by Linda Broday
“That busybody Mrs. Kempshaw’s taking her sweet time. She’s the last. I’ve gathered the dishes, wiped tables, and you know we never sweep the floors until all have gone. And I don’t know nothing about baiting mice traps. Always get my fingers in the darn things.” Adeline scooted out a chair and plopped down.
“I apologize for being ill tempered. Guess I’m tired.”
“It’s all right. Ain’t complaining. At least it ain’t the saloon.”
Laurel flashed a wan smile. “I’m thankful you’re here.”
“Can I ask something? What kept you from going insane when those men forced you to…you know?”
The ugly word filled the space, an unmade bed in an otherwise orderly room that you tried not to notice but couldn’t help it. Only this bed had every corner tucked in neatly and still a body couldn’t erase the memory of mess and chaos. Hate welled for the man who’d stolen Adeline’s innocence, making her a woman before she’d put away her dolls.
“I survived by doing what I had to. Thinking of my family, fresh green fields cleansed by rain, Mama’s blueberry pie.”
And waiting for Brodie’s return.
“I prayed for God to strike me dead.” Adeline’s voice trembled. “I hated when my papa made me drink the potion.”
Laurel’s head snapped around. “The what?”
“Ain’t rightly sure what’s in it. Toads’ innards wouldn’t have tasted as bitter.” The girl wrinkled her nose. “Made me drink it once a week. Said it’d keep my monthly coming.”
Black haw tonic made from cotton root bark would be Laurel’s guess. The stuff worked well in preventing babies. Taft had forced the horrid liquid down her until a doctor supplied plant seeds from Queen Anne’s Lace. A spoonful with a glass of water each morning spared a child they’d have ripped from her arms. She’d witnessed that misfortune in others.
“He was right on that count.”
“Do you suppose I might not be able to make babies one day? I mean when I meet the man I’m going to marry.”
“Don’t worry. It has no lasting effects.”
Laurel’s heart lurched. The wondrous night in Brodie’s arms, the rebel she wished more than anything to grow old with, may have left permanent proof of the love she’d fight to keep.
Even though the father didn’t wish to become one.
And God forbid should he soon perish at the end of a rope.
A babe would assure keeping a piece of him always.
She shook away the thoughts. “You’ll give your heart to the man of your dreams and have a houseful of beautiful blond babies.”
Adeline chewed on her lip. “If Paw happens to find me, will you let him take me back?”
“I’ll kill him first. You have a perfect right to live free from twisted perversions.”
“And you? What if those men come?”
“I’ll never again be any man’s paid woman.”
The door into the dining room moved ever so slightly. Laurel’s heart leaped into her throat.
* * *
Brodie knew every speck of dust and spiderweb in the dark sweat box intimately. It was home. Probably would remain so until the appointed hour.
Deep black water amid the cypress held secrets, but in his lady love’s sultry kisses he’d found the lost soul for which he’d searched…only to leave it scattered among the ruins of broken promises like moth-eaten rags on a peddler’s cart.
Hell and be damned.
He forced aside despair as boots crunched on the rocks littering the stockade. A key grated in the lock. The abrupt glare almost put out his eyes that’d seen far too much horror.
“Come along, Shenandoah. Got a visitor.”
Georgia clay. He’d begged Laurel to stay away. Another encounter with the raven-haired temptress would drain him. Ahh, but he’d savor something to carry besides the lavender scrap of lace in the memory bag the general had ripped off his neck.
He stumbled, faint from hunger. The soldier jerked him to his feet. Seconds later, the blue belly shoved him into a room.
“Yates, so we meet again. This time under more, shall we say, favorable circumstances.” A hint of a smile twisted the jagged scar into a well-traveled road pitted with deep ruts.
“Fighting a bound man would seem fair-minded only to you.”
“You don’t scare me,” Zeke Vallens sneered.
“That so.” Brodie kicked a chair into the wall, relishing Vallens’s sudden jump. A quick curl of his foot around the leg flipped the seat upright. The leisurely drop into it hopefully masked his pain. To expose his suffering would reveal a chink in the fortress. “How like you to come to gloat.”
“Ah, you misjudge me. I wished to inform you of Will Taft’s arrival in town. He means to reclaim what’s rightfully his.”
“Damn you!” Brodie lunged, driving his full weight into the man. Zeke Vallens staggered against the wall.
“Guard!” Vallens’s yell alerted the soldier posted outside.
The soldier ran into the room shouting, “Reb, in the corner or I’ll shoot your sorry hide.”
“Better get him out, blue belly.” Brodie lounged easy, though he dared anyone to interpret his black stare as cordial.
Zeke Vallens retrieved the hat that’d fallen off in the scuffle and wedged it on his head. “Good day, Shenandoah.”
“Heed my words. Harm Laurel, and you and Taft’ll answer.”
“To who, pray tell?”
“You’ll see. I’d pay attention.” Hate silenced the rumble in his belly. If only it fed a soul’s gnawing hunger as well.
The black-hearted devil’s smile wobbled a bit in leaving.
The young soldier cast Brodie a wary glance. “Come peaceable, Reb. I wouldn’t want to have to call for reinforcements.”
What rankled most was leaving Laurel at the mercy of evil. He couldn’t protect her. He couldn’t soothe her trembling limbs.
Good God, he couldn’t even love her like she deserved.
Guilt rode like a dark shadow, blotting out the sun.
“Private, do I get a final request before execution?”
“If it’s within reason, I’d suppose.”
“How about a letter? Think you can deliver it?”
“I’ll see to it, but not sure how soon.”
“I’d prefer it happen today. It’s imperative.”
With it written, Brodie found the metal box a tad less dark than before. Something he’d learned about people in the war let him believe the private would keep his word. With luck the letter should get in the right hands by nightfall.
Even though he might not stick around to see the outcome.
* * *
Beyond the stockade walls, Zeke Vallens flipped open a timepiece. Satisfaction came that he’d given Yates something to chew on. The visit might pay off in the event he lost control of the situation. The night would tell whether it’d been profitable.
Plans oftentimes took a volatile twist.
His jaw tightened. The pliable leather fob curled around his hand. He returned the watch and reached inside the somber frock coat to pluck a tintype from his pocket. The face in the small likeness stared into the blackest crevice of a heart the years had turned to stone.
The lady had once had the clearest blue gaze. She’d overlooked the parts no one else could stomach and saw something redeeming.
He’d disappointed her on many occasions, though she never let on.
Damn. He breathed a grateful sigh she’d never know of the despicable things he’d done.
Zeke flipped the tintype to hide the gentle soul’s calling, tucked it away, and lowered the brim of his hat.
* * *
Panic bubbled, spurring Laurel into action. She threw back the kitchen door and stood nose to nose with Florence Kempshaw.
“Why o
n God’s green earth are you eavesdropping?”
Florence stepped back and huffed. “I can smell rotted garbage a mile off. I knew your story didn’t quite wash.”
“Whatever you think you heard—”
“More’n enough to run you out of town.”
Laurel’s fists doubled. She yearned to punch the gossip. “One thing about me, Florence…I don’t scare easily.”
“We don’t need your kind. When I get done, you’ll wish you’d stayed in that whorehouse in St. Louie!”
Over Laurel’s shoulder, Adeline gasped. Laurel had been about to tell Florence to take whatever steps she deemed appropriate. After all, baring the secret would disarm its power. But she must consider the repercussions on the girl.
“Every story has two sides. Care to listen?”
“You’re not fit to associate with decent, God-fearing folk, and it’s my duty to let others know.”
“Mrs. Kempshaw, Laurel is the most generous, caring person I’ve ever known besides my mother.” Adeline’s voice quaked.
“You’re tainted too, girlie. Unless we put a stop, you’ll turn this joint into a billiard parlor behind our backs. I’m not stupid. I know what goes on in those dens of iniquity.”
It appeared Redemption’s finest would soon get an earful.
“Since I can’t appeal to someone who has no compassion, we have nothing further to discuss.”
The woman’s thin lips puckered up as if she’d bitten into a green persimmon. “Olivia b’Dam must’ve been in cahoots with you. I’ll wager she was one of your sort, could tell by that wild hair. Kept a path hot to that saloon.”
Laurel’s blood boiled. “Get out of here before I forget the sort of real lady I am.”
“And those Yates boys. Praise be you didn’t marry and bring them ruin. I shudder to think how a faithless harlot tried to play them for fools.”
Laurel shoved her. “Out! Out before I snatch you bald.”
The beady eyes grew round with fear, but her courage returned once she had access to running room. “You and little missy pack up. No one’ll spend another cent in this flea-infested establishment. I’ll fix you.”
The door slammed against Florence’s heel, propelling her onto the sidewalk faster than she intended.
“I should’ve taken a butcher knife to that old biddy.” Laurel’s voice shook.
Tears welled in Adeline’s blue gaze. “I hate her.”
“Ah, honey.” Laurel pulled her close, smoothing the pale locks. “Don’t waste a second on someone who has nothing to do except judge others and delight in spreading poison.”
“Will we leave?”
A short while ago she would’ve. But Ollie had taught her how to build a fire and make a stand. She prayed those flames didn’t heat a bunch of tar for the chicken feathers Florence was already gathering to roll Laurel and Adeline in.
Ridden out of town on a rail had to be very disgusting.
“We’re staying put.” She firmly bolted the door, sliding a chair beneath the knob. “Running is for sissies. Let’s finish up so I can tuck you into bed.”
“But it might get plenty ugly.”
She tucked a long golden strand behind Adeline’s ear. The word that brought shivers went a bit further than ugly.
“My dear, try as I might, I can’t foresee the future. I’m rusty in foretelling such. But Ollie warned never do anything in haste. Or maybe it was her grandpappy. Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to fight if that’s what it takes.”
“Will they send me back home?”
“Absolutely not. Get that out of your head. We’re a pair. Nothing can separate us. Honey, I swear on a stack of Bibles.”
Lord, give her strength to keep the promise, for their enemies consisted of a small army.
Where on earth was Hannibal when she needed him?
Swinging toward waiting work, her toe caught the ridge of an uneven plank. A table’s sharp edge drove into her thigh.
Pain shot both directions at once. Laurel gritted her teeth to silence a sob.
Life always had a damn board sticking out ready to trip a hardworking body. The uphill battle to reach leveling-off ground had beaten the whey out of her. Up was the only visible trail through the forest. She saw no place to rest for a while.
Oh for the day she’d reach a tiny ledge.
With thoughts going helter-skelter, she jumped when someone pounded on the door. Taft and Vallens wouldn’t bother announcing; they’d kick it in. Adeline wielded a broom.
“Miss Laurel?” Curley’s boom was a relief. “It’s me.”
“I didn’t expect you for another hour or so,” she said, opening the door.
“Whistle Dixie and pass the ammunition. Closed the saloon early. No customers. Worse’n when I ran out of whiskey once.”
“Let me guess. They’ve linked you to my lily- white character?”
“Ollie’d whale my hide to bring such a grim face. She claimed a smile lifts a body’s spirits faster than wild horses in a stampede.” He planted his girth at the kitchen table and raised his feet for Adeline’s broom.
“I haven’t exactly seen reason to smile.”
“I heard the rubbish…right before I knocked out two of the rumormongers’ teeth.”
Frayed nerves and untold sorrow transformed into peals of laughter. Once Laurel started she couldn’t stop. Adeline and Curley pronounced her a bona fide lunatic.
“You shore have a strange way of showing spunk, girl.”
Laurel sobered the next minute, wanting to cry. “I can just hear Ollie, her head cocked to one side, squinting through pipe smoke.” She launched into an imitation. “Grandpappy always said how a predicament could always be worse. When given a choice between attacked by a mountain lion or getting gut-shot, choose the lion. Best to get the dyin’ over with fast. Yessirree.”
Curley swiped at his eyes. “That woman sure knew how to live and how to die. Some folks can’t do either. Least, not well.”
“All I ever desired was a quiet place to bury the last six years, start fresh, and live a normal life. Is that greedy?”
“Shoot, a dream isn’t anything more than thirst for something a bit better than what you got.” Curley patted the back of her hand. “You’re entitled to all the water you can drink. You have a lot of giving inside.”
A knock on the door came again.
Shaking, she stole quickly behind the saloon-keep. Perhaps they’d already come for the tarring and feathering. She snatched Adeline against her. They could do what they wanted with her, but not a blameless child whose only crime was having a depraved father.
Curley flexed his hands before jerking it open.
Murphy leaned on Etta’s son, Jacob, for support. “Madison, I’m relieved to see you. I need a word with Laurel.” He met her worried gaze. “In private?”
“Sure thing. I take it you know about the newest quagmire?”
“It’s why I’ve come.”
Adeline and Curley vanished before Murphy accepted the chair she offered. Tight lines around his mouth signified something awfully important for the friend to call this late.
“Oh God, it’s Brodie!” Laurel put a hand to her mouth. “Mr. Epperson couldn’t save him.”
Perspiration dotted her upper lip. The image of her beloved dangling by the neck on a high platform sent jagged piercing pain into her heart.
Murphy placed a quick hand on her shoulder. “No, Brodie’s still in the stockade. He sent a dispatch tonight.” He turned to the young boy with him. “Jacob, will you wait by the buggy? I won’t be long.”
“You’re in no shape to go gallivanting around town.” Laurel tried to ignore the unease that leapfrogged up her spine.
“Your welfare causes great concern. Vallens paid Brodie a visit earlier, to rattle him, it would appear. I come on my bro
ther’s behalf.” Murphy reached for her palm. “And I also come in regards to another matter. There’s a plague of loose tongues running rampant.”
“I must commend Florence. Her news swept faster than the gold discovery in California.”
“I have a solution to the whole rotten mess.”
Thirty-one
“Marriage to you! Did you fall and hit your head?” Murphy’s offer both stunned and dumbfounded Laurel.
“It will silence talk—in addition to providing safety for you.”
“And Nora? Have you forgotten the woman you love?”
Anguish filled Murphy’s eyes. “You have no one to protect you. It’s the only solution.”
“A pretty sad excuse for throwing away love. The letter you received from Brodie… This ludicrous notion is his, I take it.”
The man still persisted on tying her to his brother.
Murphy released her hand and slumped deeper into his chair. “He can’t save you. Guilt does things to a normal man. Brodie is much more. In him emotion cuts like a deep river. Marrying me would ease his mind.”
A horde of butterflies flittered in her stomach. Memory of hard, muscled flesh robbed the room of oxygen.
Dear Lord, she’d never use the term ordinary for Brodie Yates.
His devilish grin made his kisses irresistible, his touch melted the finest steel, and the mere heat of his gaze aroused passion she’d never found in another’s arms. The rebel-eyed man had created a stairway to the stars and shown her how easily she could pluck one and tuck it into her heart.
A small part of her, the panicked part, wished they’d never met. The loss wouldn’t be nearly as devastating.
Another part cried to climb those stairs one more time in his arms. To feel his heartbeat beneath her ear. To inhale the scent that was his alone and know that she’d had something other women only dreamed of.
Brodie Yates completed something in her.
She’d manage without him. She had grit. But part of her would never be the same. And she wished to do more than manage. “Your generosity amazes me. I don’t see wings sprouting, but you’re an angel all the same.” Her fingertips grazed Murphy’s cheek. “Sacrificing what you and Nora have…for me…I won’t allow it. Ollie, God rest her soul, was fond of reminding me that I’m way past grown. I carry my own burdens these days.”
