Midnight Lover (22 page)

But Jade hadn't Caroline's insight. Jade worked toward the day when she'd chuck everything she'd worked for and head for the beaches of Mexico. Caroline was more like Jesse himself, striving toward something she couldn't put a name to as if the devil himself were coming up behind her fast.

It hadn't taken Caroline a week before she saw past the whoring and the gambling and straight to the heart of Silver Spur's future. He saw it in her eyes, in the tone of her voice, as she talked about her plans for the Crazy Arrow. Change was barreling down on them fast as the railroad that rumbled from Atlantic to Pacific. Soon its iron tracks would find their way down to Silver Spur and the face of the land he loved would be changed forever.

Jesse knew how to make the best of the coming changes and unless he missed his guess, Caroline did, too. The League could bellyache all they wanted about the onslaught of old maids hellbent on marriage but the changes went deeper than that. You couldn't build fences and an iron horse and expect life to roll on the way it had for all the years beforehand.

Nothing stayed the same and the sooner the men of Silver Spur realized that the better off they were all going to be. He had a mind to sit them all down and tell them how it was going to be, tell them their damn fool Single Man's Protection League was nothing but a dodge against the truth, that sooner or later the west they'd loved was going to take its last breath and sink into domesticity.

Ain't the way to build a business, Reardon. This town, these men, were the closest he'd ever come to having a family and he'd be damned if he'd shoot it all to hell because of some foolish city gal who'd be making her way back to Boston soon as the circuit judge came riding through Silver Spur and set things to rights once again.

Even if she did have the prettiest pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen...

Hell, thinking like that only got a man in trouble worse than the trouble any judge could come up with. Jesse grabbed himself a deck of cards and popped the seal. "Five card stud," he said, taking his usual seat at the head of the gaming table. "Any takers?"

#

"Stop looking at me that way, Abby!" Caroline brushed a lock of blonde hair from her forehead and continued scrubbing the pantry shelves that afternoon. "I did what had to be done and I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."

"Deal with the devil is what you did, miss, if you don't mind me sayin' so. I can't believe you would be lettin' Jesse Reardon move into the Crazy Arrow."

Caroline attacked a streak of dirt with renewed vigor. "You make it sound as if I sent him an engraved invitation."

"And how else would the scoundrel have made his way inside the Arrow, I ask you?"

Caroline tossed down her soapy rag and, grabbing Abby by her frayed collar, fairly dragged the girl toward the front door of the saloon. It was wide open to the street and a stray cat, black and scrawny, sat on the threshold washing its white paws.

"No locks, Abby," Caroline pointed out, her voice betraying her irritation. "No bars upon the windows. Mr. Reardon needed no invitation."

"Has the manners of a sea dog, he does," said Abby, shaking her head. "Sam Markham wouldn't be allowin' himself to take such liberties with a lady's privacy."

"Haven't you learned a thing about Silver Spur, Abigail O'Brien? These men are all the same," Caroline said, wagging her finger beneath Abby's freckled nose. "They take what they want from a woman then howl at the moon when a woman stands up and fights for what is rightfully hers."

Abby's jaw squared in the way Caroline knew all too well. "Be that as it may, miss, but Sam Markham is a cut above the average."

Caroline thought of the stocky, weathered-looking bartender of the King of Hearts Saloon. The only thing remarkable about the man was just how solidly average he was. She started to say exactly that when another series of images suddenly popped up before her eyes.

Abby blushing coyly as she traded barbs with Sam Markham on the day they arrived in Silver Spur.

Sam Markham showing Abby the way to Aunt Sally's for supper and Abby's heated defense of his culinary tastes.

Sam Markham lurking around the dry goods store, the bank, the butcher shop and every other establishment Abby frequented.

And, most telling of all, the flushed and flustered look on Abby's face each time she returned from one of her many errands.

"Oh my God, Abby," Caroline moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Don't tell me you're in love with that reprobate."

"He is a fine man, miss, and I'll not have you sayin' unpleasant things about him because of the company he keeps."

"You haven't answered my question."

"And I won't be until you come to your senses and throw that monster out of the Crazy Arrow."

Caroline sighed and leaned against the door jamb, to the annoyance of the cat. "I can't, Abby."

"Back in Boston I saw you throw Mr. Thomas out of his own mother's house, I did. Shyness wouldn't be one of your virtues, miss."

"We—how can I put this? We have an agreement. He claims to own the Crazy Arrow but I hold the deed. The circuit judge is due in Silver Spur for the Fourth of July celebration and we shall let him decide the outcome of the dispute."

Abby snorted her derision. "You would be a fool to be believin' in justice in a town like this. We may as well be packin' our trunks for our return to Boston."

"Judges are learned men, Abby. Fair men. I have no doubt he will recognize the validity of the deed."

"Men recognize but one thing here, miss: lead."

"I beg your pardon, Abby?"

The young maid reached deep into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a small metal object that fit in the palm of her hand. "This is what they recognize, miss," she said, handing it to Caroline. "That would be a derringer and it's what gives a body power in Silver Spur." Caroline gasped as her fingers closed around a short-barreled pistol. "My God!" she whispered. "Has it come to this? We're reduced to bearing arms like common gunslingers." She went to hand the gun back to her maid but Abby refused.

"You would be needin' it more than me these days, miss," Abby observed. "With that Mr. Reardon under the same roof you'd best keep it under your pillow."

"I don't even want this in the house! I know nothing about guns or bullets or—"

"There wouldn't be bullets in it, miss, not yet. The owner of the general store said they be arrivin' tomorrow and he's savin' me a boxful."

"What are we becoming, Abby? What on earth have I led us into that we need revolvers and bullets?" Threatening Reardon with gunfire was one thing; actually owning a gun was something else again.

"A different life, miss, and one we should be prepared for. Pretendin' this town ain't anything but what it is wouldn't be gettin' us anything but trouble."

Caroline held the revolver up to the light. Such a small weapon to inflict such destruction upon a person. She shivered. "I don't know, Abby. I would like to think it possible to maintain our safety without resorting to such violent means."

From the Golden Dragon across the road came the sound of glass breaking. Two howling cowboys, locked in battle, crashed through the shattered window and landed on the porch of the sporting house with a thud. Before Caroline could say a word, the mingled sounds of gunshot and wild laughter rang out from farther down the street. She looked at the derringer and thought about Jesse Reardon and how he had taken over her bed last night as if he had the divine right to take whatever he fancied.

"Thank you, Abby." She slipped the unloaded revolver into the pocket of her apron. "I think this will prove to be quite useful after all."

#

Back in Boston, life for Thomas Addison continued to decline.

"You've shamed me, Thomas," declared Emily Addison as she reached for her fourth glass of sherry that afternoon. "Shamed every Addison who came before you."

And every Addison who is yet to be born. How like his mother to die his every move to the endless chain of Addisons who filled the cemeteries of Boston. It was all he could do to keep from laughing in the face of his mother's righteous indignation.

Emily looked down at the sheaf of papers in her lap. "Dreadful," she said, shaking her head. "Positively dreadful. Drinking on the job. Defacing bank property. Disgraceful behavior toward the wife of a stockholder." She looked up from the papers, an expression of pure horror in her brown eyes. "Whatever on earth were you thinking of, Thomas?

"Nothing, mother," he said calmly. "Not one blasted thing."

Indeed, since he discovered the pleasures of alcohol, he had done his level best to keep his mind clear as a spring-fed pond.

"I am ashamed of you."

He nodded; of course she was. If he weren't so drunk, he would probably be ashamed of himself, as well. Unfortunately, he wanted nothing more than to retire to his room with a bottle of whiskey and fantasies of his Caroline Bennett.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself, Thomas?" Emily demanded.

"What would you like to hear, mother? That it's all a mistake and a drop of liquor has never passed my lips. Sorry, mother, but I cannot oblige."

"It's that Bennett girl." Emily took a polite sip of sherry. "That wicked child led you on the same way her dreadful father did me, only to break your heart in the end. You must persevere, Thomas! That's what you must do: persevere." Her round face was lit by a triumphant smile as she touched the heavy ruby and diamond ring on her left hand. "Had Aaron not left me brokenhearted, I would never have met my darling Henry and found such bliss as I cannot describe." His mother leaned forward and patted him on the forearm, the rubies twinkling boldly in the gaslight. "Persevere, Thomas!" she repeated, obviously warming up to her topic. "Henry is most eager to bring you into his law office and he has the most darling niece named Cassandra who is new to Boston and in need of an escort to the Cotillion next week."

"No."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise. "I beg your pardon, Thomas?"

"I said no, mother."

"Don't be impertinent."

"I'm twenty-five years old, mother. Isn't it time you stopped ordering me around like a child? Isn't it time you stopped running my life the way you ran Father's?" He gulped down a slug of whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thomas! Apologize for your outburst at once!"

Thomas bowed low, inordinately pleased that he didn't spill a drop of his precious whiskey. "I apologize it took me so long to grow up."

"Stuff and nonsense! I shall attribute your foolishness to whiskey and bad judgment." She sat up straight, her plump little body fairly quivering with outrage. "You must go to the office this very afternoon and speak to Mr. Lord and apologize for your behavior, then take the carriage to Henry's and accept his offer."

Thomas nodded agreeably. "Of course, mother. Anything you say."

"I hate impudence, Thomas!"

"None intended, mother."

Emily's face softened as she looked at her only child. "Oh, how I wish that wicked Bennett girl were here. I would give her a piece of my mind for leading you on a merry chase."

He tried to make sense of his mother's words. "A merry chase?"

"You're as literal as your dear departed father." Emily waved one small hand in the air. "I'm speaking metaphorically, Thomas. Of course, you didn't chase after her, thank God, for no gentleman behaves in such a vulgar fashion."

A chase, he thought, the idea taking hold inside his inebriated brain. A chase of the oldest kind....

"Thomas? You are not paying attention to me. March upstairs and splash cold water on your face. I shall see about having Cook brew some strong Jamaican coffee and then you're off to speak to Henry about his most gracious offer."

"Whatever you say, mother," said Thomas, for he suddenly realized that what he did today didn't matter a whit. He could polish Mr. Lord's boots or toady up to his mother's beau or swing naked from the chandelier for all the difference it would make because the second he could get his hands on a chunk of his trust fund, he would be on his way to Silver Spur and Caroline.

Only this time he wouldn't take no for an answer.

#

Back in Silver Spur,
Jesse played cards until late afternoon, enjoying the whiskey, the cigar smoke, and his position as the most important man in town. They talked about gambling and railroads, about abandoned mines and brand new dreams, and not once did they talk about women.

More than ever before Jesse realized how important it was—for both the town and him—that he reopen the old Rayburn mine. With all the changes happening around them, they needed something new to hang their hopes on. Reopening the Rayburn mine was like putting all your money on a pair of aces: risky, but still possible.

Besides, Jesse'd managed to win big before with a hell of a lot less than a pair of aces and he had himself a gut feeling that there was still a lot of silver left to be mined if he could convince Caroline Bennett that she was holding on to something that didn't belong to her.