Sweet Words of Love

by Betty Brooks

"Why, she had an accident, sir! A man . . . an animal, really, chased her into the hotel and pushed her down the stairs. I wasn't here when it happened. Jimmy Crawford was standing in for me, but he said it was horrible. That she just lay there, all crumpled up like a doll that had been thrown in the trash."

  "Oh, God!" Thorne whispered.

  'I’m sorry, Mr.Lassiter, sir," the clerk said."I wouldn't have told you if I'd known you didn't know. Jimmy said it was the most terrible thing that he'd ever seen, with her laying there like that . . . at the bottom of the stairway ...with all that blood pouring out of her head and soaking into the carpet. The maid couldn't get the blood out, either. She said the stain will never come out and-"

  "Where is she?" Thorne asked, his gaze boring into the clerk. "Dammit, man! Where the hell is she?" In his mind's eye he could see her, crumpled and broken , her lifeless eyes gazing endlessly at nothing. "Where did they take her?" he demanded harshly.

  "Upstairs!" the clerk said, his voice quivering with fear. "Back to your suite. The doctor went in there awhile back, but as far as I know, he never come out again."

  Uttering an anguished cry, Thorne dashed toward t he staircase. He was unaware of the startled looks of those he passed in his flight. He knew nothing, save the need to reach his suite as quietly as possible.

  When he opened the door to the sitting room, he was immediately aware of the silence. It roared out its presence, curled the hair at the nape of his neck. Was he too late? Had he lost her completely, to a place far removed from him?

  Oh, God, what would he do without her?

  He couldn't lose her! He could not live without her! "Rainey!" he shouted, making a dash toward her room. He yanked open the door and his gaze swept the room, took in the man seated beside the bed, where a huddle of quilts seemed to mock its empty state. "Rainey," he cried, his voice almost breaking as his heart had already done.

  "Be quiet, man!" The words were issued in a hard voice. "Do you want to wake her?''

  "She's not dea-how bad is she?" Thorne's voice was hushed. He had been afraid to speak of death, lest the spoken word made it so.

  "Bad enough," the doctor replied. As Thorne covered the distance between himself and the woman he loved, the other man studied him from beneath beetled brows. "I suppose you're the husband."

  Thorne didn't bother to deny it. In his heart he had been Rainey's husband since they'd first made love.

  "Will she recover?” he asked, his gaze settling on her pale features.

  "Her injuries, although painful, are not life threatening," the doctor replied. "She regained consciousness once. But only for a short while. When she learned she'd lost the baby she took it hard. I thought it best to give her some sleep powders."

  "The baby?" Thorne asked, his heart jerking with surprise. "There was a baby?"

  "Yes. I take it you didn't know."

  "No," Thorne said softly. "And I don't think she did, either."

  "You're wrong," the doctor said gruffly. "She knew."

  He reached for a package that had been placed on a nearby table and handed it to Thorne. "It appears she had been out shopping when she was attacked. She dropped her package on the sidewalk. We wouldn't have known about it if the lady who made the sale hadn't found the package on her way home. She brought it to the hotel and left it with the desk clerk."

  Thorne opened the package, and a knot of pain coiled around his heart as he pulled out a tiny pink

  garment.

  Twenty-one

  Rainey was drowning, sinking in the dark-black sea of death that had already claimed her child. She'd tried to save it, had tried so hard. But she had been unable to reach the babe in time. It had been too far away, yet she'd been able to see it clearly through that shadowy world beneath the water. She'd fought so hard to reach the babe, but her efforts had been useless. It had sunk down, down, toward the cold grave below, and all the while its eyes were wide open, begging her, pleading with her to save it.

  But she could not. And now there was nothing for her, nothing left in life except this dreadful pain in her heart. Oh, God, how could she stand it?

  She watched the flowing vines that grew in the watery depths wrap around her babe, and she swam toward it, wanting to touch it, needing to hold it in her arms. But the vines twisted and curled, blocking her way, refusing to allow her near the babe.

  "No, no," she cried, thrashing wildly to gain release. But her efforts were in vain. She could not free herself, and the vines were moving her farther away, twisting, twining around her, seeming intent on taking her life, as well.

  Rainey looked upward and saw a narrow beam of sun­ light far above her head. That tiny, narrow beam meant

  air; it meant escape from this suffocating darkness that trapped her within its clammy reaches. Oh, God, she cried, but no sound escaped her lips. Let me get away! Let me escape from this watery existence.

  The light blinked out suddenly, leaving her in a darkness that was so absolute that she screamed out her terror. "Eeeeeaaaaaaa!"

  The shrieking sound jerked her upright. And as she sucked in sharp, raspy breaths of air, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her fuzzy mind, as well as her sleep­ drugged eyes.

  The sound of running feet ended when the door to her bedroom was suddenly flung open. "Rainey!" Thorne cried, striding across the room quickly. "Are you all right?" He knelt beside the bed and pulled her into his embrace.

  "I had-had a nightmare," she whispered shakily, leaning against him. "I dreamed there was a baby and it was drowning and I couldn't save it no matter how hard I tried and I-" She broke off, remembering suddenly. "Oh, God!" she cried, pulling away from him. "There was a baby. But it died. He killed it when he threw me down the stairs."

  She began to cry then, hard, convulsive sobs that shook her whole body. And all the while Thorne held her. Finally, when sobs no longer shook her body, she pulled away and looked up . . . into a face that was white and drawn, into eyes that glittered with hate.

  Rainey jerked away from him then, scrambling across the bed as quickly as her weakened condition would allow. "Go away!" she cried, her body shuddering with fear. "Leave me alone!" Her gaze skittered back and forth, stopped on the doctor who had entered the room. "Make him leave!" she cried hysterically. "Get him out of here!"

  But the doctor didn't have to do anything. Without a sound, Thorne turned and left the room.

  Thorne shook with silent rage as he joined Tyler and his sister in the sitting room. Eulalie's expression was sympathetic. She'd obviously heard everything. "She didn't mean it, Thorne. She's grieving so much that she doesn't know what she's saying."

  "She knows," Thorne said grimly. "And she hates me for what happened to her." He looked at Tyler. "Did you find out who did this to her?"

  "Yes." Tyler's gaze shifted to Eulalie, then returned to meet Thorne's again. "We could talk downstairs."

  "Don't try to spare my feelings," Eulalie said. "It was Cage, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. I'm afraid it was."

  Thorne's hands tightened into fists. "Does anyone know why?"

  "No. He didn't hang around to give any reasons. They wouldn’t have known his name if the desk clerk hadn't become suspicious of him a few days ago."

  "Days ago?"

  "Yes. He had been hanging around, asking questions about you. The desk clerk became suspicious and made him show some identification. Anyway, Cage took one look at her lying on the floor in a pool of blood, and he took off like a scalded cat. He stopped at the livery stable long enough to hire a horse-guess he didn't have one of his own-and then he rode out of town, taking a northeasterly direction."

  Thorne could see why Tyler Duncan had an impeccable reputation around town. He had not waited for direction from Thorne, and had begun an immediate investigation into the circumstances surrounding Rainey's fall.

  "What time did he leave?" Thorne asked quietly.

  "An hour after he pushed her," Tyler replied. "You're going after him, aren't you?"

  "Yes. I'
m going."

  Tyler sighed. "Then I guess you'll have a traveling companion."

  "You don't have to come."

  "Yes, I do," Tyler said grimly. "Not for your sake, but for Lolly's."

  Thorne and Tyler crossed the river at daybreak, stumbling upon a natural fording place, where the current had thrust a sand pit half-way across the dark and sluggishly twirling stream. The woods grew thickly to the river's edge in a matted tangle and they had to dis­ mount, leading the horses and working their way foot by foot through small natural avenues. Now and then Thorne was forced to take a sharp-bladed knife out and hack additional yards to link a corridor before they could proceed.

  ''He's headed for the old man's cabin," Thorne remarked as he turned back and edged out of an impassable lane to try again at a more favorable spot. "It would have been simpler if we had known that. We could have taken the pirogue."

  "But we didn't know it," Tyler replied. "And neither did he when he began his journey. Or else he would have gone by boat instead of taking this damnable route. But since he went through here, there must be an easier trail, a passage that we haven 't come across yet."

  "I'm sure you're right," Thorne said grimly." But we could spend the rest of the day looking for it, and we don't have the time to waste."

  They came upon the sandbar suddenly. It stretched in a high, golden triangle out from the dense willows. Around its tip the current raced with bubbling eagerness, forming small, spinning whirls that sucked at floating leaves and branches, pulling them beneath the mahogany-colored surface and releasing them several yards distant downstream.

  "We're going to get wet," Tyler said, eyeing the water skeptically.

  "It won't be the first time," Thorne replied.

  They made the crossing, clinging to the bridles of the horses. They held their guns above their heads, with the saddlebags secured high on the backs of the animals, out of reach of the lapping water. When they finally stood on the opposite bank, dripping but triumphant, the two men smiled at each other, sharing a sense of achievement.

  Looking back over his shoulder, Tyler surveyed the stream. "It doesn't look like much now," he said, "but I was afraid we'd never make it across."

  "I never though we wouldn't," Thorne said. "There's no way I'm going to let Cage Larson get away from me. I would have crossed the damned river, if I'd had to swim all the way by myself ."

  "You wouldn't have made the distance without the horses," Tyler told him.

  They rode steadily throughout the morning, following the meandering stream, traversing the same route that he had traveled before, except now he was on horseback. They followed the stream as best they could on ground that was so marshy that at times it had to be detoured around. There were times when the woods broke away completely, leaving great cleared patches where grass rose waist high, and every few yards the horses kicked out coveys of quail that beat a drumming flight to safety. Turkey, deer, rabbit, and plump doves crowded the bushes, but Thorne was ever aware that

  the wildlife was not their prey. Occasionally there were signs that Cage Larson had come before them. The unmistakable print of a shod horse; the butt of a half­ smoked cigarillo. But there was never any sign of the man himself.

  Nevertheless, Thorne knew he would find him. There was no way the man could escape him, even if he fled to the ends of the earth.

  Thorne didn't know they were so close to their destination until he came upon the small clearing, dappled in sunlight, where two headstones and one wooden cross marked the graves of the old man and his wife and daughter. He dismounted and fastened the reins of his horse to a nearby tree.

  "The house is only a short way from here," he muttered. "We'll have to be quiet from now on."

  Tyler nodded his head, and the two men slipped down the path leading to the house. It appeared deserted, but Thorne was unwilling to accept that he'd lost his quarry. He slid his gun out of its holster and moved closer.

  His heartbeat quickened. He was eager to see the man who'd caused the death of his child, and made the woman Thorne loved turn against him. With his hand on the doorknob, he called, "Come on out, Cage! You're surrounded. There's no way out except through this door."

  There was the sound of muffled curses from within, followed by a mad dash across the floor. Realizing Cage was trying to escape through one of the windows, Thorne rushed around the corner, just in time to see his quarry roll through the open window and strike the ground hard.

  Thorne was on him immediately.

  He struck Cage a hard blow on the nose and felt the gristle crunch beneath his fist. Larson's eyes watered

  from the pain. Before he could recover, Thorne wound one hand in his opponent's coarse hair and hit him in the face again. The blow landed with a heavy thump and Cage went down as though he'd been poleaxed.

  Cage lay on the ground, stunned. Then, uttering a loud bellow of rage, he sprung to his feet and made a flying leap for Thorne's throat. Thorne grinned savagely and stepped aside, quickly kicking out with his right foot, catching Larson in the pit of his stomach. Cage pitched forward, bent over with agony.

  "That's enough, Thorne," Tyler said.

  Thorne ignored the detective. He stood, with clenched fists, watching Larson flounder onto his hands and knees. He continued to wait, grim and silent, until Larson regained his footing, then kicked him savagely in the ribs.

  ''Stop it, Thorne!" Tyler growled ."He's had enough."

  Larson 's breathing was labored, he was sweating profusely, but he managed to stagger to his feet once again. For all the good it did him, though. Thorne closed in, striking Larson with a thudding impact, knocking him against the trunk of a large magnolia tree.

  Thorne went after him then, grabbed him up and hit him in the face with a loud smack. He continued to pound the man about the head and shoulders, gratified by the sounds of flesh against flesh and the pain-filled grunts that punctuated each thud of his fist.

  "I said, that's enough, Thorne!" Tyler growled, grasping Thorne's arms and pulling him away from the heaving mass of flesh on the ground. "You've already had your revenge. There's no sense in killing the man."

  "Why not!" Thorne demanded harshly. "He killed everything that I held dear. Scum like him don't deserve to live."

  "You can't play God, Thorne. It isn't up to you to decide who has the right to live or die.''

  "If you don't have the stomach to watch him die, then you can go on ahead," Thorne said viciously. "He isn't fit to live among civilized beings."

  "Perhaps not. But he has a right to a fair trial."

  "Hell, Man!" Thorne exploded. "He won't even go to jail! They don't hang you for killing unborn babies. He'll go free and I won't stand for that."

  "You can't decide his fate," Tyler said, stooping to pick up the unconscious man. "Anyway, you should consider Eulalie. How would she feel to know that her brother-whom she has only just found-has killed her cousin?"

  "Damn proud if she's any kind of woman !" Thorne snapped.

  "Watch your mouth, buddy," Tyler said shortly. "Lolly is a gentle, caring woman . You know that as well as I do. And I won't let you do anything to hurt her."

  Thorne gave a snort of disgust. "If the shoe were on the otherfoot-if it was Lolly who had been pushed down the stairs and your baby haddied-then you would feel different about the whole thing."

  "I imagine I would," Tyler admitted. "But it wasn't Lolly and I'm trying to act in her best interests. And that doesn't include having her brother hanged for killing her cousin."

  Reluctantly, Thorne gave in.

  Twenty-two

  Rainey woke abruptly, her hair wet with perspiration. She'd been dreaming again, having that same old nightmare that had plagued her for the past two weeks-­ since Cage Larson had pushed her down the stairs.

  How long would she be plagued by that dream? How many more times would she find herself floating in that same dark sea, watching her baby drown, while its eyes pleaded for help that she was unable to give?

&n
bsp; She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. She felt hollow inside, felt an emptiness that went much deeper than mere hunger. Oh, God, would this pain never end ?

  Realizing she had begun to wallow in self-pity, Rainey wiped the moisture from her eyes and tried to control her runaway emotions. She tried to convince herself that things had happened for the best, that Thorne would have felt bound to marry her when he learned she was expecting his child. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of that fact, she could not do so.

  She loved Thorne desperately. And she had loved their child, even though it was barely more than a thought when she lost it.

  How had Thorne felt when he discovered their loving had resulted in a new life? He did know, she was certain

  of that! And yet the few times they were together, the subject had been carefully avoided.

  Oh, Thorne, she silently cried. Things could have been so different. If you'd only loved me.

  But he had not, did not! And she felt so empty inside. It was then that the full force of what she felt for Thorne burst inside her. She'd always known that she cared for him, but hadn't really known just how much. Not until now. For years, without her knowledge, he had been her whole world, her very reason for existence. And to have his baby would have been the ultimate joy.

  But it was not to be.

  So intent was she on her thoughts that she didn't hear the door open, never knew she was no longer alone until she heard a quiet voice inquire: "Are you all right?"

  Rainey turned her head to see Thorne watching her from the doorway. He came to her quickly and knelt beside the bed. "What's wrong, Rainey?" he asked gently. "Are you in pain?"

  Yes. She was in pain. But it was a pain of the heart, not of the body. A pain that stabbed deep, that could not be remedied, because it was a sickness of the soul. She looked into his eyes and saw the fear in them.