by Kaki Warner
The poor thing looked like she’d been in a saloon brawl. Someone had tried to brush the dirt out of her beautiful hair, but there were still clumps stuck here and there. Her face was mostly clean, but bruises were already showing. Her muddy clothes lay piled in the corner, and she wore a clean, oversized nightshirt. Gauze strips bound her left wrist, and a half-finished bowl of soup sat on the table beside the bed.
“Thank God we found her,” Lottie whispered.
“Who would have thought to look under the boardwalk? Crazy woman.”
“How did she get under there?”
“She said she was trying to get to me, and ducked under it when the storm hit.” The wobble in his voice told her he was still trying to get past that.
“She’s safe now, Juno. So don’t be blaming yourself.”
“If I’d taken care of her right . . .” He let the sentence hang.
“Then take care of her now.”
“I plan to.”
“’Bout time,” a hoarse voice said.
They both looked down to see Becky was awake. And smiling. Until she saw Juno’s distress. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“No,” he admitted, blinking hard. “You scared the hell out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Juno let go a long, deep breath. “We need to talk, Beck. You’ve got a lot to forgive me for. And I hope you will.”
Taking that as her cue to leave, Lottie gave Becky’s uninjured arm a squeeze, patted Juno’s broad shoulder, and went back to the club to see if Ty had returned.
As she walked down the street, she noted that already the town looked better. Much of the mess was being loaded onto wagons and carted away to a huge burn pile outside of town. Mr. Griffin had taped a sign to the bank door saying the governor had sent a wire to Mayor Spivey, offering help and no-interest loans to those needing to make repairs. It gave hope for a better future and had people smiling, despite the hard work ahead.
Greenbroke would survive.
But the club might not, she thought, when she walked into the lobby to find Briggs and Lord Findlay glaring at each other while Jane tried to maintain a semblance of civility. Luckily, the crowd seeking shelter had thinned out now that the danger was past. Only Bea Davenport, who was cleaning up behind the stragglers, was there to see that Jane was on the verge of tears.
Before Lottie could whisk her away to get some rest, Sheriff Dodson came in, asking for help to control the Bar M cowboys who were hunting cattle that had bolted during the twister.
“They’re causing trouble?” Briggs asked.
“No looting or mischief like that,” the sheriff assured him. “But with whiskey in short supply at the Spotted Dog and the whores taking the day off—begging your pardons, ma’ams—they’re acting a bit surly.”
“I’ll see about that,” the ex-soldier said, that steely look in his gray eyes.
After Briggs left, Findlay cocked a brow at Lottie, probably hoping she would leave, too, but she stayed put. Before long, he gave up and wandered out to watch Kearsey put boards over the broken front windows.
“I think things are in hand here,” Lottie said, slipping an arm around Jane’s waist. “Why don’t we escape while we can? I’d dearly love to put my feet up for a while.”
“I could use a rest, too,” Jane admitted. She asked Bea to bring in a tea tray when she had a chance, then she and Lottie headed back to her office.
“What a horrid day.” With a labored sigh, Jane sank into one of the upholstered chairs by the fireplace, while Lottie took the other. “First that ghastly storm, then Briggs and Findlay squaring off every chance they got. I daresay those two will drive me to drink.”
“Is this what the English call ‘dissembling’?” Lottie gently asked.
Jane looked at her through weary red eyes.
“Briggs told me about his wife,” Lottie said.
“Oh.” The starch seemed to go out of her. “A terrible thing. I’m so sad for him.”
“What about you?”
Jane shrugged one shoulder, as if too exhausted to lift both. “I’m sad for me, too.”
Bea stepped in with a tea tray. As she set it up on a footstool in front of Jane’s chair, Lottie asked how her family had fared through the storm.
“We lost a plum tree, two cows ran off, and the chickens probably won’t lay for a month, but we’re fine, thanks for asking.”
“A resilient lot, you Americans. No wonder we lost the war.”
“What war?”
“I think that’s all for now, Bea,” Lottie broke in. “But if you see Ty Benton, please let me know.” After assuring her she would, Bea left.
Since Jane looked so weary, Lottie served the tea and butter cookies. As she settled back in her chair, she studied her friend. The pretty Englishwoman looked so fragile Lottie was afraid a wrong word might shatter the brittle shell of her reserve. But she couldn’t avoid the subject that was on both their minds. “Is there anything I can do, Jane?”
“About what?”
“This terrible mess you and Briggs are in.”
Jane didn’t pretend ignorance. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done.” Her cup rattled against the saucer as she set it on the table between the chairs. “Obtaining a divorce is very difficult in England, even if Anson’s faith would allow it. He feels it would be dishonorable to turn his back on her, especially since he believes her condition is partly his fault.”
“Why? Because of the baby she lost?”
Jane nodded. “Anson didn’t know she was carrying a child until she lost it. Yet she blames him for the miscarriage. Did he tell you why?”
“No.”
Tipping her head against the high back of the chair, the Englishwoman gave a weary smile. “Poor Anson is so ready to accept the failings of others, yet ever reluctant to see himself in a good light. The vicar was a great believer in the use of guilt to control his high-spirited son. When Anson’s wife saw how effective it was, she used that weapon against him, too.”
And, apparently, was still using it. “What happened?”
Jane picked up her cup and took a sip. This time when she set it down, it didn’t rattle on the saucer and her voice was strengthened by anger. “Their marriage was troubled from the start. She was either clinging to him, or shoving him away, or inventing elaborate schemes to gain his attention. He grew weary of it and decided to put some distance between them by signing on with the British Light Infantry. It sent her into a rage and they had a terrible row. When he started to walk away, she became almost frantic to make him stay, begging him to prove he still cared for her by making love to her. Against his better judgment, he did, hoping it would ease her worry. She lost the baby the next day.”
Horrified, Lottie pressed a hand to her mouth.
“The doctor said these things happen, especially in early pregnancy. He assured Anson it wasn’t his fault. His wife was convinced it was. She followed him to his father’s church one evening and set it on fire to punish him. He had already left. His father and two others were not so fortunate. She’s been in an asylum since.”
Lottie shook her head. First Juno and now Briggs. What was it about crazy women and fire?
Jane looked at her through haunted eyes. “You know how he is, Lottie. Honor and duty are all to him. Because of a battlefield promise, Anson brought my wounded brother across two continents so he could die at home. Do you think a man like that would cast aside his marriage vows because of an unstable wife?” Jane shook her head. “It’s not in his character. So as long as she lives, there is no hope for us.”
Lottie couldn’t bear the thought of them being apart for the rest of their lives. They were so perfect for each other. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided.” Then, characteristically changing subject when
things became too emotional, Jane put on a determined smile. “But enough of my woes. Let’s get you settled, shall we? You won’t be able to stay at Becky’s until repairs are completed, so I’ve already set aside our best room for you . . . as our guest.”
Lottie was touched. She thought she’d have to move back into her old room at the market, even though since she’d left, the Bracketts had begun using it for storage again. Staying at Lady Jane’s Social Club would be the height of luxury compared to a crowded, mouse-infested storeroom. “I can pay,” she insisted, hoping it wouldn’t be too much. Between her arrest and trial and now the storm, she hadn’t done much bookkeeping lately.
Jane dismissed the idea. “I wouldn’t hear of it. You’re family. Have you any clothes? We could alter some of my dresses, although you’re quite a bit taller.”
Lottie assured her she would find something at the Ledbetter house since her room was barely damaged. She mentally reminded herself to look for clothes for Becky, too. “I was heading over there now to see what I can find.” And hoping to cross paths with Ty. Surely he would be back soon.
“Then I shan’t keep you. I may retire early, so if I’m not about when you return, Kearsey will show you to your room.”
Thanking her again, Lottie left. When she walked into Becky’s bedroom a few minutes later, she found Juno digging through the wreckage. Luckily, he’d thought to bring a lamp. It was already getting dark.
“How is she?” she asked him.
“Feeling well enough to worry about how she looks. I’m supposed to find her brush and mirror and a change of clothes in all this mess.”
“Have you checked the wardrobe?”
He looked around. “There’s a wardrobe in here?”
“Men. Bring the lamp.” She picked her way to a tall piece of furniture that had fallen on its side. Prying open the shattered door, she found several dresses inside—soaked, but not ruined—and one wet pair of shoes. The bureau that had held Becky’s unmentionables was smashed, as well, and shifts and underthings were scattered through rubble. Lottie gathered what was usable and added them to the pile of dresses. “When I take these by Doc’s, I’ll wash her hair.”
“I already did.”
Lottie glanced at him, thoughts of Ty washing her hair in the creek making her cheeks hot. How quickly they had both fallen.
“Don’t look so appalled. I didn’t do anything improper.”
She laughed and raised her brows. “Why not?”
“She’s hurt, that’s why.”
Was he blushing? It was hard to tell in the dim light.
“I told her everything,” he said. “Yet it didn’t seem to matter to her.”
What everything? Lottie waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “That’s our Becky. When she loves, she loves with her whole heart.”
His lopsided grin made him look years younger. “Thank God for that.”
Taking the lamp, Lottie carried it to her room. She located her valise. After filling it with what clothing of hers she could find, she added the items salvaged from Becky’s room, snapped it closed, and carried it back into Becky’s room where Juno was still digging through the mess in the dark. She studied him from the doorway. “Jane has given me a room at the club. After Doc lets her go, Becky can stay with me until we decide where to stay.”
Juno picked up a wet chemise, studied it for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket. “She’s staying with me.”
“At the Spotted Dog? Would that be proper?”
He straightened to look at her. In the lamplight, his face was all angles and shadows, his mouth set in a tight line. “Becky stays with me,” he repeated with quiet emphasis.
Lottie set down the valise and crossed her arms. “Do you intend to marry her, Juno?”
He seemed to find that amusing. “Yes, Ma. As soon as the circuit judge comes through town.”
“But what about our double wedding?”
With a snort, he went back to digging.
Taking that as a sign that he was done with that subject, she picked up the valise. “I’ll discuss it with Becky.”
“Discuss all you want,” he said. “But she’s staying with me. And leave the lamp.”
It was full dark when she reached Doc’s office. This time, he wasn’t there to open the door, so she marched back to the room where Becky was and dropped the valise on the floor beside the bed. “I want us to have a double wedding.”
Becky grinned. “You’re upset. That must mean you’ve been talking to Juno. Can you believe he finally asked me to marry him? And all it took was almost being sucked up in a tornado, getting a sprained wrist, and spending a fun afternoon in the mud under a smashed boardwalk. Who would have guessed he’d be so agreeable?”
“Agreeable as a rented mule.” Sinking down onto the foot of the bed, Lottie opened the valise and began separating Becky’s things from hers. “Wouldn’t you like a double wedding? Everybody there, dancing, merriment, and all the rest?”
“Sounds nice, but I’ll leave that to you and Ty.” Picking up a muddy, low-cut dress, Becky studied it for a moment, tossed it aside, then reached for another. “I need new clothes. Something more matronly, I think.”
“But it would be such fun.” Lottie knew she was fighting a losing battle but she hated giving up. “And it wouldn’t cost that much if we shared expenses.”
“I don’t want to wait. By the time all the repairs are finished and the plans are made, I’m liable to be pregnant.” She laughed at Lottie’s look of shock, but sobered when Lottie didn’t laugh with her. “I’ve already waited too long. And now that I finally have Juno corralled, I’m not letting him get away. The man’s as skittish as a blind foal. With reason, it seems.”
“What reason?”
“Probably a good thing his wife is dead, or I’d punch her in the face for what she did to him. Did you find any shoes?”
Lottie almost threw them at her. First, Jane’s revelations about Briggs’s wretched marriage, and now Becky hinting that Juno’s wife had done something equally terrible to Juno. What was wrong with these people? “What did she do?”
“She blamed Juno for everything—even his son dying. Said he never should have left them alone. And she was the one who set the fire! Can you credit that?”
Lottie knew Juno had been out of town setting up his freight business when their house burned, leaving his wife and son sheltering in a drafty barn. What she didn’t know was that his wife had deliberately set the fire. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“She was loco, that’s why. Juno didn’t know how loco until she shot him.”
“Shot him!”
“In the shoulder. Oh, Lottie, you should see the scar. He would have died if the doctor hadn’t been there. And his poor little boy lying cold on his bed.” Lifting a corner of the sheet, Becky dabbed at her brimming eyes. “Just talking about it made Juno half-sick. Me, too. But no matter what his wife said,” she added fiercely, “Juno didn’t harm that boy!”
“What exactly did she say?”
“That his neglect had killed the only thing she’d ever loved and now he’d killed her, too. Then she put the pistol she’d just used on Juno to her temple and pulled the trigger.”
“Oh my Lord!”
“Right there in front of Juno and their dead son. So you see why I don’t want to wait on a double wedding . . . or to wait getting him into my bed. Oh, don’t give me that look, Lottie Weyland. I finally got a rope on him and we’re getting married as soon as possible so I can get pregnant—God willing—and start building better memories. That’s understandable, isn’t it?”
It was. Lottie wanted to start her life with Ty as soon as possible, too. If the storm had taught her anything, it was how quickly everything could be snatched away. She’d already spent too much time plotting a future that might never come. She wouldn’t put off living a
nd loving any longer. As soon as she saw Ty, she’d tell him she didn’t care where they lived, or what they did . . . other than spending what years they had left with each other.
“You’re right.” Rising, she bent and kissed Becky’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re safe and that you and Juno have worked it out. I know you’ll be deliriously happy together. All I ask is that you don’t marry without me there to blubber into my hanky and wish you well.”
“I would never.”
“Good. Now I’ve got to find Ty and tell him I don’t want to wait on a big wedding, either.”
By the time she reached the club, it was so late much of the town had settled for the night.
And still no Ty.
With dragging steps, she followed Kearsey up to her room. She felt drained and exhausted, every muscle aching and stiff. At least the headache that had plagued her since she’d been knocked on the head was starting to fade. First Millsap and now a falling ceiling. She should start wearing a helmet.
Kearsey must have seen her weariness. He slowed to show her the luxurious room Jane had assigned to her, then led her straight to the washroom next to the water closet at the end of the hall.
Setting her valise beside the tub, he turned with a smile. “Take all the time you need, Miss Weyland. Most of the other occupants on this floor have turned in for the night, or are downstairs at the gaming tables and won’t be up for a while. However, the kitchen is still open. Shall I have one of the maids bring a late dinner tray to your room, in say . . . an hour?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“Be sure to send back with her any clothing you want washed overnight. And when you’re finished with the tray, just set it outside your door.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Mr. Kearsey.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
He turned on the water and showed her how to adjust the temperature, then set a cake of French milled soap and a towel as thick as a sheep’s pelt on a stool beside the oversized copper tub. “Will there be anything else, Miss Weyland?”
“Have you seen Mr. Benton this afternoon?”
