Rafe owed him nothing, Jonah’d reminded himself as he listened to Rafe stand before the group and tell them Jonah wasn’t important to him. It wasn’t as if Rafe had tossed him to an angry mob to save his own skin. This denial shouldn’t hurt. Yet the words of indifference cut deeper than Rev. Burns’s lies. Dear Lord, he hadn’t known words could create such pain until Rafe spoke without so much as a glance in his direction. Jonah had held himself tight and waited for the announcement to be over, and afterward he walked to the boss’s wagon, determined to do something, whether it was slam Rafe to the ground or beg him for a kiss. He didn’t know what he wanted.
Yes, he did—to hear the truth from Rafe, even if the truth was “You were entertaining, but I never cared. Now you are a nuisance.” As long as the man looked into his eyes as he said it, Jonah could walk away. And then… Could he stay with the carnival? Life might be easier once Rafe left. Or perhaps his absence would make life in the traveling show unbearable.
But Parinsky’s presence had stopped the confrontation. Jonah walked away from Rafe’s wagon almost glad for having the kibosh put on his careening emotions. He felt like a fool for even thinking he could beg for love—and he’d lost the desire to slam his fist into Rafe’s face.
He returned to Sam’s trailer, sat in Sam’s oversize chair, and wondered if it was anger or sorrow that sent his blood pumping so hard, he trembled.
“We are none of us irreplaceable.” Jonah spoke Rafe’s words into the silence. He thought of Sam then of Rafe, and how much he’d miss them both. He shook his head. “Mr. Grimstone, you are either a liar or just terribly wrong about life.”
Several distant blasts of the master’s whistle announced that the carnival was about to move out. Jonah left the trailer to climb onto the wagon seat, take up the lead lines, and guide the horse into place in the queue.
It was almost midday—a late start but, following the upheaval of the previous night and Rafe’s big announcement, not surprising they were slow to move to the next town. Jonah waited for the next command and watched eagerly for the expected sight of Rafe riding past to check the procession of wagons. When he beheld Mindy instead, riding a piebald gelding and wearing the silver whistle on its cord around her neck, Jonah’s heart plummeted. Rafe had promised to stay with them until the next town and the nearest train station, but perhaps he’d decided to avoid any further drama and ride on ahead. What if he was already gone? What if it was too late to say good-bye? Not that Rafe had given any indication he wanted to see Jonah in private.
The hand clenching Jonah’s heart squeezed tighter. Done. Over. Finished. Like mournful gongs of a church bell announcing a death in the congregation, the words sounded in his head. He slapped the reins against the horse’s back, and the wagon lurched forward.
The gloom that shrouded Jonah was at odds with the brilliant sunny day and the vibrant blue sky overhead. He must not allow himself to wallow in grief over something that had never been his to begin with. Rafe had reminded him time and again that their relationship was temporary. The man had never lied. Once again it had been emotional Jonah who’d imagined his sexual partner had feelings for him simply because he felt so strongly himself.
“Time to grow up,” he advised himself aloud, hoping that hearing the words would snap him out of his melancholy. “Time to move on.”
“Talking to yourself, Talbot?” Mindy rode alongside his wagon, raising an eyebrow as she regarded him. “You look like an elephant dumped a load on your parade.”
Jonah didn’t answer. There was really no response to a statement like that.
“He hasn’t left yet, you know. Just in case you were wondering. But I wouldn’t wait too long if there’s something that needs to be said. I learned the hard way about that.” Again she cut a sharp glance at him.
Jonah nodded.
Mindy started to knee her horse into a trot, but before she moved off she added, “If you think you might be plannin’ on leavin’ too, could you give me a little notice? I’d like you to write down a script for the Poe show. No need to waste a good attraction just because you’re not there to deliver it. Somebody else can learn the stories.”
“No one’s irreplaceable,” Jonah recited glumly to her retreating back. He recalled he’d promised Sam he’d take care of Mindy, and the thought made him smile. Sam would be proud of her now.
* * *
It was odd to watch the carnival set up and no longer be in charge of it. The sun was setting, the shadows crawling long and thin across the grass as the big top went up, canvas billowing in the breeze. But for the first time in three years, Rafe had not shouted directions or pointed the placement of the wagons. He hadn’t paced the dimensions of the top nor pounded in the first staub, as was his custom.
He’d been interested to note that Mindy gave Saul Parinsky the task of measuring the ring, citing the fact that his man-size pace would be more accurate than hers. Rafe wouldn’t have guessed she possessed such manipulative skill, for it was exactly the right way to help win over her rival. She’d managed to make it clear she was in charge but would delegate tasks as needed for the benefit of the show. The sudden realization came over Rafe that Parinsky—for all his feigned desire to take charge—was actually more comfortable in his role of right-hand man. He’d complain and fuss, but he’d do as he was asked. The man was a drinker but never a slacker.
Rafe lingered, watching the setup when he should be on his way. If he hurried, he might catch the last train of the day at the local station. But then the plaintive howl of a locomotive whistle told him it was too late. The train was either just pulling in or just leaving, and he was too far away to get there in time. Perhaps one last night in his wagon, and he’d go to the station in the morning.
Then he saw Mindy heading for the wagon with a heavy carpetbag in each hand and remembered the little home on wheels was no longer his. And there was nothing keeping him here even for another night.
Rafe shouldered his pack and walked toward the makeshift corral Crooked Pete had set up. The horses were eating a measure of oats to go along with the grass they freely cropped. Chaucer would not be pleased at the interruption when Rafe saddled and loaded him with his belongings. Since it was far too late to catch the train, Rafe might as well let the horse enjoy his last meal with the herd.
He set his pack on the ground and leaned against the post, watching the gray, chestnut, black, and white horses snuffle in their feed bin. Their breath huffed softly from large nostrils. An occasional whicker or nip disturbed the serenity of feeding time.
Rafe stared at the animals and considered going to find Jonah for an official last good-bye. He’d seen him a few times during setup, but always at a distance and always busy. Rafe’s feet had been like lead, unable to walk over to the younger man, and he realized now he still couldn’t. They’d exchanged good-byes yesterday with Parinsky in attendance, keeping them from getting too personal. That was good. That was the way it must be.
Nevertheless, when Rafe heard the sound of approaching footsteps, his pulse sped, and he turned eagerly toward the person—only to have his heart drop at the sight of Jamie, not Jonah. Again.
Her blonde hair, which she usually wore piled high, was now hanging in loose curls around her face. Her eyes appeared even larger outlined in black and with long eyelashes that had to be be false framing them. She walked quickly toward the paddock and stopped in front of Rafe.
“You were going to leave without saying good-bye?” Accusation made her voice shake. “After all these years?”
“I said my farewells to everyone yesterday,” he reminded her. “There’s really nothing more to add.”
“Not even to me?” Her lips trembled, and those wide eyes shimmered with tears.
Rafe felt sick. He’d known about her feelings for him. She’d hardly hidden them. But he’d done everything in his power to make it clear those feelings weren’t returned. He’d never led her on, and there was nothing more he could have done to discourage her without being outright rude.
“Jamie, I’ve told you before, I think you’re a fine person, but we work together—that’s all. I’m leaving a lot of good friends like you behind, and I can’t say a private good-bye to each and every one of them.” He saw Jonah’s face, troubled and disappointed. He should have said a better good-bye. God, he couldn’t imagine saying the words—not again.
But Jamie wasn’t done with him. “Friends.” She spoke the word with such scorn, he might as well have called her a whore. “That’s all I am to you.”
“I believe I’ve made that clear a number of times.” Rafe moved toward her. “If I’d had an interest in you, don’t you think I would have followed up on it by now?”
She shook her head, sending her curls tumbling. “Sometimes love is that way. You don’t see the person who is perfect for you is right in front of you. But I believed sometime, someday, you’d come to your senses.”
A chill that had nothing to do with the breeze went through him. With her hair wild around her face and her eyes so wide and glistening, Jamie looked a little mad. And she spoke the words with such conviction that Rafe realized she had, against all odds, somehow believed she had a chance with him.
He reached out to touch her arm, determined to soothe her yet not leave her with any illusions. “Miss Jamie”—he added the title to put some distance between them—“I’m sorry I couldn’t care for you as you evidently do for me. You’re a beautiful woman, but it’s simply not in my nature to be attracted to you. I’m sorry.”
She gave a scoffing snort. “Talbot, that moon-eyed hayseed. The very idea of it is disgusting.”
The pity Rafe felt for her quickly evaporated, and his temper flared. “Enough. I’m going now. Good luck in your future endeavors,” he said coolly as he released her arm and turned away.
“Oh, I have great plans,” she promised, her little-girl sadness instantly replaced by poisonous venom. “Jack and I both do. I guess I knew I couldn’t count on you. So I made plans of my own. I’m taking care of what should be mine.”
Rafe had stooped to pick up his bag, but he dropped it again and faced her. And when he looked into her eyes, he feared that she truly was insane. They nearly sparkled with savage glee.
“What plans?” he asked.
“Did you think I’d stay with a poky little show like this forever? The Orcully Brothers have promised me star billing—headliner on the poster, even above their elephant, Gracie.”
Rafe took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Treat her like a trained bear gone rogue: slow and easy and calm. “Why did they promise you that, Jamie?”
She laughed, a high-pitched tinkle that made the hair on his arms raise. “Why do you think? But what do you care? You’re as good as gone.”
“I’m as good as gone,” he agreed slowly. “So you can tell me. What do you mean, Jamie?”
“All these little accidents. It took you long enough to put two and two together and see it was more ’n bad luck. I thought you’d be smarter than that.”
“You and Jack did this together?”
“Well, yes. Isn’t that what I just said?” She laughed again. “Not that it matters to you now. I’m nothing to you. And the show is nothing to you. You’re leaving, so what do you care about any of it? But just so you know—the House of Mirrors was all mine.”
“Jesus Christ, Jamie. What have you done?”
For a moment Rafe was too shocked to move as his thought came out of someone else’s mouth. Then he whirled around to face Jack Treanor, still wearing his jaunty red coat from his trip to town to drum up business. The man had evidently just arrived back. He was holding his horse, prepared to tie it to the picket line for the night, when he’d come across Jamie and Rafe. Rafe had hidden his dismay and hoped he could smile and walk away, but then he saw Treanor reaching into the belt beneath his jacket.
“Treanor,” he began, but the other man was pulling something from his belt.
He gave a long, low growl, still directed at Jamie. “Jamie. Why couldn’t you leave the drama behind? You stupid fool. He might be on his way out, but he still gives a damn,” Treanor snapped. He dropped the horse’s bridle and pulled a pistol. He pointed it at Rafe and jerked his head toward the far side of the paddock. “Over there. Come on.” When Rafe hesitated, Treanor added, “Don’t think I won’t use this.”
With the surreal sense of walking in a nightmare, each step an effort, Rafe plodded in the direction the clown indicated. Treanor’s pistol wasn’t large—little more than a derringer—but it could put a bullet in him if he refused to obey.
And if Treanor decided to keep Rafe’s mouth shut by killing him and disposing of his body, no one would ever know. They’d all think he’d left for England. Meanwhile his family in England would give up on his return after a while, assuming their black sheep had disappeared once again. There was no one on this earth who’d know about or mourn his passing.
* * *
Jonah was proud of himself. He’d done a fairly good job all day of keeping busy and distracted and thinking of anything other than Rafe Grimstone. Of course, he’d sneaked a look or two at the man while the carnival was setting up, noting the elegant way he lounged against a booth and simply watched for a change. God, how Jonah would miss that long, lean body, that black goateed, devilish countenance, and the deep chuckle that so often rumbled from the man’s chest.
No lingering on what they’d had. That was what he’d promised himself, but it would be a damn sight easier once Rafe was truly gone, Jonah thought as he hurried from one task to another.
And then the sun was almost set, and the truth of what Rafe’s absence would mean to him crashed down on Jonah all over again. The feelings he’d kept tamped down erupted. He found his feet moving of their own accord toward Rafe’s wagon—where he found Mindy moving her possessions into place.
“I believe he’s heading out right now. You’d better hurry,” she advised.
Jonah nearly raced to the corral, set some distance from the wagons and tents to keep the smell of horse manure away. He searched frantically for a glimpse of Rafe while saddling one of the horses, but didn’t see him. When Jonah caught sight of Chaucer among the other horses, his hopes lifted. Not too late. I can tell him…or at least see him one last time.
On the far side of the milling group of horses, Jonah saw a flash of red. Treanor’s coat. So the man was back. Jonah walked around the enclosure to talk to him. If Rafe had already left on one of the other horses, maybe the advanceman had seen him on the road.
As Jonah drew closer, he stopped and stared at the unexpected trio standing between the corral and the stand of trees beyond. Jack Treanor, Miss Jamie—if the woman even had a last name, Jonah had never heard it—and Rafe clustered close together discussing something in an intense manner.
Jonah held back, his nerves tingling, telling him there was something wrong with the tableau. The jovial clown’s face had once again slipped into an angry sneer such as the one Treanor had worn yesterday when he accused Rafe and Jonah of having an affair in front of the entire company. Jonah had always seen Jack Treanor as a pretty easygoing fellow, especially in comparison to his friends Parinsky and Jamie, but it seemed that demeanor was only a mask for a deeply disgruntled man.
Then Treanor turned slightly, and Jonah saw that he held a gun on Rafe. Jonah ducked beneath the rope into the horses’ enclosure and dodged behind the nearest horse’s hindquarters. His heart thundered as he tried to make sense of what he’d seen.
The only logical conclusion he could draw was that Rafe had learned Treanor was the culprit who’d been sabotaging the carnival and threatened to expose him. How Miss Jamie figured into it, Jonah had no idea, but that hardly mattered. He needed to take action immediately and somehow disarm Treanor.
With what? He had no weapon, not so much as a heavy stick, and physically Jonah was no match for Treanor. If he leaped on the man and tried to wrestle the gun from him, it could prove disastrous. There was no time to get help or arm himself. All he could do was use what was at hand.
And all that was at hand was horses.
Jonah crouched and looked beneath the chestnut’s belly at the trio. Treanor was talking and gesturing with the pistol while Jamie appeared to be entreating him to spare Rafe’s life. Meanwhile Rafe cast a quick glance to the left and right as if gauging whether he dared make a dodge for freedom. Then his gaze swept to Jack Treanor, and Jonah saw from the glint in his eye that Rafe intended to throw caution to the wind and tackle the other man while he was distracted by arguing with Jamie.
Jonah had to stop him before he got himself killed. He wasn’t much of a rider. His father hadn’t owned but one horse, and that was for drawing a carriage. But Jonah had learned during his time with the carnival. He grabbed the chestnut’s long black mane and vaulted onto the horse’s back, kneed it sharply, and charged toward the three.
The portable corral was fashioned from a double line of rope strung between stakes. It was at chest height for the horses, and only a desperate animal would try to leap over it, especially given that there was no area in the enclosure in which to build up speed for the jump. Well, the horse might balk at the jump, but Jonah was desperate enough for both of them. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging the horse forward.
The animal lunged forward, scattering the rest of the herd, and then sailed over the rope to land in the midst of the people. Jonah was dimly aware of the sound of Jamie screaming and Treanor’s shout. But the horse’s hind leg caught on the rope, and the animal fell, throwing Jonah.
He shot over the horse’s head and landed on the ground with a thud that drove the wind from him. His lungs were crushed. He fought for air, wheezing and gasping. And the world around him spun and flashed light and dark.
Rafe jumped backward as Sultan hurtled toward him after unexpectedly leaping over the corral fence. He had an impression of hooves coming toward his face, a big hulking body looming above him, before he scrambled out of the way. He dropped and rolled, and when he came up, he was inside the paddock.
With a glance, he took stock of the situation—saw Jonah hit the ground and Treanor fall flat on his arse. Rafe didn’t stop to consider. He rushed at Treanor and knocked him the rest of the way to the dirt. He grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed until he let go of the pistol. Then Rafe punched him in the face and seized the gun. After scrambling to his feet, he gave Treanor a kick in the ribs for good measure and growled, “Don’t move,” then went to check on Jonah, who lay facedown in the grass.
Rafe felt as if a steam locomotive was running through his veins. Everything was happening so fast and so unpredictably. His pounding heart leaped into his throat as he crouched beside the sprawled figure and rested a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. In the background, the horse snorted and squealed; perhaps its leg was broken from the aborted jump, but all of his focus was on Jonah as he carefully turned him over.
When Jonah groaned and blinked, relief flooded through Rafe. “Are you all right? Anything broken?”
Jonah grunted.
Rafe leaned over his body and hugged him carefully, but even that gentle embrace made Jonah groan again. Rafe straightened and brushed Jonah’s hair from his forehead. His forehead was hot and sweaty, but his hair cool and smooth as always. Such fine hair, each strand like spun silk, Rafe marveled inanely.
But then he jerked himself back from sticky sentiments. Now was not the time. He rose, and a quick glance around told him that Jamie had taken the opportunity to disappear, but Treanor still lay on the grass.
Rafe stalked over to him. “Get up.”
Treanor reluctantly climbed to his feet.
In the meantime the horse’s screaming had attracted the attention of many of the showpeople, and they ran toward the paddock. Crooked Pete was the first to reach them. He bent over Sultan’s thrashing body and soothed the great beast with that magic only Pete possessed.
“It’s not serious,” he announced to Rafe as he examined the animal’s leg. “What the hell happened here?”
“Found our culprits,” Rafe answered succinctly, certain he’d have to run through the tale many more times before the night was over. He would not be leaving for the train station tonight.
And as he glanced over at Jonah, who was sitting up and rubbing his ribs, Rafe was suddenly glad he wasn’t going to be leaving after all.