Legacy (21 page)

Justin McKay looked at me as if he could scarcely believe what he had just heard. I smiled inwardly, pleased to have taken him so completely off his guard.

'What are you talking about?' asked Father when Justin did not reply right away. 'What's she talking about, Justin?'

'Don't bother to explain,' I said to Justin. 'You see, Father, last Saturday Steven Graybar evidently decided that he ought to have my company all to himself. He sought me out at the dance, and then on Monday he came to Justin with a story that must have been quite scandalous, for Justin as much as told me he considered me - what? - Steven's personal property, I suppose.'

I gave a disinterested shrug, as if the matter were not worth any further discussion, while I watched to see what Father would do. I was certain that he would not lose control now. The day had gone too well for him, and, besides, he would never allow Justin to see him in a rage. And I was right. Father simply waited, stone-face, looking across the small room to where Justin sat beside the fire.

'Beg your pardon, Catherine,' Justin said evenly. 'I never said that.'

'But you did ask me to deny that Steven's story was the truth, didn't you? And when I wouldn't, you made it plain that you thought it best for me not to come back to the clinic. It amounts to the same thing.'

Justin began to reply, but Father cut him off with a wave of his hand. He locked his gaze squarely with mine and asked, 'Catherine, what did Steven Graybar tell you on Saturday?'

I kept my voice even. 'He seemed . . . quite taken with me. He said that he wanted me to ... be his, I think was the way he phrased it. When I told him that would not be possible, he said he had ways of making me change my mind. I presume that his talk with Dr. McKay was one of the ways.'

Father nodded, but he continued to look straight at me. 'All right, then, but Justin asked you to deny it. Why didn't you?'

Without a tremor in my voice, my eyes triumphant, I replied, 'Because, Father, there are some things that a lady does not have to stoop to denying.'

I got up from my chair before either of them could reply. Looking directly at Justin, I continued, just as evenly, enjoying his obvious surprise and admiration. 'Good night, gentlemen. I understand we are to make an early start in the morning.'

And, ignoring the pain from my ankle, I swept into my room and closed the door.

Chapter Nine

As I undressed for bed, I could hardly contain my delight. I felt as though I were free, completely free, of the hold Steven Graybar had kept me under. With one single bold stroke I had denied the past - and there was surely no reason why I could not continue denying it if Steven tried to make a claim on me again. I had seen the belief in Father's eyes, and in Justin's. I was sure I had convinced them that Steven had lied about me, and I probably had convinced Father that Steven would try the same lie after we returned to Grampian. A warm reception he would get if he did!

I drew the curtain on the one window in my room and stepped out of my dress, then my chemise, feeling the cool air around my full breasts. In the next room I could hear Father and Justin quite clearly, since there was only a planked wall separating us, and even that stopped at a height of about eight feet, leaving an open space all around the centre of the cabin and the fireplace chimney, which went up through the peak in the roof. The voices were as plain as if I had been sitting in the same room. They were talking of Brad Graybar's money problems, pointedly avoiding, I suppose, any reference to Steven Graybar or to me.

I sat down on the small hard mattress and finished undressing. For a moment or two I savored the sensations of complete nakedness. I smiled to myself as I heard Justin's voice, easy, factual, discussing a rumor that Brad Graybar was about to sell all his shares in the Susquehanna Boom Company. If I were to get up now and unlatch the door, would that voice still keep its calm, reasoning tone? Of course I would never have seriously considered doing such a thing, but it was exciting to think about teasing Justin McKay. There were passions beneath that handsome, efficient surface of his, passions that - why not admit it? - I could easily enjoy arousing. Those cool blue eyes - could I conquer their icy control, make them long for me, make them cloud over with passion, make them . . .

I found myself suddenly flushed at the thought of making love with Justin. The feeling had crept over me without warning, and when I realized what had happened I was surprised and a little afraid. I had never had this kind of desire for a man before, except for Steven Graybar. But now Steven had proved himself unworthy, and I had vowed never to see him again.

But I was hardly going to leap into the arms of Justin McKay, either! I brought my thoughts up short. This time I was not going to be drawn into an affair just because of the physical attraction a man could arouse in me. That had happened once before, and once was too often. Steven Graybar had treated me shamefully, and I had let him because I had been too weak to say no to the demands of my body. But now I was no longer a foolish schoolgirl, a virgin who longed for unknown pleasures. I was my own woman now, and I was going to make a choice of a man who would never use me the way Steven Graybar had done!

I drew on my nightdress, feeling the soft cotton of its high collar and buttoning it up all the way to the top. What did I know of Justin McKay? He was wealthy, and he had been married before, to be sure. He worked with the energy and intelligence of two or three men, and he had the loyalty and the admiration of his staff.

But what did any of that matter if he were selfish, or domineering, or uncaring to a wife! Or unfaithful! I was not going to allow myself to make a mistake of giving myself to anyone until I was very, very sure of just who that someone was and how he would treat me.

I blew out the table lamp beside my bed and climbed between the rough but clean sheets, doubly pleased with myself. I had triumphed over Steven, and over Father, and I had the strong suspicion that Justin McKay would soon take the opportunity to apologize to me before the trip was over. But, more importantly, I told myself, I had triumphed over my own heart's passions.

I lay quiet, waiting for sleep to come as I listened to the men talking in the next room. They had lowered their voices by now, since they had seen the ceiling over my room go suddenly dark, but I could still make out nearly everything they said.

'So Vince says' - it was Father's voice - 'he never came back from Saturday night. And he was a mean son-of-a-bitch. Even I never met him alone without havin' a gun with me.'

A gun! The image of Father in the garden, pistol in hand, flashed before my eyes. That moonlit night when I had gone outside to meet Steven . . . Was this Campbell the man Father had been waiting for? I realized what must have happened. Campbell had seen Shaw get caught and had somehow got word to Father to meet him. No wonder Father had been in such a stormy temper that night!

Now from the next room I could hear Father still talking about the man called Campbell: 'It's my theory that old Brad got to him and paid him to change sides. And that's what he was doing in my mill instead of Brad's.'

'It fits, doesn't it?' said Justin. 'Too bad there's no way to get proof.'

'Well, just think hard, now. Are you sure you didn't get enough of a look at him before he shot you? There was a good moon out that night. Just a look, only for a second, maybe; just the red hair, even.'

I realized with a sudden chill that they were talking about the man in Father's mill, the murderer the police were looking for. And Father was saying that the man had worked for him! - the red-haired man named Campbell. And he had been working here at this very camp! It was foolish of me, but I began for some reason to be afraid.

Outside, the sounds of the night seemed to grow louder and take on a cold and ominous tone. The friendly song of the crickets seemed to turn ugly, the scraping of scaly insects. The owl that hooted was a merciless silent predator with blood on its beak and claws. There were night animals out there in the darkness, I knew, but I would not think of them. I clenched my fists tightly and concentrated with a fierce urgency on the voices in the next room. There were two men within just a few feet of me, I told myself, and both of them were armed. They had killed one threat to our safety today, and they were perfectly capable of doing the same thing again, should it become necessary.

'Well,' said Father, 'I'm going to take this bottle over to the bunkhouse and see who's still up. Maybe I can loosen a few tongues about our Mr. Campbell. See you in an hour or so.'

'I'll be right here,' said Justin. 'Brought some work along with me.'

The door closed and I was alone in the small cabin with Justin McKay. For some reason, knowing that just the two of us were here excited me. I felt the warmth begin to build again, and I could not help thinking what would happen if he came into my bed .. . But, no! I had made up my mind about that. It was not going to happen. I had latched the door, hadn't I? He could not get in, even if he wanted to.

Or was the door latched? Suddenly I could not remember. I strained to see in the dim light that came from the lamp in the next room, but I could not. Oh, this was foolish. Of course I had latched the door. Or had I?

Well, I couldn't just lie here wasting time thinking about it. I would find out for myself. My fingers located the matches in the drawer of the bedside table. I slid out of bed, my bare feet chilling the rest of me when they touched the cold floor. The cotton quilt had been so warm, and now the night seemed to have lost its softness. I was tired. What was I doing out of bed, shivering in the dark, looking for somewhere to strike a match? Of course the door was latched!

I groped my way over to the door and felt the handle, then the latch. Shut tight. What had I been thinking of, imagining that I had left it open! I shivered, and then I started back to bed.

And then I heard a noise under the window. I froze. Someone was outside the cabin, outside my window! I listened, trembling, and the noise came again, a soft slow scraping. But that was only a tree limb brushing against the wall, I told myself. Just a leaf or a twig scraping in the wind. How foolish to be afraid of. . .

But then I felt a draught of cold air on my bare feet, and as my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light I could see the window curtains move slightly, touched by the incoming breeze. The noise came again, and I realized, horrified, that someone was opening the window!

For a moment I thought I would scream. I closed my eyes, frozen with fear, and then I gathered my wits. I went silently to the door, keeping my eyes on the gradually opening window. There could be no doubt of it now. There really was someone there. I fought off my panic and very quietly unlatched the door to the other room and Justin. He saw me as soon as I opened the door, but he was silent when he saw I had my finger to my lips. Shaking, I pointed to my bedroom.

Justin got to his feet and, with a grim look at my fear-stricken face, quietly drew his pistol from the holster he had slung over the back of his wooden chair. Then just as silently he walked the three paces to my doorway.

Behind him, I watched in the dim light from the door as the white curtains flapped like restless spirits. The window continued to move up, inch by inch. We waited, and I thought: Why doesn't he do something? Then I realized that Justin wanted the intruder to commit himself, to try to climb through the window where he would be a clear target without an easy escape.

Had it not been for the wind, we would surely have caught him. But suddenly as we watched, the window went up nearly half a foot and the breeze parted the curtains wide. There in the shadows just outside, we saw the face for an instant that seemed eternal. Cruel, staring eyes flickered with hate as he saw us. Behind the bright red beard, white teeth flashed in an animal snarl - and then the face disappeared. We heard muffled footsteps vanishing into the forest.

The strain was too much. I flung my arms around Justin and sobbed, silently, fearfully, weeping like a schoolgirl as the reaction to the ordeal set in.

Justin just held me, quietly waiting for me to get control of myself. 'Easy, now,' he said softly. 'He saw the gun. He won't be back. I think we scared him more than he scared us.'