by Linda Broday
Laurel eyed his easy stride. Long and lean, he moved as a man with a purpose but all the time in the world to get there.
A heavy sigh left her lips. His exit meant prolonging the inevitable. Until she knew his intentions, distasteful and ugly though they might be, time would stand still.
“Forgive my brother. He’s not the same man who left.”
She found it difficult to focus on anything beyond getting out of there. She slid from the chair. “It’s getting late. I must go.”
“Please, a brief moment in the garden then I’ll see you home. While Etta gets that pie for Ollie?” Murphy cajoled.
“I suppose it won’t hurt.” Laurel accepted his elbow.
The night air whispered of coming trouble when they stepped into the lush paradise. Late-blooming chrysanthemums, asters, and brown-eyed Susans intoxicated her with their fragrance.
Murphy pulled her against him. “The moonlight must be jealous of your beauty. I want you so badly.”
Her thoughts scattered like naughty children. His breath ruffled the hair at her temples, adding to her guilt. Anyone with a shred of decency would tell him the truth.
He ran his fingers through her curls, tilting her head. His kiss sent pleasing warmth coursing through her.
Not earth-shattering.
Or passionate.
Just…pleasant.
A man’s lips should make the woman he marries hot and sultry as an August night. They should take the breath right out of her body and make her wonder if she truly needed air to begin with. His mouth should elicit a tremble, like the powerful grip of an alligator’s jaws, knowing they could crush or set her free.
Laurel had that once. A long time ago.
Soft clapping jarred the stillness. They jerked apart as two lovers caught red-handed.
“Nice, little brother. Thought I might have to come out and give you some advice in the ways of women.”
She whirled. A cigar’s red glow outlined the shadowy form. Brodie stepped toward them. A whiskey bottle dangled from his fingers. How long had he watched? No doubt he’d witnessed their embrace. She squirmed at that thought.
Murphy huffed. “Brodie, can’t you see we’re in the middle of…”
“Business? Yep, that’s what it appears.”
“Then you must know it doesn’t require a third party.”
Murphy’s sharp tone took her aback. He’d revealed a side she’d not seen. A cool wind rustled the foliage. She shivered.
“Cold, my love?”
“I left my shawl inside. I’ll get it.”
“Let me. I’ll only be gone a second.”
He vanished into the house. No article of clothing could give her the warmth she sought.
Without question, nothing other than the interloper’s backside riding out of Redemption would put her world to rights. He unnerved her more than anything had since becoming free. The future, the lives of several people lay within his power. Still, she’d not tuck tail and run as he’d done.
A slim-to-none chance was all she had. It’d have to do.
Her tongue found the edge of the sharp tooth. She moistened her dry lips and stuck out her jaw. “What low-down, spiteful game do you play?”
The shadows darkened the day’s beard growth. The devil-take-you saunter brought him within touching distance. He knew full well what he did to her. He tucked a curl behind her ear.
“Protecting my brother is all.”
“From me?”
“Far-fetched, I know. I’m only looking out for him. Murphy’s the only salvageable part of Samuel and Elizabeth Yates.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“What assurance does anyone have you’ll not move on to another once you tire of the thrill of conquest?”
“Your worry isn’t for Murphy, it’s about yourself. You don’t want me, yet you’ll stop anyone else from having me.”
“Have you told him about your chosen profession? Does he know your penchant for good cigars and billiards?” Brodie took a long swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Does he know you’ve probably had more men in your bed than he or I both can count?”
The verbal blow sent her reeling. Pride kept her from crumpling to the ground. She’d die rather than let him see.
“So this is about revenge.” She tried another tack. “If you truly care as you claim, you’ll stop before it destroys the very thing you wish to save. Whether you believe it or not, I’ve changed.”
“From what? Way I see it, you’re still trying to lure men into your bed. The method is the only difference I can tell. The institution of marriage may not be sacred to you—”
“You of all people dare to speak of sacred oaths and decency. At least I’ve not killed anyone.”
Laurel strained to hear his soft reply.
“Maybe not with a six gun, darlin’. Your weapons are far more devious and devastating. You’re not content unless you steal a man’s soul.”
A gush of breath left a painful throb in her chest.
“Once you were warm and oh so willing, Lil.”
He fingered wayward strands of hair that spilled over her shoulder. She winced at the touch that burned through clothing to the skin beneath. Damn him. Damn them both.
“I believe you stated earlier, that was two lifetimes ago.”
“More or less. I reckon the faces blended together until they all looked the same. I understand that. Yep, mighty easy for someone who had eyes focused solely on the color of their money.”
He grabbed her wrist before she got it raised. The depth of anger had taken her by storm. She’d not meant to lift her hand, only wipe the knowing smile. One minute he despised her and the next tried to rehash old memories.
“How dare you!”
His hard, glistening eyes challenged her. Laurel finally lowered her stare, unable to compete with the man who could look another in the eye and send him to his death.
“Dare?” Brodie let her arm drop. He tapped ashes from the cigar and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. His calm tone deceived. “I’ll allow no one to trample Murph’s tender feelings. Mark my words, I won’t sit idly by.”
Hostility thickened the damp air until it clung to her skin. The things he must have endured during the years to be so embittered. But it didn’t give him cause to attack her.
There was no excuse.
Before tears could gather, she stiffened her backbone. He’d not humiliate her, or revel in her shame. Not now, not ever.
“Telling him will do irrefutable harm. He’ll hate you, not me. I can’t think you’d risk that.”
A frown crossed Brodie’s face. “That’s why I held back when the opportunity arose.”
“You’re wasting thinly veiled threats. I’m trying to start fresh, build a new life. Half a chance is all I ask.”
Smoke swirled about her head, tickling her nose. Of the hardest cravings to stifle, cigars stood at the top. Proper ladies didn’t indulge in that vice. Achieving that goal ranked highest on her list of priorities.
“I’ll see your bet and raise it. One week to break off the engagement. Speak the truth or tell a lie. Doesn’t matter, as long as you walk out of Murphy’s life.”
Thoughts of sinful cravings fled. “One week?”
“That’s the deal.” He widened the gap between them when footsteps sounded on the stone path.
“Ahh, the two of you are getting acquainted.” Murphy draped the shawl across Laurel’s shoulders, then put an arm around both her and Brodie and pulled them close. “My two favorite people. How lucky can a man get?”
Five
Brodie remained on the stone garden bench long after his brother walked Laurel home. Distant fog horns emerged from the thick soup, along with chattering river otters and mockingbird chirps. Deep croaks of a frog clan sang bass
in the chorus.
Why did he have to run into her here of all places?
Despite what time did to thicken a person’s memory, he’d recognized Lil right off. Those eyes, that voice, could do unforgettable things to a man. When he’d spied her in the café, he’d gotten the same tight squiggle in his chest. It’d taken several seconds for his lungs to remind him they had emptied.
Great Johnny Reb. He’d wanted to kill that fool boy for pawing her that way. No one treated his lady with disrespect.
Except you, a little voice whispered.
He wished he had some excuse for his crass behavior. Every wrong word had left his mouth, creating a disastrous evening.
Over the years he’d imagined crossing paths again with the beauty who’d stolen a piece of his heart—the tender things he’d say, the taste of her lips.
He’d done none of those, despite an urge so powerful it gnawed at him still.
The shock of finding her engaged to his brother of all people had plunged a dull blade into his heart.
Brodie sucked in a ragged breath that hurt all the way down to his toes. Present state of mind aside, he found peace here among the trimmed hedges and bordered flower beds.
Neatness and order. A far cry from the bloody killing fields that haunted his dreams.
Some called him a high plains drifter, among other less polite names. He’d given up on finding a place in which a man could hide, in hundreds of towns that all came to look alike.
His damnable reputation.
He’d tried to avoid the fight with Prater that could’ve ended in his worst fear: that someday, luck would run out. When that time came, he wished to be able to feel it, to know he had more than the cold stone heart of a warrior.
From inside his shirt, he withdrew a soft deerskin pouch, sliding his thumb across the supple texture warmed by his skin.
A handmade memory bag that protected items near and dear.
With care, he removed a scrap of lavender lace.
Thoughts whirled inside his head, a roulette wheel of sorts that stopped on the color black. St. Louis, the Black Garter, and a raven-haired beauty. He’d never met anyone, before or since, equal to Lil.
Had she missed the torn piece from one of her ruffles? Brodie raised the sacred reminder to his nose, imagining it still bore her scent and nights of wild passion. With her he’d escaped the horrors of a war that raged with no end in sight.
Lil made him forget a lot of things when her body curled next to his. And spoiled all other women for him.
For a price.
Everything came with an almighty price.
Shrouded by darkness, he remembered things he shouldn’t. Then paradise became pure hell, hurtling him headlong into its pit. That blasted war had ruined all hope. Under General Price’s orders, his regiment had marched from St. Louis, and at Pilot Knob he ran smack into a piece of shattering hot lead.
He’d always wondered what happened to her. Meant to find out one day…
After he got the hole in his heart mended first.
Well, now he’d found her. Funny, he still had that hole, and a body with no head.
Why did she have to belong to Murphy?
Truth to tell, her soft curves bewitched even now.
Damn. She’d never believe the pricks he’d uttered had sprung out of deep pain, not from passing judgment. No one would ever nominate him for sainthood. Not with his record.
Albeit chipped and cracked around the edges, Lil was china nonetheless, while the blood of too many men stained his name. Many only boys, their faces etched into his rotten soul, who had become as much a part of him as breathing. Even if he dared confess that the thought of her with another man made him crazy, that he’d give anything to spend the rest of his life wrapped in her arms, what right did he have?
Men in his line of work couldn’t entertain ideas of love, a home, and children.
He’d not ask Lil or any other to share the danger riding in his saddle.
The accusation about not wanting her hit a sore spot. It was safe to say he desired her in every way imaginable.
Nope, Brodie regretted a lot of things, but meeting her skipped the long list of remorse.
Hell and be damned if he’d let her marry his brother.
“One week, Miss James.” He folded the fragile lavender lace back inside the deerskin.
The memory bag held other treasures. Cold metal of his mother’s simple gold ring brushed his fingers. A lock of Murphy’s hair spoke of a brotherly bond. Aunt Lucy’s faded note right after he’d joined up completed the accounting.
A creak of the garden gate announced Murphy’s return. Brodie secured the bag in its secret place. Wouldn’t do to let baby brother find him pining over a scrap of lavender.
“Nice night.” Murphy settled beside him.
“Sight better than most I’ve spent. You get Miss James tucked in all nice and cozy?”
“I don’t recognize the person you’ve become. Makes me wonder if I ever knew you at all.”
Brodie held the cigar, watching the red glow. “War does things to a man’s mind, changes priorities—rearranges his life. I apologize for tonight. Didn’t mean to be a jackass.”
“I suppose. Don’t do it again, and I mean it. Keep disrespecting her and you’ll force me to turn you out.”
All I’m asking is a chance. Her plea brought unease.
“That’s clear enough. I was sitting here thinking about leopards and their spots. Do you think he—or she—can change, Murph?”
“Anything acquired at birth, they’re probably stuck with. Like you and me.”
“I’m relieved you think we’re stuck with each other.”
“But if the spots are painted on, I’d say they could. Where are you going with this anyway?”
“No place, little brother. No place at all.”
The shake of Murphy’s head suggested Brodie suffered from weakness north of his ears. Hell, he’d lost any sense he had a long time ago…to a silken-haired seductress.
“I’ve missed you. Never got accustomed to being alone. When we were boys, I tagged not more than three steps from your shadow. I’d wake up shaking with fear that you’d die on some battlefield and I’d never know.”
“Scared me, too, being by myself. For a while I walked around thinking a mule had stomped on me and left me for crow bait.” Brodie tilted the bottle and found a measure of comfort in the trail of fire it left to his belly. “Believe it or not, I still do.”
Matter of fact, even more since arriving in Redemption.
“I own there’s good reason to build a wall around you. Men who stare death in the face and have seen enough spilled blood to float a steamer would.” Murphy shifted. “You can tear it down though. Unlike that leopard, your spots can come off. It’s never too late.”
He found his brother’s advice an ill-fit. Murphy should save it for one more worthy of change. “I’m tired of running, trying to do no more than survive. You know how many times I’ve cheated the undertaker by being a split second faster?”
“You’re safe for a while. Rest while you can.”
How could he when she waited beneath his closed eyes? His thoughts, his blood, his very soul echoed her name. Brodie fought the recollection of Laurel’s exquisite features bathed in pale moonlight. Moisture left his mouth.
“Do you truly love her, Murph?”
“More than I ever thought possible.”
An ache in Brodie’s chest robbed him of air. How could he in good conscience steal their happiness? Dearly as he wished, he suspected Lil’s past had become as finely ingrained as his own sorry one. And maybe she truly did return Murphy’s affection.
“Guess you do at that.”
“I still gather you don’t approve. Care to say why?”
“It’s my job to make sure you don�
��t get your heart broke.”
“Quit upsetting her. You were way out of line tonight with that hogwash about St. Louis.”
“Would another apology fix things?”
“Just watch it. I protect what’s mine, even from you.”
Brodie gave a low whistle. “So I see. You’ve grown up.”
“About time you noticed.” Murphy leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “I want to warn you about another matter. Despite enjoying your company, it’s dangerous for you here.”
“I know.” The measured words came low.
“I don’t think you appreciate fully the hotbed we’re in. Soldiers itch to capture the infamous Confederate, Shenandoah. But frankly, I’m concerned about other areas as well.”
“I’m tired of the chase. I’ll end my days here.”
“White citizens have formed pockets of resistance, groups called—”
“Knights of the Rising Sun, Cullen Baker’s Knights of the White Camelia, or any number of similar organizations?”
“You’ve heard. Any plans on joining them?”
“Nope. Have they converted you, Murph?”
“I’m not their kind. I respect all people no matter the color of their skin.”
“I figured that, since you have Etta and her boy here.”
“You and I never cottoned to slavery. She earns triple what anyone else would pay. She’s part of this family.”
“She should’ve gone north to safer climes after the war’s end. The Freedmen’s Bureau gives precious little protection. Countless men and women wind up dead each day.”
“Etta has nowhere else to go. I look out for them.” Murphy stood and stretched. “Remember what I said. Be careful and watch your back. You coming to bed?”
“Believe I’ll sit a bit longer.”
The prospect of lying in bed across the hall from the room in which Murphy and Laurel would soon make love held the appeal of eating a fistful of juicy grub worms.
Brodie stopped his sibling. Thickness rose, making his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I left you, Murph.”
* * *
The kitchen sparkled by the time Laurel wearily climbed the stairs. No sign of Ollie, which answered a prayer. The catastrophe might go down better with bitter brew come morn.
