Scarlet Lady (10 page)

She gave him a sharp look. “You claim my house and I’ll claim your boat.”

“Never happen, lady. I’ve got proof, remember?”

“And I’ve got pull. I’m a Carithers. You’re a gambler.”

Montana released the brake and hit the gas. The sports car shot forward out of the parking lot and into the street.

Carson Carithers was no prize, but in spite of her innocence, his sister was just as bad. Still, until he found Carson, he’d table any further discussion of Katie’s cheating. As much as he hated a cheater, he had to grudgingly admire Katie for figuring out how to win. Poor Carson was a washout in every way.

It was late when they returned to Carithers’ Chance. Once again, there were no lights on announcing the return
of Katie’s wayward brother. Montana pulled up to the porch, opened the door, and walked around to Katie’s side of the car. But she was already out and heading to the steps.

“Thank you for looking for Carson. I have a strong feeling that by the time you get back to your boat tonight, Carson will have been there. If not, when he comes, please tell him that I’m … I’m waiting for him.”

“He hasn’t been there or I’d know. I have a car phone, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“No, I hadn’t.” She hadn’t noticed much except the driver. Katie looked down at her hands. She was still wearing the fake nails Cat had glued over her own short ones. Their bright red color was almost black in the shadows—black like the empty place in her chest. The day had been a waste. She hadn’t found Carson, and her emotions had been wrung out to a tight thread that threatened to break at any minute.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Montana. You’ve just spent an awful lot of time helping someone who must seem ungrateful. I’m not. It’s just that—that nothing like this has happened before. Carson has always lived his own life, but he’s never done anything illegal, or intentionally unkind.”

Montana could have argued. Everything he’d heard about Carson seemed an exercise in “me first.” But Katie was very near complete emotional collapse, and nothing would be accomplished by reminding her that it had been Carson’s gambling that had brought them to this place.

Instead, he reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She was determined to see her brother with a heart filled with love, and for one brief moment he wished that he had a sister who’d cared that much for him.

Then she raised her eyes, misty with pain and confusion. He knew then that he didn’t want Katie Carithers as a sister. He wanted her as a woman. Beneath his fingertips, he felt her begin to shiver. Her breath came short and fast and she swayed.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He caught her just as her knees buckled, lifting her in his arms and holding her to him. “Whoa. I know you’re grateful for my help, but falling at my feet isn’t necessary.”

“I feel a little shaky,” she said. “If you’ll just help me get inside, I’ll be all right.”

“Sure you will,” he agreed, walking up the steps and across the porch. He started to ask for her key, then remembered the door wasn’t locked. Inside, he hit the foyer light switch, then hesitated. Parlor or bedroom? he wondered. Then: “When was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“I … I don’t remember. I’ve been too worried lately to eat much. Today, I had some iced tea for lunch—I think.”

“That’s what I thought. Very little sleep, no food, at least one midnight swim down the Mississippi. Where’s the kitchen?”

She had slept poorly. And she wasn’t hungry, but she
was too tired to argue. Before she could direct him to the kitchen, he’d found it, switched on the light, and deposited her in a rocking chair beside an old-fashioned fireplace. There was a fire already laid, and even though it wasn’t that cool, he struck a match to it and watched the kindling flare up. Glancing around, he spotted an afghan on the floor and spread it across her knees.

Quickly examining the kitchen, he discovered the parlor walls weren’t the only thing bare. The refrigerator yielded four eggs, some cheese, butter, and milk. In the pantry he found half a loaf of bread and some coffee.

Katie neither directed his actions nor made any comments on what he was doing as he went about preparing an omelet, buttering bread for toast, and measuring coffee into a percolator on the counter. She seemed instead to be half-asleep. Shock, he decided. It was obvious that she’d been overextending herself for some time. Too much work. Too much worry and too little hope did that to a person. From her slim build he surmised that she didn’t eat well either.

“A little of Montana’s special cooking and you’ll be okay,” he said, trying, for reasons he didn’t understand, to reassure her. She’d already cost him more than he could calculate, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the pain in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“I know you don’t think so, Katherine, but trust me when I say I understand where Carson is right now. I’ve been down that road myself, might still be there if it hadn’t been for a man who jerked me out of my own
state of self-destruction and put me to work on the docks.”

He located a skillet and added a chunk of butter to melt.

She turned her head slowly and looked at him as if she were seeing a stranger. “Self-destruction?” she repeated as if his conversation were being received in slow motion.

Montana whipped the eggs in a bowl and added cheese. At least he’d gotten through to her, caught her attention with something he’d said.

“Drifting. Hopelessness. Call it what you like. It was the road to hell, and I was charging down it.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why were you self-destructing?”

He set the bowl down and thought about what he would say. Nobody knew the truth about his past. Nobody knew his real name. He’d become Montana through an act of defiance. Cowboys were tough. Men with names like Rhett Butler Stewart weren’t.

“You seem so strong. Carson isn’t.”

“I wasn’t always,” he finally admitted. He’d already said more about his past than he’d intended to. Talking about himself took her mind off her problems. “There was a time when I was a lot like your brother. I never knew who my father was. My mother wasn’t a woman who could live alone. She needed someone to take care of her and she found a man who would. After that, she had a new life. She didn’t need me anymore.”

“What happened? Did you run away from home?”

“Not then. I was just a kid. It took me five years, but
I found someone who needed me, a gentle soul whose father had provided her with a stepmother who made her as miserable as I was. Her name was Laura. I thought she needed me. I sure as hell needed her. We fell in love. We were … getting married. But our families didn’t approve. They separated us. I didn’t need that kind of family, so I left.”

“I’m sorry they hurt you. But families are important, Montana. They give us strength and support. And help us to make wise choices.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Wise choices? Like your family?”

She sighed. “You’re right. They—we do the best we can. Sometimes that isn’t good enough. But family is family and you stick together.”

In a voice as cold as ice, Montana said, “Family killed the only good thing in my life. No more family for me.”

“But you were only eighteen. Carson thought a lot of women needed him when he was eighteen. I think it was mostly him that did the needing.”

Montana didn’t know why he continued to reveal so much of himself. Maybe it was because Katie seemed so vulnerable. She needed someone to be close to, someone she could draw strength from. The truth seemed to be more reassuring than his usual surface banter. “Like I said, Carson and I are a lot alike. But I sucked it up and straightened myself out. Look what’s happened to Carson.”

“Probably the same thing that happened to you,” Katie said. “Carson closed himself off from the people
who loved him. According to him, life is full of wants, but the only person you can count on to fill yours is you. Unlike Carson, you had someone to help you, some stranger who influenced you.”

“I did. And that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Now Carson has help, too. He has me.”

Katie didn’t protest. She didn’t understand Montana. His persona and his actions didn’t seem to match. She was having a hard time resolving the difference. Montana the gambler seemed different from Montana the man.

She surprised herself with her next question. “What happened to the girl you loved?”

“She died,” he said, abruptly turning his back and sloshing the eggs into the hot skillet. Katie might as well know the whole truth. No point in stopping now. “She killed herself. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it because they wouldn’t tell me where she was.”

Katie found herself standing and walking toward the man she’d sworn to hate. Suddenly he wasn’t some evil monster, preying on the weakness of others. He was a man in pain, a man who hurt and needed—just like Carson.

Laying her hand on his arm, she said softly, “I’m sorry, Montana. Death is so final. It doesn’t give us a second chance to do things.”

For a long moment time seemed to stand still. The only sound in the kitchen was the soft bubbling of the omelet and the burping perk of the coffee. If Montana was breathing, it was so shallow that Katie couldn’t detect it.

Then the grandfather clock in the hall chimed, reminding her how late it was and how many nights she’d waited for Carson to come home. Carson was still missing. Carson had to be the focus of her energies now. Realizing how close she’d come to forgiving the gambler who held her future in his hands, she stepped back.

“Your omelet is done,” she said. “I’ll get the plates.”

The spell was broken. The sooner she got Montana out of her kitchen, the sooner she could focus on her responsibilities. Depending on him to find Carson was giving him a strange power over her. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like how she’d felt only minutes before. Carson was
her
brother. She’d find him.

Katie placed two plates and two mugs on the breakfast table overlooking the garden. She brought silverware, napkins, salt, and pepper. Montana halved the omelet, guiding a slice onto each plate. As he poured the coffee Katie removed the pan of toast from the oven and brought the sugar and cream to the table.

They sat down and began to eat in silence. Beyond the bay window, the twilight was streaked with traces of firefly-studded darkness, hidden behind the gauzy tufts of moss hanging from the low graceful limbs.

The omelet was rich and fluffy, the coffee strong and hot. To Katie, there was an illusion of warmth. Like the glass covering on a glass globe Christmas snow scene, it held them, magnifying the moment. But illusions weren’t real. All it took was a gentle shake and the peaceful scene quickly turned into a storm.

She ate, but her movements were mechanical. She couldn’t allow herself to be sidetracked by this constant
awareness of Montana. Her brother, her home demanded all her attention.

Montana slowly cleared his plate. He neither looked at her nor spoke. It was as if, by bringing her back to life, he’d given up the spirit of his own.

Finally he said, “You’re right. We can’t change the past. But we can try to change the present. You may not understand it, but that’s what I’m trying to do with your brother.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” she said, “but I can’t ask you to give up any more of your time. I’ll contact the police. I’m sure they’ll be more cooperative when they find out about the missing money.”

“You don’t understand, Katherine. It’s a matter of personal honor. I have to find Carson.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand.”

He stood. “It’s too complicated to explain. I’m not sure why protecting your brother is so important to you either, but it is and I’ll do what I can to help, even though I believe he’s a lost cause. Go to bed. I’ll call you.”

He started down the hall.

“Montana,” she called out softly, then stood and followed him. At the front door she stopped and looked up at him. “This would make sense if you were family. But you’re not.”

He glared down at her, his stern brows set in a line of determination. But as they stood in the half-dark foyer his expression softened and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. He didn’t.

She was stunned when she realized that she wanted him to.

Finally, she said, “If it’s any consolation to you, I won’t take your boat and leave you without either a home or a job. The Carithers family isn’t heartless.” She didn’t mention the double-or-nothing pot.

“Well, thank you, ma’am. It’s real generous of you to take pity on a poor river rat.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, not realizing that he was being sarcastic until she noticed a thunderous scowl erase any momentary sign of tenderness from Montana’s face. Thunder and a stern reply.

“At least my family was honest enough to disown me. Yours just plays games. Are all the Caritherses gamblers?”

“The men have been and they’ve had a run of bad luck. Me? I never have, at least not seriously. Until the other night. I guess I’m the first winner in this generation. Aren’t I?”

He nodded. She was convincing. If he hadn’t known better, he’d believe her claim of innocence. “That’s debatable. As least you planned your strategy. You had it all worked out, didn’t you? Too bad Carson didn’t send you out gambling in the beginning.”

“He didn’t send me out at all. It was my idea. And you lost.”

“That’s what you wrote on the mirror. But you left so abruptly that we didn’t have a chance to discuss it. Usually a big winner is willing to negotiate a consolation prize. I think you owe me one.”

“I’ll certainly do whatever I’m expected to do. But
I’m afraid I don’t know how to be a professional gambler.”

Montana shook his head. “In this case, neither do I.” He took her face in his hands. “But this will do.”

Katie didn’t protest. This time he did kiss her. Deeply, completely, with all the need a man keeps penned up inside him. Then he released her, gave her a wicked smile, and said, “That was no consolation prize, darling. I did all the kissing. You still owe me.”

He’d done it again—kissed her. And she’d responded—again. Flustered, she lashed out at him, saying the first thing that came to mind. “The only thing I owe you, Montana, is the money for Carson’s IOUs. And if you force me, I’ll make a legal claim on your boat. I may not win, but I’ll tie you up for so long, you’ll be glad to forgive my debt.”