# # #
When their rented carriage swept up the circular drive in front of Partington Place, Tom’s favorite Appaloosa tied to the back, the entire household staff was lined up to greet them. Mrs. Philpott was crying. It looked to Claire as if she’d gone through two handkerchiefs already.
Dianthe St. Sauvre, Jedediah Silver, Sylvester Addison-Addison, Priscilla Pringle, and Claude Montague milled about in front of the tidy row of servants. They were all studiously ignoring Scruggs, who glowered even more blackly than usual at their overt levity.
Tom jumped from the carriage and raced around to open Claire’s door. A cheer went up from the assembly when he lifted her down and swirled her around in his arms. Claire felt a thrill course through her when he carried her over the threshold of the house she’d lived in for ten years.
“Claire! Claire!” Sylvester dashed into the house hot on Tom’s heels and snagged Claire’s attention almost before Tom set her down in the tiled entryway.
Laughing, Claire said, “What is it, Sylvester?”
“Oh, Claire! Your father has given me enough meat for six novels featuring Adolphus, the wily Turk!”
Both Tom and Claire rolled their eyes. Claude Montague preened.
# # #
The marriage of Thomas Gordon Partington to Claire Elizabeth Montague was celebrated at a grand ball at Partington Place in April of 1881. Claire selected April because her daphne hedges would be just beginning to flower, the wisteria would be glorious, the ranunculus and anemones would be in bloom, and everybody invited to the party would be given plenty of time in which to make arrangements to attend.
That was just fine with Tom, who had a particular reason for desiring postponement of the festivities. In fact as the date approached, he began to worry that April might be too soon. Two weeks before the grand gala, however, he received a telegram from the New Mexico Territory and breathed an enormous sigh of relief. When the big day arrived, he was prepared.
Mrs. Philpott and two girls from the village prepared a delicious banquet, to which Tom and Claire invited their particular friends. Jedediah and a blushing Dianthe announced their engagement and impending nuptials during the main course. Priscilla Pringle waited until dessert before announcing that she and Sylvester, who scowled at the centerpiece during the entire meal, would also wed.
Tom and Claire exchanged a happy glance and squeezed each other’s hands. Then, just after coffee had been served and the party was about to depart for the ballroom so that Tom and Claire could position themselves to greet guests, the dining room door burst open. Surprised, everybody turned toward the doorway to discern Scruggs, his eyes wild and a hand clamped to his heart. He was panting heavily and pressed his back against the door as if to keep it shut against an invasion of hostiles.
“Good heavens, Scruggs!” Claire had never seen the phlegmatic butler look so agitated. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, ma’am,” wheezed Scruggs. “Oh, my Gawd!”
Alarmed, Claire began to rise from her chair, only to have Tom place his hand over hers. When she looked at him, she was amazed to find him grinning from ear to ear.
“I’ll take care of it, Claire. Don’t worry. I think I know what the matter is.”
“You do?”
Scruggs slumped against the door. “You do?”
“I do.”
Everybody jumped when they heard a tremendous crash issue from the other side of the door. Scruggs sidled away as if he feared for his very life.
When an enormous, uncouth voice shot through the heavy wooden paneling, demanding to know “whar that damned son of a buck Partington was,” Claire looked at Tom, her eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s all right, everyone,” Tom assured them, striding toward Scruggs.
Claire sat with a thunk when Tom flung the dining room door open to reveal a character the likes of which she’d believed only existed in her own brand of fiction. A huge man clad in fringed buckskins, a wide-brimmed conch-bedecked hat, big boots, ammunition belts crossed over his chest, a holster filled with the biggest gun she’d ever seen, side whiskers, and a gigantic mustache swaggered into the room and glared at the assembly.
Scruggs’ knees gave way and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Everybody else goggled at the invader.
Everybody, that is, except Tom, who embraced the unlikely fellow as though he were greeting a long-lost, and exceedingly dear, brother.
“Cable!” he cried.
“Tom!” the remarkable man cried back.
At least five minutes of back-slaps, hugs, chortles and masculine curses of an endearing variety ensued, during which Claire and her guests were left to exchange shrugs and puzzled glances. At last Claire decided she’d had quite enough, thank you, and rose from her place at the table.
At that very moment, the two men broke their embrace and Tom stood back, keeping a hand on the intruder’s shoulder.
“Claire! Ladies and gentlemen!”
Claire was astonished to see tears in Tom’s eyes.
“It’s my very great pleasure to introduce you to my best friend in the entire world, Killer Cable Hawkins!”
An incredulous buzz rose from the table, but Claire did not heed it. Stricken dumb on the spot, she could only gape at the two men for a full minute until her rattled wits gathered themselves together again. Then she rushed to her husband’s side, fairly quivering with excitement.
“Are you really Killer Cable Hawkins?” she asked in a voice rich with awe.
The giant ripped off his hat. “That’s what they call me, ma’am.” Claire was amazed to see his cheeks ripen with color.
“My wife is an aficionado of the frontier life, Cable,” Tom said with a wink for Claire. “I invited you here especially to meet her.”
Claire feared for the bones in her hand when Cable wrung it. She refrained from shrieking in pain only because she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“Ma’am, anybody what’s got the good sense to marry up with this here varmint is somebody I’ll meet come hell or howdy.”
At his wife’s blank expression, Tom whispered, “He means he’s glad to meet you, Claire.”
“Oh! Oh, of course.” She smiled at Cable again. “And I’m extremely happy to meet you, too, Mr. Hawkins.”
“My wife is a novelist, Cable, and she’s been itching to start a new series of books about life on the frontier.”
Tom met Claire’s look of absolute incredulity with the most innocent face she’d ever seen. Then, her heart bursting with joy and her eyes filling with tears, she flung herself into his arms.
“Oh, darling, thank you!”
“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Partington,” he said. He winked at Cable and whispered in her ear, “Killer Cable boasts not merely a great name, Claire, but he has a limp in both legs.”
Epilogue
The Legend of Killer Cable and its offspring proved to be best sellers throughout the length and breadth of the United States. European rights garnered Clarence McTeague even more bounty. The public couldn’t get enough of the invincible Killer Cable.
Even though Sylvester Addison-Addison’s Adolphus, the Wily Turk and several subsequent novels did well, Sylvester’s sales never matched those of Clarence McTeague, who had already proved his worth with a dozen or so Tuscaloosa Tom novels, published before he tackled Killer Cable.
Sylvester, of course, resented McTeague’s success, although he didn’t dare say so aloud to Claire Partington. Marriage to the wealthy Priscilla Pringle did nothing to improve Sylvester’s disposition, but at least the customers at the Pyrite Springs Mercantile and Furniture Emporium no longer had to suffer his surliness, as Alphonse Gilbert was forced to hire a civil clerk.
Dianthe St. Sauvre and Jedediah Silver were married shortly after Tom and Claire’s April reception. Dianthe liked the “Silver” part of her new name, but decided to keep the “St.” part of her old one for poetic reasons.
Sergei Ivanov moved back to his native Russia in 1890. He
claimed only another Russian could appreciate his works of the soul. Years later Claire was sure it was Sergei’s face she saw in a photograph printed in the newspaper. He was one of a mob swarming the Tsar’s Winter Palace, and he had a paintbrush clutched in his upraised fist.
Freddy March finally learned to read music. Shortly thereafter he joined a band led by John Philip Sousa and took up the piccolo. The Sousa band played a concert on the grounds of Partington Place to celebrate Tom and Claire’s fifteenth wedding anniversary. The entire town of Pyrite Springs was treated to the world premiere of “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” which Sousa copyrighted in the following year, 1897. Claire wept with pride during Freddy’s solo.
Tom’s Appaloosa breeding ranch prospered, and the Partington horses soon became famous and much sought-after in the equine world.
Claire was able to indulge her passion for gardening, eventually endowing the Partington Botanical Gardens with funding in perpetuity. Once Glorietta Garland progressed from marigolds to anemones and then on to roses, she became quite well-known for her floral renderings of specimens in the Gardens.
Mrs. Finchley became like a mother to Claire and acted as grandmother to the eventual Partington children, Gordon and Lizzie. Royalties from Claire’s books and profits from Tom’s Appaloosa breeding operation provided both children with a college education.
Claude Montague moved to New York and then to Los Angeles, California, where he became involved in the budding motion-picture industry. As Claire often told her husband, “Better on screen than in our home.” Tom agreed with her, and was grateful his own parents were content to squat in Tuscaloosa, overdrawing their bank account, and dwelling on past glories.
Upon his release from prison in Seattle, Clive Montague joined in his father’s celluloid venture and became quite wealthy until his career was cut short by Hollywoodland’s very first “casting-couch” scandal. Claire pretended they were not related.
“Thank God we don’t share the same last name any longer,” she muttered as she slapped the newspaper aside.
Tom grinned his wonderful grin at her. “I don’t know, Claire. At least you don’t have to go very far to find people to act as models for the villains in your novels.”
She frowned at her husband over the top of her spectacles. “Tom Partington, my imagination is fully good enough to create villains. I don’t need my brother.”
His grin turned wicked. “I know all about your imagination, my love. It’s been my inspiration and my delight these past twenty-five years.”
Claire blushed. She did not demur, however, when Tom suggested they retire to their room for a little delight in the afternoon.
She felt much better afterwards.
Secret Hearts Page 32
