Silver Mist

by Raine Cantrell

  Dara shivered despite the sultry heat of the summer night. His neglect diminished their lovemaking to a sordid fall from grace. She didn’t want to believe that he used her, just as Miss Loretta had warned her that long-ago morning, but used is what she felt. And with that came the one forbidden thought she tried to bury. What if she had conceived a child? Would he care? Despair filled her. Had he once thought of what she might be going through?

  Eden, sipping a fine vintage champagne in the luxury of Satin’s private suite, was indeed thinking of Dara. She would have been shocked to know he compared her to Satin. His body instantaneously achieved a state of arousal, bringing a purr of approval while a silk-clad body moved provocatively, skilled fingers and lips paying rapt attention to the contoured length of his rigid manhood. His breath hissed sharply, and he found himself wishing for the sweetly heated scent that was Dara’s, not the spiced perfume that rose from the woman intent on seducing him. He had adroitly avoided his present position last evening by involving himself in one of Satin’s private card games. He tried not to be disappointed when he learned absolutely nothing. He knew Satin was as skilled in keeping Lucio’s secrets as she was in arts she had learned at every madam’s side from El Paso to Denver.

  Without betraying his feelings, he held out his glass. “I seem to be empty.”

  Satin swallowed her thought to the contrary, for the cool directness of his gaze was at odds with the blatant state she had brought him to. With a languid move she raised herself from his side and reached for the bottle nestled in its silver cooler.

  “You never needed to fortify yourself with champagne before, Silver.”

  “Eden. I keep telling you, Silver doesn’t exist, not here.” He watched her every calculated gesture to entice, arouse, and inflame a man; the sly glance from beneath long black lashes, the tip of her tongue that relished the lush moistness of her lips, the deliberate provocative thrust of breasts as she returned his glass.

  Eden smiled, sipped, and said, “An excellent vintage. Lucio spoils you. But the champagne is not for my fortification, Satin. I merely thought to give you time. It’s unlike you to act the bitch in heat. Or were those Lucio’s orders?”

  “Why the hell did you come up here with me?”

  “I, unlike Lucio, appreciate all your exquisite and subtle attributes. I admire your intelligence, find your mercenary tendencies make you a worthy adversary, and know that you can offer a wealth of information for—”

  “The right price, Eden.”

  “I was going to say the right man.”

  With a charming tilt to her head, Satin slowly returned his smile. “Perhaps we can come to some mutual agreement.”

  “I’m counting on it, Satin.”

  “He’s not here, Jake. I believe gossip holds that your friend has found the Gilded Lily more to his style.”

  “Dara, whatever you heard about Eden—”

  “Is that Jake, Dara?” Cyrus called out. “Invite him in. I could use a bit of company.”

  Dara held the door aside, and Jake mumbled an apology as he walked in. He shouldn’t have come here, but after walking the streets tonight, he was filled with the gut-wrenching premonition that he would use his gun before the night’s end. Eden would understand, as no one else could, the fine edge instinct honed.

  “Dara, don’t believe everything you hear. Whatever Eden’s doing, he’s got his reasons.”

  “I am sure that he has. Would you like coffee, Jake? I was about to make some.”

  “Sure.”

  Jake left soon after, and Dara stood by the door wondering if he was going home to Anne or if he was too ensnared by the lure of that black-haired witch. Jealousy was not an emotion that she was familiar with, but Dara knew it was what she felt. Her problem wasn’t the same as Anne’s; she knew she had more than satisfied Eden’s desire. His heated words of praise were burned in her memory, even if their explicitness could still make her blush. She closed the door, secured it, and knew there would be no sleep again tonight.

  Struggling to get her father to bed, Dara was annoyed when he stopped her from leaving him.

  “Is it Eden that has you upset, Dara?”

  “He’s a busy man, Papa.”

  “I suppose he is. Do you love him?”

  “Papa!”

  “Times like now that I miss your mother the most. She would know what to tell you. Eden’s not an easy man. He’s not Clay.”

  Dara leaned against the door, her head lowered, and wished she could talk to someone about the turmoil of feelings inside her.

  “Do you want me to ask his intentions? I never had to with Clay. Knew from the first that boy was set on marrying you. I won’t pry about what happened, but I’m here if you need me.”

  “I love you, Papa,” she whispered, and slipped out the door.

  By the time she reached her room, Dara found that anger had replaced every other emotion. She unpinned her hair and, with an arrogant tilt to her chin, proceeded to swear the few words she knew to her reflection.

  Then she heard noises. They were muffled at first, and she ran to the window. Shouts filtered down from the cafe Eden owned. Dara was about to turn away when she heard gunshots and bolted from her room.

  “Dara!”

  “I don’t know what happened, Papa!” she yelled back, running down the stairs. “I’ll find out.”

  “Don’t go!”

  But she was already across the yard, cutting behind the block of stores, dodging empty liquor bottles, slipping in the mud behind the public baths. Panting, she joined the crowd at the cafe’s back door, trying to get someone’s attention to tell her what happened.

  “Mabel!” she yelled, spotting the woman off to one side with her daughter. Frantically she waved her arm to get their attention.

  “It’s Jake, Dara. He’s been shot.”

  Someone elbowed her from behind, and Dara stumbled into a man’s back. He shoved her away, and she nearly went down to her knees.

  “He ain’t dead!” someone called out.

  Dara’s first question had been answered, and her thoughts turned to Anne, home alone. She had to fight her way free, running again with her hair streaming wildly behind her, knowing she had to get to Anne first.

  She darted across Charleston Street and up Atlanta Lane, slamming into two men who suddenly stepped from a newly framed store. Dara vented every bit of anger she harbored, finding that the hours she worked in the store gave her the strength to pull her arm free from one man’s grip, tearing her sleeve. When the other man tried to grab her, she landed a solid kick with her serviceable black shoes.

  Dara thought she would die when their footsteps sounded behind her. She stumbled and tripped over her skirt hem but managed to get up the steps of Anne’s porch.

  “Anne!” she screamed over and over, pounding on the door, sensing the two men were still there. She almost fell a few minutes later when the door opened, and she pushed Anne aside, slamming it closed behind her.

  “Dara, what happened to you?” Anne raised the lamp she held high, staring in disbelief.

  Trying to catch her breath, Dara knew she couldn’t blurt out that Jake had been shot. Glancing up at Anne’s pale features, she didn’t know what to say. “Please, just … give me … a minute.”

  The thud of footsteps coming up the steps, the shouts and banging on the door made both young women freeze.

  “Mrs. Vario … Anne … open the door! Jake’s been shot.”

  “Jake,” Anne whispered, her eyes wide and glazed before she dropped the lamp and fainted.

  Dara tried to stop her fall and grab the lamp. She managed to get her arm around Anne’s shoulders and ease her down, but then struggled to her feet, stamping out the spread of flame in the oil-soaked carpet. The fists continued to bang on the door, the shouts grew in volume, and Dara screamed, “Open the damn door and help me!”

  “Dara! What the hell—” Eden didn’t waste his breath asking he
r questions. Ordering Early, who followed him inside, to stamp out the tiny fire, Eden lifted Anne’s limp body and followed Dara down the hall. By the time Dara returned to Anne’s bedroom with a basin of water, Suelle and Mabel had managed to rouse Anne. Eden sat beside her, ignoring the women’s indignant voices begging him to leave, since his presence in her bedroom while she was in a state of undress was most improper even if he was Jake’s friend. Anne was moaning while he softly reassured her that Jake’s wound was not life-threatening. She didn’t seem to hear him. Suelle wiped the sweat from Anne’s brow, Dara held her hand, and Mabel found an additional quilt to help stop her chills.

  “Dara,” Suelle briskly ordered, “this is no place for an unmarried woman. And take Mr. McQuade with you.”

  About to protest, Dara wasn’t given the chance. Eden gripped her arm firmly and ushered her out into the hallway.

  “What the hell are you doing out at this time of night alone?”

  “What … was I … doing…” she sputtered, enraged after all she had been through.

  His eyes narrowed. “You,” he repeated, taking in the tangle of her hair. His gaze lingered on the tom sleeve of her shirtwaist and the livid finger marks bruising her skin. Eden’s voice grew chillingly soft. “Who dared?”

  “The type of men you and Lucio brought to this town, Mr. McQuade.” She met his glittering gaze unflinchingly. “And while I may carry bruises, they didn’t get close enough to leave their stench on me. You,” she added, flicking a finger at his open shirt, “should have taken time to dress before running—”

  “Such wifely solicitude, love? I’m not accountable to you.”

  Dara’s face paled. “No, you’re not. Forgive me for my lapse. Now, stand aside, we have nothing more to say.”

  He crowded her against the wall with his body, one hand gently crushing her hair. “Don’t fight me, love. You won’t win.”

  “I won’t fight with you. But I don’t want you touching me reeking of that harlot’s perfume.”

  “Pot calling the kettle black?”

  Her palm cracked across his face. For one eternal moment Dara held her breath, afraid of his retaliation. The sting lingered in her palm, but he didn’t move.

  “I suppose that was inevitable, and for what it’s worth, my remark was uncalled for.”

  “Right now, it’s not worth much. Let me go, Eden. I want to be with Anne.”

  “You’re not staying. I’ll take you home. I’m in no mood—”

  “Nothing about you concerns me,” she whispered, trying to slip away. “I am not accountable to you. Plain talk, Mr. McQuade. Anne needs me and you don’t.”

  He tipped her chin up, ignoring her anger, his lips hovering over hers. “Don’t I, love? I did warn you not to play games with me, Dara. It’s wicked and dangerous to dare me to prove otherwise.”

  It was impossible to be strong any longer. She hurt too much. Dara was tired of being tom apart emotionally. She loved him, risked everything she believed in, in the hope that he could learn to love her. A few brutal words crushed that hope. But she fought back tears with the last of her pride.

  Intently watching her, Eden saw the glitter of tears she blinked back, and suddenly it mattered fiercely that he had hurt her with careless words he never meant. He hesitated a moment, then cradled her close. “You’re right,” he murmured, “I’m not worth your pain.”

  For Dara, the realization that she felt safe, protected, and simply at peace when he held her added to the shock of how much she needed him. It was frightening to admit how much it mattered that he did care about her.

  Her whispered plea to hold her made Eden comprehend how heavy the burdens of the last few weeks had been for her. His own guilt sharpened for adding too much, too fast, then leaving her to assume it all alone. “Let me take you home,” he murmured, smoothing her hair from her face as she lifted her head from his shoulder. “And love, I wasn’t with Satin as you implied. I told you once I’ll admit to being many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. If you’ll recall,” he added, inhaling with need the scent that belonged to her alone, “I said I wouldn’t satisfy my desire for you with another woman. Look at me, love, and tell me I don’t need you.”

  “I want to believe you, but Eden,” she pleaded, gazing into his eyes, “what were you doing there?”

  Eden didn’t get a chance to answer, for Mabel came to the bedroom doorway. “Mr. McQuade, please fetch Doc Vance. I’m afraid that Anne is losing the baby.”

  The hours dragged in a nightmare for Dara and the other women. They did all they could to make Anne comfortable after Eden returned without the doctor. He had just located the bullet in Jake’s side and removed it. Eden didn’t tell them Doc Vance was worried about staunching the flow of blood, but he did send them gallic acid to arrest Anne’s hemorrhage and opium to relieve the pain. There was no more talk of Dara leaving, for Anne, screaming in agony, clung to her hand. Eden came and went, always there when Dara looked for him, but what he learned as the night passed and the long vigil was over forced him to make a decision.

  Lara Saunders had come to him, refusing to say why she had been near the back of the caf6 at that time of night, but swore to Eden that someone had called Jake’s name a few times when he left Dara’s house. She was across the street about to enter her own home when the first shot rang out. No, she didn’t see who it was, and didn’t recognize the voice, but it was a man and Jake never once asked who it was.

  When Dara came to him, tears streaming down her face, Eden held her, knowing that Lucio had made his move and set Jake up. He whispered words of comfort, offering her his strength, for Jake didn’t die, but his unborn child did.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eden was presented with his chance to settle old debts and those newly incurred by Lucio two days later.

  In the past weeks he had been approached by several prominent Northern investors eager to buy land that held any promise of containing phosphate. Luther had hired two of the early arriving men, whose luck and money had run out together, to help him man the telegraph around the clock, receiving and transmitting messages that affected the transfer of thousands of dollars in capital and stock.

  Eden had spent several afternoons at the Ocala House, which now resembled a stock exchange as groups milled about the lobby trading rumors, buying and selling on hearsay alone. Clerics toiled all night, recording die day’s money and deed transactions. Eden’s trips to Tampa and Jacksonville brought him in contact with men made wealthy overnight, who were constantly seeking new opportunities to invest in. Eden’s name was a respected one in mining circles, and he used his reputation to gain the information he needed. Companies formed hourly, gilt-lettered stock flooded the state, and a trade exchange was finally organized at Ocala, with seats offered at fifty dollars each. Eden owned the first, Lucio the second.

  On this cool September morning, two days after Jake had been shot and Anne had lost their baby, Eden sat in one of several “millionaire’s comers” on one of the porches of the Ocala House fingering the brim of his slate-colored “governor” hat and engaged in conversation with several manufacturers from New York. He had spent the last two days studying Lucio’s financial records and knew the man was desperate to find investors after overextending his land buying. He should have showed a larger profit than Eden did, since he used convict labor, but Lucio had the misfortune of being conned by two farmers who had salted their lands with phosphate-rich rock. Lucio, greedy to own more land, never had the samples analyzed. Eden smiled, thinking it most fitting that the con man had been conned.

  While Eden lent his attentions to the men eager for his opinion, he carefully watched Lucio to see who he was approaching. Eden recognized a few of the men as financiers and industrialists whom he had met during his time in Washington. The telegrams he had fired off to his brother, and the answers he had received, gave Eden the advantage of knowing most of the men’s monetary worth. When Lucio singled out Alfred Weeks,
a fertilizer manufacturer from Massachusetts, Eden rose, buttoned his slate-gray suit jacket, and excused himself to go and join them.

  Alfred’s greeting was enthusiastic, his florid face beaming with a smile. “Eden, by George, I was hoping you would give me another chance to talk to you. Lucio, here, has offered me an opportunity to invest in his holdings, and since you’ve turned down my offer, I might take him up on it.”

  “I told you, Alfred, partners tend to bring added complications no matter how much money is being made.” With a cool gray-eyed gaze, Eden faced Lucio. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Sometimes the full story is never heard.”

  “That could be true. But actions, ah, Lucio, you won’t deny they create powerful impressions. Suspicion between partners adds an element few can survive. You know that, Lucio. You had partners.”

  There was a threat in his voice that Lucio chose to ignore. “Senor Weeks, our talk should remain private. We will—”

  “Nonsense, Lucio,” Alfred cut in. “Eden may have refused my offer, but I wish his opinion. After all, he does have claims near your own holdings, and the sum we spoke of is substantial. What do you know about them, Eden?”

  Eden didn’t answer immediately. He glanced at Lucio, satisfied to see sweat break on his brow. With a nervous gesture, Lucio smoothed back his hair, and then, with the air of confidence restored, spread his jacket and hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets. Eden smiled to see the three silver nuggets dangling from his watch chain.

  “Do you still think they bring you luck, Lucio?” he asked in a silky voice.

  “Always.”

  “Be that as it may, gentlemen, I really would like an answer, Eden.”

  “I believe, Senor Weeks, that he will not answer you,” Lucio stated. “Our claims may be located in the same area, but his reasons for refusing your generous offer may be based on his reluctance to have his holdings seen. It is true that you have hired armed guards, is it not?”