Scandal at the Cahill Saloon

by Carol Arens

  “It’s just…” Melvin glanced sideways at Leanna. “Can this just be between men?”

  “I reckon that would be fine.” He arched a brow in question at his wife. She answered with a nod.

  Cleve walked away with Melvin while the rest of the group turned for home.

  “You didn’t eat anything earlier. What do you say we get a bite of whatever smells so good coming from the baker’s oven?”

  Melvin shook his head. “My belly’s not right.”

  “Is something troubling you, son?”

  Melvin reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew a dollar bill.

  “I didn’t want it.” He pressed the bill into Cleve’s fist, then wiped his hand on his pants. “But if I didn’t take it, I figured the man would think I knew he was up to no good…must have figured me for a simpleton.”

  It was Cleve’s turn to look around.

  “What man?” He gripped Melvin’s shoulder and tugged him closer.

  “Don’t know who he was, but he was hiding in the trees when I went after the dog. He caught me by the arm and said he meant me no harm.” The boy glanced back over his shoulder. “I figured he wouldn’t have been hiding behind a tree if that was true.”

  “You ought to have called for help.”

  “Wouldn’t have found out what he was up to if I did.”

  “Did you find out?”

  Melvin nodded. “Said he’d give me that dollar and another one later if I’d bring Cabe to the stream where it cuts behind that old elm at the schoolyard. Claimed he has a present for him,” Melvin said in a rush. He gulped a deep breath. “He told me to come tonight when everyone’s asleep. I didn’t want to let on that I was shaking, but I was that scared of him. Miss Lucinda always says that just because a fellow looks like a gentleman doesn’t mean he is. I expect he was one of those.”

  He was exactly one of those.

  “Thank you, Melvin. I’ll take care of him.” Cleve squeezed his shoulder. “I think it’s better that we don’t mention this to the women.”

  “I figured you’d know what to do.” Melvin leaned in close to Cleve.

  He didn’t, exactly, but come dark he’d figure it out.

  “What happened to the dog?”

  Melvin shrugged one skinny shoulder and sighed. “I nearly had it but it ran off when the dandy threw a rock at it.”

  “I suppose a boy of your age wants a dog pretty bad.”

  “More than anything, Mr. Cleve.” Melvin kicked a clod of dirt and sent it rolling.

  “Soon as I can, I’ll get you one all your own.”

  Melvin stood a bit taller. Freckles crinkled over his nose when he grinned.

  “What will I do with the dollar? It’s tainted.”

  “That would only be true if you’d done what the man wanted. As I see it, you can do whatever you want with it.”

  “Miss Leanna says money ought to be put in the bank so it can grow. I heard her tell Dorothy that she put the money her brother Chance sends her from his bounties in an account so it can be his when he wants it. He doesn’t know it, though, so it will be a surprise.”

  “You and I will pay a visit to the bank Monday morning. That dollar can be the start of whatever you want it to be.”

  “A horse—I reckon that’s what I want.”

  Concealed behind a shrub that grew between the stream and the appointed elm, Cleve watched Van Slyck cross the schoolyard. He strode toward the tree wearing his customary black evening suit.

  In the deep shadow of the witching hour he might have been mistaken for a drifting spook had it not been for his clumsy footsteps. Cleve figured inebriation was rare in a specter and Van Slyck was well into it judging by the way he swaggered.

  “Good lad.” He lurched toward the figures sitting at the base of the tree. “Wasn’t sure you’d show.”

  He crouched and plucked the sleeve of Melvin’s shirt. The fabric shifted and a hank of straw stuffing fell out of the neck. He shook Cabe’s short trousers with the same result.

  “Don’t play with me, boy.” Van Slyck stood, gripping the limp dummy in his fist. He turned slowly in a circle, scowling and scanning the shifting shadows of the playground.

  “If it’s more money you’re after, bring your little friend out here and I’ll double it.”

  Cleve wanted to leap out of the bush and throttle Van Slyck, but he kept still. Who knew what he might reveal, believing that he was babbling to Melvin?

  Still, it was a challenge to keep his voice from roaring in outrage and his fists from plowing into Van Slyck’s gut.

  Not only was the man a bully to the women across the tracks, he had forced Cleve to deceive his wife. Leanna, making up for his absence at the saloon, believed that he was home in bed with a bellyache.

  The lie was half-true, now that he thought about it. His belly did ache with the need to give Van Slyck what he had coming.

  He’d have to wait on that, for now at least. Push Van Slyck too far and Leanna might never discover what he knew about her parents’ deaths, if he knew anything.

  For Leanna’s sake, Van Slyck would get away with a warning, but it ate at him.

  “All I want is for the little fellow to give his mother a message. I won’t harm either one of you…you have my word.” Van Slyck inclined his head, listening. “As a gentleman.”

  Cleve shook a branch of the shrub and Van Slyck’s head whipped around.

  He wove his way toward the bush, nearly stumbling with a drunken misstep. He spread the vegetation aside, looking down to where he must assume the children hid in terror.

  Cleve reached up and grabbed him by his knotted tie. Van Slyck hit the ground hard on his knees.

  Nose to nose with him, Cleve watched the coward’s eyes widen. In the dark, the speck in his iris that he had noticed earlier shimmered like a gold nugget.

  Cleve’s temper burned so hot that it was hard to see clearly. He stood, yanking Van Slyck up with him. His free hand curled into an impatient fist.

  He thought of his wife and the in-laws he would never get to meet. He pictured them in his mind and jammed his fist against his thigh.

  “What’s the message, Van Slyck?”

  He sputtered. The coward tried to pry Cleve’s fingers from his tie.

  “What? Too yellow-livered to deliver it man-to-man?”

  Van Slyck cursed. Cleve hauled him up, then dragged him to the stream. He tipped him backward over the water.

  “Last chance to get it off your chest,” he said.

  “Damn those Cahills, every last one of them. Damn you, double.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Cleve let go of the tie and Van Slyck fell backward into the stream. Dropping this fool on his ass was becoming a regular occurrence.

  “Keep the hell away from my family or next time I won’t be so gentle on you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday arrived along with the first day of fall. Cleve stood on the front porch of Leanna’s Place with a mug of coffee between his palms enjoying the crisp air nipping at his face.

  Leanna sat in one of the rocking chairs with a shawl across her shoulders. She appeared a bit pale but she smiled up at him.

  “Summer left in a hurry,” she said. “Boodle, stay away from those stairs.”

  Cleve blocked a possible tumble with his knee and directed the toddler toward his mother. She scooped him up and settled him on her lap, wrapping the ends of the shawl around him.

  “Here comes the wind.” She turned her face into a fledgling gust and took a deep breath. “There’s something exciting about the weather changing, don’t you think?”

  “There’s something exciting about watching you become excited.”

  If he could steal her away to the broom closet right now, he would. But inside the saloon, the place was a hum of activity. The ladies, Aggie included, dusted, swept and scrubbed the main room in preparation of the coming week.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better…hungry, even
,” she murmured with a seductive arch of one brow.

  “Starved, in fact.” He hadn’t made love to Leanna since his belly issues, just to make the lie more convincing. “You look like you might be catching it, though.” Not from him clearly, but she didn’t seem quite herself.

  “I’m taking Melvin to the bank this morning,” he said. He set his coffee mug down on the porch rail and traced his thumb along the curve of her cheek. No fever, at least. “The boy earned a dollar the other day and wants to save it for a horse. We’ll take Boodle along with us so you can get some rest.”

  “I’d rather keep him here with me.” Leanna stood, tucking the shawl tighter about Cabe.

  “Let him come.” Leanna rarely took Cabe into town. It was time his world expanded. “The boys will have a good time.”

  She shook her head. “He’ll only get fussy.”

  The wind gusted harder by the second and the temperature dipped with it. To Cleve it was invigorating after the long, hot summer, but maybe she was right. Cabe would be better off staying here where it was warm.

  “Let’s go inside, then. I’ll gather up Melvin. As hard as he’s scrubbing the floor, he might have another dollar to go toward that horse.”

  Half an hour later, Cleve walked into the bank with Melvin hopping up and down beside him. The boy was clearly proud of opening an account of his own. Every tenth step from home to here, he had suggested a new name for the steed he would own someday.

  “I reckon Black Ace would suit him,” Melvin declared, reaching up and sliding two dollars across the counter.

  By a stroke of luck, Willem worked alone this morning. Cleve might have had a hard time not leaping over the counter to finish his business with the younger Van Slyck.

  Involved at his desk, Willem dipped his pen in an ink bottle, scribbled something on the bottom of a sheet of paper. He looked up, smiled, then rose from his desk and crossed the room.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Holden? This isn’t your usual banking day.”

  “Melvin would like to open a savings account.”

  “Someday I’m going to buy me a horse.” He would reach that goal, if the eager expression on his face was anything to go by.

  “That’s a fine thing, young man. Start now and when you’re ready you’ll be able to.”

  The banker’s smile at Melvin was as cordial as any he would give to a grown customer. He didn’t look like a killer, just a common businessman with a son who might or might not be one.

  He would dismiss Van Slyck as a decent man stuck with a detestable son, but he’d learned something over the past couple of months. Looks could be deceiving. A ruined reputation might hide virtue and a respectable facade might disguise wickedness.

  He glanced about the bank as if a clue to what had happened to Leanna’s parents might leap into the palm of his hand.

  It didn’t. Polished desks sat upon waxed floors. The place smelled like old leather and almond. To all appearances nothing questionable took place between these walls.

  The big iron safe in the back was locked as tight as the secrets that the Van Slycks might keep.

  With the transaction completed, Willem shook Melvin’s hand, then Cleve’s.

  “Until this evening, then, Mr. Holden.”

  A shaft of morning sunlight shot through the front window and illuminated the banker’s face. It glinted off his eyes.

  Cleve’s heart stopped. His stomach heaved. Damned if his soul wasn’t writhing on the well-kept floor.

  Preston’s eye, blue and gold… Willem’s eye, the same. Father and son, both with identical half-moons with a star at the tip.

  Breathe, he told himself, in and out, even and steady. Stand straight…smile…act as though the world hadn’t just quit spinning.

  “Is there something wrong?” Van Slyck withdrew his hand from Cleve’s. He flexed his fingers.

  He must have clamped too hard on the older man’s hand without being aware of it.

  “Not at all.” He forced a friendly, casual smile. “It’s just… I hope I’m not being forward in asking, but you and your son have the same unique eye coloring.”

  “That’s how I know he’s mine.” Van Slyck shrugged. He smiled, lifting one side of his mouth. “Couldn’t disown him even if I tried to. All the Van Slyck men carry it, for as long as anyone can remember.”

  “It’s a handsome mark,” he managed to say when all he wanted was to puke on his boots.

  He clasped Melvin’s hand, crumpling the receipt that the child held proudly. He turned for the door and placed one foot deliberately in front of the other.

  It made sense now, why Leanna usually left Cabe behind when she went to town.

  The family mark was handsome, at least on Cabe.

  Leanna sat at her dressing table absently brushing her hair. Looking in the vanity mirror she watched Cleve’s reflection while he sat on the bed.

  Something fascinating must be happening on the floor. He’d been staring at it for a good long while. He claimed to be healed of his bout of stomach trouble, but he didn’t look it.

  Walking home from work in the wee hours this morning, he’d held her close, just like always, but now he was silent, brooding even.

  Cleve never brooded.

  All at once, his reflection stood and walked toward her. Bare feet whispered against the carpet while wind rattled the shutters that had been closed against the violent gusts. Twigs from the tree outside hit the slats, scratching and splintering.

  From behind, Cleve kneaded her shoulders with strong fingers. He smelled like seduction, warm and male.

  She leaned back into him; her purr of pleasure whispered through the room.

  He gazed down at her in the glass. “You look like a goddess in that nightgown.”

  He flicked the straps off her shoulders, then plunged his hands between the sheer lace and her flesh.

  “Goddesses are cold creatures.” She covered his hands and pressed them closer to her heart. “I’m not a bit cold, Cleve.”

  “You know that I love you.” He held her gaze in the mirror. He slid his hands out of her sleeping gown and pressed her shoulders. “That no matter what happens, I will always love you?”

  “That sounds ominous.” She pivoted away from the mirror to look up at him. “But yes, I know you love me. No matter what happens I love you, too.”

  He strode to the middle of the room and turned his back on her. He studied the ceiling, which, to her, looked the same tonight as it had every night. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, then spun about to face her again.

  Leanna set her brush on the vanity; she folded her hands on her lap. Cold air seeped through the window frame.

  “I think you need to tell me what’s bothering you,” she said.

  “I know that Preston is Boodle’s daddy.”

  “Oh!” She stood, her stomach and her head in a spin. She rushed across the wool roses on the rug. “I’m sorry, Cleve.”

  She pressed her head to his chest and his arms came about her shoulders, hugging her tight. A tremor shivered through him.

  “I should have told you, you had a right to know. But I made his mother a promise.”

  “I understand that.” She felt his voice rumble under her cheek. “You were right to give his mama that respect. I’m grateful for it.”

  “Grateful? Why would you be?”

  She peered up at him. His eyes had misted over but he shook his head, clearing them.

  “Because she… I need to…” He took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I’m about to tell you something—to do something—and you won’t like it. Hell, you’ll hate me for it. But even then, try and remember that no matter what happens, I won’t let Van Slyck take Cabe from you.”

  “I know that. I married you for it, remember?” She touched his cheek. “I haven’t regretted that choice for an instant.”

  “You might… You will, dammit!”

  She took a step back but held on to his waist. “Cleve Holden, what’s gotten
into you? I know you are upset that it’s Preston, but it doesn’t matter. Cabe has as much of his good mother in him as he does the man who fathered him. Besides, the man who did Arden wrong is not his father. You are his father.”

  “I’m his uncle.” His eyes closed tight; he lifted his face to the ceiling. “Arden’s last name was Holden. She was my sister.”

  All of a sudden, she needed to run to the outhouse and be sick. The floor seemed to shift beneath her. Why had he kept such a secret from her?

  A sickening dread settled in her belly. She dashed away a searing tear streaking down her cheek. “Why did you marry me?”

  It hurt to have her husband touch her tenderly and break her heart at the same time. She shoved him away, then inched toward the window, coming up against the vibration of the tempest against her back.

  “Leanna, you are the best person I know. I reckon I owe you the truth.” He sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. When he exhaled, it sounded like a groan. “I came to Cahill Crossing to take my sister’s son.”

  Aching silence inside pressed against the fury outside.

  “Why didn’t you?” Anger, pure and hot, consumed her.

  “I tried…I never could find the words.”

  “Since you were too cowardly to speak up, you married me? To take control of my son?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t as coldhearted as all that. The situation was so damned complicated, and Cabe was only part of the reason I married you.”

  “What’s so complicated about telling the truth? I didn’t ask for more than that.” She heard the voice of a stranger coming from her mouth, catlike and hissing. Anger had never taken her so completely. “Cabe is a Cahill. I’ll never give him to you!”

  Why couldn’t the earth just open up and swallow her? She stood at the brink of such pain and scandal that she didn’t think she would recover from it.

  “Here’s the truth,” he said, his voice sounding raspy in his throat. “I needed to marry you because of him…I wanted to marry you because of you.”

  How had she reached into the vanity drawer and pulled out her revolver without being aware that she did it? Luckily, it wasn’t loaded because at this instant she really did feel like pulling the trigger.