Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 02] (12 page)

She didn’t have to wait long. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile before he burst into laughter.

“It wasn’t funny,” Tessa informed him.

David sat down on the bench and laughed until his ribs ached. “Oh, contessa, I can just see Margaret Jeffers’s face when you told her the Satin Slipper had a better class of customers.”

A smile broke through the stern set of Tessa’s lips. She glanced at David, saw the humor mirrored in his dark eyes and the lines of mirth bracketing his mouth, and started to laugh with him.

David laughed until he couldn’t laugh any longer. Then he sat watching Tessa. He was angry at the women in town and ashamed of the way they’d treated her, but he was proud of Tessa. Proud of the way she’d behaved. David knew how it felt to be ostracized. He knew how much it hurt. Reaching out, he took Tessa’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “My mother always says it’s better to laugh at your woes than to cry,” David explained. “I hope she’s right.”

Tessa smiled up at him, liking the feel of his strong hand holding hers. “I feel better now.”

“Tessa, I’m sorry you had to go through that ordeal,” David murmured. “I sent you to the mercantile because I knew Lorna would be there. I thought she’d take care of you. I don’t know why she stood by and let Margaret Jeffers throw you out of the store.” David let go of Tessa’s hand, stood up, and began to pace, his frustration evident in every step.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Tessa said, feeling a little sad now that David had let go of her hand. “She tried, but Mrs. Jeffers—”

“Come on.” David reached down and grabbed Tessa’s elbow.

“Where are we going?” Tessa asked, though she was pretty sure she knew.

“Back to the mercantile.”

“Not me.” Tessa held back. “I said my piece. I’ve had enough.”

David paid no attention. “We’re going back to Jeffers’s and buy those supplies you wanted.”

“No.” Tessa pulled against him. She knew she was being cowardly, but she was tired of confrontation. She knew she should march back in there at David Alexander’s side and demand that she be treated like any other paying customer, but not today. Not this time. “Please. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” David said, but he stopped tugging on Tessa’s arm and looked at her face. She’d laughed, but she was laughing through tears. And right now she looked tired, tired of fighting. David recognized the feeling. He’d been there himself once or twice. She needed time to herself. Time to regroup. David abruptly let go of her arm. “Come on,” he urged, his voice soft, gentle. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks,” Tessa said as she walked between them, Coalie on one side, David Alexander on the other.

“Don’t thank me,” David warned. “I’ve got to get to the undertaker’s in a few minutes, but as soon as I finish there I’m going to Jeffers’s Mercantile and have a talk with Margaret Jeffers myself.”

“Take your time at the undertaker’s. Mrs. Jeffers’ll probably need some time to recover before she talks to you.” Looking up at David, Tessa giggled. “She was in shock when we left,” she warned him. “But, you know, it was almost worth it just to see the look on her face when I compared her store to the Satin Slipper.”

The crowd at Jeffers’s Mercantile was even thicker than before. Word of Margaret Jeffers’s confrontation with the murdering little saloon girl had traveled like wildfire. Nearly half the people in town jammed into the store to listen to the details while they waited for David Alexander’s arrival. Everyone knew he was coming. It was simply a matter of time.

Down the street, Lee Kincaid lounged by the entrance of the funeral parlor, his hat pulled low over his eyes, concealing his face. He’d gone on the pretense of paying his respects to Arnie Mason, but he was lying in wait for David. Lee intended to waylay him before David had the chance to make a fool of himself in front of the townspeople, twelve of whom would be jurors at Tessa’s trial.

Lee heard about the incident at the store almost as soon as it happened. He’d gone in to pick up a few personal items minutes after Tessa left and heard six or seven versions of the encounter from at least that many women. Women who gossiped in the ladies’ corner. Lee knew they’d drawn the right conclusion. It wouldn’t be long before David Alexander showed up to defend Tessa’s honor. David was nothing if not straightforward.

Lee waited patiently. He heard the brisk steps of Doc Turner as they passed him and headed toward the buggy parked in front of the undertaker’s. Lee raised the brim of his hat a fraction, then peeked through the window. David was coming down the stairs. Lee waited until the front door opened.

“What the hell?” David blurted out as someone grabbed hold of his arm.

“Shut up,” Lee muttered, pulling David away from the doorway to the side of the building, away from prying eyes. “You took long enough,” Lee told him. “I’ve been waiting nearly half an hour.” He let go of David’s coat sleeve and, turning to face him, pushed his hat back away from his face.

“Lee.” David released a breath. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’m on my way—”

“To Jeffers’s Mercantile.” Lee smiled at the look of surprise in David’s dark eyes. “I know. So does the rest of the town. Half of ’em are waiting for you at the store.”

“What?”

“They want to see the show,” Lee said bluntly. “They want to see the big lawyer make a fool of himself over a bit of saloon fluff.”

“That’s not…” David raked his fingers through his black hair, realizing suddenly that he’d left his hat at the office. “I won’t—”

“If you go storming in to confront that Jeffers bitch you will,” Lee replied. “David, think. Use that keen lawyer brain of yours. Tessa Roarke is accused of murdering a man.”

“She didn’t do it.”

“How do you know?” Lee asked.

“She told me.”

“And I suppose you take everything your clients tell you as the gospel truth?”

“No. But I know Tessa isn’t lying. I feel it in my gut.”

“In your gut?” Lee studied his friend. “Or in your groin?”

David’s lips thinned to a tight line. His face hardened, the coppery skin stretched across his cheekbones. “If you weren’t my friend, you’d be picking yourself up off the ground.” David clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to control his fury.

“I know,” Lee said. “But if I weren’t your friend I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t give a damn if you made a fool of yourself in front of half the town. And you can’t go storming into Margaret Jeffers’s store demanding satisfaction without looking like a fool. You’re thinking like a man, not an attorney. This is Wyoming, David.” Lee’s voice hardened. “
Women
sit on juries here, or have you forgotten?”

David slumped against the rough boards covering the outside of the funeral parlor. “Damn.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a weary gesture, then raked his hand through his hair once again. “Damn.” He opened his eyes and met Lee’s penetrating gray-eyed gaze. “You’re right.”

Lee chuckled, showing straight white teeth. “I know I’m right.”

“I got so damn mad,” David confided. “Beneath all the bluster, Tessa was near tears. She didn’t even cry when she was jailed.”

“You’ve always been a sucker for a woman’s tears,” Lee reminded him.

“Yeah,” David admitted. “God help me, so I have.”

“Are you certain she’s innocent?” Lee shuffled from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the question he’d had to ask. They both knew he wasn’t just asking if she was innocent of the crime of murder, but innocent in other ways as well.

“She didn’t kill Arnie Mason.” David knew he was only answering part of Lee’s question, but it was the only answer he could give. He wasn’t certain about the rest. And he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it with Lee.

“Can you prove it in court?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s she told you about that night?”

“Very little, except that she didn’t kill him.”

“Then how can you be so sure?” When he looked at David, his expression was skeptical.

“Tessa Roarke is left-handed.” David moved away from the side of the funeral parlor and began to retrace his steps to the front of the building. “Have you seen the wound in Arnie Mason’s throat?” David asked his friend. “I mean, have you really
looked
at it? Studied it? Tested it?”

“No.” Lee shook his head. “Not as carefully as you seem to have.”

“Then let’s go take a look,” David suggested, clapping Lee on the shoulder with the palm of his hand. “I’d like your opinion.”

“As long as you don’t make me look at him too long.” Lee smiled roguishly, his eyes twinkling. “I had to look at the son of a bitch nearly every night at the Satin Slipper. I don’t relish the thought of him ruining my sleep now that he’s dead.”

“Neither do I.” David smiled. “But I’m afraid it’s too late for me. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since the bastard was murdered. And I don’t expect to have one until I prove Tessa is innocent.” He opened the front door of the funeral parlor and allowed Lee to precede him.

“Speaking of Tessa…” Lee hesitated before stepping inside.

“Yes?”

“What do you intend to do now about the little incident at the mercantile?”

“That’s a hell of a question to ask me now,” David said. “You’re the one who just talked me out of storming in there and demanding justice.”

“I talked you out of storming in there and acting like a hot-tempered fool. I didn’t say I thought you ought to let it pass.”

“What do you suggest?” David entered the funeral parlor on Lee’s heels.

“I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer, but I feel sure you’ll think of some punishment suitable to the crime.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” David’s voice was full of sarcasm as he followed Lee into the room where Arnie Mason was stretched out in a yellow pine box.

“Don’t mention it.” Lee studied the corpse, flinching a bit as he loosened the dead man’s starched white collar and pulled it aside. “Looks like Myra Brennan outdid herself when she decided to outfit Arnie for all eternity.”

“What?” David was puzzled. “Myra Brennan paid for this?”

“Sure,” Lee said. “And very well, I might add. See?” He fingered the fabric below the removable collar. “French handkerchief linen. Expensive. Like something you’d wear, not something Arnie would own.”

“But why?”

“They were lovers,” Lee replied matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you know that?”

“I knew he worked for her, and that he was at the Satin Slipper almost every night. But that hulking brute of a man Myra’s lover?” David shuddered, staring at the scarred, battered face of the corpse. “No, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. It does seem incredible when she has such a
tendresse
for you.” Lee stopped his rambling and focused on the expression on David’s face. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” David grimaced. “I do know she has a certain fondness for me, despite my ‘unfortunate’ heritage.”

“Or maybe because of it,” Lee suggested. “She does profess to hate all inferior beings—Indians, half-breeds, Irish “ He grinned at David. “But she sure has an interesting way of showing it—accosting you on the street in broad daylight, accosting me in the storeroom every chance she gets.”

David looked surprised at that admission.

Lee laughed out loud. The sound echoed through the funeral parlor, earning a sharp disapproving look from the proprietor, who had entered a moment earlier. Lee ignored the undertaker, focusing his attention on his friend instead. “You didn’t think you were the only one, did you? Because you aren’t. You’re her favorite—the best-looking and the richest—but you aren’t the only one.”

“Interesting,” David said.

“Yep,” Lee agreed. “I do believe the lady doth protest too much.”

“Yep,” David echoed. “It makes me wonder why.”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” Lee told him. “And, David, getting back to Tessa and the mercantile…” Lee examined the knife wound a few minutes longer, then closed the collar over the gaping hole.

“I wondered when you’d remind me again.”

“Have you decided what to do?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lee looked up and met David’s eyes. “Because I think you’re absolutely right about the knife wound.” He glanced down at Arnie one last time, wincing. “Nasty business, throat-cutting. This is definitely a right-handed slash. I don’t think the Roarke girl killed him, either. Trouble is, I don’t know who did.”

“Neither do I,” David answered. “But I intend to get some answers right after I pay a visit to the mercantile.”

“I’m glad that’s settled.” Lee nodded in satisfaction. “Now we can get the hell out of here. This place and this dead son of a bitch give me the creeps.”

* * *

The citizens of Peaceable who had congregated in Jeffers’s Mercantile waited all morning and part of the afternoon before David Alexander made his appearance. The assortment of tea and cakes had been consumed long ago, yet the women continued to browse in the ladies’ corner, and the men took turns facing each other over the black and red squares of the checkerboard. People who hadn’t been present at the morning confrontation showed up with orders for coffee, sugar, ten-penny nails, and spools of thread. Jeffers’s Mercantile was the most popular spot in Peaceable on this particular Saturday.

David was aware of the circus atmosphere the moment he opened the door and crossed the threshold. All movement stopped. Every head turned toward the door. The sound of the brass bell seemed abnormally loud.

David acknowledged the gathering with a nod of his head as he walked across the room to the counter. He smiled a greeting at Lorna Taylor.

“Good afternoon, Miss Taylor. Is Mrs. Jeffers in?”

“David…” In her agitation Lorna addressed him by his first name.

“It’s all right, Lorna.” David’s voice was a rough whisper, his assurance meant for Lorna alone. He raised his voice as he continued. “Will you get Mrs. Jeffers? We have some business to discuss.”

Lorna stepped away from the counter and, turning her back on David, exited through the curtained doorway that led to Mrs. Jeffers’s office.