge only frustrated Jed more, mostly because he wanted Tacita’s Uncle Luther to be the author of their problems and prove that Jed had been right.
“I don’t think we’re going to get any more information out of him, Mr. Hardcastle,” Tacita said thoughtfully.
His eyes eloquent of hope, fear and pain, Karnik nodded energetically. “I know no more, Miss Grantham. Not a thing. Nothing. There is nothing regarding this endeavor that you do not now know. My bank of knowledge has been completely exhausted and now resides your own revered pockets. Truly.” He spread his hands out in a beseeching gesture.
Jed had never cared for fancy talk, not even from his fellow Americans. “Shut your blamed mouth,” he advised Karnik now. Tacita kicked him again.
After another several minutes, during which he exchanged many more hot words with Tacita than with Karnik, Jed agreed to hog-tie the villain and take him to the train’s engineer. He wasn’t gentle about it, and he viewed Karnik’s sigh of relief when he left him to the engineer’s tender mercies with satisfaction.
As he stomped back to Tacita’s stateroom, Jed was still mad. Shoot, he hated it when people interfered while he was executing his duties. Besides, although he disliked admitting that his pride was involved and he wanted to look good in Tacita’s eyes, it was the truth. Therefore, he especially resented her interference. He was the strong one here; she was supposed to be relying on him, dad blast it. Maybe he’d been a little rough on Karnik, but he was tired, blast it, and needed a nap.
He got it at last, curled up against the wall of Tacita’s stateroom. Tacita had one more demand to make upon him before she let him sleep.
“Here, Mr. Hardcastle, cover yourself with my bathrobe. You’re apt to catch a chill otherwise.”
Jed looked at her bathrobe as if he feared it might smother him. “I don’t need your bathrobe. I never get sick.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s chilly in the train, and you’re as susceptible to chills as anybody else on earth.”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I won’t get cold. Shoot, I’ve slept out under the stars in the dead of winter. This is a train, for Pete’s sake.”
Tacita tapped her foot and held out her bathrobe. “It’s cold on this train and I refuse to allow you to act like a baby for the sake of your image. Now take this bathrobe and use it to cover yourself up, Mr. Hardcastle, or I shall keep talking and not let you rest.”
Jed snatched the robe from her fingers, feeling abused. Tacita smiled sweetly at his compliance. “That’s a good boy,” she murmured, making him harrumph harder.
“I still think covering up’s stupid.” Actually, he thought it was a sissy thing to do. It was a good thing nobody from his other life was here to see him.
As his eyelids drooped lower over his gritty eyes, however, Jed had to admit this was a cozy way to nap: his huge shoulders swaddled in her little robe. And it was kind of nice of Tacita to make such a fuss over his welfare, too. Shoot, he hadn’t been fussed over by a female for years. Not even his mother bothered anymore, and he was pretty sure Miss Amalie Crunch would laug
h if anybody suggested Jed would appreciate such a thing.
He didn’t even notice Tacita bustling about, cleaning up her blood-stained bedclothes and tidying things, but drifted off to sleep with the faint sweet smell of her perfume soothing his senses, and happy images of them making beautiful love together floating in and out of his brain. A second or so before his brain shut down and sleep claimed him, he wondered why Tacita Grantham cared if he was comfortable.
Chapter 12
If Rosamunda never saw the inside of a saddlebag again in this lifetime, it would be too soon for her. With her hind feet buried in soft rabbit fur and her front paws balancing on the sides of the stiff leather bag, she glared at the passing scenery and resented every “Oooh” and “Aaah” Mistress uttered over the stupid wildflowers growing alongside the trail and the equally stupid sky spread overhead. If anybody’d release her from this awful leather-and-rabbit-fur prison, Rosamunda’d show them what she thought of those stupid flowers.
Since she wasn’t allowed to dig up the flowers or water them, Rosamunda spent her time wishing Mistress, for all her virtues, hadn’t decided to breed Rosamunda to Prince Albert. Rosamunda would almost rather remain single and childless than endure any more of this obnoxious journey with the obnoxious Jedediah Hardcastle.
At least the train had been comfortable. This pack-saddle-overland nonsense was more than any Yorkshire terrier should be asked to endure. Particularly a Yorkshire terrier of Rosamunda’s superb breeding.
Bah! She couldn’t stand it! She didn’t care how much danger Jed Hardcastle believed they’d be in if they remained on the train all the way to San Francisco. For her money, Rosamunda would far rather perish in the comfort of a railway carriage than in this wretched saddlebag strapped to the side of a smelly old horse.
The monster and Mistress had hired the horses, some mules and a small pack wagon in a place that didn’t even deserve the appellation “village.” They’d debarked one stop before the train was to have reached Santa Fe, and were now making their way to Denver—another heathen city in the heathen West, Rosamunda presumed. From Denver, Jed said, they’d be able to hire a stagecoach to carry them the rest of the way to San Francisco.
