Reaching for the hat hanging by the back door, Cash slammed it on his head and walked out.
Laura held herself still against the urge to run after him. He hadn’t even offered to take her away from all of this. She should be used to that now. Marshall had left her here alone. Jonathan had gone off to Arizona. Cash had left once, but he had returned. Why had she thought he might take her with him if he ever left again?
That must be one of those fancy notions he had talked about. He was right, she had been developing fancy notions. Far better that he left before they grew to any greater proportion. But, oh, how she wanted to run after him and beg him to take her with him. He didn’t even have to marry her. She just wanted to go and to never look back.
Tears creeping down her cheeks, Laura left the polish where it sat and made her way up the back stairs to Mark’s room. She didn’t even want to think what would happen if another baby came of their lovemaking.
Lovemaking. What a foolish word to use to describe what they had done. They had made lust and rage and tears, but she didn’t see any love anywhere.
But he had said last night that it was the first time that he had ever made love. Why did it tear at her insides to know that if he could leave her after that, he must say it to every woman he took to his bed?
***
Bitter bile scalding his lungs, Cash reined his horse in the direction of town. He had known it would come to this. It would have been better if he could have gone quietly, without those words said. Then he might have had some hope of returning, some hope that she would be ready to make the choice he would ask of her. But as it was, she would just add one more stick to her pyre of hate, and he might as well bay at the moon for all the good it would do to talk to her.
When he reached town, he wasn’t certain why he was there. He should have gone back to the Watterson place and got some sleep. Lord only knew he hadn’t had much of that in some while. He had sat in enough filthy, smoky saloons these last weeks to cure him of any itch to become a drunkard, whatever the damned town might think.
Getting drunk tonight had a certain appeal to it, but the oblivion he wanted couldn’t be found in a bottle. He wanted Laura’s soft round arms around him. He wanted to kiss that sassy mouth of hers until she loved him back as she had the night before. He wanted to seek the haven of her body, find those heights he had never before explored, and then lie in her arms until morning, content to know that all was right with the world as long as he could have her until eternity came.
That was a damned fool notion for a man of his age, but he had a right to dream. If he didn’t, he might as well go out and put a bullet through his brain. Right now that didn’t sound a half-bad idea, but he’d much rather put bullets through the worthless brains of Marshall Brown and his gang. For what he had done to Laura alone, Brown should be skewered to the wall and used for target practice. Preferably with red-hot brands first.
Allowing the violence to build and replace his earlier despair, Cash reined in his horse at the tavern. He still had those old scores to settle, and he’d found out more in this place than any other. Some of Brown’s gang had loose tongues when oiled with cheap whiskey.
Using the caution he had learned when making his way through Indian country a decade ago, Cash slipped into the tavern through the rear door. It was Friday night and every rowdy in the county was here. From the sounds of it, they were well into their cups and reaching that deadly point when fists fly and knives appear. Usually he preferred to get out before then. Men in that state weren’t the most reliable sources. But he had nothing better to do with his time, and the violence in him craved the trouble that brewed.
Cash remained in the shadows at the back of the room, surveying the occupants. Brown never came in. He was too well-known and apparently too clever to openly associate with these scoundrels. Most of his band and the others that called themselves the Raiders were just ignorant farmers with grudges to grind, or soldiers returned from the war with nothing better to do than fight. The Raiders cursed the Union Army, sang hosannas to John Wilkes Booth, and poured the vitriol of their bitterness on every black head that crossed their paths.
But some of them were born thieves and murderers, and Brown had somehow managed to gather these renegades into the hard core of his band. Those were the men Cash knew had to be caught and hanged, but they were too wary to show themselves in places like this. The men here tonight had homes of their own and returned to them occasionally, if only to beat their wives and plant another acre of corn. They knew exceedingly little of Brown’s plans, but just enough to keep Cash worried.
Picking up a bottle of whiskey, Cash leaned a chair back in the corner and pulled his hat down over his face. That was signal enough that he wanted to be left alone. In any case, the men around him were too far gone in drink to pay him any mind. He took a swig just to warm the night chill from his bones and watched to see who was here.
But it was the voices through the wall that captured Cash’s attention. He’d known the storeroom in the back was occasionally used as a trysting place for the whores from the hotel out to make a little extra on the side. He suspected a wayward wife or two might use it for meeting lovers. On the whole, he had avoided that little niche, more out of disgust than respect for anyone’s privacy. But tonight he realized he may have made a mistake.
He’d heard a woman’s whining voice and a slap and had ignored it when he first came in, but now he caught the low timbre of men’s voices through the wall behind his head. And one of those voices sounded distinctly familiar.
The gist of the conversation fueled the fury Cash had carried in with him. His fist curled around the bottle neck, nearly snapping the glass in half. He closed his eyes and forced himself to remain seated instead of ripping the bastard’s head off. He had no intention of being hanged for carrying out the justice the sheriff was too damned scared to mete out. But he sure as hell would see it done one way or another.
But he would need help for this one. This time he would send Laura to safety before he went after the bastards. And then he would personally single out Marshall Brown for retribution.
He’d always wanted to start a scalp collection.
Chapter 35
“Look, I don’t want to be one of those damned vigilantes any more than you do,” Cash shouted in frustration, watching Jonathan shake his head. “But the sheriff has been sitting on his rear for the last year or more, ignoring the atrocities, and now he’s letting Brown run the county. He’s so confident, he really thinks he can bring this off. I am not making this up, Jonathan, I swear! He just thinks all he has to do is shoot me and call it protecting his ‘wife’ and the whole town will buy it when he moves onto the farm and takes over. I don’t think he’s quite sane. Or maybe he’s saner than I am. All I’m asking you to do is go get Laura and Mark out of there. Take them to Lexington. They’ll be safe there until this is over.”
Jonathan paced the parlor. Roused from sleep, he had merely pulled his trousers on over his nightshirt and had made no attempt to comb his thinning hair. With his unshaven jaw, his appearance was more disreputable than Cash’s after a night on the town. “I don’t hold with breaking the law, Cash, and you know that. We’re not any different from those madmen if we go after them ourselves. It’s too dangerous.”
“Hell, Jonathan, I’m not asking you to go with us. I’m just asking you to look after Laura. If Brown’s gunning for me, it’s too dangerous for me to be seen with her.” Irritated, tired, still racking his brain for the best solution, Cash struggled with his temper.
Jonathan sent him a sharp look. “And you really think that Laura will meekly pack her bags and come away with me?”
“If you went to her right now, yes, she would. She’s so mad at me she’d bite the nose off my face if I got close enough. You’ll have to wait for morning, though, and she may have cooled off a little by then. You’ll just have to persuade her.”
Jonathan didn’t try to visualize the fight that had brought L
aura to such fury. He knew her as a quiet, sensible woman who could be relied on in times of trouble. But biting Cash’s nose off would certainly be a just reaction to his high-handed ways.
Smiling to hide the hurt, Jonathan nodded. “I’ll persuade her, but you have to listen to me for a change. You can’t do this on your own. You’ve rubbed too many people the wrong way too many times. If you’re to get along here, you have to learn to work with people, not against them.”
Cash made a rude noise and rubbed his eyes. “What makes you think I intend to get along in this place? They hate my guts and I return the favor. All I want to do is make the place safe for Laura.”
“You’re doing it my way or not at all, Wickliffe. Go find Steve Breckinridge. Along with you, he’s the biggest man in the county right now. And I’m not talking about height. If you want to get rid of this villain, you have to work together.”
Cash squinted into the light behind Jonathan, not quite believing he was hearing this. “Breckinridge? Of all the people in the county, he’s the one who hates me most. Besides Brown, perhaps. And maybe a few others. I’m not a very likable person.”
“I’ll damn sure swear to that.” Jonathan swung around and crossed the room to put a distance between them. “But aside from that, you’ve got a common cause. Breckinridge is an old-fashioned gentleman who feels it is his obligation to look after a lady. And he considers Laura practically one of the family. On top of that, he despises Brown and wouldn’t want him for a neighbor.”
“And what am I supposed to do with Breckinridge if he agrees?”
“Breckinridge will twist the sheriff’s arm until he screams to go with you. That will make whatever idiocy you have planned as legal as it gets around here.”
“You sure have a damned lot of confidence in my abilities, Broadbent. The sheriff would be just as happy to see me swing as to back me up.” Even as he said it, Cash was wondering if it could be done. It would be pleasant to have the law on his side for a change, especially if he could hold a gun at the sheriff’s back all the way.
“You can do whatever you put your mind to, Cash, I never doubted that.” Jonathan watched Cash straighten his shoulders and rise from the chair.
Reluctantly Cash held out his hand. “All right, you win. I’ll go talk to Breckinridge, if you’ll get Laura. Have her out of there before I go back to remove the servants. I’m not up to any more words with her right now.”
Jonathan hid his grin. Cash would rather face the devil himself than Laura right now. It was amazing what one little woman could do to a man. Perhaps this would work out better than he had hoped. Only time would tell. “You’d better stay here for the rest of the night. You’ll need rest before you tackle the world.”
Gratefully Cash accepted the offer.
Cash wasn’t feeling half so grateful when he set out to meet with Breckinridge the next morning. He had always resented the man’s easy wealth and arrogance and the family ties that made him royalty in this part of the woods. But it was just those qualities that he needed now to turn the tide in his favor.
He wasn’t feeling any better about the decision in Breckinridge’s study a while later. Seated on a leather chair that had probably come across the mountains from some Virginia antecedents, Cash studied the shelves of books lining one wall and waited for an answer from the man standing at the window. He wished he’d brought a cigar, but that gambler’s ploy of cool aplomb wouldn’t necessarily work under these circumstances. Steve wasn’t even watching him.
“If you’re right, Wickliffe, and I’m not saying you are. . . ” Steve turned to face the room. “You’re talking about a lot of lives. These men are dangerous. If we corner them, they’ll strike to kill. They’re not likely to give up just because we have them surrounded.”
Cash heaved an inward sigh of relief. He was with them, then. Crossing his leg over his knee, he leaned back in the chair. “I know that. And even in its current state, Stone Creek is a formidable fortress. Once they get inside, there will be no getting them out. I’ve already considered that possibility. I’m open to suggestions, but I just don’t see any other alternative. We have to catch them in the act before they can be brought to justice.”
Steve leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I really think you’re a little touched in the head to throw away everything you own if you carry out this plan. It is with much regret that I acknowledge that you have the right to do with your property as you see fit, and Stone Creek is your property. But have you given any consideration as to how this will affect Laura if what you plan comes true?”
For the first time in their conversation, Cash’s jaw tightened with emotion, but his voice reflected nothing. “I think she would rather live her life without fear, at whatever cost.”
Steve nodded agreement but hedged slightly. “She’s a woman. They don’t always think like us.”
“Then it’s me she will hate when all is said and done. That’s not a concern of yours.”
Cash’s cold tones signaled the conversation’s end. Steve held out his hand to shake Cash’s. “I’ve been wishing for some way to hang those scoundrels ever since they tried to get at Ward. I’ll be in to see Ben today. If he ever wants to hold another office in this county, he’ll be ready whenever you are.”
That was all Cash wanted to hear. Shaking Steve’s hand, he departed with one last question: “Where’s the best place to buy blasting powder?”
***
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jonathan. I can’t go off and leave the house. There’s too much work to be done.” Laura brushed a grimy hand against her cheek, leaving a smear of dirt as she tucked a straying hair back into her kerchief.
Jonathan thought she looked totally charming, but the glare in her eye didn’t quite suit the picture. “The house is Cash’s. Let him do the work. I’m getting you and Jettie Mae and the children out of here. For once in your life, Laura, listen to someone with a little sense and go pack your things.”
Laura watched him with growing suspicion. It wasn’t like Jonathan to be this firm with her. “You’ve been talking to Cash, haven’t you? What did he say?”
“He said he wanted you out of the house. There, now you know it. So go get your things and let’s be gone. We can have the servants pack up the rest later. I just don’t want to be here when Cash arrives.”
Neither did Laura, but still she hesitated. “I can’t imagine Dr. Burke will be pleased to be inundated with women and children. Your house wasn’t exactly built for company.”
“Burke can go sleep in the hotel. Or with that widow lady he’s been seeing. I’ll bunk at the hotel too. I’m not setting tongues to wagging again.”
Laura bit her lip and searched Jonathan’s honest face. She didn’t know what this was all about. Cash would never order her off the farm. She knew better than that. But Jonathan wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t happening that he thought she needed protection from. And if Cash were returning here . . . Well, it was time to move on. Last night had made that clear.
“All right, Jonathan, perhaps it is time I made some decision about my future. I can’t live on Cash’s charity forever, but neither can I live on yours. Perhaps when you see Cash next, you can ask him how much he will sell the sewing machine for. I can turn garments out much faster with the machine, so I should be able to make the payments and support myself too.”
Jonathan stared at her with disbelief, but there wasn’t time for argument. She had been brought up in the heart of one of the wealthiest families in the commonwealth. She was every inch a lady, from her dainty shoes to her refined speech. By all rights she ought to be gowned in satin and sitting in her front parlor with her feet on a little stool and nothing more strenuous than a piece of embroidery in her hands. If she wanted to make her living sewing for others instead of taking her proper place in society, far be it from him to argue.
Satisfied that she had made herself clear, Laura went in search of Jettie Mae. Guiltily, she realized she fe
lt a certain relief at jettisoning the monstrous responsibilities of the farm. Not knowing where the money would come from, she couldn’t undertake the repairs that were desperately needed. And the task of salvaging all the rugs and draperies one more time was wearing on her energy.
She refused to admit that Cash’s walking out had anything to do with this feeling of being overwhelmed. She had never had any right to count on him. She had only herself to blame, and only herself to find the solution. And walking out suited her just fine. Let him go back to California. The whole damned place could fall down and return to honeysuckle and Virginia creepers for all she cared.
She wasn’t happy with the idea of being alone again, but it was better than sitting in the house and weeping.
When told to pack and prepare to leave, Jettie Mae did as told without argument for a change. She had been promised a home at Stone Creek for the rest of her life, but even she could see that the house wasn’t the safest place to be anymore.
As the wagon with all her meager worldly goods pulled away, Laura didn’t look back. She’d come home a year and a half ago thinking she would probably die here in lonely spinsterhood. She was a little wiser now. Not much, perhaps, but a little.
She knew Jonathan would marry her and take her away to another world if she wanted. And she knew she would be safe with him if she did. But she would never be completely happy. That was something many a young girl never understood. Marriage wasn’t the source of all happiness.
She wasn’t certain what she required to be happy. Perhaps people were never meant to be completely happy. She only knew that the only intensely happy times she remembered were in Cash’s arms. So it little mattered where she went or what she did, she would never be completely happy again.
Unlike Laura, Jettie Mae watched the mansion disappear behind a veil of trees. The glass remaining in the upper-story windows glinted in the sunlight. The faded brick stood stark and naked against the blue of the sky without the elm to shade it. The unsightly gash in the once-proud tile roof appeared as a spreading blight with the singe marks from the fire spreading out around it.
Shelter from the Storm Page 34
