by Piper, Marie
Bill pulled off his clothes and slipped under the blankets beside her. “Come here,” he urged.
Emma wound her arms around him. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing worth hearing.”
She’s a vulture, a scavenger. Bill shook Hank’s words away. Likely every word the man had ever said in his entire life was a lie. No tears came from her, but she stayed silent for a long time, until her rage gave way to sleep. He heard her breath go gentle.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Emma
There was no way Emma could have slept. Even comfortable against Bill, even after the emotional ups and downs of the day, her mind raced and her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest and attempt crossing the ocean without her.
She’d never been across the ocean. When she’d set out after her money, she’d thought maybe she’d use it to take a trip all over the world on a ship with champagne and fine staterooms. She’d reinvent herself as Widow Porter, and charm all the handsome young society men on board the ship with tales of adventures in the West, and by the time she reached Paris and London she’d be a sensation. She had imagined dining on fire food and wearing lovely gowns and taking handsome lovers.
At least she’d accomplished part of the dream.
Her handsome cowboy slept beside her, his jaw against her temple.
If only Bill knew how much she loved him. It wasn’t as if she could tell him, seeing as how everything she’d done to get them that far had been built on lies and half-truths.
Goddamn Hank. If she was going to make a life with Bill, he needed to get out of their way.
From her bag, she pulled out the package Haven had handed her. Setting a hand on top of the paper, she looked back over her shoulder at Bill.
Ending things with Hank had to be done.
And it was time for Emma to do it, and in grand fashion.
When she sneaked from the room only a short while later, she wore the red dress she’d once thought lost. It still fit, she was pleased to discover. She wore her trail jacket over it, and under the cover of night she hoped she wouldn’t draw too much attention. Hank needed to be given no warning of her coming to see him, or he’d be ready to whirl and charm and throw her off-balance, and she needed to finish things.
Feigning sweet bashfulness, she made her way through the men in the bar and approached the bartender.
“Excuse me. Which room is Hank’s?” She let her voice be higher and flirtier than usual. She pulled at the neckline of her jacket. With any luck, he’d think she was a young woman who didn’t go to the rooms of men at night—the kind who had lots to lose.
“He expecting you?” the bartender asked, not even hiding his glance at the low neckline of the dress.
Emma feigned nervousness. “Yes. Which room is his, please?”
“Back hallway, second door,” the man replied with a wink.
The door to Hank’s room was partially open. She peeked in for a moment before doing anything else. Damn, he was handsome. She remembered the first time she’d ever seen him. He’d leaned against a support pole in the saloon she’d been working hard to clean, and he’d grinned at her when she’d turned around in surprise. Never had she seen a man as good-looking. If she could go back to the beginning, knowing what she knew, would she do it all again?
Hank rifled through a wooden box as he bent over a small desk. His face was down, and she couldn’t see his expression, but he returned the papers to the box and then locked it with a key. He set the box on a shelf.
While his back was to the door, she stepped into the room.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Hank said without turning around. “I can’t imagine Mr. McKenzie would approve.”
“Bill trusts me.”
“Well, love makes a man foolish.”
“What would you know about it? You’ve never loved anyone in your life, you selfish son of a bitch.” Hank turned to her with surprise on his face, and his mouth curled into a smile that nearly stopped her heart. Feelings for him, which she thought she’d buried, rose up, and her throat felt tight. “Are you not happy to see me?” she replied, after swallowing hard. “Sneaking into each other’s rooms in a saloon. Sure brings back memories.”
“Indeed.” Hank folded his arms across his chest and waited for her to make whatever move she was going to. She knew he’d figured she hadn’t come for no reason, and had something up her sleeve.
To show him exactly what was up her sleeve, she dropped her jacket to the floor.
As Emma watched with glee, Hank’s green eyes took in the red silk, the short part of the skirt in front, and the low neckline. His hands fell to his sides, and his mouth opened as if words were about to burst from him. Emma couldn’t help but smile. She’d startled him, as she’d meant to do. Hank’s confidence melted away. The thrill of vindication consumed her.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “Where did you get that?”
“Why, Hank, you look startled.”
“That is an apt description. Where did you get that?”
“Where do you think I got it?”
“Tell me where you got that dress, Emma.”
“An astonishing young woman named Haven, in a remarkable little town called Cricket Bend. Have you ever been there?” She enjoyed his discomfort. As she’d expected, the sound of Haven’s name made Hank wince as if he were in physical pain. Emma kept talking. “She gave it to me after I told her it had been mine. Said she got it from you, but it was Callie’s.”
“I…”
“Shut up, Hank. It’s my turn to speak. You stole this dress from me, and passed it on to Callie as if it were nothing, as if I were no one. When you got bored with Callie, you passed it to Haven. This dress has traveled, Hank. All three of us have worn it. Your three supposed loves, your three fires.” Emma took hold of the skirt in both her hands and held it out. She resisted the urge to do a spin. “Like you, this dress has been all over. But it was mine first, if you don’t remember. I had it made, and I paid for it, and you stole it when you ran off. Just like you stole my money.”
How she wanted to slap him. She very nearly did.
“I will not try and argue with you,” Hank said. His tone was annoyingly calm. “I’ve met your temper.”
“And I’ve seen yours,” Emma answered.
A long silence fell. Hank stood by his desk, his eyes on the dress she wore, and his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Emma would have made a deal with the devil to know what he was thinking. Was it of her? Had he ever thought about her, even when they’d been together? They’d had good times. Explosive arguments, passionate nights, and full-bodied gales of laughter, but all of that had happened a long time ago. He’d been her world, but the man before her had changed.
“How is she?” Hank finally asked.
Haven. Again, he was thinking of Haven. The sweet young woman had done something to him that Emma never could. Perhaps he loved her. She’d certainly left him lingering, no doubt thinking of the one woman he’d wanted and not been able to have. No doubt it was driving him crazy. It was obvious he wasn’t thinking of Emma. Anger rose in her belly. He probably hadn’t thought of her for a minute in their entire relationship. Until Haven, Hank had likely never thought about anyone except himself.
“You son of a bitch,” she cried. Her furious fingers began to tear at the hooks of the dress. She pulled the straps off her shoulders and stepped from the skirts. Once the dress lay on the floor, she hooked her boot on the fabric and kicked it at him. He caught the wad and looked at the red silk. “Keep the damn thing. As a reminder of the trouble and the pain you cause everyone you’ve ever met.”
Hank reached for her. “Causing you pain was never my intention.”
“You left me alone,” she pushed him away. “With no money and nothing but a job singing for rough men.” He let the dress fall to the ground between them. “You left me to be a whore.”
“And did you come to such ruin?”
“Nearly.”
“Nearly, but you didn’t.”
“Of course not.”
“Of course not. Emma, you forget how well I know you. You’re tough as nails and never do a thing you don’t want to do. If I’d thought for a second you would turn to whoring, I’d have never left you.”
“I missed the stars out of you,” she confessed.
Hank pressed his lips to hers. Emma closed her eyes, and remembered how much she’d adored him so long ago. He’d swept into her life and taken her from cleaning floors to singing onstage in fancy dresses. Along the way, he’d swept her up too, and been both Prince Charming and the fairy godmother to her Cinderella. To live up to those expectations was a lot to ask of a man.
He wasn’t the man she wanted to be kissing.
He wasn’t Bill.
Emma put her palms on Hank’s chest and pushed him away. “Stop. You can’t trick me this time.”
“I am not trying to trick you.”
“Divorce me, Hank. It’s simple. I’ll leave you be forever.”
“Having my name is what’s kept you from being hunted down by any number of bounty hunters.” Hank shook his head. “Keep my name.”
“I don’t need it,” she said. “Sheriff Anderson is going to clear me. I have to make my own way now.”
“With McKenzie?”
“If he’ll still have me.” Emma stammered, “He-I-I lied to him. He’s still mad at me, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Not mad enough to have let you come here alone, though.” Emma knew Hank was right. Bill still loved her, and he was still there in New Orleans. Hank kept talking. “You have been running from the ghost of Angus Keene for going on ten years. He’s dead and rotted away by now, whether it was by your hand, or whether he lived a few more years before dying. If Sheriff Anderson keeps his word, which he will, the rest of your life is ahead of you. Bill McKenzie offered you a life worth living every second of. Go with him.”
“Hank—”
“I’ll grant your damn divorce on one condition. You go to your cowboy and go where he takes you. You stay there and, dammit, be happy. For once in your miserable life, be happy.”
“Fine.”
The easiness of her agreement surprised him. “Fine.”
Emma bent and grabbed her jacket from the floor, pulling it on over her underthings and buttoning it up high to hide her indecency as best she could. She heard Hank shift behind her, a creak of the floorboard. When she left the room, she might never lay eyes on him again. There was one more thing Emma wanted to say, whether she should actually say it or not, and she didn’t hold back the words. “Callie Lee has a son.”
“I’m very happy for her.”
“He’s got green eyes and thick dark hair, and I could tell from a mile away he’s yours.” Hank’s face lost all color. “I imagine you’ll be tarred and feathered, if not worse, should you ever step foot in Cricket Bend again, but you will do right by that little boy. Do you understand me? For the first time in your miserable life, Hank Porter, you will do something right, and you will do it for him. Promise me.”
“What’s his name?”
“Nate.”
“Nate,” Hank repeated. He sat on the bed as if his knees were giving out. “Nathan. Nathaniel. Nate Lee. Not Porter. I’d bet my life and liberty Callie didn’t give the boy my name.”
“Promise me you will do right by him.”
“I promise.”
“And you will leave Haven be along the way.”
He shook his head. “I can’t promise that.”
That startled Emma. No cleverness lined his words. “You love her something awful, don’t you?”
“Now, my dear.” Hank smiled. “I recall you telling me not ten minutes ago that I’ve never loved anyone in my life, and that I’m a selfish son of a bitch.”
“Maybe I was wrong. What the hell do I know about anything? But leave her be, Hank. Leave her to her happy life and her husband, whose eyes are filled with stars every time he looks at her. If you love her, you’ll do that. Folks aren’t put on this earth for your pleasure and amusement. She’s married and happy, and you leave her be or I swear I will come back here and beat you to a pulp myself.”
“Is that all?”
“I’ll bring down the wrath of God and the McKenzie boys on you, if you go against what I’m telling you. And they’re a rowdy bunch of hooligans.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hank whispered. “I’m proud of you. I don’t know if you care to know that, but—”
“I do,” Emma said. “I’d like to slap you across the face about five times, but I’ll never be sorry I met you.”
“I’ll have the papers sent over first thing in the morning,” Hank said.
“I thought you said divorce was an ordeal.”
“There’s a man who owes me a few favors.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“What’s your hotel?”
“The Crescent.”
“Fine. Does that mean this is goodbye?”
“This is goodbye.” Emma didn’t know what else to do, so she offered him her hand. A handshake, after everything they’d been through together, seemed odd. Other options weren’t coming to mind.
When Hank’s hand joined hers, she felt him pass something into her fingers. Small, cool metal with tiny bumps. There was only one thing it could be.
“Goodbye, my Sparrow.”
Emma looked into her open palm and saw the pin—the tiny silver bird with the stones. She closed her fingers around it and turned her back on him to walk out of the room, in only her underthings and her jacket.
Emma left. Her heart, her soul, every part of her felt lighter. She’d return to the hotel room, and sleep next to Bill, and in the morning she’d wake him up in a delicious way and, if his proposal still stood, she’d accept it. She’d become Mrs. McKenzie, and they’d go home. Maybe they could marry there, in New Orleans, and return to the McKenzie drive to surprise all the boys. They’d finish the drive as a honeymoon of sorts, and then return to Laredo and the ranch. She’d be a ranch wife. Apart from hard work, she had no idea what that would entail, but she wanted to learn. She wanted to meet Maureen McKenzie and see the woman who had raised such wonderful sons. She wanted to be there when Jess and Clara Belmont were wed. She wanted to fall asleep each night in Bill’s arms, worn out from work.
She wanted to go home, and to finally know what a home would be like.
Hank was giving her a divorce. By the following afternoon, she’d be a free woman.
***
Bill
Someday, Emma would have to realize that he would always notice her slipping away in the dark. Although that assumed there would be more somedays. At the moment Bill could barely see through surviving the rest of the night.
He’d followed her to the Magnolia Crow, having heard her go out the door of their hotel room. He’d looked out the window just in time to see her headed that way. He pursued, and only had to threaten the bartender a bit to get him to blurt out where the redheaded woman seeking Hank Porter had gone.
To Hank’s room.
Damn. Bill didn’t want to think he’d been taken for a fool again.
Bill rounded the corner and looked through the partly-open door in time to see Emma and Hank locked in an embrace. Hank held tight to her bare arms, and Emma’s hands rested on Hank’s chest. She wore only her fancy new underthings. The two of them made a beautiful pair. Bill’s world stopped cold, then sped up until he felt dizzy. He backed away from the door and reached out to steady himself against the wall.
He’d been conned. He’d kept her safe on a journey across tough country in exchange for a few kisses and warm nights, and he’d been deceived and placated all the while. He’d come to forgive her, and it had been another act she’d pulled to get her where she’d wanted to be all along.
For all his terrible traits, Andrew had been right. A damned fool, that’s what Bill was, and even worse than he’d imagined himself to be origin
ally. Worse, because as he saw Hank’s lips on Emma’s, he felt a pain in his heart every bit as bad as the pain he’d once felt for Greta.
Women were devils, and men were fools.
Part of him wanted to charge into the room and beat Hank Porter to a pulp. If there ever was a time to bloody his knuckles, it was then. Pounding the charming scoundrel into the floorboards sounded like a fine idea.
But there’d be no point. The game had already been played. And the sight of his destroying Hank would only scare Emma. Mad at her or not, he still couldn’t do that.
“Fool me twice…” he whispered. Slowly, he returned to the hotel room and lay down in the darkness. A man could only take so much before his heart gave out.
He felt as though he could die.
In the morning, Bill decided he would go to the livery and get Orion and begin the long ride back to the drive. He’d continue up to Abilene and finish the drive and head home with his pa and Appie and the boys. He’d go back to working himself to the bone on the ranch, and sitting in his chair at night alone.
Alone.
For a while, he’d thought he was done being alone.
Maybe there was another woman in the world who could lighten his heart the way Greta, and then Emma, had. He wouldn’t bet on it. He stared at the ceiling and wished he was staring at the stars shining above. Emma returned after a while. She sneaked quietly back into the room. She dropped her jacket, revealing her underthings in the dark of the room. Bill pretended to sleep. She curled up against him, draping an arm over his side. Her touch was gentle and sweet, but all it made him feel was cheated.
This would be the last night he would ever touch her.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Emma
The cool sheets of the bed enclosed Emma as first light came through the open window. Already she could hear New Orleans at work, and the early June warmth breezed across her sin.
