Deep in the Heart of Trouble

by Deeanne Gist

  Her first instinct was to ignore him and keep going, but some sixth sense made her turn back around to face him.

  “I met him while I was in Austin at the Sheriff’s Association Convention.” His thumb moved to the open neckline and chin of the figure. “His name is Adam Currington.”

  Her breath caught. She glanced again at the men in the cells.

  One snored. The others lay sprawled out in various positions, either asleep or unconscious from too much drink.

  The deputy looked up. “Ever heard of him?”

  She said nothing.

  “ ’Cause he sure as shootin’ has heard o’ you.”

  Swallowing, she forced down her panic. Surely Adam would not have betrayed her deepest, most carefully guarded secret. He might not be an honorable man, but he wasn’t cruel or unfeeling.

  “Mr. Currington’s a sheriff now?” she asked.

  Howard chuckled. “No, no. I ran into him at a—while I was uptown, not at the convention.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “I’d only just met him that evening. I entered a local establishment and settled myself down by a few friendly lookin’ fellas, one of whom was Currington. When they found out I was from Corsicana, they asked if I knew that bicycle gal from the papers. Before I could answer, Currington piped up, saying he knew you … quite well.”

  She kept her expression carefully blank.

  He encircled the statuette in his hand more securely and began to rub his stubby finger across its chest. “Since you and he are so, um, close, you prob’ly know liquor seems to loosen his tongue a mite.

  Makes him say things that would be best kept to himself.”

  Apprehension welled within her.

  He slid his thumb down the figurine and began caressing the hem of its skirt. “When I think o’ the mistake I almost made with you.” He shook his head. “I can’t bear the thought of lettin’ another man fall into your trap.”

  “My trap?”

  He set the china ornament back on the desk, then directed his full attention to her. “Oh yes, Essie. I know all about ya. I’d heard the rumors, o’ course, but Currington, who was evidently run out of this town on a rail a few years back, confirmed every tale I ever heard and then some.”

  Her lips parted. She’d thought Adam Currington was beyond hurting her anymore. She began to realize, however, that was not the case, as a fresh sense of betrayal rose within her yet again.

  “And I think it’s my civic duty to warn your fee-yon-say so he doesn’t suffer the same fate.” Standing, Howard hitched up his trousers. “O’ course, if you could convince me that Currington was lying … or maybe take a stroll with me one evening real soon so we could, um, discuss the matter …”

  She gasped. “How dare you!”

  “Oh, keep yer knickers on.” He leered. “Though it won’t bother me none if’n ya don’t. Either way, I’m free on Tuesday. Perhaps I could meet ya out behind yer place, say, around midnight?”

  Shoving the hurt aside, she straightened to her full height. “You are wasting your breath, Mr. Howard. You’ll find I’m not one to quail in the face of a bully.”

  “That so?” He walked to the big window fronting the office. “Wonder what the townsfolk would think about both their judge and sheriff harboring a strumpet?”

  She sucked in her breath.

  “Wonder how many members you’d have left in that club o’ yours if’n the matrons of this town learned the truth about their leader?”

  Whirling around, she charged to the door. “I will not listen to this.”

  He sidestepped in front of her, thrusting his arm across the doorway and blocking her way. “You will listen, you uppity little tart.”

  “All I’ve to do is tell my uncle and you’ll be out of a job.”

  “You do that and I’ll see your reputation ruined before you can spit three times.”

  “I doubt anyone would believe you.”

  “You think not? Not everybody around here kisses the ground your uncle and father walk on. And you can be sure their reputations would suffer plenty. They are, after all, elected officials by the trusting citizens of this fine town. And don’t underestimate what yer beau’s reaction is going to be, either. Not too many men I know of want used goods.”

  She tried to duck under his arm.

  He grabbed her and slammed her against the wall. “I want a piece of what you gave Currington.”

  “Release me this minute, and if you threaten me again I’ll not only tell Tony, I’ll tell my uncle and father, too. Just watch me if you don’t believe me.”

  He studied her as if gauging her sincerity. “You tell Tony and you can kiss your wedding day good-bye.” He ran a finger from her ear to her chin. “Besides, there’s no need to tell anybody anything. It’s just one little stroll I’m wantin’, Essie. Which is no more than you gave Currington.” He loosened his hold, stepped back and winked.

  “See ya Tuesday, sugar.”

  chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  COASTING TOWARD home, Essie took note of the late—or early—hour. The first light of dawn had touched the sky and set off a chain of events she ordinarily delighted in. A yellow-and-pink sky framed the hundreds of stark, towering derricks that formed Corsicana’s landscape. Songbirds flitted from rig to rig and tree to tree, announcing that this was a day the Lord had made and all should rejoice and be glad in it.

  Rejoicing was the furthest thing from her mind, however. She, Anna, and Ewing had spent the entire night looking for Tony. But without success. And as troubling as that was, it was her confrontation with the deputy that had unsettled her the most.

  She refused to be blackmailed by him. But if she didn’t do as he said, he’d reveal her secret to the entire town. Were that to happen, the effects on her father and uncle could be devastating—not to mention what Tony’s reaction would be.

  The only thing to do, then, was to call Howard’s bluff and confess to Tony. And the sooner the better. That was turning out to be a bit difficult, however, seeing as she couldn’t find him.

  The knot in her stomach tightened. Where was he? Anna said it wasn’t like him to disappear like this and not tell the family where he was going. Her mood softened a bit at the thought of Anna. What a surprise she had been. Not at all the pampered little rich girl Essie had expected. Hardheaded, passionate, and fiercely loyal to Tony, she’d been tireless in their search for him.

  And Ewing. Preacher Ewing. Essie smiled. As a youngster, she had spent many a day with him hunting all manner of creatures. And all those hours of hunting together had come back in a rush, allowing them to work with efficiency and thoroughness. Yet even then they couldn’t locate Tony.

  Where is he, Lord? Where is he?

  Surely he wouldn’t have left town. Would he? But she could think of no other explanation. There wasn’t a rock in all of Corsicana that she, Anna, and Ewing had left unturned.

  Opening her gate, she dragged herself down the walkway and leaned Peg against the porch.

  “Where have you been?”

  Squealing in fright, Essie jumped back. She glanced up on the porch, then felt a rush of joy and relief, quickly followed by anger.

  “Tony!” She raced up the steps. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Where on earth have you been?”

  “Where have I been? I’ve been right here. For hours—once I cooled off, that is. Wondering where the devil you’ve been.” He pointed at the front door. “I spent forever throwing rocks at your window, until one actually broke the glass and went all the way through. Nobody could’ve slept through that. And that’s when I realized you weren’t home. I’ve been waiting for you ever since.”

  He still wore his racing outfit minus the red sash and beret. His hair lay in disarray. A full night’s growth of whiskers shadowed his face.

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” she said. “There we were looking every which way, and you were right here on my very porch the entire time. Anna and Ewing must have just missed y
ou when they came by here to check.”

  “Anna? Anna stayed out all night, too? And in Ewing’s company? She can’t be doing that, Essie. What were the two of you thinking?”

  She propped her hands on her waist. “Don’t you dare lecture me, Tony Bryant Morgan. I’ve just spent the longest night of my life looking for you and I’m not about to take any sass over it. You had the three of us worried to death.”

  “About what?”

  “About where you were. And how you were. And if you were okay.” She ran her gaze over him. “Are you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  She smiled. “Anything else?”

  “My knuckles are pretty sore.”

  She walked to him and lifted his scuffed-up hand to her lips, anointing it with a kiss. “Come inside and I’ll take care of this for you.” She moved to the door and held it open. “You coming?”

  “It’s awfully early for me to be paying a call.”

  “Probably so, but I think it’ll be okay. Just this once.”

  Bone tired, Tony lowered himself into a bentwood chair at Essie’s kitchen table. She lit a fire in the stove, set a pot on to boil, then grabbed a couple of cloths and a bottle of arnica.

  Placing her rag over the mouth of the bottle, she tipped it upside down, dousing the cloth with liquid, then held her palm out. “Let me see your hand.”

  He rested his hand in hers while she pulled a chair up beside him and began to dab the cuts and bruises.

  “I’m sorry, Essie.”

  She looked up. “For worrying me?”

  “For losing the race.”

  “I don’t care about that silly race, Tony.” She returned her attention to what she was doing.

  He knew that was a lie, but he didn’t feel like arguing. She moistened her rag again.

  “Did Anna say anything about Darius?” he asked. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s mad about his tooth and has a black eye, but other than that, sounds like he’ll recover just fine.”

  After wetting the cloth time and again, she finally upended the tincture and poured it out onto the rag.

  “I haven’t fought him since we were kids,” he said.

  She attended a particularly tender spot, but he held himself still, careful not to show any signs of discomfort.

  “He never even swung back,” he said. “Not once.”

  She gently cleaned some dried blood from his knuckles, set the rag down and blew on the places she’d doctored.

  “I wish you’d say something.”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes soft. “I love you.”

  His throat started working.

  She put the stopper back on the bottle.

  “Essie?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I love you, too.”

  She smiled. Not a big, hearty smile. But a small, quiet one. Like she was being told something that she already knew.

  Leaning over, he took hold of her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “Will you marry me soon? I don’t want a long engagement.”

  “I’ll marry you whenever you say the word.”

  Gathering her close, he kissed her. Only, this kiss wasn’t hot with passion like the one yesterday morning. This one was slower. Gentler. More of a sharing. Of her heart. Of his love. And it affected him even more than the other one.

  “Essie Spreckelmeyer! Get off that man’s lap this instant!”

  Essie jumped to her feet, color rushing to her face.

  Judge Spreckelmeyer stood in his nightdress, his pale, white shins and bare feet poking out the bottom. He looked back and forth at the two of them. “Has he been here all night?!”

  “No!” she said. “I mean, not exactly. Not like you mean.”

  Standing, Tony picked up the cloth and tincture of arnica and handed it to her. “I was on your porch, sir.”

  “All night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “With Essie?”

  “No, sir. Alone.”

  He looked at Essie. “And where were you? Why are you still wearing yesterday’s clothes?”

  “I was with Anna and Ewing. We were looking for Tony. I didn’t realize he was here waiting on me.”

  Spreckelmeyer set his mouth into a stern line. “Well, I don’t care what age you are or whether the two of you are betrothed. His staying on our porch all night and coming inside the house before I’ve even made a trip out back simply isn’t done, and you know it!”

  “Papa—”

  “You’re absolutely right, sir,” Tony said, interrupting her. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.” He turned to Essie. “I’ll stop by later to pick you up for church.”

  She slammed the medicinals on the table. “Now, wait just one minute. Nothing improper happened, Papa. That kiss was the first time he’s so much as touched me since yesterday morning. I won’t have him running off with his tail between his legs like he’s done something wrong.”

  Tony clasped her hand. “I did do something wrong, Essie. I came inside the house while your father was sleeping and at an hour no decent fella should.”

  Her lower lip curled down in a sweet pout. “I was gonna make you breakfast.”

  The picture of her cooking for him at the brush of dawn filled his mind. “The first time you make a morning meal for me, Essie, your name will be Mrs. Morgan.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up at the usual time.” Stepping toward the archway, he nodded at Spreckelmeyer. “Sir.”

  The judge stepped out of the way and Tony left the house, his spirit renewed, his step light.

  Knocking on the Spreckelmeyers’ doorframe a few hours later, Tony peeked through the screen, wondering which hat Essie would be wearing to church. He heard a door slam, then her booted feet run to the top of the stairs.

  To his surprise, she jumped onto the banister, slid down on her backside, and landed square in front of him, her smile happy and wide, her hat tall and sassy.

  Shoving open the screen, he stepped in, grabbed her around the waist and kissed her just as he’d been thinking about doing ever since he’d left this morning.

  “I wanted to do that the first time I ever saw you sliding down that thing,” he murmured against her lips.

  She ran her fingernails along the nape of his neck. “I don’t think you would have received the same response from me then as you are now.”

  He chuckled. “No, I guess not.”

  Spreckelmeyer’s study door opened and Tony released her, putting a proper distance between them.

  Essie tugged on her gloves. “Tony’s here, Papa. You ready?” She glanced up at her father’s silence.

  He wasn’t even close to being ready. He was only in shirt, trousers, and suspenders. No vest. No tie. No jacket. No hat.

  “Papa? Are you feeling poorly?”

  Before he could answer, the sheriff stepped out into the hall as well. He wasn’t dressed for church, either. In fact, he looked as if he’d never even gone to bed.

  With the town as full of rowdies as it was, it wouldn’t have surprised Tony. But since he’d moved to Corsicana, he’d never known the sheriff to miss a Sunday service. Not once.

  “What’s the matter?” Essie asked.

  Tony considered making a polite withdrawal, but whatever news they had to give, it clearly wasn’t good and he wanted to be with her when she received it.

  Spreckelmeyer must have guessed as much, because he indicated the four of them should move into the parlor and take a seat.

  Tony escorted Essie around a green-and-gold ottoman before settling her on the settee beneath a huge painting of an English fox hunt with hunters in full riding habits, restraining their anxious horses.

  Joining her, he threaded his hand with hers.

  Spreckelmeyer and Dunn sat in chairs opposite them. Neither said a word for several moments. The sheer white curtains along the front wall stirred, but the breeze was not sufficient enough to be felt inside the room.

  “You’re sca
ring me, Papa,” Essie said as the silence stretched on. “What is it?”

  Spreckelmeyer rested his elbows on his knees, then looked up at Tony. “Son,” he said, “your brother was found dead in his hotel room this morning.”

  Essie gasped.

  “What?” Tony asked, frowning and confused.

  Spreckelmeyer said nothing, just looked at him with compassion and sympathy.

  Tony turned to the sheriff. “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s dead, Tony.”

  Shock, disbelief, and bewilderment stacked up so fast, he couldn’t even think of where to begin. “How? He’s in excellent health.”

  The older men looked at each other, their glances telling.

  White-hot panic shot through Tony. “Sweet saints above.” His breath stuck in his throat. “From that punch? He died from that punch I gave him yesterday?”

  “No, no,” Spreckelmeyer said.

  Relief poured through Tony, but he still felt sick to his stomach. “Then how? How did he die?”

  “He was murdered.”

  Tony’s lips parted. “Murdered? What are you talking about?”

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “He was stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?” Tony shook his head. “That can’t be. How did that happen? Who did it?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Essie squeezed Tony’s hand. He felt the blood drain from his face. “My mother and sister? Were they harmed?”

  “No.”

  He expelled a breath. “Have they been told about Darius?”

  “Yes.”

  He released Essie’s hand and stood. “I need to go.”

  The sheriff stood, as well, and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “They’re all right. Preacher Wortham is with them.”

  Tony frowned. “But Wortham has church this morning.” The absurdity of him worrying about who was going to preach the Sunday service sounded strange even to his own ears. But if the others in the room thought so, they didn’t give any indication.