by Caryl McAdoo
“Wow. Delicious. I have never tasted anything like it.” He tilted his tumbler again just in case a drop remained. Pauleen quickly refilled it the moment he set it down. He tipped his head in a thank you. “Tell me, what does this liquid gold sell for?”
She reared her eyebrows and shoulders then let them fall. “Last we heard, forty a pint, but that was years ago. Sister and I don’t bother with the business end. We just spend the profits and drink the whiskey.”
“Every month. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Well, Sister, we don’t spend all the money every month.”
Claudia turned toward Charley. “It builds up so fast, but we do enjoy traveling and love adding to our library.”
Shaking his head in agreement and understanding, he took another bite, happy to wash it down with the smoothest—and only—liquor he’d ever enjoyed. Perhaps he should reconsider leaving.
Appeared the ladies had plenty of coin. And he hated the thought of not sharing their inheritance. He finished off his desert then drained his glass.
“That was absolutely wonderful, dear ladies. Thank you truly. I best turn in.”
“No, not so early!”
“We never stop with one! Or two. There’s more apples. Stay, please. Tell us about your day.” Pauleen poured his glass practically all the way to the top, three fingers if it was…if it was…oh, never matter what it was.
Claudia refilled his cup with sweet apples again, too. “Have you made any progress, in whatever it is you’re doing?”
He’d been wrestling with that very thing. Folks acted as though Pinkerton employed him, or worse, that hunting Harold Longstreet was like looking for a nail in a hay stack. He took a few sips while batting the notion around. “Can I trust you, ladies?”
“Surely you jest, dear Charles. Of course you can.” Pauleen patted his forearm.
Her sister agreed without touching him. “We’ve never ever broken a confidence.”
“She’s right. We do not tell tales out of pocket.”
Took him three more refills to tell the sisters why he’d traveled to Albany. From his first kiss, all the way to mashing the blackmailer’s hand and finding out about Longstreet.
“There it is, ladies. My sad story. Lacey Rose has gotten herself in trouble. Hopefully, I can find her and bring her home before it’s too late.”
He stood and stretched. But that first step caused the room to tilt and roll. He stumbled, but suddenly, Pauleen stood beside him, holding him up.
“Lean on me, my Charles. We need to get you into bed.”
Chapter Sixteen
Pauleen set the steaming cup and saucer down then slipped into her chair. She kept her face—she hoped—expressionless. Wouldn’t want Charles to misunderstand.
“Thank you.” He held the cup to his lips, blew, then sipped a taste.
“You’re welcome.”
He held his off hand out toward her. “Found this in my bed this morning.”
Swallowing, she held her hand under his, and he dropped her gold necklace into her palm. Oh dear. “Good, good. I’d wondered where that might be.”
He blew, sipped, blew some more, then took a fair-sized gulp. He looked toward the kitchen. “Where’s Claudia?”
“Downtown. She knows a man—well, we both know him, but he called on her once upon a time—anyway she wanted to ask him if he knew Harold Longstreet.”
“Oh, she didn’t have to do that.”
“No, Charles, we want to help. Talked it over this morning over breakfast. We both hated to hear about Lacey Rose. Why, we feel as if we were right there when the poor little thing was born.
“We so wanted to know if Wallace married Laura, but of course, had to wait for the next dime novel to be released for public sale. Anyway, we decided helping you help her was the very least we could do.”
The young man’s eyes drew her into his soul without effort. She’d never known another man like him, so strong in character and physique. Yet so young.
“Well, I do thank you, but the two of you have done so much already.” He took another long pull on his coffee. She couldn’t read his thoughts well. Did he know? Was he angry…or pleased? “Anyone else in the house?”
“No, just us.” She smiled, hoping maybe….
“About last night…” He filled his lungs then exhaled slowly. “I thought I’d had me a wonderful dream…until I discovered your locket.”
She patted his hand. “Thank you again for finding it.”
Nodding her a you’re-welcome, he exhaled again. Poor boy. She’d taken his breath away. “Well, been thinking it over while I scraped my face. And there’s nothing else to –”
She touched her finger to his lips. “We needn’t speak of it, dear Charles. I realize that I was only a stand-in. And well, Sister and I most assuredly should have warned you about Father’s special whiskey. Brother doesn’t cut it much. But certainly…for my honor and yours…Claudia cannot know.”
“I’ll never say a word.”
Batting her lashes, she took his hand in both of hers and stared into his fathomless blue eyes. “I must admit…I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in such a long time, Charles.”
A part of him wanted to argue. It had been so drummed into him that lying with a woman meant the consummation of a marriage, but Pauleen acted as though it had been nothing, meant nothing, except it did.
“My mother…well, she...uh….”
“I know what she went through. But, dear Charles, you did not force me in any way last night. If anything, it was more the other way around, and I apologize for that. I do. I never intended to…” She shook her head. “Anyway, my husband…” She lowered her gaze. “We don’t see each other much.”
What? “You’re married?” The throb behind his eyes lessened. The news he was an adulterer sobered him up considerably.
“I am.”
“But why…why didn’t you tell me? You never mentioned….”
“It’s a long story, but leave it to say that he and his housekeeper and their three brats live at the distillery. He helps Brother some, oversees the farm.” She shrugged. “He comes around every now and again, and we’re civil, act like everything is peaches and cream. But haven’t shared a bed in… The arrangement works well for both of us.”
“I see.”
She touched his forearm. “I’m free to come and go. Sister and I have fun and…”
Though interested to hear more about her life, he didn’t want to be impolite and pry. “When do you expect Claudia back?”
“She mentioned she’d like us to meet her for dinner. There’s an Italian bistro we both like. She can let you know if she’s uncovered any leads, then afterwards, perhaps if you want, we could watch our nine play some bases.”
“What’s that?”
“Baseball. Do you play?”
“Oh, Aces, yes! I’d enjoy that, love it. I’ve played some, but get banged up bad if Houston and Bart are involved. My boys are rougher than cobs.”
A chuckle escaped, but behind that a ding to his soul. While he gallivanted all over the country, drinking expensive whiskey and taking a lady’s pleasure, they were still fighting Yankees. “You been following the war?”
“Some, but Sister and I are hoping for a settlement. Appears Bobby Lee is going to fight to the last man, and if someone doesn’t beat Lincoln in the fall, the war might go on forever.”
“What about Texas? Any news?”
“Haven’t heard, but we don’t read the papers every day. Puts me in the dumps just thinking about all those men killing each other.”
“Me, too. From that first dust-up, I’ve hated this war.”
The walk to the bistro proved easy. Never had a meal he couldn’t pronounce, but it sure was tasty. Claudia informed him of the inquiries she made and promised to check back the next day.
The bistro served a delicious, flaky pastry with some sort of sweet cheese for dessert, and he finished both of theirs when they claimed they couldn’t eat an
other bite.
The way the nine men played the bases shamed his and the boys’ skills. They threw and hit so hard and fast. So good that folks stood on the raised benches and hollered like a horde of Comanche just rode over the hill.
The whole game and its fans tickled him. Fun time, but he never cottoned to standing in one place much.
He leaned in close to Pauleen. “Fine if I go on home?”
“Why certainly, Charles. I’ll go with you.” She tugged on her sister’s sleeve.
Claudia held a finger up, then once the batter swung and missed, turned. “Yes?”
“We’re going home, dear. We’ll stop by the market on the way then see you there whenever you make it.”
“Good.” She turned back and waved at them without looking. “See you, later, dears.”
After buying a slab of beef and a basketful of vegetables for soup, but still four blocks from the Jeffcoats’ home, the wind freshened out. The temperature dropped considerable. Charley pointed at the swirling dark clouds.
“Storm’s coming. We best head on home.”
“Yes, dear.” She sounded as though he was boss, and she ready to submit to whatever he said. Grabbing his empty hand, she pulled. “Come on. I know a short cut.”
Within ten steps, the rain fell in sheets. Nothing to do but keep on going. Hopefully, she knew where, because she had him all turned around. She ducked into what looked to be an alley. Halfway through, she stopped under an out-building’s overhang. He put himself between her and the storm and wrapped his free arm around her shoulder.
Her dress soaked, he realized the gauzy material was so thin. Offered her no warmth at all, and she shivered something fierce.
Plus that New York rain fell colder than any ever wet him in Texas. He snugged her in tight, holding her against him, and her shivers soon subsided. Staying pressed against him, she looked up.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, then like his lips were still dreaming, lowered his face to hers. She tasted so good and kissed him back, snuggling even tighter. For the longest, he stood there with his cheek on the top of her head and his arm wrapped around her.
The rain eased up. “Come, Charles, let’s hurry home. I don’t think we can get any wetter.”
“But you’re cold.”
“I can make it, and you can warm me again once we’re dry.”
Finally on her back porch, she shucked her wet dress, but kept on her undergarments. Still, he’d never seen a lady in such. She laughed when she caught him gawking then ran inside.
For the longest he stood there dripping, then took off his shirt and dropped it in her pile.
“Hello? Anyone got a towel?”
No one answered. But she materialized in the door and threw him a sheet.
“Wrap yourself in that, and get out of those clothes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But first, give me that market basket. I need to get the soup on.”
In a fresh shirt and trousers, he kindled a fire before Claudia arrived, soaked herself and in a foul mood. Their nine were behind when the game got rained out, so they lost. She hated it when they lost.
But to the sisters’ surprise, Archibald Beasley—the friend she’d visited before the game about Longstreet—showed just as the cornbread came out of the oven. Of course, he agreed to stay long enough to eat.
Longer, he laughed, if the ladies bribed him with some of their daddy’s special stock.
One big bowl of soup and two nice-sized pieces of cornbread later, Claudia insisted everyone retire to the parlor.
With drinks and custard promised to finish the evening, Charley led the way then waited for the guest, who sat on the overstuffed settee. He took the rocker across from the man. The ladies waltzed in bearing four tumblers and china cups on a tray.
Charley wanted to ask the man about Longstreet, but figured he held back what information he’d obtained quite on purpose. Who wouldn’t want to be plied with the smoothest firewater that side of the Queen’s table?
Maybe not even there; he needed to remember to ask Aunt May.
Second round poured, Mister Beasley took a nice sip then looked straight at him. “Friend of mine played poker with Longstreet last month, and yes, a young dark-haired beauty came in an hour or so after the game started. Alexandra something or other. My friend said she was a big loser though. Longstreet the big winner.”
“Did your friend know where the man might be headed?”
“He thinks Philadelphia, but wasn’t certain. Didn’t appear to him Longstreet and the girl were together though. Since she lost most of her money, she quit the game at midnight. If you decide to go, tell Lefty at the Wessex I sent you.”
“Yes, sir.” Charley didn’t ask any more questions.
Didn’t want to implicate Lacey Rose in a scam, but it sure sounded like her. At least he knew she’d survived her time with that man. No thanks to that so-called King of Diamonds. What a reprobate.
He appreciated that apparently Claudia hadn’t told her friend Charley suspected Lacey helped the man cheat at cards.
The conversation shifted to the game of bases then the three of them got to asking each other about mutual friends. He lost interest and excused himself with a not-too-hard handshake and a hearty thank you.
Philadelphia. How far was it? And if they’d played there last month, what were the odds they’d still be there? It seemed unlikely. According to the blackmailer, Longstreet didn’t stay too long anywhere. Logical for a cheat and a scoundrel.
He blew out the lamp then slipped into bed. Jumping right back up, he closed the window then slipped back between the cold sheets and pulled the quilts up to his chin. The idea of Lacey Rose posing as some fancy gambling lady soured his stomach. What he’d done last night probably would sour hers if she ever found out. Not that she would.
Sleep found him, then a suddenly icy backside brought him almost to consciousness. He rolled over.
Pauleen cooed softly in the dark. “My bed is so cold, and you’re so warm.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but he let her press up next to him.
The same storm that blew through Albany hit Glenn Falls, but Lacey had turned in early that evening.
The day’s news had set her adrift. She had the money to pay off the banknote Harold had taken out on the house, except the grubby lawyers had their hands out again, insisting they needed to help her prove she owned it, before she could ransom it from the bank.
The question kept coming again and again. Should she spend her money that way? Thinking about it made her head spin.
If only she could ask Uncle Henry, or even Wallace Rusk. Charley could tell her what to do, even if they were just kin. That didn’t mean she couldn’t ask his advice or he wouldn’t give it.
If she spent the money, then what? Would she have enough left to live on until her blood sucker beat down the bank’s leeches, and forced them to pay what rightfully belonged to her under the law?
How long would that take before she finally got her hands on her two-thirds share of Harold’s money?
She fell into a fitful sleep. At first her dead husband walked her dreams. He kept telling her something, but she couldn’t understand what he said, then Charley strode in like he owned the room, exactly like he did back home.
Why couldn’t he love her? He turned from talking with her mother and looked right at her.
Floating into his arms, she kissed him and he kissed her back, without hesitation, as though…he loved her and wanted to be with her forever.
But when she opened her eyes, he’d vanished into thin air. She sat up in bed wide awake. Staying in Glenn Falls was all wrong. She couldn’t hole up here waiting forever.
Find Charley! That’s what she had to do. Make him understand they were not just kin, they weren’t kin at all, but destined to be together. She jumped out of bed then right back in.
Where had she put her robe? She struck a match, lit the oil lamp, and spotted it on the bedside ch
air. On the run, she left her covers, grabbed the housecoat then slipped back in bed.
With her robe on over her gown, she soon warmed up enough to get up and get a fire going, then after putting coffee water to heating, she sat down and went to plotting how she was going to find her true love.
Without a doubt she had to get herself back to Texas.
That next morning once Charley announced he best get himself to Philadelphia, Claudia claimed she understood, but her younger sister didn’t say much at all. After breakfast, he busied himself packing. A part of him hoped Pauleen might show to help, but the bigger part relieved when she didn’t.
All of him hated himself for being so weak around her. But Lacey had taken up with two men now, that he knew of. He grimaced. “That doesn’t make one whit of difference.”
Talking to himself?
Wallace Rusk declared it permissible so long as you didn’t answer back like two separate men. Wouldn’t that be something if his pigheaded uncle proved them all wrong and recovered? Before Charley left, Miss Jewel had said no, but…
He let that thought trail off.
His partner was gone. Wallace knew when he sent him after Lacey, and Charley knew it, too.
Maybe for the best. What man would want to go around one-legged? But he could’ve lived a long life. Stubborn as a mule, that Wallace Rusk.
Setting his carpet bag by the front door, Charley went looking for the sisters. He found Claudia in the sewing room. “Seen Pauleen?”
“She’s dressing. Thought she’d make the trip to the station with you.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary at all. It’s a mighty long walk, and…”
“No, no, dear. We sent Jimmy, that’s our neighbor boy, to fetch a carriage.” She stood and walked toward him. “Come here, and give me a big hug.” She spread her arms wide. He walked into her embrace. She hugged him tight then held him out. “You’re welcome any time, Charles.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You and Pauleen have been so gracious.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Maybe too gracious, but…” She shrugged. “Don’t tell her. She thinks I don’t know anything.”
