Ravenhawk couldn’t hear the reply of the man inside, but apparently he refused, ’cause the outlaw pounded on the door again, harder this time.
“Open the door, Sam,” the engineer called out. “He’ll kill me if you don’t.”
“Throw your gun out, nice and easy, Sam,” the outlaw said. “Then lay down on the floor with your hands out where I can see ’em.”
A pair of minutes went by, and then, with a loud creak, the car door slid open.
Ravenhawk grunted softly as a revolver skittered out the door to land in the dirt near the outlaw’s feet. Apparently they weren’t paying the guard enough that he was willing to risk his life to protect someone else’s money.
The outlaw ordered the engineer into the car, then climbed in after him.
When both men were out of sight, Ravenhawk crept closer. Peering around the edge of the door, he saw the engineer and the guard sitting against the far wall of the car.
The bandit was cussing as he pushed a small black safe across the floor.
Moving quietly, Ravenhawk climbed inside the car. “Need some help?” he asked.
Startled, the bandit looked up. The last thing he saw was Ravenhawk’s fist.
Moving quickly, Ravenhawk untied the engineer and the guard.
“You two stay put,” Ravenhawk said. “Here.” He slipped the gun out of the bandit’s holster and thrust it into the guard’s hand. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Who are you?” the guard asked.
“No time for questions now. Just do as I said.”
Vaulting lightly to the ground, Ravenhawk made his way to the passenger car. Climbing up on the platform, he peered in the window. The outlaws had their backs toward him. One was watching the passengers; the other was moving down the aisle, relieving the passengers of their valuables.
Drawing his gun, Ravenhawk slowly opened the door and stepped inside the car.
Alan Summers glared at the outlaw, unable to believe he was being robbed. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded.
“I don’t give a damn. Just give me your money. I’ll take that ring, too. And that fancy watch.”
Alan shook his head. “Go to hell.”
Muttering an oath, the bandit grabbed Alan and hauled him to his feet. Alan’s eyes widened as the second outlaw stepped forward and drove his fist into his belly. With a grunt, Alan doubled over, retching, unable to believe that anyone would dare strike him.
“Kill him.”
Alan looked up, his blood turning to ice, as he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.
He put up one hand, started to say he had changed his mind, when there was a shout from the back of the car.
Both outlaws turned, guns swinging to bear on the tall dark-haired man standing near the door. There was a blast of noise, the acrid smell of smoke. A woman screamed. The lady sitting across from Alan fainted.
When the smoke cleared, the outlaws lay dead in the aisle.
Taking hold of the edge of his seat, Alan pulled himself to his feet.
“You all right?” Ravenhawk asked.
Alan nodded. “Yes. Thanks to you.”
Ravenhawk shrugged. Now that the excitement was over, he found himself wondering what had possessed him to get involved.
“We’re all in your debt,” Alan said. Closing the distance between them, he offered the stranger his hand.
There was a murmur of assent from the other passengers. Two of the men began returning the stolen property to its rightful owners. Mothers quieted their children.
Ravenhawk shook the man’s hand, then turned to go.
“Wait!” Alan called. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Ravenhawk.”
“I could use a man like you.”
“Oh?”
Alan nodded. “I’m on my way to New York City. How’d you like to work for me?”
Ravenhawk took a good look at the man, noting the expensive cut of his clothes, the thick gold ring on his finger, the diamond stickpin in his cravat. “Doing what?”
“I’d like to hire you to be my bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?”
“I’ll pay you ten dollars a day.”
Ravenhawk swore. Ten dollars. A day. Damn. “You just hired yourself a bodyguard, mister.”
Ravenhawk sat back in his seat, his hat pulled down over his eyes. The bodies of the outlaws had been put in the baggage car. The third bandit was in there, too. Ravenhawk’s horse and the horses belonging to the outlaws had been loaded into an empty cattle car. The engineer had thanked Ravenhawk effusively for coming to the rescue. It was a strange feeling, being on the right side of the law.
Closing his eyes, he blew out a breath. The train was going back to the last stop. Word would have to be sent ahead, warning trains coming from the east that the bridge was out.
Alan Summers was mad as hell at the delay. He was in an itching hurry to get to New York City, but this was one time when his money wouldn’t help.
There wouldn’t be any trains coming or going until the track was repaired. The engineer’s best guess was that it would take at least two weeks, maybe three. But if Mr. Summers didn’t want to wait, he could always buy or rent a carriage.
Mr. Summers decided to wait.
Ravenhawk grinned. It might take longer than planned, but sooner or later, he’d make it to the big city.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The next two weeks passed in a flurry of activity as Kaylynn and her mother made plans for the party. Jesse rarely saw Kaylynn for more than a few minutes at a time. Servants scurried around the house, cleaning, waxing, dusting.
To avoid being in the way, Jesse spent most of his time outside. He whiled away several hours talking to the man in charge of the Duvalls’ carriage horses. He went sightseeing, impressed, in spite of himself, by the mansions built by William Astor and A.T. Stewart. Stewart was the largest landowner in the city, the world’s most successful merchant and the proprietor of a huge department store. Jesse had heard Kaylynn’s mother talking about the man one evening. Apparently a man of solitary habits, childless and almost friendless, he was excluded from aristocratic society because he was a tradesman.
He had visited the East River where a bridge was being built that would connect New York with Brooklyn.
But his favorite pastime was riding in Central Park.
He had thought to find seclusion if he rode early in the morning, before breakfast, only to find that that was considered the “fashionable” hour for equestriennes. Perched on a sidesaddle, elegantly togged out in silk hats with flying veils, tightly buttoned bodices and flowing skirts, a crop in one gloved hand, they were like nothing Jesse had ever seen before. No lady ever rode alone. They either rode in groups, attended by a gentleman, or with a liveried groom or riding master.
The “carriage parade” considered one of the sights of the city, took place between four and five in the afternoon. Jesse had seen crowds gathered along the walk that bordered the carriage drive that ran from Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue to the Mall. He had watched one afternoon, listening as a rather obnoxious man kept up a running conversation, pointing out the Jays, Livingstons, Stuyvesants, who were members of the aristocracy. Also evident were the celebrities, notorious and otherwise, the demimondaines. Jesse had nodded, pretending to be interested.
His new clothes had arrived. They fit fine. They looked good. But he was uncomfortable wearing them. The phrase a “wolf in sheep’s clothing” came to mind when he looked at himself in the mirror. Kaylynn could dress him up in striped trousers and a silk cravat, but it didn’t hide what he was. His calloused hands, his scarred face, his rough speech set him apart from her set, as did his dark skin and unfashionably long hair.
He knew she hoped her parents would come to accept him, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Oh, they were polite, painfully so. The servants tiptoed around him. He knew they gossiped about him behind his back, speculating on how he had gotten the scar on his face, why he refused t
o have help when he dressed.
After a week in the Duvall house, he knew he couldn’t stay there any longer, knew that, as much as he loved Kaylynn, he couldn’t stay in New York. He didn’t belong here, and never would.
He watched her greet the friends who came to call. She tried to make him feel at ease, but he was always on the outside looking in. He was ignorant of the books they discussed, the people they knew, the memories they shared. She had told him several times that once she got back to New York she was never leaving again.
It would be hard to leave her, but it was for her own good. She would be better off without him. She was home, where she belonged.
It was time for him to go back where he belonged.
* * * * *
“Leaving? What do you mean?” Kaylynn stared up at him, her dark eyes like bruises in her pale face.
“It’s for the best.”
“Best for whom?”
“For both of us.”
“No!”
“I got a room at the hotel today, while you were visiting your grandmother. I’ll be staying there until the train leaves on Saturday.”
“But the party is Saturday.”
“I’m sorry, Kay.”
“I thought you loved me, that…”
“I thought so, too,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
He watched her eyes fill with pain. Almost, he told her he was lying, that he loved her, would always love her. But a clean break was the best. For both of them.
He watched her blink back her tears. Watched her lift her chin, straighten her shoulders like a soldier about to go to battle. She was a strong woman, with a strong spirit. She would miss him for a little while, and then go on with her life.
“I guess this is goodbye then,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She looked up at him, her heart breaking. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, beg him to stay, tell him… She clenched her hands. She wouldn’t beg. “Well…”
“Goodbye, Kaylynn,” he said quietly. “Have a good life.”
“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “You, too.”
Knowing it was a mistake, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, once, and then, slinging his gunbelt over his shoulder, he turned and left the house.
Kaylynn stood in the doorway, watching him go. Then, with a muffled cry, she ran up the stairs to her room. Bending over the commode, she began to retch.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elizabeth stared at her daughter, unable to believe her ears. “What did you say?”
“I think I’m pregnant?”
A slow smile spread over Elizabeth’s face. “Why, that’s wonderful, dear. How far along are you?”
“I’m not sure.” It couldn’t be more than a month or so. Maybe it was too early to tell. Maybe it was just a stomach upset. But it wasn’t, and she knew it. She was pregnant with Jesse’s child.
“Does Alan know?”
“Alan?”
“Yes, Alan. Your husband.”
“No. No, he doesn’t know.”
“Did you two have a quarrel?”
Kaylynn stared at her mother. A quarrel? With Alan? The thought was so ludicrous, she laughed. You didn’t quarrel with Alan. He said jump, and you said, how high? He said go, and you said, where?
“Kaylynn? Kaylynn, are you all right?”
She stared at her mother, unable to stop laughing, while tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Kaylynn!” Elizabeth shook her daughter’s shoulder, her expression worried. “Kaylynn, stop that!”
Kaylynn shook her head. She couldn’t stop laughing. Couldn’t stop crying.
Elizabeth went to the door and opened it. “William! William, come here!”
Kaylynn took a deep, calming breath as her father rushed into the room.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m…I’m in the family way,” Kaylynn said.
William Duvall smiled, and then, seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, he frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Alan doesn’t know,” Elizabeth said.
“So, we’ll send him a wire and tell him.”
Kaylynn took a deep breath. The time for truth had come. “It’s not Alan’s.”
“What?”
Kaylynn looked up and met her father’s gaze. “It’s not Alan’s.”
“Whose is it?”
“Jesse’s.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror. “The bounty hunter’s?”
Kaylynn nodded.
“Kaylynn Elizabeth, how could you?”
“I love him.”
“I’ll kill him!” William roared. “Where is he?”
“He moved out,” Kaylynn said. “He’s leaving town.”
“Like hell.”
“Father, don’t. He doesn’t know about the baby, and you’re not to tell him.”
William began to pace the floor. “There’s only one thing to do,” he said.
“What’s that, dear?” Elizabeth asked.
“Let people think the child is Alan’s, of course.”
“Is that fair to Alan?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’m not worried about Alan,” William replied. “I’m worried about Kaylynn’s reputation.”
“I left Alan, Father. That’s why I came home.”
“Left him!”
“Yes.”
“But why, dear?” Elizabeth asked.
Kaylynn took a deep breath. “I lied to you before. I didn’t come home for a vacation. I ran away.”
“Ran away?” William said. “I think you’d better explain.”
She told them everything, how Alan had beaten her, how she had run away, how the stage had been attacked by Indians. She told them about Ravenhawk and Jesse. Told them everything.
“And so,” she said, “I’m getting a divorce.”
“Divorce!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She looked at her husband. “Divorce, William. There’s never been a divorce in our family.”
“Perhaps we can avoid a divorce,” William said. “We’ll just tell people you came home to be with your mother, that you wanted her near you when the child was born. There’s nothing unusual about that.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “No one has to know the child isn’t Alan’s. You can live here, with us. Lots of couples don’t live together. Look at Flo and Roger Littlefield. She lives in France and he lives here.”
“Do whatever you like,” Kaylynn said. What did it matter, now that Jesse was gone?
* * * * *
William thought they should cancel the party, but Elizabeth protested, saying a party was just what they needed. Besides, the invitations had gone out, and replies were pouring in. It would be rude to cancel now.
The day before the party, Kaylynn went to visit her grandmother again.
“Good afternoon, Miss Kaylynn,” Effie said, smiling warmly. “How nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Effie. Is Grams awake?”
“Yes.” Effie said. “Come in. She’s been hoping you’d stop by. She’s out back, taking the sun.”
With a nod, Kaylynn walked through the house toward the back entrance. She had always loved her grandmother’s house. She remembered playing here when she had been a little girl, holding a big ball of yarn while she watched Grams knit, standing on a chair in the kitchen while Grams baked gingerbread men.
She found her grandmother sitting on a padded bench in the grape arbor, reading a copy of Harper’s Weekly. In spite of the warmth of the day, Grams wore a lacy black shawl over her shoulders; a light woolen blanket covered her legs. Her big gray cat, Theadosia, lay curled in her lap.
Grams looked up as Kaylynn approached, a smile of welcome lighting her face.
“Kaylynn, I had a feeling you’d come see me today.”
“Did you?” Bending, Kaylynn hugged her grandmother.
Theadosia, never one to share her mistress’s attention, made a soft, angry sound in her throat.
“Hush, Th
ea,” Lynn Dearmond admonished. “Have you ever seen such a possessive creature?” she said, fondly stroking the cat.
“Never,” Kaylynn agreed.
“Go along with you now, Thea,” Lynn said. She nudged the cat gently off her lap, then smiled at Kaylynn. “How’s the party coming along?”
Kaylynn shrugged. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”
Lynn Dearmond studied her granddaughter’s face. Kaylynn had always been a lovely child, with a winning smile and laughing brown eyes. She was still lovely, but…
“What is it, child? What’s troubling you?”
“I never could keep a secret from you, could I?”
“Never,” she replied. Closing the magazine, she put in on the table beside the bench and patted the seat beside her. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”
Kaylynn sat down beside her grandmother, the whole story pouring forth in a torrent of words and tears.
“And now he’s leaving,” Kaylynn said, sniffing. “I love him, Grams.”
Lynn Dearmond smiled faintly as she patted Kaylynn’s shoulder. “Yes, I can see that you do.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe what you told me about Summers. Oh, I never cared for the man myself, but he seemed a decent sort.”
“Father doesn’t think I should divorce him. Mother is worried about the scandal. They don’t seem to care about how I feel.”
“Of course you should divorce him. And I shall tell your father so the next time I see him.”
Kaylynn smiled through her tears. Grams had always taken her side.
“I wish I had told Jesse about the baby,” Kaylynn said, sniffling. “Maybe he would have stayed.”
“You did the right thing.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Listen to me, child. I’m an old woman, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that a man stays with a woman because he can’t live without her. You might trap him into marriage by telling him about the baby, but he’ll never be happy, and neither will you.”
“I thought he loved me.”
“How do you know he doesn’t?”
“He’s leaving! If he loved me, he’d stay.”
“Look around, child. From what you’ve told me, he wouldn’t fit in here, in your world. Some men aren’t made for ballrooms and the like,” Lynn said, her voice suddenly wistful. “Some men have to live wild and free. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you…”
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