Legacy (29 page)

Beside me Parsons stirred, waking up now. I watched him, his face shadowy in the firelight, trying to look only at the attractive features so as to make what I knew would soon happen again more bearable. Only half-awake, he felt my warmth next to him and reached for me, his hands rough against the smooth but tender surface of my back and thighs.

I smiled, for I knew that the smile would show in my voice, and my performance had to be flawless at all times. Unless I could simply persuade him that it would bring him more profit in the end to release me, which I doubted, I would have to tire him out, lull him into a sense of safety, and then somehow catch him napping at a weak moment and make my escape.

I was glad then for my experience with Steven, because I knew I could not have managed to act as knowing and seductive had it not been for those hours I had shared with him. I moved to be with him, holding him close.

That next morning I woke up strangely rested. Parsons had drawn my body to his once more during the night, but this had been slower, almost languorous in comparison, so that I scarcely had to emerge from my half-sleeping drowsiness. There was never any real feeling involved, of course - nothing like that which Steven had aroused, or which I had felt for Justin McKay. But I was just as glad. I was not ready to yield my feelings to a man, and I knew that I would not be ready again for a long time.

I had covered myself with a rough wool blanket and was up out of bed, kindling the fire from the night's remaining coals, when I heard Parsons awaken. Clearly his night's entertainment had improved his spirits, for he sounded almost cheerful.

'Damn,' he said, appreciatively, 'does a man good to see somethin' like yourself first thing in the mornin', even if you're covered up with that there blanket!'

'I think I'd feel considerably more attractive if I had my clothes,' I said, a bit more dryly than I had intended.

'I bet you would. Coffee's in that box of gear over in the corner, if you can keep from burnin' your fingers on the pan.'

He pulled on his trousers and busied himself getting the door open while I measured the coffee and dipped water from the stone crock into a tin pot that seemed to be the cabin's sole cooking utensil. I rested it on the hot coals and had the dark mixture boiling by the time he returned.

'Smells like coffee, anyhow,' he said as he banged the door behind him. 'Here. You want these?'

He tossed my clothes over the table to me and laughed as I reached to catch them before they went into the fire. The blanket slipped down around my waist, saved from falling off completely only by the back of the wooden chair I had been sitting on. I clutched the bundle to my breasts, momentarily blushing with embarrassment, but then I recalled the role I was playing and recovered my poise.

'Thank you,' I said, setting the clothes in my lap and unfolding them, one garment at a time, very deliberately, my breasts in full view. The heavy cotton fabric of my dress was matted and stiff from the laundry soap and cold from the morning air outside, but at least it was clean. My chemise, petticoat, and stockings were in the same condition.

He watched me, fascinated as I slipped on my stockings and then stood up to put on my petticoat. By the time I was about to put on my chemise, he had come over beside me. 'You're a bewitchin' sight, ya know that?' he said.

'Don't you ever get enough?' I began, but already his hands were on my arms and he was drawing me away from the fireplace to the bed. I stepped out of the petticoat again with a smile. 'I'm never going to get dressed at this rate.'

He guffawed, holding me up in front of him for a moment before he set me down amid the now-cool sheets. I could see from his eyes that I was making progress, for his look was more relaxed. He still stayed alert, but he was plainly less suspicious now than he had been previously. In another day or two I would have my chance; I was sure of it.

Afterwards I finally did get dressed and we drank the now-lukewarm coffee out of two cracked ceramic mugs. The fire was blazing brightly now, and I tried to persuade myself that it made the cabin cheerful. I was not going to think about Father's death, I told myself, even though I knew the full reaction was beginning to set in. I had to keep going; I had to get away from here before Campbell came back.

Parsons propped open one of the board windows and emptied the coffee remains from the battered pot. 'Reckon we'll have some beans for breakfast,' he said, reaching into the box of supplies, 'seein' as how that's all there is.' He drew a long knife from his belt sheath, stabbed the point into the tin of beans, and began to pry up the lid.

As he heated the beans over the fire, I asked him how he had come to be out here in this cabin instead of in Grampian, working for Brad Graybar. I was sure he had recognized me from that Saturday afternoon that seemed so long ago. Considering the circumstances, it seemed foolish to pretend that I had not recognized him. 'Oh, I quit on Brad,' he said, 'quit on him right after the old bastard tried to get me to bust up Rawlings's - hell, that'd be your pappy, wouldn't it? - your pappy's mill.' He shook his head, grimacing. 'Too easy to get caught on a job like that. And I know what happens to the poor devils that get caught. Hell, you saw it yourself, didn't you? Wouldn't want your pappy doin' that to me.'

'My Father's dead,' I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

His jaw dropped open in surprise. 'Son-of-a-bitch,' he said, 'I didn't know that.'

'Campbell shot him. I saw it happen.'

'If that don't beat all. Campbell told me your pappy was gonna pay us to get you back.' For the first time Parsons sounded awkward, unsure.

'Well, I saw it myself.' I tried not to look at him, for I knew I could not bear to have him be sympathetic. I couldn't afford sympathy right now, for if I softened, I knew I would be unable to continue.

'Damn!' he said. 'I'm an . . . oh, hell! I wouldn't o'. . . I just didn't know . . .'

'Never mind that,' I said. 'But if you really want to do something to make up for it, all you have to do is take me back to Grampian. If you do that, I'd say we were even. You wouldn't have the law after you, either. Nobody'd even have to know you had anything to do with me.'

He considered this proposal briefly. Then he shook his head. 'Nope, can't do it. Might not have the law, but I'd have Red Campbell, and he's a damned sight worse. Wish I hadn't ever got mixed up with him, to tell you the truth.'

I tried not to let my disappointment in Parsons show; I needed to stay on friendly terms with him. 'Well, if you hadn't, I'd still be tied up underground, probably dead by now. So I can't say the same. But how did you come across Campbell? I thought he was working for my father.'

'Yeah, that's why I was watchin' him, waitin' for him to try to pay off another of our men - Brad's man. But when I quit, I'd had a bellyfull of Brad. So I just waited till the next time I saw Campbell and told him he could have a free hand with the place for all I cared. I said I was comin' up here just to fish and hunt for a while.'

'What did Campbell say?'

'Oh, not much. Just said he might apply for the job now that it was open - you know, kiddin'-like. Then he said if he got fed up he might come on out here and see how the fishin' was, too. I told him to look me up, but I didn't think any more of it until yesterday morning when he came by with that story of his. Said you were worth all kinds of money and that we'd be sure to get a good-sized hunk of the pie.'

Money. Worth all kinds of money. Suddenly, as I heard those words, the realization struck me like a lead weight. What had Father said about money that afternoon in his library when we had been going over his accounts in those leather-bound books? We were over-extended. We owed more than the properties were worth, until they could be built up to pay off. Now that Father was dead . . .

I closed my eyes, not wanting to think of the bankers, the loans that would come due out of the estate, and the fuss that all Father's creditors would make to get their money back quickly before someone else beat them to it. Without Father's name and reputation, the poor state of our finances would be quickly brought into the open. In fact, as soon as Campbell made his demand for ransom money, whoever was acting as executor would search the account books for available cash and find none.

And then the word would spread from bank to bank, quietly, of course, discreetly, but rapidly. And then the chaotic scramble would begin in earnest.

'Hey,' said Parsons. He had finished heating the beans and was scraping them on to two tin plates with his knife. 'Are you all right? Here. Better have some beans.'

I automatically accepted the plate and a bent steel spoon. Holding the plate of beans on my lap, I began to eat, trying not to think, but unable to stop. My dream of managing our family holdings, of building up the hotels, the camps, the mills, of starting new industry, of one day reclaiming Legacy, was about to be smashed before I could even begin. By the time I got back to Grampian, I would be as badly off as if Father had stuck to his promise a week earlier and really disowned me. There would be next to nothing. Mother and I would probably even have to sell the mansion and move to a smaller house once the creditors began to make their demands.

'Hope there ain't no hard feelin's,' Parsons was saying, ' 'bout not takin' ya back, I mean. That Campbell, he's a son-of-a-bitch. Even if the law caught up with him, I'd not feel safe unless I saw him hanged first and buried after.'

I nodded.

And then the realization came that perhaps, if I reached Grampian soon enough, I might be able to stop any disclosure of our shaky financial condition. If I could only get back, there would be no need to look for a ransom and no need for a quick examination of the books until I could make certain that whoever was doing the examination had been carefully prepared for what he would find, and what he would report. . .

I looked up, trying to keep my emotions in control. I had to escape, and there was not a moment to lose, yet I could not let that show.

I set down my plate, a bit surprised to notice that I had finished the entire serving. 'I ... I need to go outside for a few minutes,' I said in my most ladylike manner.

He had enough manners not to question me. In a moment or two he got up and opened the door. He gave me a perfunctory smile as I bent down to put on my shoes, which he had left outside by the doorway.

'Reckon we'll just keep these in here for the time bein',' he said, taking the shoes out of my hands. 'Hope ya understand.'

'Do you seriously think I'd consider running off through these godforsaken woods on my own?' I tried to sound pouting and indignant.

He gave me an oddly tentative, almost shy, grin, which looked strangely out of place on his swarthy, unshaven features. 'Well, let's just say I don't want to take no chances, though ya sure didn't seem to be havin' such a bad time this mornin'.'

I blushed. While we had been making love that morning, a vision of Justin McKay and what this would have been like with him had crept into my mind, and despite all my firm intentions to stay controlled and passionless, I had let my emotions carry me away. Parsons was right. I had enjoyed what we had done this morning, though I am sure he would not have appreciated knowing the reason why.

I was at a loss for words, the color rising in my cheeks. He watched me for a moment or two. His narrow-set brown eyes had softened even further.

'Don't know what to say, do ya? Well, hell, neither do I. Got no business gettin' mixed up with rich dames, I guess, a roughneck like me.' He coughed to clear his throat. 'Aw, hell,' he said.

And then to my surprise I found he was pressing the shoes back into my hands. 'Take the damned things. Take the horse, too. Get the hell outta here.'

I could scarcely believe what I had heard. For a moment I stood dumbfounded, just staring at him. I knew that I ought to run while the chance was here, but I found myself asking questions, against my better judgment. 'But what about Campbell? What are you going to tell him?'

'I'll make up somethin'. I could tell him ya weren't even there when I rode down to the lake to check on ya. Don't worry 'bout it. Just get goin' now before I change my mind.'