Touching his heels to his mount, Jacob turned the animal toward the boardinghouse. He had to retrieve a few things from his office, but first he wanted to talk to Lettie. He needed to warn her about Ethan McGuire.
Moving silently across the garret, Ethan peered out the window into the sunlight. Though he couldn’t see anyone near the house, he sensed the presence of the lawmen who’d stayed behind to search. Their nearness did not dissuade him from his course of action, however. He would simply have to be especially careful in leaving.
Waiting until he heard a babble of voices from the dining room, Ethan slipped into the hall and down the back stairs. Only once was he nearly caught, when an older woman bustled into the room, retrieved a pot of coffee, then left. Within moments, Ethan had slipped outside and into the barn. Unsheathing his revolver, he ducked behind the tack-room door and waited.
Barely five minutes had passed before Ned Abernathy stepped into the barn to retrieve the horse and buggy. Ethan waited until the younger man had bent down to set his sample cases on the ground, then Ethan crept up behind him and snapped an arm around his neck.
Ned jerked and grasped at the arm that held him until, without warning, Ethan released him. The younger man whirled. He froze for only a moment before he swore and snatched his hat from his head. “Dammit all to hell, Ethan! You nearly scared the life out of me!”
“Hello, Ned.”
Ned regarded him stiffly, his pale gray eyes growing brittle, his jaw hardening. “What are you doing here?”
Ethan took a deep breath, but he was less than surprised by the other man’s unenthusiastic welcome. After all, he and Ned had been rivals as children. And nothing much had changed in the last few years—which was the reason Ethan had journeyed to Madison: to see if his younger stepbrother had decided to enact some tardy measure of revenge.
When Ethan didn’t answer him right away, Ned glanced over either shoulder, as if fearing someone might overhear their conversation, then demanded, “What do you want?”
Ethan sighed. “I certainly haven’t come to argue.”
Ned eyed him with disapproval. “I thought you were supposed to be in Nebraska, working on that farm.”
Ethan shrugged, knowing that Ned was referring to the employment he’d taken on a potato farm in Nebraska to help pay for the fines levied against him by the governor when the man had offered him a pardon. For two years, Ethan had worked in the sun and the rain—hard, back-breaking labor—all in an attempt to earn a measure of the peace and self-respect he’d known before becoming the Gentleman. But a month earlier, to his surprise, Ethan had been approached by one of the governor’s former aides to work as a private security specialist for one of the state’s most prestigious banks.
Since Ned seemed far from inclined to listen to any long explanations, Ethan merely stated, “I quit. I was offered another position.” When Ned didn’t speak, Ethan continued: “The Wallaby bank in Chicago wants to hire me as a… security specialist. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Ned merely stared, his expression stiff and proud.
Ethan gazed at his stepbrother for a moment. It had been years since he’d seen him. Ned was a little taller than Ethan—characteristics inherited from different parents—but he still had the same stubborn expression that Ethan saw in his own mirror each morning. And the coolness in his eyes Ethan remembered only too well.
Finally, Ethan broke away from the younger man’s gaze and crossed to the door of the barn, opening it a slit, and peered outside. “How is Mama?” he asked quietly.
A beat of silence passed before Ned answered. “Worried. She’s still upset with me because I left Princeton and moved to Madison to take a job drumming with Goldsmith. She still doesn’t understand that I need to make my own way in the world, pay my own debts. She thinks I’ve sown enough wild oats.” His tone grew bitter. “She wants us both back in Chicago. She wants us to be a family.”
“We’re not a family.” A biting edge coated Ethan’s words, and he sought for control.
As always, the thought of his stepfather filled Ethan with a rush of painful memories. Ethan was twelve when his father died of consumption, fifteen when his mother had married Rucker Abernathy. From the beginning, Ethan had hated the man—and his family. None of them were worthy of his mother’s affections, he’d thought. And unfortunately, he’d been right. Within a few years, Rucker Abernathy had nearly driven the family mercantile into the ground. Then suddenly he’d disappeared, leaving behind the children from his first marriage and the McGuires’ empty bank account.
“Things have changed at home,” Ned insisted.
Ethan snorted in disbelief and closed the door.
“My father has changed, Ethan. And he loves Lillian. He’s truly sorry for what he did. You should learn to forgive and forget.”
Ethan threw Ned a hard look. “For my mother’s sake, I hope he’s sorry. Sorry as hell. For my sake, I don’t give a damn. Mama was always more Christian than I ever was. Maybe she can forgive him, but I can’t. And I can’t live near them and pretend otherwise. He may be your blood father, but he’s not mine.”
What shimmered in the air unspoken between them was the fact that as soon as Rucker Abernathy had absconded with the family fortune, Ethan had begun to steal. First, as a means to support his mother, who had been forced to take a job as a clerk in the family business; then, as a means to show Rucker just how far Ethan was prepared to go to demonstrate his rebellion and disgust.
By the time Rucker had returned with a fortune made from mining in the West, Ethan had developed a name for himself—the Gentleman Bandit. He’d become the scourge of Illinois, robbing at least ninety percent of the banks in the state at least once, some as often as half a dozen times. And he’d refused to give up his “habit.” Especially when Rucker had discovered his escapades and Ethan saw the way the man lived each day in fear that Ethan would be caught and Rucker’s shaky position in society would crumble.
It wasn’t until a few years later, when Rucker told Lillian what Ethan had done to support the family, that Ethan began to realize his actions had been hurting himself more than they’d ever hurt Rucker Abernathy. Before he knew she was even aware of his activities, Lillian had approached the governor, then had come to Ethan with a possible pardon. By that time, Ethan had realized he would do anything to regain his self-respect. But more than that, he would do anything to have his mother look at him again with pride.
From that moment on, he’d vowed to follow the governor’s stipulations to the letter. Ethan had signed a confession of all the crimes he had committed, then promised that for five years he would stay out of trouble, work at an honest job, and repay a portion of the money he’d stolen. Each time he’d been tempted to stray, he’d remembered the look on his mother’s face when she’d slipped from the shadows of the carriage house just as Ethan had returned from stealing twenty thousand dollars in greenbacks from the Chicago Mortgage and Thrift.
That memory caused Ethan to wince. Was it any wonder he hadn’t been home in nearly five years? Why he’d purposely chosen to work out of state at menial jobs? When he next saw Lillian McGuire, he wanted to face her as a whole man. One with honor and self-respect. One who had served his penance, even if he hadn’t gone to jail.
“Mama is happy, Ethan. She wants you to come back. To live with us.”
“She wants something I can’t give her,” Ethan stated bitterly. “If I went back, I’d spend every waking moment hating your father. And he would always hate me for reminding him of the fact that I’m not his son—yet I resorted to thievery, just to feed my mother and his children!” Ethan paused before adding, “But that shouldn’t keep you from staying at home and enjoying your father’s new-found wealth.” His voice took on an edge of suspicion. “What brings you here to Madison, Ned?”
Ned’s gray eyes became masked and enigmatic. “I’ve got my reasons.”
Ethan leveled a piercing gaze on his younger stepbrother. “Such as masquerading as the Gentleman Ba
ndit?”
“No!”
“You knew my methods as well as I knew them myself.”
The air about them hung heavy with suspicion. Ethan had only been stealing for a few months when he’d needed an alibi and had been forced to take Ned into his confidence. Soon Ned had learned every technique Ethan had ever employed. Which was why Ethan had come to find him. If anyone could copy Ethan’s methods to the letter, it would be Ned.
“Is that why you came here?” Ned parried.
“Yes.”
“I’m not responsible.”
“Dammit, Ned, you’re the only one who could know so much!”
“I’m not responsible!”
“You always hated me when we were young.”
Ned paled slightly. “I didn’t hate you,” he whispered. But they both knew that wasn’t true. At first Ned had hated Ethan because he’d been forced to share a father. When Rucker left, Ned had hated him because Ethan refused to let “little Ned” join him during his robbing sprees. After a time, Ned had hated Ethan for reminding him of things he would rather have forgotten—like a father who had deserted him, and tainted money.
Silence cloaked the barn, disturbed by nothing more than the soft whisper of straw drifting to earth from the loft. The tension in Ned’s body relaxed ever so slightly.
“Mama writes about you a lot.”
Ethan tried to deny the pleasure-pain he felt at the words.
“She’s tried to get hold of you, but you never returned her letters.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to write to her?”
Ethan’s hands clenched into fists. “I was busy breaking my back on a potato farm so that I could pay the fines the governor levied against me. It doesn’t give a man too much time to write to his mother.”
“You could have made the time.”
Ethan pierced his brother with a proud stare. “You of all people should have known I couldn’t write to Mama. Not like that.”
“Not until you’d finished your penance?”
For once, Ned’s voice was free from its usual bite of sibling bitterness, and Ethan was grateful. He looked away for a moment, uncomfortable with just how much he’d revealed to his stepbrother.
“Ethan…” Ned hesitated a moment. “She received word that the governor is threatening to rescind the offer of your pardon.”
Ethan’s head jerked up. “Like hell!”
“He thinks you’re behind the latest rash of robberies attributed to the Gentleman Bandit.”
“I have ironclad alibis for nearly every one of those robberies!”
“He thinks you’ve trained an accomplice.”
“An accomplice?” Ethan repeated the words with a twinge of dread. If the governor thought he was training a successor, proving his innocence would be nearly impossible. Even if he had alibis for every single robbery, the governor could simply claim he’d sent his accomplice to the scene.
A searing imprecation tore from Ethan’s lips when he realized his innocence would be all but impossible to prove. “Damn, I haven’t even set so much as my little toe inside a bank in five years!”
“Maybe you should turn yourself in to the authorities and explain.”
“Explain what?” he whispered fiercely. “Explain that I’m not responsible for the last six robberies, even though I was in the area when half of them occurred?” He shook his head. “Even with a dozen ironclad alibis, I couldn’t go to the authorities now. They’d simply think I was protecting my accomplice.” He heaved a rough sigh.
“There’s more, Ethan.”
He leveled a piercing glance on his younger stepbrother. “Somehow I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever you’re about to say.”
Ned shook his head. “A few months ago some of your things were stolen from the house.” He took a deep breath. “Mama was notified nearly a week ago that your gold watch had been found.”
“So?”
“It was found on the floor of the Eastbrook bank after the robbery. The authorities think you dropped it there before exploding the safe.”
“Dammit!”
“The watch isn’t common knowledge yet, but the authorities were notified and sent sketches of your face.”
He hesitated, and Ethan sensed he still hadn’t heard the last of his stepbrother’s bad news.
Ned slipped his hand beneath the edge of his jacket and withdrew a tattered piece of paper from the inner pocket. “Do you remember the photograph Mama keeps on her highboy?”
Ethan nodded. It was the last picture taken of Ethan before he’d begun his career as the Gentleman.
“The night the watch was taken, she woke to find this tacked to the frame.” Ned reluctantly held out the slip of paper. His eyes had grown darker, grayer, and even more inscrutable.
Ethan’s fingers unfolded the paper, then paused. For a moment, he gazed at the eight-sided star in confusion. Then his eyes noted the initials in the center: SCJ.
“The Star Council of Justice?” he muttered slowly, already familiar with the vigilante group’s method of retaliation. Though their motives might seem noble if viewed from the surface, their methods of punishment amounted to little more than cold-blooded murder. The only way to escape their wrath was to surrender to the law. But since the law was on his tail, too, Ethan couldn’t even seek protection from the courts.
He took a deep breath, and the paper crumpled between his fingers. The time had come for him to cut his losses.
Ethan crossed toward his stepbrother and held out his hand. “Take care of yourself, Ned.”
Ned glanced at him in surprise. “Where are you going?”
“Mexico. Canada.”
“You won’t solve anything by running!”
“Someone is trying to see me hanged, little brother. And I’m not about to be led like a lamb to the slaughter.”
The muted clang of a pail caused both men to start. Gesturing with his head, Ethan motioned for Ned to hitch the buggy and drive into the sunshine. After Ned had gone, Ethan peered around the edge of the door. A shiver of relief slid down his spine when he realized it was Lettie who approached the barn.
Though he knew he should leave, Ethan waited in the cool shadows of the tack room as Lettie fed the chickens, then gathered her pail and stepped into the barn. “Hello, Lettie,” he murmured.
She stiffened, then finally turned.
Her nut-brown eyes became wide. Her hands tightened around the handles of her pail. “I thought you’d gone.”
Ethan reached to draw the door closed, then walked toward her, his boots rasping in the straw. To his surprise, she didn’t seem afraid. In fact, her gaze was steady and intent.
“No. I haven’t gone yet.”
The silence hung between them. Thick. Warm. Then she asked bluntly, “Who are you, Ethan McGuire?”
Lettie noted the way he stiffened at the use of his name. “You’ve been talking to your brother.”
She nodded.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing.”
He evidently read more into her reply than she’d intended, because he took a step forward. “But he warned you about me, didn’t he?”
She watched him advance, and a curious warmth entered her veins. Her breathing became slightly irregular, causing the firm curves of her breasts to push against the pinafore bib of her apron. “Yes.”
“What did he say?”
She kept her shoulders straight, her chin proud. “He said he thought you were probably a thief. Or a murderer.”
Ethan drew nearer, his eyes narrowing.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“I’m surprised,” he added, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Since he’s deciding on a past for me, I’d have thought he would embellish things a little, come up with something a little more creative. Course, I guess thief and murderer covers just about everything, doesn’t it?”
Ethan was only a few steps away now and closing the dis
tance.
“And what do you think, Lettie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think I’ve killed? Do you think I’ve stolen?”
He was so close now that she could smell the faint scent of soap on his skin. A trembling awareness began deep within her. Trying not to let him see his effect on her, she bent to place the pail on the ground.
“I scare you, don’t I, Lettie?”
She straightened and met his gaze. “No.”
He took another step, and he was so close now that she could feel the heat from his body, see the tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip. But she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of the way she responded to him.
As if he’d sensed a portion of her thoughts, Ethan closed the scant distance between them. His gaze grew warm and intense. “I can feel you trembling. Why? Because you think I’ll hurt you?”
He stood so close now that Lettie couldn’t move without brushing some part of his body in the process.
“No. I—”
“You don’t think I’ll hurt you?” His hand lifted to cup her cheek, forcing her to look up at him.
“No.” The word was a garbled whisper.
“Why?” He took another step, and his thighs pressed against her skirts. “Because you’re Jacob Grey’s little sister?” His voice grew unconsciously hard, and Lettie caught a shred of bitterness deep in his eyes. “If anything, your relationship to Jacob Grey should give you more reason to fear me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she stated again—more firmly this time.
Ethan regarded her intently, evidently surprised by her refusal to cower under his harsh words.
“Then perhaps you should fear me, Lettie Grey.” His glance flicked to the curves of her lips and seemed to linger there. “You should run a hundred miles from me, because I’m the kind of man you should never admit to knowing.”
“Why?” She tried to give the word the same degree of firmness she’d used before, but the tone of her voice emerged with a breathless quality. He was standing so close to her now. So close.
Silken Dreams Page 8
