by Piper, Marie
They ate more than once. Seafood cooked on outside stoves. At a small restaurant run by folks Emma told him were Creoles, Bill had crawfish for the first time, boiled with lemon and salt in a pot, and served with potatoes and crispy corn cakes. His vest seemed to grow tighter with each buttery bite.
“Glad Appie isn’t here to see me eating like a king while he’s cooking a pot of beans.”
“If you take him back some good spices, I imagine he’ll forgive you.” Emma licked butter off her fingertips.
She’d said if he took Appie back spices. Not if they were to do it.
A slight sadness settled into him. This might be the last day he’d ever spend with her this way. How could she go back to a life of hard work after being in such a place?
“Are you all right?” Emma asked. “You look troubled.”
She’d never promised him forever. For heaven’s sake, she’d been another man’s wife from the day he’d met her. Every minute they’d spent together had been wonderful, but it had also likely been nothing more than a dream.
“I’m fine,” He breathed out through puffed cheeks as they made their way from the restaurant back out onto the street near Jackson Square. “I’m about as full as a man can be, though. Might not eat for a week.”
Emma pointed to a building by the water. ‘Café du Monde,’ the sign read.
“I’ve heard of this place. Would you like some beignets?”
“Been-whats?”
“Beignets.” She pulled him to a table in the small courtyard. “Fried dough with powdered sugar. We must try them. I’ve always wanted to.”
Moments later, a waiter brought cups of coffee with cream and a plate of warm pastries covered in sugar. The smells of heaven wafted up to Bill’s nose. When he bit into one, he had to close his eyes for a moment from the pure perfection he tasted.
“I hear there’s a tradition. If you’ve never been here, you’re supposed to blow the sugar and make a wish.”
“All right,” Bill agreed.
They each held up their beignets, and blew at the sugar.
Light white sugar landed on both of their faces. As they wiped themselves clean, neither could help but laugh.
“What’d you wish for?” Bill asked her.
“Nothing,” she answered. “Right now, there’s nothing I need. How about you?”
He’d wished for her, forever. “I can’t tell you. If I do, I won’t get my wish.”
“Sneaky.” Over the top of the coffee she sipped, she watched the street. “Oh my, this city is lovely.”
They watched people and horse-drawn carriages go by. Once they’d both eaten past the point of comfort, they left Café du Monde. With arms entwined, they began walking back toward where they would find Hank. When the doors of the saloon were close, Emma stopped Bill from reaching out to open them. He wanted to tell her feeling fear was fine, and they could run away and never come back and never think of Hank Porter ever again. He would hold her close and sweep her out of the city, never to look back.
But he couldn’t. They’d come too far, and she needed closure.
Bill put her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed her fingers.
“If you put this off any more, you’ll never do it.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “For everything. Even if everything falls apart from here. Thank you, Bill.”
Emma went through the doors, and he followed with a bad feeling in his gut.
All that day, he’d seen a new way of life in the port city, but the energy and noise in The Magnolia Crow blew it all away, along with any saloon he’d ever been inside. The place shone, and the people shone and laughed. Being inside was like walking on a cloud.
Emma’s gaze was fixed. Bill looked to where she looked.
He’d encountered Porter before, but had never seen him through the eyes of a man in competition with him. Seeing him now, he felt his heart sink. Hank Porter was good-looking, well-dressed, and oozed charm out his eyeballs. Watching the man was like watching a King hold court as he hosted the festivities, pouring drinks and leaning over card games to tease players, or order them up more drinks or chips. Tall and dark-haired, Hank’s smile made the women at the tables around him smile back even bigger. Bill couldn’t help but notice the way more than a few women looked as if they’d drop their dresses to the floor right there, should he request such a thing.
Emma began to back up, but Bill caught her by the hand he still held. “You’ve come all this way. Turn around now, and it will have been for nothing.”
“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“I think you’ve made more than a few. But coming here ain’t one of them.”
“Let’s go,” she breathed. “Let’s run far from here.”
“Hello, sweetness.”
The words, spoken in a melodic drawl, made Emma grip Bill’s fingers so hard he was surprised she didn’t break them. Her head fell, and her eyes closed.
Hank had come around a table and was stepping up to the two of them, a curious expression on his face. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you coming into my establishment?” He came closer until he was no more than two feet away from them. “A beauty like you doesn’t come along every day, Emma.”
Emma’s eyes opened. Any previous fear was gone. Bill gulped. She was furious, and looked like she was about to spark into a raging flame.
“Pretty words,” she retorted. “Hello, Hank.”
“You look well.”
“You look tired.”
“That biting tongue. Glad to see you’ve kept your spirit.”
“I’d rather have kept my money.”
“Direct to the point, as always. I do believe your face looks familiar, Mr…”
“McKenzie.”
“Of course. The infamous brothers McKenzie. How could I forget? It’s nice to see you again, sir. Allow me to treat the two of you to some libations. I’m sure you’ve had a long journey. Have you come far?”
“Very.”
To his credit, Hank’s charming smile never faltered. “There’s a table right there. I’ll be back.”
Emma and Bill sat at the table. Immediately, she began tapping her fingertips on the surface.
“He’s just a man,” Bill reminded her.
“He’s the goddamn devil incarnate,” she snapped back.
She’d been the same kind of irritable with Callie Lee back in Cricket Bend, and he didn’t care for it. “No, he’s not. He’s a man, same the rest of us.”
Applause filled the room, and a woman with olive-colored skin made her way up to the small stage. She threw a large and lovely smile to the crowd, earning whistles. The piano player began a song, and she leaned on the upright.
Never had Bill heard music like what she sang.
As the music spilled from her, Emma’s fury eased. Hank stepped up behind them and placed a bottle and three glasses on the table. “She’s good.” Emma watched the singer.
“Not as good as you.” Hank slipped into his seat and delivered a bottle and two glasses to the table. “But then, few are.”
“Flattery won’t make me less mad at you,” she whispered. Never ceasing to watch the singer, she took a drink of the liquor Hank poured. In a room full of incredible people, the singer had everyone’s attention. As she swayed, she sang a song of sorrow and loss of love in a low-toned voice, and Bill felt chills.
For the whole of the song, they listened with rapt attention. After a round of hearty applause, the singer left the stage. The crowd returned to the previous chatter.
“What brings you to my establishment, Emma?” Hank asked. “I know this wasn’t intended as a purely social call, and I know you’re not here simply by chance.”
“I want my money,” she said flatly. “And a divorce.”
“Neither of those things are possible,” Hank replied. “I don’t have your money, and it’s to both of our advantage to remain married. Besides, divorce is a terrible ordeal.”
“I fail to
see how associating with you could bring anyone any advantage.” Emma’s voice got louder, and Bill sat forward. Hank sat forward, too, and effectively blocked Emma from Bill’s view
“Stay here and find out,” Hank pleaded, taking her hand in his. “This is as safe a place as any to hide. Everyone in New Orleans is hiding from something. Eugenia, the singer you just heard, is leaving in a few weeks. Stay on as the new singer. The Sparrow, just returned from a tour of the Wild West. Think of the posters.”
“I have nothing to hide from,” she replied, pushing his hands away.
“Only murder.”
“For heaven’s sake,” she bolted to her feet. “That is no longer a concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”
She stomped from the room, a fancy flower pushing her way through a huddled mass of men. Some leered at her as she passed, but she didn’t stop walking.
Hank rose from his chair, and Bill followed suit. The two men stood awkwardly before Hank asked, “Do you mind if I take a moment alone with my wife?”
What was Bill supposed to say?
Hank followed Emma, leaving Bill at the table. He poured another drink from the bottle Hank had left, and drank it fast. Eugenia came back onto the stage. She began to sing a song about ghosts, and Bill let himself listen. Emma’s anger was clouding her judgment, but he couldn’t make her choices for her. He had to trust her. He had to.
***
Emma
She’d expected Bill to be the one who would come after her. Seeing that Hank was the one to follow her out the doors of the hall made her exhale loudly in irritation.
“I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said. “How are you, Emma?”
He didn’t play with fancy phrases now that it was just the two of them. She knew him too well for him to bother.
“I’m fine,” she answered.
“You’re not fine. You’re far from fine.”
“How are you?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject. “I’m sorry if I was rude before.”
“You’re not at all sorry.”
“You’re correct,” she answered as she fiddled with her dress. Why was his presence unnerving her so much? He was a rascal, the worst kind of scoundrel. She hated him. She truly did. “In fairness, I should be allowed to be rude to you.”
“Most likely.” Hank pulled a cigar from his pocket. “I never expected you’d show up here like this.”
“Finding you wasn’t easy.”
“How did you?”
“Brett Baker, and others.” Emma kept her visit to Cricket Bend up her sleeve.
“I never meant for you to find me. I’ve made mistakes. I’d hoped to shield you from them by putting enough distance between us.”
“Grant me a divorce,” she pleaded. “Keep the damn money.”
“It’s McKenzie,” Hank laughed heartily at the realization. “My stars, Emma. You’ve fallen for a cowboy.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks at his teasing. “Bill is a better man than any other I’ve met in my whole life. He’s honest and kind, and—”
“And how soon after meeting him did you exert your feminine wiles to get him to do your bidding and help you find me?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Damn, but he knew her well. “Even if it began that way, it isn’t anymore.”
“I’ve always found honesty to be the best way to live one’s life,” Hank said. He puffed at his cigar.
“You’re a hypocrite, talking about honesty.”
“I’ve been called worse than that.”
“You smoke cigars now,” she noted. “Didn’t you once tell me it was a vile habit?”
“It helps quiet the mind,” he said. “Mine needs quieting.”
Emma turned to him. “I don’t understand why you left Fort Worth, and me. I don’t understand what happened since I last saw you, and I sure as hell don’t understand why you won’t divorce me.”
“Maybe it’s best you don’t understand those things, my dear.”
“I stopped being your dear the minute you rode away from Fort Worth,” she said. “I’m going back to my room now. We will talk about this later.”
“I’m sure we will.”
She hiked her skirts up over the wet cobblestone street to get away from him. If only she could get out of earshot before the tears of anger and frustration burst from her. She didn’t have a minute to spare to grab Bill. Her emotions brewed like a storm, and she knew it would be better if she were behind closed doors when it struck.
***
Bill
When Emma didn’t return for a long while, Bill went outside in search of her. What he’d find, he had no idea. Perhaps he’d find she’d killed Hank with her bare hands. Perhaps Hank would have killed her. Perhaps they’d run off together. What the hell did Bill know anymore? But he’d go and fight for Emma, should it came to that. If Porter wanted to brawl, he’d brawl. If he wanted to talk, Bill could talk.
By the time the sun rose, something would be different.
Hank smoked a cigar. The man stared at the dirt.
“Where is she?”
“She told me her mind, and went back to your room. She’s a handful, isn’t she?” Hank asked. “A beauty too. I’ve been all over this great country of ours, and Emma is one of the finest beauties I’ve ever known. She has a way about her that gets under a man’s skin and nags at him, until he’ll do anything she wants. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I—”
“There’s no point in pretending otherwise. I know her better than anyone else on this earth does. I’m sure she’s painted me to be the worst kind of villain.”
“Pretty much.”
“But she hasn’t told you the whole story.”
“I suppose you have a different version of the story of you and Haven Frank too. One that spins you in a brighter light.”
Hank’s face changed at the mention of Haven’s name.
“Haven…”
Immediately, Bill realized Emma had withheld that information. “We went there, you know. Emma didn’t tell you?”
“She neglected to share that information.”
“It was Haven who told us where to find you.”
“How is she?”
“Still about the prettiest woman in Texas. Happy.”
“I didn’t know if she got my letters. She never wrote me back.”
“Did you expect her to?”
Hank ignored that. “Does she have children?”
“Big with one right now.”
Hank nodded. “For the record, nothing of consequence happened between the beautiful Mrs. Frank and myself, despite my wishes.”
“Sounds like she’s a smart woman.”
“Time will tell. Though my actions put her in danger, I also played a role in saving her life, as well as Sheriff Anderson’s. I bet the good deputy left that part out of his version of the story.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about them, you know. Give Emma what she wants, and we’ll go and leave you be.”
“Where will you go?”
“We’ll continue up to join my boys on our drive to Abilene, then head back to my ranch.”
“And you think what, that Emma will be your wife?”
“I hope she will. I’ve asked her. Might sound crazy to a man like you, but I love her.”
“And she loves you, I can tell. But she won’t go with you. Not all the way, and not forever. They called her the sparrow for her voice, but she’s a vulture, a scavenger—”
“Shut your mouth. You wanted her to whore.”
“I told her to sing so she wouldn’t have to. A woman alone with no money and no family? Her options were limited. I told her to sing so she wouldn’t have to lower herself that kind of life.”
“But it was fine for Callie Lee.”
“You’ve obviously never tried to talk Callie out of something. Not that our relationship is any of your busines
s. I left Emma so she’d be able to make herself a life the way she wanted, which couldn’t happen with me around. I’m not such a devil as you think, Mr. McKenzie.”
“The money—”
“Is the combined result of Emma’s and my hard work. She can’t lay claim to all of it.”
“The dress—”
“The dress is long gone. I’ve no idea what became of it.” Hank lied. Bill could tell.
“You give Emma the divorce and the pin she wants and I won’t beat the tar out of you.”
“I see you’ve come with demands.”
“And you stay away from Haven Frank too.”
Hank’s eyes widened. “Did the darling Deputy Matthew send you here to say that to me?”
“He asked me to deliver the message.”
“He was never man enough to take me on himself.”
Bill’s fist hit Hank’s face with a resounding slam. The man’s jabbering, his talking in circles and admitting no guilt for any of the trouble he’d caused, nagged at Bill until a punch in the face was the only possible outcome.
Hank collected himself. “That’s supposed to be from Matthew, I assume.”
“Make no mistake. It’s from me too. And any number of other people I reckon would love to do that.”
Blood came from Hank’s nose. He no longer played at being friendly. “Get away from this establishment, Mr. McKenzie. Or I will be forced to have you removed.”
“Fine by me,” Bill replied. “I said what I came to say.”
“You certainly have.” Hank returned to the saloon.
Bill went back to the hotel. Emma lay in bed when he got back to the room, though she was awake. When he walked in the door, she sat up.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“I talked to Hank,” Bill said.
“Talked?”
“Talked, argued. I hit him. Just once. But I won’t lie. It felt good.”
“Did you manage to change his mind?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” Emma lay back on her pillow. “This is a disaster. I’ve come all this way for nothing.”
Bill sat and took off his boots. “Was it really all for nothing?”
“I’m no closer to being free of him and getting my money back than I was two months and hundreds of miles ago. Maybe Appie was right. Maybe I didn’t need to do this.”
