Deidre’s smile wavered slightly as she entered the parlor. Tyrone looked somber, even a little tense. Then Jason smiled and jovially offered her a little wine. When Tyrone smiled as well a moment later, she decided it could not have been anything too serious that had caused that air of tension in the room. Then three nearly identical ladies, all slightly plump, all somewhat pretty with sparkling blue eyes just like their rogue of a nephew’s, and all showing the first hints of advancing age, burst into the parlor. Deidre found all of her concerns about Tyrone’s mood smothered by their friendly if somewhat scatterbrained chatter. An amiable barrage of questions also kept her so busy that they had all adjourned to the dining room and gone through all the courses except dessert before she realized that the Bookers now knew almost everything. In fact, Deidre was a little surprised she had not been slyly pushed into revealing her relationship with Tyrone.
“My goodness,” she said, admiration mixing with amazement as she looked at the Bookers while helping herself to some apple pie. “You people would have made the Spanish Inquisition proud.”
Tyrone laughed along with the others, familiar with their techniques. “It’s a Booker specialty. Dull your victim’s senses with huge quantities of good food and fine wine, then graciously bleed him dry of every tiny scrap of information he might possess.”
“One should always know all one can about a situation before acting upon it,” said Cora, the aunt dressed in blue. “Cool, calm, and ever deliberate. That is the way to succeed.”
“Cool, calm, ever deliberate?” Tyrone grinned at Jason. “Oh, yeah, that’s Jason all right.”
“The dear boy has his moments.”
It was hard, but Deidre hid a smile when Cora called the huge Viking dominating the head of the table a dear boy. The mild eccentricities she had already noted in her host were explained from the moment she met the three women who had raised him. She also sensed a frighteningly keen intelligence behind Jason Booker’s easy smiles. Some of his questions were mildly voiced, yet so clever they pulled out answers one did not even know one had, and sometimes stirred an insight that had proven elusive.
“I am hoping the last leg of our journey is peaceful, unlike the rest of it, now that Pete and Jim are gone.” She sighed and shook her head. “A part of me winces over their deaths, which is foolish, for they would have killed Tyrone or me without blinking. They certainly tried often enough. I suppose I am just appalled at the deaths and violence brought on by greedy men trying to grasp hold of what isn’t theirs.”
“It has always been so, sad to say,” murmured Flora, the aunt in pink.
“We’ll have to run the gauntlet of the Martins between here and the land office,” Tyrone said, hating to steal away whatever sense of safety the deaths of Pete and Jim had brought Deidre, yet knowing they could not yet relax their guard. “If I were them, even if I thought Jim and Pete still chased us or had caught us, I would be watching closely for our arrival.”
“Surely they won’t do anything too drastic once we get to town?” Deidre frowned. “They must know that they can’t afford too many witnesses. Once caught in a cheat or a crime, all of their other transactions would be questioned. All rumors about them would start to sound like fact.”
“But will they?” asked Jason quietly. “If their grip on Paradise is already chokingly tight, people will think twice before they openly accuse the Martins of anything. They might sympathize and want to help, but they’ve got their own backsides to protect.”
“True, but when I left, they were still apt to be cautious in their actions,” said Tyrone. “They grasp land and wealth with both hands, using bribery and threats to get them what they want. Only a hint or two of something more, but usually only by their hired men and rarely within the boundaries of Paradise. They seem impervious to suspicion and the hatred of those they crush, but they never give anyone hard proof of their crimes. If they try to kill us too close to home, that proof could be forthcoming. Of course, I’m very close to stealing a big prize out of their hands. It could push them to act rashly.”
“Then I will send some of my men with you,” said Jason.
Deidre smiled faintly as the two men began to argue. Tyrone was reluctant to pull anyone else into the midst of his troubles, but Jason was just as stubborn as he was. By the time they retired to the parlor for an after-dinner drink, the two men were arguing over just how many men would ride with Tyrone. Since the number of men Jason had originally proposed to send had been very high, a reluctant Tyrone was finally badgered into accepting about half that number. Deidre had the strong suspicion that Jason had planned it that way.
The aunts kept her entertained with their chatter, gently pressing her for any gossip or news she might have. When the men finally settled things between them and joined the conversation, Deidre was amused by the blatant way Jason flirted with her. She found a thread of hope in the way Tyrone glared at his friend. Jealousy and a distinct air of possessiveness might not be borne of the love she craved, but it could mean that his feelings ran a little deeper than passion alone. With the end of their journey looming in front of her, Deidre realized she was almost constantly looking for some sign of those deeper feelings in Tyrone.
Suddenly weary, Deidre excused herself and went to bed. As she crawled beneath the covers, her whole body eagerly welcoming the warm, soft haven, she sighed. She knew she would spend the night alone, but tried to tell herself that was for the best. It would trouble her to carry on scandalously beneath the roof of the Bookers, risking the goodwill of Jason’s three aunts, but that was not all of it. A part of her told her that it might be best to start loosening the bonds that tied her to Tyrone Callahan. It was probably the wisest thing to do, even though she doubted any amount of physical distance was going to ease the pain she would suffer if he cast her aside.
* * *
Jason smiled as, after his aunts retired for the night, Tyrone cast several longing glances toward the doors. “Not tonight you won’t,” he murmured.
“Gone prudish on me, have you, Jason?” Tyrone said, not inclined to admit that he had already decided to behave with the utmost propriety tonight, despite all temptation.
“You know I’m as far from that as a man can be yet still claim himself a gentleman, but let’s not forget my aunts. I don’t think they’d condemn what you’ve been thinking of, but it could make them uncomfortable.”
“Probably make Deidre uncomfortable, too.”
“Quite probably. Even though you’ve seduced the girl, she still carries the mark of a lady and an intriguing touch of innocence. Do you know what I think?”
“No, and not sure I want to, but that won’t stop you from telling me, will it?”
“Not at all. Marry the girl.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in getting married.”
“Maybe not today, maybe you hadn’t planned on it, had wanted to wait a while, but I would let go of the reins of bachelorhood, if I were you. You will want to marry someday, just as I will. You’ll wake up one morning, look at what you’ve built, and suddenly want a little spawn of your own blood to leave it to. When that day comes, it’ll be that girl you’ll think of, I guarantee it. Hell, I don’t think she’ll get more than ten miles from Paradise before you’ll start regretting letting her leave.”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” Tyrone said on a sigh, then grinned at his friend. “Suppose you’ll want an invite to the wedding.”
“Damn right. You say she has a cousin?”
“Get that gleam out of your eye. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s with Mitchell and, if she’s half the woman Deidre is, my brother will be planning on keeping her.”
“Well, that restores my faith in my own judgment.”
“It does? How so?”
“Always thought the Callahan boys were smart little bastards.”
“Let’s hope Deidre appreciates my finer points enough to say yes then.”
“Oh, she will.”
“You’re so sure of th
at, are you?”
“Trust me. That girl is just waiting for you to ask.”
Chapter Eleven
“A SLEIGH? HOW WONDERFUL!” Deidre cried as she stood outside on the front veranda of Booker’s large home and studied the vehicle that would take them the rest of the way into Paradise. “I have only ridden in one once before, but I loved it.”
Some of Tyrone’s bad mood faded when he looked at Deidre. Snow had fallen the night of their arrival and for a great deal of the next day. Although he still had plenty of time to get to his ranch by Christmas, still two days away, he had not enjoyed two long, lonely nights sleeping in an empty bed. It had been torture of the worst kind to know Deidre was only a few doors away but not be able to go to her. The only close contact he had had with Deidre since arriving had been when she had taken his stitches out, but all three aunts had been there to offer helpful advice. Jason’s silent amusement, revealing that he had easily guessed at Tyrone’s mounting frustration, had certainly not helped to lighten his mood. But, now, seeing the delight shining on Deidre’s small face, he could almost think the frustration and delay he had suffered a small price to pay.
“If the road is clear, with no toppled trees or the like, we should reach Paradise in a few hours,” he said, reaching out to take her hand in his, hoping it was not too improper a gesture, but too eager to touch her to care. “If we make very good time, we can collect my brother Stephen and go straight to the land office.”
Some of the pleasure Deidre had felt upon seeing the sleigh and the crisp new snow faded at his words. The words and then what burned on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. If he did not choose to speak of the future, if his grand plan was to just let things go along as they were until he was bored, she would not lower herself to nag him about it. Deidre decided she would stick around until Maura joined her and then, if Tyrone still had not presented some plan for the future that went further than how many times they could make love in one night, she was leaving. She would not linger, constantly hoping for more than an affair, and certainly not until he grew bored and gave her her congé. Who knew, she mused with a silent chuckle that held an unsettling bitterness, maybe if he found the sweet shop closed, he would realize how much he craved it.
After saying farewell to the Bookers and thanking them for their help and hospitality, Deidre got into the sleigh. She smiled faintly as Tyrone sat down next to her and tucked her up so firmly in several blankets she felt cocooned. Such concern for her comfort and well-being were good signs, she supposed.
Shortly after they started on their way, Deidre was glad of all her heavy clothing, the blankets, and the heated stones the Booker ladies had placed beneath her feet. It was bitterly cold, and the high, sloped sides of the sleigh provided only a little protection. As she huddled up against the side, little more than her eyes exposed to the air, she felt badly for Booker’s men and Tyrone, who were so much more exposed than she. Deidre hoped that nothing slowed their progress, that it did indeed only take a few hours to reach Paradise, for she doubted the men could endure much more than that.
When the town of Paradise came into view, Deidre almost echoed the men’s expressions of relief, even though she had not suffered as badly as they had. For once, the knowledge that her time with Tyrone could soon come to an end did not trouble her much. She was far more interested in reaching someplace warm.
Tyrone pulled up in front of a pretty two-story house at the edge of town. He got down from the sleigh, silently motioned for Deidre to wait when she moved to follow, and turned his attention to Booker’s men. Ignoring their protests, he gave them the funds to go to a hotel to get warm and dry, fill their bellies with some hot food, and rest, waiting until the morning to return to the Three Angels if they chose to. He reassured them that their job was done, that he had only needed the extra protection while still upon the trail, thanked them, and sent them on their way.
Even as Tyrone turned to help Deidre out of the sleigh, the front door of the house was flung open. From where she stood there was no mistaking the man’s relationship to Tyrone, for he had the same dark, dangerously handsome looks, the same lean grace. She sighed when Tyrone abruptly left her side and raced up the front steps of the surrounding porch to embrace the young man. It was understandable that he would be pleased to see his brother and be excited by his victory over the Martins, so she graciously forgave him his boorish behavior. After several minutes of being ignored while Tyrone told his brother all about their adventures, she began to feel a lot less gracious and marched up the steps to plant herself at his side.
When Stephen’s attention was drawn to his right, Tyrone frowned and followed his brother’s gaze. He flushed with embarrassment when he saw Deidre, realizing that he had momentarily forgotten her. Taking her by the arm, he nudged her toward Stephen and introduced her. When his brother took her hand in his and welcomed her with what Tyrone felt was a nauseating eagerness, he abruptly tugged her back to his side.
“Do you think the land office is still open?” he asked Stephen.
“It is, and the judge is at home nursing his gout, so we can stop there, too,” replied his brother.
“Are you sure we can trust Judge Lennon?” He draped his arm around Deidre’s shoulders and was a little annoyed to see the same look of amusement in Stephen’s eyes that he had seen in Jason’s.
“Very sure. He can’t stomach the Martins, openly and loudly complains about them, and heartily bemoans the lack of evidence needed to convict them of any crimes. The Martins can’t bribe him because they don’t have anything he wants or needs, and they aren’t stupid enough to try and threaten a man with so many important friends. Who knows? Maybe the old goat just likes swimming against the tide.”
“And you think it’s a good idea to show him the papers before we take them to the land office?”
“I do. After all, the others we had mysteriously disappeared from that place. The Martins obviously have a man working for them in there. I think it’s Will Pope. Doesn’t matter. We can’t trust anyone there to keep the papers safe and then show them to a judge to make a decision. So, I say go to the judge first, get a ruling first.”
“Agreed.” He looked at Deidre. “The papers?”
“I’ll need a moment of privacy,” she replied.
“Come inside,” said Stephen, and led them into his house. “I need to get some warmer clothes on. I’ll get Bob to see to the sleigh and the team. This business will take a little while and it’s too cold to leave the poor beasts standing there.” He ushered them into the parlor.
“The sleigh will be taken back to Booker. Any word from Mitchell?” Tyrone asked as he joined Deidre in standing in front of the fireplace, soaking up the welcome warmth.
“Nope, but then he wasn’t supposed to get in touch with us, was he?”
“True. Thought he might do so anyway if there was trouble or he picked up a partner.” Tyrone sighed and could see by the look upon Stephen’s face that his concerns about Mitchell were shared. “Go and get dressed. Let’s get this done and over with.”
It was only a few minutes’ wait before Stephen rejoined them, just about long enough for Deidre to lift up her skirts, get the papers out of the hidden pocket, and hand them to Tyrone. Although Deidre was reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, she was pleased when it was decided they would walk. She was tired of horses, eager to stretch her legs despite the cold.
The judge was delighted to see them and cackled gleefully when they showed him the papers. Judge Lennon promised to inform everyone he could think of that the Callahans had proven their claim to the ranch and the mine to his complete satisfaction. He also gave them a signed witness statement they could turn in at the land office along with their deeds.
Tyrone and his brother were in high spirits as they strode away from the judge’s home and headed to the land office. They readily included her in their joy, and so Deidre was a little surprised when it suddenly fled, both men stopping, their bodies tensed.
Following the direction of their identically cold stares, she saw three burly men blocking their way. She needed no introductions to know that these were the Martins and she inched a little closer to Tyrone.
“Heard you left town, Tyrone,” said the larger of the three, his thick brown hair well sprinkled with gray. “Safe trip?”
“I survived, Walter,” Tyrone replied, his voice hard and cold. “Others didn’t.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I imagine you are.”
“Going somewhere?” asked the leaner, shorter, of the three. “Bit cold for a stroll.”
“We’ve got some business to attend to, John.” Tyrone subtlely stepped in front of Deidre when John rested his hand on the gun he wore.
“At the land office?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. So, if these pleasantries are at an end, we’d like to be on our way.” For a moment Tyrone feared the Martins were going to prove him wrong and openly battle him in the street, but then Walter stepped aside, signaling his sons John and Michael to do the same.
“This isn’t over yet,” said Walter as Tyrone, Stephen, and Deidre stepped past them.
“Oh, I think it is,” Tyrone said in an equally quiet voice. “We’ve already been to see the judge.”
A chill snaked down Tyrone’s back as he walked. A quick glance at Stephen and Deidre told him his companions felt that same unease. Walter and Michael had the wits to know they could not do anything, that they had lost their bid on the Callahan holdings, and could lose even more if they reacted to that loss with violence in broad daylight with so many witnesses around. It was John, the hot-tempered son, who really worried Tyrone. It was not until he heard Walter speaking to John in a low, angry voice, however, that he began to relax.
A Stockingful of Joy Page 11
