Susan Amarillas

by Scanlin's Law

  “He’s thinking it over,” Merl returned, scraping his fork over fine china to get the last bit of frosting.

  “You know that I’m running for mayor,” Edward said flatly.

  Merl feigned surprise. “That’s right. I’d forgotten. Well, you haven’t declared yet, have you?”

  “No.”

  Merl nodded. “That’s why I’d forgotten.”

  “I had thought I would have your support.”

  “You’ll have the Times,” Merl countered.

  Rebecca spoke up. “Actually, he doesn’t.”

  Everyone looked surprised. “That is he would, certainly, if...I still owned the Times. I don’t. I sold it two days ago.”

  One could have heard a pin drop in the stunned silence.

  “But—”

  “How? When?”

  “Tell ‘em why, Becky,” Luke said.

  “I don’t care to explain my reasons. Suffice it to say it’s done. The sale is complete.”

  “Well,” Merl muttered. “I had no idea.”

  Edward cut in. “It’s all for the best, dear Rebecca. It’s been too much for you for a long time, and you’re better off out of it. Why, a woman of your delicate nature in such a harsh business...well, it’s just not right.”

  “Edward, really, I—” she began, then stopped, unwilling to discuss her anger and regret at having to surrender the paper. She would certainly have given all she owned, indeed her very life, to save her son.

  “Now, now, dear.” He patted her hand. “It’s not up to you to save this city. Let Frank Handley and that new syndicate handle things.” He cast a smug glance around the table. “They’ve already promised to support me, and—” he focused his attention on her “—when I’m mayor, you can count on me to see that there are changes made. Of course, as my wife, I’ll value your opinion.”

  Rebecca’s head snapped up. “Edward, I—”

  “It’s all right dear.” He patted her hand again. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but—” he grinned at the others present “—I’m certain I can trust these gentlemen to keep this confidential until we make a formal announcement at the party tomorrow night.”

  She hadn’t promised Edward, and yet, as she looked at Luke, she thought perhaps it was for the best. If she married Edward, quickly, then there would be no discussion. Perhaps Luke would be less inclined to press his paternal rights, perhaps he’d be less likely to come around, perhaps she’d be less likely to ache deep inside every time she saw him. If she gave in to Luke, if she allowed him to tell Andrew that he, not Nathan, was his father, then she would have to tell Ruth that her only grandson, her son’s only son, wasn’t.

  What was to be gained? She would not put her own desire before her son and, yes, even her dear mother-in-law.

  No. She would do without Luke. She would marry Edward and be done with it. It would solve a great many problems.

  With the thoughts still fresh in her mind, she said, “Yes, it’s true. Edward and I are to be married, though no date has been agreed to,” she said, as much for Edward as the others, “and we would prefer to make a formal announcement.”

  “The hell you are,” Luke said, his voice menacingly quiet.

  The silence was absolute.

  The men looked to Rebecca, a look of shock on every face.

  Rebecca’s head reeled and, before she could speak, Edward spoke up. “Scanlin, how dare you say such a thing! How dare you use such language in front of a lady! You have overstepped yourself, and we—” he emphasized the last word “—will not tolerate it.” He surged to his feet. With his hand on her elbow, he pulled Rebecca up and grabbed her jacket.

  They started away. Rebecca’s step faltered ever so slightly. She couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder, willing him to understand, willing him to forgive her, perhaps. She wasn’t certain. She only knew that this was the right thing for her to do.

  If she hadn’t looked back, if she hadn’t hesitated, Luke might have believed her. He might have believed that she genuinely cared for the man. But she did look back, and that was enough to tell him that she wasn’t certain, that she was remembering all that they had shared—including a son.

  And as he watched her walk away, a plan formed in his mind. It was direct. It was forceful. It was seduction—just as lush and carnal and erotic as he could make it.

  Because when they were together, when she let her guard down, the fire that flashed between them was hotter than summer lightning, and more dangerous.

  “Well, that certainly is a surprise,” Merl muttered, meaning more than the announcement. He sank back in his chair.

  “Agreed,” Robert said, as did John.

  Luke sat down again, his gaze still focused on the empty doorway they had disappeared through.

  John cleared his throat awkwardly. “I take it, then, Marshal, that you know Mrs. Tinsdale...and don’t approve of her plans.”

  “I know Mrs. Tinsdale very well, and no, I don’t approve of her plans.”

  “Why is that, Marshal? Edward Pollard—”

  “Is an egg-sucking—” He broke off, then started again. “He’s not the man for her, no matter what she thinks.”

  John chuckled, and Merl laughed.

  “Well, Marshal, I think it’s safe to say that we all agree. Mrs. Tinsdale is a fine lady, and Edward is...a royal jackass. He’s got political ambitions, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I heard. Did he think Rebecca would use the Times to help him?”

  “Probably,” Robert supplied. “Now that she’s sold it... You wouldn’t happen to know why she sold it, would you, Marshal?”

  “She sold it...” Because I didn’t have the ten thousand dollars she needed to save her son, he almost said, but didn’t. “Because it was the only way to raise the ransom money in cash in a couple of hours.”

  “Strange. Why didn’t Edward arrange for the money from the bank?”

  Luke studied him along the line of his shoulder. “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself. It’s almost as if he wanted her to sell the paper,” he mused.

  “Well, that’s obvious. You heard what he said. A lot of men feel a woman has no place running a business.”

  “Rebecca isn’t just any woman.”

  “Agreed,” John supplied. “She’s proven herself to be a capable editor, and her sense of fair play has won her a great deal of respect in this town. When Nathan died, we all thought she’d retire to a quieter life, being a widow and all. We were startled when she took over the Times.” He lounged back in his chair. “Truthfully, I gave her two months before she packed it in. Damned if she didn’t prove me wrong,” he added with admiration. “We’re going to miss her at the helm of the Times. She was doing a lot to bring attention to the corruption in this town.”

  Robert leaned in. “Well, Edward said some syndicate had taken over. We should talk to them, see how they feel.”

  Merl shook his head. “Sounds to me like they’ve already talked to Edward and are prepared to support him.”

  Luke’s brow drew down in a frown. “And you gentlemen aren’t?”

  “If we could find a better candidate, then, honestly...” Merl lowered his voice so that only those at the table could hear. “We would support someone else.”

  “Surely there must be someone else in this city to run for mayor,” Luke said.

  “You know how it is, Marshal. Everyone has an opinion of what’s wrong and even what to do about it, but no one wants to give up their precious time to actually do anything about it.”

  “What about one of you?” Luke asked pointedly.

  Merl chuckled. “We are as guilty as everyone else, I’m sorry to admit. We’ve all got businesses to run, and to be mayor would mean putting those businesses aside for years, if a person was serious about doing a good job. What we need is someone who doesn’t have business obligations, someone who’s honest, someone who has the best interests of San Francisco in mind.” He turned fully toward Luke. “We need someo
ne like you, Marshal.”

  “Whoa, now, wait a minute there.” He held up one hand. “I’ve got a job, thank you.”

  “Marshal,” Merl returned with a negligent wave of his hand. “You could quit.”

  Robert piped up. “Yes, why, half the town’s talking about the way you saved that boy.”

  “True,” John added eagerly. “Why, Marshal, you’re a hero, and heroes make wonderful candidates.”

  “No thanks,” Luke said firmly.

  “But, Marshal, we need you. You’d have our full support and...guidance.”

  “You mean you’d want to tell me what to do,” Luke returned bluntly. “When I do a job, gentlemen, I’m my own boss, and—”

  Merl cut across his words. “Perfect. Then you’ll do it!”

  “No. No. And no,” Luke said emphatically.

  “You said you’d think about it.” Merl reminded him. “It would mean settling down. Steady work...for a few years, anyway.” He chuckled. “Good salary, house to live in...”

  Luke dragged in a long breath and let it out slowly. If he wanted Rebecca, if he wanted his son, he’d need a home and a steady job that didn’t mean every time he went out he might not come back. Still, politics?

  “Just think about it,” John was saying. “Don’t make a hasty decision you’ll regret later.”

  Yeah, Luke thought, he knew about hasty decisions.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll think on it a couple of days, but I’m not—repeat, not—making any promises.”

  “Fair enough. We want some serious help with this Barbary Coast situation.”

  “You’re really serious about closing it down.”

  “Damned straight.” Merl helped himself to another cup of coffee from the silver pot on the table. “The Coast is an abomination. We’re not so naive as to think that men don’t need someplace to let off a little steam. But the Coast is a mess. There’s murder going on down there. Prostitution. Men being shanghaied. White slavery. No one’s doing anything to stop it. If this city is going to grow and expect the nation to take us seriously, then we’ve got to clean our own house. We’ve tried to get the mayor and Brody to listen, but they turn a deaf ear to all our complaints. We’re not alone in this. I can list close to thirty civic and community organizations that feel as we do.”

  “With so much support, why isn’t anything happening?”

  “Exactly what we’re wondering. There’s only two things that make any difference—power and money. We decided that with as much money as changes hands down there, money was the key. Short of calling out the vigilantes again like in ‘56, we decided instead to hire a man to investigate and see what he could come up with. After about two months, he noticed that every Friday night a man appeared and an envelope was exchanged. He followed the man, who seemed to be making rounds. He would go from one place to another, and each time, an envelope was exchanged.”

  “Who was the man?” Luke’s interest was piqued.

  “Don’t know,” John shook his head regretfully. “Our man, Collins, was following the messenger when he was waylaid in an alley and beaten pretty bad. After that, he refused to go back.”

  “Can’t blame him for that,” Luke told them.

  “Oh, no, we were disappointed, but we understood.”

  “Did you hire someone else?”

  “No. It’s difficult to know who to trust. Besides, that was only a week ago, and we haven’t had time.”

  “Collins,” Luke repeated thoughtfully.

  “Yes. You want his address?”

  “Please. I think I’ll pay Mr. Collins a visit, and then...” He stood, picking up his hat as he did. “I’ll think about your suggestion, gentlemen.” He took the piece of paper John handed him with Collins’s address on it and slid it into his trousers pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”

  With that, he left. Now he had two plans, and they both required some preparation.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After a jubilant Edward left, Rebecca went into the kitchen and made herself a steaming cup of tea.

  “Are you really going to marry him?” Ruth’s question was blunt. She joined Rebecca at the kitchen table and helped herself to a cup of tea from the pot.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why? You’ve never seemed interested before. Not in him. Not in anyone.”

  Rebecca didn’t answer for a moment. She looked down into the half-full cup, then up and beyond Ruth, through the kitchen window, to the bare branches of the oak tree outside. “It’s time,” she said into the cool air.

  “One doesn’t usually get married on a schedule, or is there a rush of some sort?” They were friends, more than relatives, and they’d shared almost everything since Nathan died. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell. Edward asked, and I said yes.”

  “He’s asked before.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment before Ruth spoke again. “Of course, all the other times there was no Marshal Scanlin in the picture, so to speak.”

  “He’s not in the picture now.”

  “Then why the rush? You’ve turned Edward down at least twice, and then the marshal shows up...” She let the implication hang between them.

  “I want to settle down. I want a home for Andrew, with a mother and a...father.”

  Ruth sipped at her tea. “And you think Edward is the right man for the job?”

  Rebecca didn’t answer. The silence spoke volumes.

  “Does Luke know?” Ruth said very softly.

  “Yes. He was at the luncheon today when Edward made the announcement.”

  Ruth arched one brow. “Did he...say anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought he might have something to say, some opinion.” She toyed with her cup. “He seems to care for you and for Andrew. And Andrew likes him a lot.”

  “I know.”

  “I like him, too. He’s a good man, Rebecca.”

  “I thought so, too...once.”

  “Not now? Why?”

  Rebecca pushed the cup and saucer away from her. “I don’t know.” She looked away. “I knew him a long time ago. We were both different. We were both young and impulsive and—”

  “In love,” Ruth supplied.

  Rebecca’s eyes came up slowly to meet Ruth’s gaze. “It was a lifetime ago.”

  “He still loves you, you know. He didn’t tell me that, of course, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. He loves you, all right. Take my word for it.”

  “There’ve been a lot of mistakes made in the name of love. Promises made and believed, all in the name of love. People get hurt.”

  “Ah...” Ruth gave a knowing nod. “So you’re looking to play it safe, are you?”

  “Yes” came her emphatic answer.

  “Well, it’s up to you, but—” she stood and carried her cup and saucer over to the sink “—I can tell you that anything worth having has a risk attached. I’ve never seen it otherwise.” She put the dishes in the sink and turned back to Rebecca. “I’ve also never known you to be afraid.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  “Maybe I know you better than you think. As a matter of fact, you’d be surprised at the things I know.” She walked out of the kitchen.

  * * *

  Luke was angry when he left the luncheon. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. She was trying to put him off, to put up another barrier between them. She was trying to protect Andrew.

  He knew all that, and he was still plain damned angry. No, he wasn’t hurt or confused. He was angry—gut-twisting, fist-curling angry. She wasn’t going to get away with this. Yes, he knew it would be awkward to tell Andrew the truth. Yes, he knew there were risks, knew there was scandal to be avoided. But this was his son they were talking about, and his woman.

  Yes, she was his. He was in love wi
th her, and he damned well wasn’t walking away this time. And neither was she. They were going to be together. Luke Scanlin and Rebecca Parker, the way it should have been.

  He made two stops, at the tailor’s and the mercantile, before heading for the investigator’s office. It took only a few minutes conversation to learn that the pickup man made his rounds every Friday night, late, about one in the morning. The investigator had followed the man as far as Blood Alley, then lost him. That was when the lights had gone out.

  Luke got the names of the saloons on the list and a wish for good luck from the man.

  * * *

  Luke sat at a corner table in Fat Daugherty’s saloon. He’d been here before, and the bartender seemed to recognize him as a repeat visitor. No one seemed aware of his identity or why he was here.

  He played a little poker, coming out only a little the worse for wear after a couple of hours. All the while, he kept his eye on the bar.

  By midnight, he relinquished his chair at the poker table and moved to a secluded place in the corner. From there he could watch the doors and the bartender easily.

  He was working on beer tonight. This was his fourth mug. It wasn’t much better than the rotgut. This looked like horse piss and tasted about the same. But he was less likely to get sick from it or have a hangover tomorrow.

  And tomorrow he needed a clear head. Tomorrow he was going to see Rebecca. Only she didn’t know it, not yet.

  Along about one-fifteen, Luke spotted a man in a black suit striding purposefully to the bar, pushing his way through the crowd as he did. Judging by the bartender’s expression, the man wasn’t asking for a drink.

  The man said something that was impossible to hear over the noise. Grim-faced, the bartender nodded and produced a brown envelope, which he forked over to the man, who tucked it inside his jacket pocket, then turned and left.

  Luke got up slowly and made his way through the crowd. By the time he got outside, the man had disappeared. Damn.

  Luke scanned the area. Where the hell had he gone so fast? Jesus, a whole night wasted. He was about to step off the sidewalk when a man, the same man, nearly knocked him down as he rode out of the alley and headed north on Grant.