* * *
The Baldwin mansion was located atop one of the hills that surrounded Little Rock. The carriage followed a road that twisted back and forth as it climbed the wooded slopes. From the window Logan saw the lights of the town spread out along the valley below him.
Supper at the boarding house had been a rather strained affair. Some of the boarders picked up on the tension and were quieter than usual.
Not Rusty, of course. He was as full of talk as ever, this time about Logan going to work for Marcus Baldwin. Logan was grateful that Rusty didn't say much about Gillian. He suspected that would have just irritated Vickie even more.
Vickie was acting like she was jealous, which made no sense. Other than that one moment she had never shown any signs of being interested in Logan. He was certain that Gillian wasn't, either.
It would be foolish for either of them to set her sights on him. He wasn't exactly what any woman would regard as a catch. A crippled gunman with enemies who were bound to show up looking for him sooner or later . . . No woman in her right mind would want that much to do with him.
The carriage was fancy, which came as no surprise. Lots of gleaming black wood and brasswork, pulled by a team of fine black horses with silver-decorated harness and feathered plumes attached to their heads. Plumes! Logan thought it was all a little ridiculous, but he knew rich people liked such extravagances. If he'd ever been rich, maybe he would have, too.
The hilltop where the mansion sat had been leveled off, but many of the trees remained. The big house was ablaze with lights as it sat at the end of a short lane paved with crushed stone. It had three stories, Logan saw as the carriage approached and then turned into an area where a number of other carriages were parked. Tall white columns flanked the entrance. The place wasn't built exactly like a plantation house, he thought, but it came closer to that than anything else.
The driver, who hadn't said a word to Logan so far, climbed down from the high seat and opened the door for him. Logan climbed out, which was something of an awkward process with his bad leg. Getting into the carriage hadn't been easy, either. At one point, the driver had gripped his arm to steady him, but still hadn't said anything.
That wasn't repeated here. With the help of his cane Logan managed to get both feet on the ground. He nodded to the driver and said, "Thank you."
The man just returned the nod silently.
Logan walked toward the entrance. He had shined his boots and brushed his hat. A diamond stickpin, one of the few relics of the old days, sparkled in his cravat. He knew he looked respectable enough that he shouldn't stand out in the crowd of the Baldwins' friends.
Respectable enough for a hired gun, anyway, he thought as a liveried footman swung the door open in front of him.
Inside, another servant took his hat, and yet another ushered him into a large ballroom lit by crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Logan had been in rooms like this before, but it had been a long time.
Quite a few people were on hand already, the men dressed in suits that put his to shame, the women glitteringly beautiful in their gowns and jewelry. Logan was standing there just inside the ballroom, leaning on his cane, when Gillian Baldwin spotted him, made her excuses to the people she was talking to, and came toward him with a dazzling smile on her face. She wore a light blue gown cut low enough to reveal the creamy upper swells of her breasts. The necklace around her throat probably cost more than he had earned some years.
"Logan!" she said. "You made it. I'm so glad you could come."
"I said I would," Logan pointed out.
"Of course." She linked her right arm with his left, which made him uncomfortable. The smooth, rounded warmth of her flesh ought to be pressed to a strong, vital arm, not a withered thing like his. That didn't seem to bother her, though, as she said, "Come along, I'll introduce you to some people."
Logan didn't really care who any of the other guests were, but he wanted to be polite to Gillian since he was going to be spending a considerable amount of time with her over the next few days. If he offended her it would just make things strained and awkward between them. So he smiled and nodded politely to everyone she introduced him to and even made a mostly unsuccessful effort to remember their names.
Marcus Baldwin came over. He had a drink in his left hand and used the right to shake hands with Logan again.
"So glad you could join us tonight, Mr. Handley," he said. "Here, I'd like for you to meet someone."
"I'm introducing Logan around, Father," Gillian said with a pout that Logan was sure got a lot of use in this house.
"This won't take but a moment." Baldwin turned and called, "Aaron."
A short, thick-bodied, bearded man turned toward them. He sauntered across the gleaming parquet floor and gave Baldwin a curt nod.
"Baldwin," he said in a gravelly voice. "Who's this?"
"Logan Handley," Baldwin said. "Logan, meet Aaron Nash. Aaron is my competition."
Baldwin chuckled, but there was no real humor in the sound.
"Heard about you," Nash said as he gripped Logan's right hand. "Just about everybody in this room owes you a debt of thanks for stopping those bank robbers. We all have money there."
"I didn't exactly stop them," Logan said. "I just spooked them enough to make them run outside the bank. Marshal Radcliffe and his deputies showed up just in time to take care of them from there."
Take care of them was a discreet way of saying that Radcliffe and his men had blown the bank robbers into bloody little pieces. But in this opulent room, with soft music being played by a string quartet in the corner, even thinking about such carnage seemed out of place.
"Well, it's good to know that someone was willing to stand up to those outlaws, anyway," Nash said. "And it's good to meet you, Handley."
He gave them another brusque nod and moved off into the crowd. Baldwin, still smiling, watched him go and said quietly, "I hate that son of a bitch. But no more than he hates me."
"He's another timber man?"
"That's right. He – "
Baldwin stopped short as another man approached them with a woman on his arm. The newcomer said, "Hello, Marcus. I saw you talking to Aaron just now."
He was about as tall as Logan, with bushy side whiskers and a full, luxuriantly brown mustache. Although Logan was no real judge of such things, he supposed the man was good-looking, probably too handsome to be with the rather plain woman beside him. Her gown was expensive, but it didn't really flatter her since her body had little shape to it. Her hair was a mousy brown and was pulled back severely, and that did nothing to soften the angular lines of her face.
Logan thought she had nice brown eyes, though, and he saw both sadness and sweetness in them.
"Hello, Carleton," Baldwin said. He nodded to the woman. "Elizabeth."
She said, "You and Father aren't at each other's throats again, are you, Marcus?"
Baldwin laughed. "Oh, no, certainly not. Aaron and I have long since made peace, you know that. We're just friendly rivals."
The other man stuck his hand out to Logan and said, "Carleton Eastland, at your service, sir."
Logan's interest had perked up as soon as he heard Baldwin address the man as Carleton. He remembered that was the name of Vickie's former husband. Now that Eastland had introduced himself, there was no doubt of his identity.
Eastland leaned his head toward the woman and went on, "My darling wife Elizabeth."
Logan shook hands with Eastland and nodded to the woman. "Ma'am," he said. "It's a pleasure."
"This is Logan Handley," Baldwin said. "He's working for me now."
"Ah, the famous slayer of bank robbers," Eastland said.
Logan shook his head. "I didn't slay anybody."
Not here, anyway.
"Well, you helped stop them, at any rate, and that's quite impressive for a man with your, ah, limitations."
"I do what I can," Logan said. He resisted the temptation to add, You pompous ass.
So that w
as the man who divorced Vickie, he thought as the Eastlands drifted off into the crowd. He still didn't know the details of what had caused the split, but it seemed odd that Eastland would have turned around and married such a plain woman after having been married to Vickie. Logan knew there was no accounting for emotions, however. Maybe Eastland really loved her.
Then Baldwin put a stop to that line of thought by saying, "If there's anyone I despise more than Aaron Nash, it's his son-in-law."
"You mean Eastland? Elizabeth is Nash's daughter?"
"That's right. You've been staying at the boarding house Eastland's former wife runs, haven't you?"
"That's right."
Baldwin took a sip of his drink and said, "We'll have to do something about that. A man who works for me should have a place of his own. A better place. We'll talk about it when you get back from Little Rock."
"All right," Logan said. He had been thinking that he needed to move out of the boarding house, so that Vickie and Rusty and the other boarders would be safer, and with Baldwin's help he could probably afford to do that.
But a part of him felt a twinge of regret at the thought of leaving the friends he had made. He felt the same way about not working for Doc Reese and Dewey Dumont anymore.
He put that out of his mind as a soft, warm shape pressed against his side again.
"You've monopolized Logan long enough, Father," Gillian said. "I'm taking him over again."
"Of course, my dear," Baldwin said with an indulgent smile.
Gillian steered Logan away from her father and said, "I suppose dancing would be difficult for you, wouldn't it?"
"Impossible," Logan said.
"But there's nothing to stop us from watching the others." Gillian lowered her voice. "I can tell you all about them. I know all the gossip."
Logan didn't doubt it.
14.
Gillian led him to a comfortable divan in a small alcove where they could still see most of the ballroom. She sat down next to him and left her arm linked with his. He was aware of the yielding but insistent pressure of her breast against his arm.
After listening to her prattle for a few minutes about the people moving past them, Logan spotted Carleton and Elizabeth Eastland and said, "What about those two? They seem to be a rather odd couple."
"Aren't they, though?" Gillian said. "Carleton married her for her money, of course, and to secure a better position in her father's company. Aaron Nash couldn't very well leave his new son-in-law in the lowliest of clerical positions, now could he?"
"I suppose not. I'm acquainted with the former Mrs. Eastland – "
"Of course you are. You live in her boarding house, don't you? Victoria Eastland is much more attractive than that poor little mouse Elizabeth. Carleton definitely didn't get the better end of the bargain in that respect. But speaking of mice, it's a shame the woman has the morals of an alley cat."
"Elizabeth?"
Gillian laughed and shook her head. "Of course not. I was talking about the former Mrs. Eastland. It was her . . . indiscretion . . . with another man that led to Carleton divorcing her."
Logan frowned and said, "I find that hard to believe."
"You can believe it," Gillian assured him. "Carleton caught them together. All the sordid details came out in court. The man admitted what he and Mrs. Eastland had done, but of course what other choice did he have? He was lucky Carleton didn't put a bullet through his head."
What he had just heard seemed impossible to Logan. He couldn't imagine the cool, reserved Vickie Eastland he knew cheating on her husband. But maybe he didn't really know her all that well, he told himself. In all the weeks he had lived in the boarding house, they had never really had more than polite, perfunctory conversations.
To change the subject, he said, "I'd be honored to meet your mother."
Gillian stiffened beside him. She said, "My mother passed away years ago, Logan."
"Oh." He felt like an utter fool. He hurried on, "I'm sorry – "
She stopped him with a graceful motion of her hand. "Don't be. There's no way you could have known. It's just the two of us, Father and I. It's much the same with Elizabeth. Only children, she and I, and disappointments to our widower fathers because we weren't sons bred to take over the business. But what can you do other than make the best of what life has given you?"
"I understand that," Logan muttered.
"I'm sure you do. I can already tell that you and I are a lot alike, Logan. We're practical people. We do what we have to in order to get what we want."
Before he could think about whether she meant anything by that, Carleton Eastland walked up and said, "Gillian, my dear, can I steal you away from Mr. Handley for a dance?"
"Oh, I don't know – "
Logan told her, "Go ahead." He had seen the way she smiled and leaned forward slightly at Eastland's invitation. Gillian was the sort of woman who enjoyed attention, and there was nothing wrong with that as far as Logan was concerned.
"You're sure?" she said to him.
"I'll be fine," he said with a smile.
"All right, then." She stood up and took Eastland's arm. They whirled away to join the other dancing couples. Logan stayed on the divan, resting both hands on the head of his cane as it leaned on the floor in front of him.
Gillian and Eastland didn't dance just the one dance. She remained in his arms as the musicians began playing another waltz. Eastland was talking to her, and from time to time Gillian laughed merrily. Logan thought at first she was just being polite, but he began to think the laughter was genuine. Carleton Eastland was a handsome man. Gillian had to enjoy sweeping around the floor in his arms. The two of them looked like they were made for each other, Logan thought.
There was no reason for that to bother him, other than the instinctive dislike he felt for Eastland. And that was probably just because he knew Vickie and admired her.
Marcus Baldwin came over with two drinks, handed one of them to Logan, and sat down beside him.
"I'm not overly fond of these parties," he said. "Gillian seems to enjoy them, though. They give everyone a chance to tell her how beautiful and wonderful she is."
"That's what Carleton Eastland seems to be doing," Logan said.
"That pompous – " Baldwin stopped himself and downed some of his drink.
"I was thinking the same thing a little earlier."
"Eastland is annoying, but he's harmless. It's Nash who's the real threat. He's a ruthless monster." Baldwin looked over at Logan. "He's another reason I wanted you to work for me, Logan."
"I thought you were worried about bandits."
"I am, but Nash wouldn't be above hiring cutthroats to steal that payroll of mine. He'll do anything to cause trouble for me. The man's out to destroy me."
"Why would he want to do that?" Logan asked. "I know the two of you are business rivals – "
"It's more than that," Baldwin said harshly. His hand tightened on the thick-walled glass he held. "Several years ago Nash moved in a stretch of timber I thought I had in my pocket and snatched it right out from under me. I didn't take kindly to that."
Logan was willing to bet that he didn't.
"I had my freight line undercut the prices of all the other freight outfits around here," Baldwin went on. "When I had put them all out of business, Nash was forced to use my wagons if he wanted to get supplies in and timber out. He didn't like it a bit when I raised the prices, but he had no choice except to pay or buy his own wagons."
Logan realized now that he had stumbled into the same sort of situation in which he had found himself many times in the past: two rich, powerful men who hated each other and were willing to go to any lengths to hurt the other one, including hiring gunmen. Being paid to take a hand in such grudges had been Logan's way of making a living for years . . . but things were different now. If he had to go up against a professional – a healthy professional – chances were he would lose, even with that sawed-off double-barrel to help even the odds.
&nb
sp; Maybe Baldwin had hired him just to guard that payroll and Gillian. Maybe the man didn't plan to use him to cause trouble for Aaron Nash. He could always back out, Logan told himself.
But he didn't want to. Gillian was right: they had to make the best of what life had given them. The only things of real value he possessed were his cool nerves and his ability to use a gun. Even if that ability was impaired, it was still something.
He was a gunman. It was time to stop denying that.
"You all right, Logan?" Baldwin asked. "You look rather preoccupied."
"I'm fine," Logan said. He looked across the ballroom. There was another alcove like this one on the other side, with a similar divan in it.
Elizabeth Eastland sat alone on that divan.
Logan looked at the dancing couples. Gillian had her head resting on Carleton Eastland's shoulder now. Logan looked at Elizabeth again and realized that she was watching Gillian and her husband, too.
He used the cane to push himself to his feet and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Baldwin." He threw back the rest of the brandy in his glass and handed the empty to Baldwin, who took it looking rather surprised. Then Logan began making his way around the room.
Elizabeth was still alone when he reached the other alcove. He smiled and said, "I can't ask you to dance, Mrs. Eastland, but I'd be honored if I could sit and talk with you for a few moments if you'd allow it."
She looked surprised, too, but after a second she nodded and said, "Of course, Mister . . . Handley, was it?"
"That's right. Logan Handley." He lowered himself on the divan beside her, keeping a discreet distance between them. "It's quite a party, isn't it?"
"Of course. Only the best for dear Gillian."
He heard the dislike in her voice and said, "You and Miss Baldwin don't get along? I gathered that the two of you were childhood friends or something like that."
Gillian hadn't actually said that or even implied it, but the two women were about the same age and Hot Springs wasn't a very big town, relatively speaking. Since their fathers were in the same business, it made sense that they would have known each other for quite a while.
Dancing With Dead Men Page 9
