“Don’t get your hackles up,” he said calmly.
Hannah pushed back her chair and stood slowly. “Barbarian,” she said as she looked down at him.
Jed rose to his feet and glared across the table and down at her. “Tyrant.”
“Ape.”
“Prissy fussbudget.”
Her eyebrows rose elegantly, just before she spun around and walked from the dining room like a queen leaving her audience behind. She didn’t hasten her step, and she didn’t look back. Not once.
* * *
Hannah paced her small room by the light of a single lamp for half an hour before she even began to calm down. Jed Rourke was the most maddening man she had ever met! How dare he insinuate that she was here in Rock Creek not out of familial obligation, but seeking a thrill for herself. Insinuate? No, he’d bluntly accused her of being nothing more than a selfish adventuress.
She opened the window and looked down on the garden where she and Jed had sat that afternoon. Why did every conversation with that man turn into an argument? No matter how hard she tried to be civil, they always ended up having harsh words.
Ah, she thought as a cool breeze washed over her face. At home, no one ever argued with her. They agreed with whatever she said because their jobs depended on it. Her social acquaintances didn’t challenge her, either, but then all the women her age were married and had children, and their conversations always veered in that direction. Children and husbands. Which was why Hannah never remained long at the few social functions she attended. She was not a wife and mother and never would be, and she was not a twittering female on a quest for a man. Since all the women in the county near her age fit solidly into one category or the other, that left her isolated.
Over the years she had become the rich, eccentric spinster Hannah Winters, who talked about traveling but never did, who spent more time with her books than with living, breathing people. Why bother to argue with her? It didn’t matter what she said or thought, anyway.
The December air turned cold with a shift of the wind, and she slammed shut the window. The people of Rock Creek argued with her, didn’t they? Not only Jed, who was the most aggravating offender, but everyone. The bandits, the hotheaded cowboy, the sheriff, the women she had tried to interrogate in her murder investigation. None of them minded telling her she was wrong.
She had never been wrong. Well once, eight years ago, she’d made a colossal mistake, but since then... Since then she’d become more cautious.
Hannah recognized Bertie’s cautious knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Bertie opened and closed the door quickly. “Would you like me to help you get ready for bed?”
“No,” Hannah said, her eyes remaining on the garden and the night below. “I can manage.”
She could, with little difficulty, dress and undress herself and arrange her own hair. There had always been someone handy to assist her in her personal matters, but suddenly she wanted, more than anything, to be left alone. She didn’t want anyone hovering over her. Not Bertie, not Jed Rourke. No one.
“How is Rose managing?” she asked, turning her back on the view from her window. “She seems so tired.”
Bertie nodded. “She is tired, I think. And worried, of course.” Her eyes lit up. “But the boys were a great help this afternoon. They wanted me to be sure to tell you how well behaved they were.”
Of course the twins had been well behaved, Hannah thought with a sinking heart. She had bought them, the same way she bought loyalty and friendship and obedience from everyone around her.
Hannah laid her eyes on Bertie. “Tomorrow morning I want you to move in with Rose,” she said, the idea striking her as being quite brilliant. “She needs your help more than I do.”
Bertie nodded obediently.
“Is that all right with you?” Hannah asked softly.
Bertie looked at her with obvious surprise. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want. I do like Miz Rose very much. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“Yes,” Hannah said confidently. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking.”
“In the morning, you said.” Bertie backed toward the door.
“Yes. Get a good night’s sleep.”
When Bertie had retired to her own room next door, Hannah closed the curtains across the window that overlooked the garden. She removed the brooch from her throat and held it in her hand. Her mother had talked about traveling. It was one of the few things she remembered of her mother, those whispered conversations as together they leafed through books in her father’s library, reading about places around the world.
Just get up and go, Jed said. He made it sound so easy.
She smiled as she placed the brooch on the dresser and began to unfasten her buttons. He had looked magnificent tonight, hadn’t he? Without that filthy hat he favored covering his head, his hair was quite attractive. Golden blond and wavy and soft, freshly washed and just a little wild. Such long hair was not in fashion, but it suited him somehow. It must be the way the strands touched his broad shoulders, or the way they framed his sharply delineated, if shaggy, jaw.
If only she could convince him that Baxter was innocent.
Her pleasant thoughts disappeared swiftly. As long as the grieving widow wept and pleaded and laid her hands all over him, what chance did she have?
* * *
Jed stared in dismay at the entertainment house, Three Queens, before him. This used to be a perfectly good saloon, before Rico’s woman had moved in and ruined it. Now there was music all the goddamned time, and the place had been cleaned up and cursed with a woman’s touch.... And there wasn’t a single whore working in Rock Creek. Lily and Eden had converted them all, one at a time.
But he could still get a drink here.
He spotted Rico right away, standing behind the bar, grinning, while some cowpoke in town for the weekend drank up a week’s pay.
Rico handed his chore over to the regular bartender, Yvonne, when he saw Jed.
“I heard you were back,” Rico said as he approached. “You never come into town without making a scene, do you?”
“It wasn’t my fault this time.”
“It is never your fault,” Rico said with a grin.
Jed looked in dismay at the crowd. The place was jumping. Noisy. Bustling with customers. “I need a drink,” he grumbled. “And a quiet corner.”
“This way.”
Rico led him past customers, who greeted them both enthusiastically, to the storage room at the back of the place, a cubicle that was little more than a glorified closet. When the door was closed and the noise dulled, Jed closed his eyes in relief.
“You know, I miss this place the way it was when Cash ran it,” Jed grumbled. “Liquor. Women. A couple of chairs. Nothing fancy. I’m goddamn tired of fancy.”
Rico reached for a bottle on the back shelf and grabbed a couple of glasses from another. He poured them each a healthy shot.
Jed finished his off in one swallow, then took a deep breath while Rico refilled the glass. Already he felt a little better.
“How’s Lily?” Jed asked as he stared at the amber liquid in his glass.
“Very well,” Rico said with a wicked grin.
“And the little girl? Carrie?”
“She is doing fine, as well.”
Jed listened for a moment to the muted sounds of the piano on the other side of the door. “And I can hear for myself that Johnny plays as impressively as ever. Is he doing okay here?”
“Si,” Rico said softly.
Jed nodded his head, then took another drink. A sip, this time. “Tell me something,” he said casually. “When you first met Lily, did you know she was the one?”
“Si.”
“How? I mean, you always had women hanging all over you, Kid. It’s not like you couldn’t have settled down with one of them years ago. How did you know she was the right one?”
Rico nodded, looking oddly like a wise man. Ha! He was still just a
kid, no wiser than Jed or any other man in Rock Creek. “I looked at her and I knew.”
Jed glared. “You can do better than that,” he grumbled.
Rico searched for a better answer but couldn’t come up with one. “No, it is as simple as that.” He leaned in close, even though they were all alone in the storeroom. “Have you met a woman?”
“No,” Jed protested. “Well, yes, I have met a woman, but not like you’re thinking.”
“You did not look at her and know your world had changed?”
“I took one look at Hannah and I knew she was trouble,” Jed muttered. “Big trouble. And so far I’ve been right.” He cursed beneath his breath. “If I were smart, I’d ride out of here in the morning and never look back.”
“I have a suspicion you will not,” Rico said wisely.
Wise ass was more like it.
“No,” he whispered.
“And why not?”
He sighed, then groaned, then tossed back his drink. “Because if I do, that mouth of Hannah’s is gonna get her killed.”
Rico lifted his own glass in a silent toast.
Chapter 7
A definite chill had moved in overnight, so Hannah wore her gray wool suit and matching hat as she set out on Monday morning. Bertie had moved in with Rose and her boys, and they all seemed to like the arrangement. Even the twins liked Bertie, and Rose could certainly use the help.
Living in the hotel without her companion was surely not proper, but Hannah found she didn’t much care. Continuing with her investigation in spite of the opposition she met at every turn was unladylike, as well, but then she had long ago give up any aspirations to become a lady. The expectations involved were much too harsh.
As she walked down the main street of Rock Creek, heading unerringly toward the church, a gust of wind tried to blow her back. A sign from above? A warning? Surely not. She leaned into the wind and continued on.
Interviewing Sylvia Clancy was not a chore she looked forward to, but in order for the investigation to be complete it was necessary. Mrs. Clancy had been the one to walk in and find Baxter standing over her husband’s body. Her testimony could convict an innocent man.
She was also, in Hannah’s estimation, the prime suspect. After what she’d learned about Reverend Clancy, the woman certainly had motive for murder!
Of course, there were any number of men in the area who also had motive, if half of what she’d heard were true. Still, Mrs. Clancy, Jed’s old friend Sylvia, had been right there in the house. She could have very easily stabbed her husband and then retired to the kitchen to wait for someone to come by and become her patsy, or else for an opportunity to make a tragic and emotional discovery... perhaps as someone was passing by outside the rectory and could hear her shrill screams.
Sylvia Clancy had shifty eyes, Hannah remembered from their one meeting in the sheriff’s office. Narrowed and dark and furtive, they were the eyes of a woman who had something to hide. Or so she convinced herself as she arrived at the rectory and rapped on the door with the head of her cane.
After a sharp “just a minute” and the following delay that bordered on rudeness, Sylvia Clancy answered the door. Hannah kept her chin high and her spine straight, but her heart sank. Sylvia was straight from the bed, at this late morning hour, with her hair disheveled and her eyelids drooping with sleep. And still she was striking in a way Hannah knew she would never be. No wonder she and Jed were old friends.
“I can see I’ve come at a bad time,” Hannah said, taking a step back. “I’ll drop by later.”
“No,” Sylvia said, pulling her wrapper tighter around her shapely body as she threw the door open wide. “Come on in. I should’ve been up hours ago, but I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Hannah tried to feel sympathy for the woman, who had lost her husband in such a tragic and violent way. Unless, of course, Sylvia was the one who had murdered Clancy. If that was the case, she deserved no sympathy.
She stepped directly into the main room, a parlor that was furnished in mismatched odds and ends that looked comfortable but a little shabby.
Sylvia sat on the sofa and motioned to a nearby chair for Hannah. She wondered if it was the very chair Reverend Clancy had been murdered in, and almost declined. Still, it would be best if this interview were as informal as possible. Sylvia probably wouldn’t open up if Hannah paced the room and glared down at her as she asked her questions.
She perched on the very edge of the chair. “I won’t take much of your time,” she said. “I’d like to ask you about the morning you discovered Baxter standing over your husband’s body.”
Sylvia’s face hardened; it seemed her entire body tensed. “I suspected that was the reason for your visit. You’ve been asking a lot of questions about my husband since your arrival in Rock Creek.”
“I only want to prove that Baxter is innocent,” Hannah explained. “Surely you want the real murderer caught.” Unless, of course she was the real murderer.
“Baxter Sutton stabbed my husband in the heart,” Sylvia said, her posture relaxed, her eyes hard. Where were the tears she had shed for Jed’s benefit? Where was the weeping widow? “I’ll see him hang for it.”
“Did you hear anything unusual that morning, at some time before Baxter arrived?” Hannah pressed.
“No,” Sylvia snapped.
“Can you think of anyone in particular who might’ve wanted your husband dead?” Hannah had compiled her own long list, but perhaps Sylvia had one of her own.
“No.”
Hannah was about to ask yet another question when a muffled sound stopped her. Someone had dropped something. A man’s deep voice mumbled a soft curse. The sounds came from behind a closed door to her left. The bedroom door, no doubt.
When she laid her eyes on Sylvia, the woman smiled contentedly. “Did Jed tell you about us?”
Her heart sank; then it rose into her throat and threatened to choke her. “He did say you were old friends.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Sylvia said softly as her eyes cut to the bedroom door. All was silent there, now. “I suppose you’ve already discovered that Jed is a remarkable man.”
Hannah lifted her chin. She would not be intimidated by this woman! “I’ve discovered that he’s an ill-mannered barbarian with a foul mouth and a disturbing propensity for making demands.”
Sylvia only smiled. “Those can be admirable traits, in the right circumstances. I’ll take a foul-mouthed barbarian over a prissy gentlemen in the bedroom any day.”
The woman was not only a possible murderer, she was vulgar, as well. Hannah cut a quick glance at the bedroom door, willing the door down, willing daggers at the man behind that door. Of course, the door remained closed and the man behind it remained unharmed. Jed Rourke, that libertine!
“Well,” Hannah said as she rose quickly, “I’ve taken enough of your time.”
Sylvia did not rise to see her to the door. Just as well. But the widow did call out, as Hannah laid her hand on the doorknob.
“If you try to make Jed choose between us, you’ll lose,” she said, her voice soft and confident.
“I know,” Hannah whispered as she closed the door behind her.
* * *
The last thing she wanted to do was socialize with Jed’s sister and her friends, but Eden’s invitation was so warm, so heartfelt, that Hannah found she could not refuse. The entire day had been a waste of time. She’d discovered nothing new, except that Jed Rourke’s taste in women was sadly lacking.
A bit of afternoon tea would be nice, she decided, as Eden took her arm and led her into the dining room.
Fiona and another little girl, who appeared to be a tad older, played together on the floor. They each had two rag dolls, one for each hand. Two other women sat nearby, at one of the largest round tables in the room, talking over tea.
“Hannah Winters,” Eden said. The women at the table turned their attention to Jed’s sister. “This is Mary Reese”—a wave of
her hand indicated an attractive, plainly dressed woman with pale brown hair—“and Lily Salvatore.”
Lily Salvatore was a stunning woman, dark-haired and black-eyed. The cut of her gown was, well, not outrageous, but not prim, either.
“Hannah was on the stage with Jedidiah,” Eden said as she pulled out a chair for Hannah and then for herself. “They were robbed on the road between Ranburne and Rock Creek, but no one was hurt and most of their belongings were recovered.” She smiled. “Hannah is Rose’s sister.”
The knowledge of the upcoming trial dampened their enthusiasm at that bit of news, but they both smiled and greeted her warmly.
“And this is Georgie,” Eden finished, indicating the other little girl playing at their feet. “Mary’s daughter and Fiona’s very best friend.”
They talked the way good friends often did, finishing one another’s sentences, subjects overlapping, all talking at once, on occasion, and still they didn’t miss a beat. In a matter of minutes Hannah felt like she knew these women. Mary was warm and caring, a woman not easily flustered. Lily was the owner and a performer in Three Queens, the establishment across the street, and she had not been married long. Eden was cheerfully enthusiastic and unfailingly optimistic.
When talk turned to the upcoming trial, the mood sobered. “I still haven’t heard from Jo,” Mary said with a shake of her head. “I don’t even know if she’s received my letters, if she knows what happened to her father.”
“Do you think she’ll come back to Rock Creek, now that he’s dead?” Eden asked.
Mary shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Hannah listened intently. It seemed even Clancy’s own daughter wouldn’t have anything to do with him! Not that she blamed this Jo.
She had been silent through most of the get-together, but she felt compelled to add, during a lull in the conversation, “Baxter didn’t do it.”
Jed (The Rock Creek Six Book 4) Page 8
