by Carol Arens
“It’s more subtle. You want to let the gent know you are interested, if you are. If you’re not, we’ll discuss how to handle that later. But in this instance, you do want him to know that you are, without him realizing that you know that you are.”
“That sounds tricky, Miss Leanna,” Cassie moaned.
“It is, a bit. Watch, I’ll show you the difference.”
Leanna swaggered up to him, her model. Her hips moved toward him with an exaggerated sway. Her breasts seemed to reach for him and her eyes, well, what was a man to say to that invitation?
She paced a slow circle around him, inhaling and taking his measure.
“Good evening,” she purred.
A shadow blocked the light filtering through the doorway.
“Leanna Cahill, what the hell are you doing?” a voice thundered. “Mister, take a big step away!”
A man stomped into the room and, rather than wait for Cleve to step away, strode forward…arm swinging.
Leanna rushed between Cleve and the balled-up fist.
“Bowie!” She launched herself at the fellow and the swinging arm changed course to curl about her back.
The lawman, with his badge shining like a mirror, lifted Leanna off the floor and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
For half a heartbeat Cleve wanted to throttle him, as if he had any right to. Then he recalled the gossip. Leanna had three brothers, and one was a lawman.
This brother, Bowie, finally set her down and held her at arm’s length, looking her over. “You okay?”
She nodded.
Apparently assured that she was hale and sound, he let his next emotion out.
“By hell, little sister, what was that?” He jerked his head toward Cleve, then slammed his hands on his gun belt, glaring at her. “I didn’t believe what folks were saying. But here you are, bold as the devil, opening a hellhole, and on this side of the tracks! I ought to—”
“Hearts for Harlots,” Cleve interrupted.
The marshal swung his angry gaze from his sister to Cleve. “Keep out of this, stranger.”
“I would, but for some reason Miss Cahill seems too overcome to speak at the moment.” And she did; her eyes were wet and her voice appeared to have dried up. She’d find it soon enough, he guessed.
Damned if Cleve would hold his tongue, though. “Hearts for Harlots is a charity. Leanna’s Place is not a brothel.”
“Annie?” Bowie frowned at Leanna.
Quite honestly, Cleve was surprised that the man did not know his sister better than he did.
After being acquainted with Leanna for only a few days Cleve knew that there was not a dishonest bone in her. Well, there was…but only one.
“Fair gambling and some drinking is all that will be going on here,” Cleve pointed out while Leanna managed a silent nod.
“That’s not what it looked like when I walked in.”
“Lesson in decorum.” Cleve smiled at Lucinda, Cassie and Massie, who huddled together in the corner, apparently terrified of the glowering lawman. “For the employees. How to properly meet a respectable gentleman,” he added in the face of Bowie Cahill’s disbelief.
“Is this so, Annie?”
Cleve walked up to Leanna and stood beside her. He thought about clasping her hand in support, but brother Bowie’s gun wasn’t just for show.
“Why are you so determined to believe the gossip about your sister? These ladies—” Cleve indicated the fallen doves in the corner “—know the truth. Leanna has nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not determined to believe anything. I just want Annie to tell me herself what’s going on.”
Massie took two steps toward Marshal Cahill.
“Miss Leanna saved our lives,” she declared. Cleve wanted to applaud her show of courage. It couldn’t have been easy for the former whore to stand up to a lawman.
Again, the twisting in his gut. If only Leanna had been able to save his sister. Maybe, though, no one could have. He sure hadn’t been able to keep her from running away from home with some man who had promised the moon and then—
“I suppose Van Slyck was lying about a kid?” Marshal Cahill looked as if he wanted to believe it, but Leanna had paraded through town with the child on her lap.
That one would be tough.
“What about the boy? Is he yours?” her brother demanded.
Ah, there was the Leanna he had come to admire in such a short time. She flashed to life, glaring a dozen kinds of defiance at Bowie.
“Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh,” she admitted, her bearing that of a proud lioness. “His name is Cabe Cahill. Named after his uncles and Granddaddy Earl.”
“Who’s the father?” Bowie demanded.
Cleve presented a show of mild curiosity when in fact he wanted the answer to that question as badly as Bowie did.
“That is no one’s business but mine.” Leanna lifted up on her toes with her hands planted on her hips. She stared her brother down, glare for glare. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”
“Oh, hell, Annie.” Bowie shook his head, dragging one hand down his face. “Quin’s going to have a mouthful to say about you shaming the family name.”
“If you ever utter the word shame with reference to my son again, Bowie Cahill, I’ll slice up your tongue for dinner.”
She would, too—maybe not literally, but he wouldn’t want to be Bowie.
Hell, he didn’t want to be himself.
There was something that only he and Leanna knew. It is what he had come to Cahill Crossing to set straight.
He reached into his pocket to touch his sister’s letter.
The A in Cabe’s name was not a fill-in letter. It stood for Arden.
Arden Holden, Cleve’s late sister.
The woman who had given birth to Cabe.
Chapter Four
“Bowie.” Leanna clasped her hands at her waist, breathing deep and forcing her temper to cool. “This is Cleve Holden. He’s not the villain you mistook him for. I was simply giving the ladies an example of how not to act and Cleve was my model.”
“I’ll accept that for now,” Bowie said. “But he looked too comfortable in his part, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you.”
Leanna noticed Cleve glancing between her and Bowie with intense interest. Every now and again he opened his mouth, then closed it. His complexion looked flushed; frown lines sliced his forehead.
“A pleasure to meet you, Marshal Cahill,” he said.
Unless she missed her guess, and she doubted that she had, Cleve’s smile was forced.
Cleve extended his hand. Bowie looked him over, head to toe and back again. Her brother grasped the offered palm.
“If Annie claims that you are upstanding, I’ll accept that.”
“I’ll accept your distrust.” The handshake ended. “I had a sister once.”
Cleve’s voice cracked on the word once. More than likely his sister had passed on.
Poor Cleve! She wanted to offer a comforting gesture but he stepped away.
“You and your brother must have some catching up to do.” He nodded at her without a smile, then glanced toward the corner of the saloon. He tipped his hat. “Ladies.”
He stepped out of the front door and down the stairs, bracing his hat against the wind. A whistle blew, announcing the arrival of the train.
Once again, Cleve had gone without discussing the business that had brought him to her in the first place. Since she didn’t like wondering what it could be, she would make sure that next time nothing interfered with what he wanted to say.
Unless he had given up on the matter and was boarding the train. That had been his plan, after all. What on earth could he have wanted with her?
She might never see him again. That thought made her feel a bit gloomy. Surprised, too. Was it possible to pine for a man she had known such a brief time?
“Annie?” Bowie’s voice called her back from staring at the empty doorway.
“Would you like to meet your nephew?” She rallied her wits back about her.
“It’s not right that you won’t say who he belongs to, Annie, but yes, I do want to meet him.”
“He belongs to me. That’s all you need to know.” She tucked her hand into the crook of Bowie’s arm. “Walk me home and we’ll talk.”
“Can’t believe I’m an uncle. Does he look like me?”
He did, in fact, a little bit, with his dark hair and blue eyes. Cabe could easily pass for a Cahill to the casual observer.
If one looked close enough they might notice the small gold fleck in his left eye. It was in the shape of a half-moon with a star at the tip. It was subtle, impossible to see unless Cabe held still and you looked real close. Most folks would not even take note of it, but Cabe’s father and grandfather had the identical marking.
She knew she had taken a risk bringing Cabe home. Both of those men lived in Cahill Crossing. Still, the odds were against either man paying a dot of attention to the baby—and Cabe never held still for long. Toddlers and grown men didn’t travel in the same social circles.
Her little one was safe. If she didn’t think so, she wouldn’t have brought him here.
As much as she wanted to tell her brother who Cabe really was, that in fact she hadn’t shamed the family with an illegitimate birth, she wouldn’t. As a lawman, Bowie would feel bound to look for Cabe’s mother’s family, if there was one. They might be cheats, lairs and criminals for all she knew.
Her son might have a dozen relatives wanting him, and Leanna would fight each and every one of them. Cabe was hers in every way that really mattered.
Arden Honeybee, her dear friend from Deadwood, and a prostitute, had entrusted him to her care. It had been Arden’s final wish for Leanna to raise her child, and to love it. During their short but close friendship, she had never mentioned a relative.
Arden’s last breath had been Cabe’s first. Leanna’s ears had been the first to hear his newborn cry, her arms the first to hold him. She’d sobbed tears of grief and of welcome at the same time.
Arden had also entrusted her with a secret. The identity of her child’s father. She had made Leanna vow never to reveal it.
Sometimes promises made on a death bed could be reconsidered later. This one could not.
Cabe’s father was like opium, charming and seductive, and in the end the ruin of the most trusting of souls.
If he knew that sweet and lovely Arden had born him a son he might take him, turn him into someone like himself. Leanna would die before she let that happen.
As much as she wanted to reveal her secret to Bowie, she didn’t dare. In spite of the fact that she had brought shame on the family, she knew that any one of her brothers would put themselves in harm’s way to protect a nephew, a blood relative. She’d already lost Mama and Papa; she couldn’t stand to lose a brother, too. Cabe’s daddy was a warped man and he had warped friends.
Out on the street, summer wind blew hot against her back. It snapped the ends of the ribbon in her hair forward. She brushed the blue satin away from her mouth and held on to Bowie’s arm while they walked past the general store. It felt good to lean into his strength for a moment.
Not longer than that, though. Two years had passed and she’d learned to rely on her own strength; she didn’t want to give that up.
Just for this moment, though, she needed her brother. She rested her head on his arm.
He smiled down at her.
“That man is sweet on you,” Bowie announced.
“Cleve?” She blinked at her brother, taken by surprise. “No, he isn’t.”
“I saw the way he looked before he figured I was your brother. He wasn’t happy.”
This was a silly conversation. What difference did it make if a man leaving town had feelings for her or not?
And in the end, she didn’t want to spend this time with her brother discussing a flirtation.
She frowned, feeling the weight of what she had to discuss with Bowie settle upon her. She wanted to run away from it and not feel the pain, but it was there, always there.
“Murder? Truly?” She had trouble saying that awful word even though it replayed in her head time after time. “Couldn’t that be a mistake?”
“It’s not.” Someone coming out of the general store sneered at her but retreated back inside when Bowie shot a fierce glare at him. “I’m sorry, Annie, the crash was staged to hide what really happened.”
“Who would do that?” A lump swelled in her throat. She thought she was done with weeping, but maybe she never would be. “Why?”
“That’s what we aim to find out.” Bowie’s jaw ticked. He clenched his fists. “Damned if I’ll believe it’s some Cahill Curse. Someone will answer for this.”
Leanna stood away from him to wipe her face with both hands. She straightened her back and walked beside him.
“Tell me what I can do. This is what I came home for.”
“I will, once I know.”
“Promise me, Bowie.” She grabbed his arm, squeezing tight. “I won’t be left out of this.”
“I promise.” He covered her fingers with a return squeeze. “What about Chance, have you heard from him?”
“Not for a while. Bounty hunting keeps him busy and usually out of touch. Luckily, he was planning a visit to Deadwood when he finished the job he was on. I left a letter, and Quin’s telegram, with my landlady. She’ll make sure he gets it.”
“You think she’ll remember?”
“You can count on Mrs. Jameston—she is a dear. I used to bring harlots home to the boardinghouse, the ones who were trying to change their ways, and she never once looked down her nose at them, or me. But she is curious…and talkative. As sure as anything, she’ll be watching out her window just waiting to give Chance the news. She’ll try and console him, though, with a hug and a hot meal.”
They turned right, walking past the church.
“Does Chance know who Cabe’s pa is?”
She shook her head. “The last time I saw our brother he tried to force me to tell.” She paused, and gave a short laugh. “I wonder how long it took that black eye to heal?”
They strolled past the school in the blessed shade of a cottonwood grove. A few hundred yards beyond that sat the house that Leanna had rented. It had a wide front porch that she would sit on one day when she had time. Trees growing on the east and west side blew in the wind. Leafy branches twisted their arms, waving a welcome.
“I hardly know you anymore, Annie.” Bowie reached out to catch a leaf drifting down from a tree. “I can’t figure you out. According to the town, you’re a blight on the family name.... I wonder if you’re the best one of us all.”
“From what I hear, the Cahill Curse has claimed me.”
The front door of Leanna’s house opened. Dorothy walked outside with Cabe in her arms. She set him down.
“Mama!” Cabe raced toward her.
Her heart swelled watching his short legs pumping and his tiny boots stirring up a trail of dust.
“That’s him?” Bowie crouched down at the same instant that Cabe slammed into her skirt. “I swear, Annie, I’ll lay the man flat who says the boy is a curse.”
Bowie reached out a finger to Cabe, but he leaned into flapping yards of blue calico and all but disappeared.
Bowie reached into his pocket. “Mind if I give him a peppermint stick? It always worked with you.”
“You just happen to have one with you?”
“Just happen to.”
Leanna was certain that mama was smiling down. Bowie didn’t just happen to have candy in his pocket. He’d planned to accept his nephew all along.
I’ve got one of my brothers back, Mama, she said in her mind. I might need some help with Quin, though.
At sundown, the wind blew even harder. Trees cast long shifting shadows over the railroad tracks. Leaves skittered across the ground. They caught on the rails, twisted, shivered, then broke free and scurried toward t
own.
Leanna gathered the hem of her gown in the crook of her elbow and hurried after them. She ought to have left the red-light part of town an hour earlier but a woman had clutched the flyer that Leanna had given her to her breast. She’d wept over it.
After spending an hour at the tawdry Hobart Hotel and Café, sipping stale coffee and nibbling staler pie, she’d convinced the woman to give Leanna’s Place a try. The weary-looking prostitute promised to do it…as soon as she found the courage to leave her employer.
“Watch over that one if you can, Mama.” Leanna stepped across the tracks, hugging the remaining flyers to her chest so they wouldn’t blow away after the leaves. “It might not be safe for her once she walks away from that awful Hell’s Corner Saloon. And she’s so young, although she doesn’t look it. Her name is Aggie.”
Talking to Mama was something that Leanna couldn’t quit doing. Just because Mama had passed over to the other side didn’t mean she didn’t hear what was going on in Leanna’s mind. Some folks might laugh if they knew she did it. But she and her mother had been so close. What was between them couldn’t have just gone away. The love existed somewhere.
The sun was dipping below the horizon by the time she walked between the train depot and the freight office. In a few minutes dusky shadows would give way to full dark.
A dog howled in the distance and someone yelled at it. She quickened her pace. Being out alone after sundown in this part of town was an invitation to danger. At home, the ladies would begin to worry.
Behind her, the freight office and train depot stood dark and vacant. Before her, lights from the Château Royale flickered in the twilight.
Footsteps pounded the earth behind her, coming fast and heavy.
A light shone from a rear window of the telegraph office so she hurried that way.
The footsteps thudded beside her and then passed her. She stopped suddenly to avoid running into the man blocking her way.
“Preston.” He looked down his straight and perfect nose at her, his smirk apparent in the flash of his white and perfect teeth. “You gave me a fright.”
His snicker rustled the starched shirt beneath his evening coat.
