NINE
“Sorry, boss,” Royal said, “Old Leon was gone before we got there.”
Montana swore. “What about Cat?”
“I found her all right. She’s with me now. Hold on, she wants to talk to you.”
“Hello, Montana. Is Katie okay?”
Montana hesitated. “I’m not sure.” Cat was Katie’s friend, but he didn’t feel comfortable telling her about Katie’s bad luck. Instead, he simply said, “The cards were against her tonight. She’s pretty discouraged.”
“Rats! I was afraid that would happen. She was too distracted.”
Like he’d been the first night he’d seen her, Montana thought.
“If we could just find Leon,” Cat went on, “that would help.” There was a long static-filled minute on the line before she suddenly said, “Wait a minute. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. René. René will know.”
“Who’s René?” Montana asked.
“An old friend. A swamp rat. Runs a place between here and New Orleans. He knows everybody from way back.”
“Where can I find him?”
“It won’t do you any good to go by yourself. He wouldn’t tell you how to get to the road. I know!” Cat’s voice was suddenly filled with inspiration. “Take Katie. She knows René. René always did have a soft spot for her.”
“Katie? How would she know a swamp rat?”
Cat simply laughed. “I know Katie doesn’t travel in René’s circles, but there was a time when I did. And I got into as much trouble as Carson. René would call Katie and she’d rescue me about as often as she rescued Carson. Trust me, René will help Katie.”
Cat gave Montana directions to René’s Place, then hung up. Montana glanced at his watch. It was very late. Katie had seemed so completely drained. He ought to go to René’s Place alone and let her rest. He ought to, but he couldn’t. Leaving her alone tonight would be a mistake. If Carson was with Leon, she’d want to see him. If he wasn’t, she’d never believe it until she’d seen for herself.
He turned the car around and headed back to Carithers’ Chance. With all the bad things that had happened to change Katie’s life, finding Leon would be something positive he could do for her.
Moments later he was knocking on her door. “Katie! Katie!”
“Go away, Montana.” Her response came instantly, as if she hadn’t moved since he left.
“Open the door, Katie. We have a lead to Leon.”
The door opened. “A lead to Leon? How?”
“Through Cat. Come on.”
All Katie’s lethargy disappeared. Moments later, still wearing the black skirt and jacket and boots, she was buckled inside Montana’s car.
He expected questions. She didn’t ask any. Instead, she looked straight ahead, her dark hair whipping in the breeze like a fierce Cajun woman straight out of the bayou. He was beginning to understand that the real Mary Katherine Carithers was a woman of many faces.
“Can’t you go any faster?” she finally asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t have to be told twice.”
Even following Cat’s directions, René’s Place was so far off the beaten path that Montana almost missed it. There was no sign. Only the zydeco music blaring from the open windows of a building that looked as if it might slide off into the bayou at any moment told him he was there. He pulled into the graveled parking area and under the limbs of a water oak.
“René’s Place,” Katie said breathlessly. “Of course. I should have thought of him. He knows everyone along the bayou.”
“Katie, I know you’re anxious, but before we go inside, we’d better have a plan. From what Cat said, René might not like being questioned by an outsider.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, then straightened her shoulders and turned to Montana with a smile. “Do you like loud music and Cajun food?”
He didn’t quite know how to take her sudden change of mood. “Sure. So long as there’s plenty to drink.”
“I think René can provide that. Follow me. And don’t worry. I’m not an outsider.”
With a long-legged stride that made Montana’s pulse race, Katie led him inside. She went straight to the bar, climbed up on a stool, reached across, and hugged an enormous man with a droopy black mustache. “René. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, ma chérie. Where you been?”
“Working. Working too hard. This is Montana. We’re looking for something hot, something cold to wash it down with, and a little information.”
“Sure thing. Find yourself a seat.”
As if she were a regular patron, Katie headed toward an empty table in the corner, shedding the jacket and hanging it over one shoulder. Montana followed her, along with the gaze of every man in the house. He wished he’d given her time to change into something less distracting.
She picked a chair and flashed him another pulse-raising smile. “Don’t look so fierce,” she said. “We’re supposed to be here to have fun.”
“I didn’t hear you.” He raised his voice. “The music.”
She leaned forward. “I know. It’s loud. This place is like your driving—high-energy. I said, don’t look so fierce. You’ll worry the natives.”
“Sorry,” he said, forcing himself to get into the mood. God knew, he’d had enough experience in playacting. But with Katie, it was becoming harder and harder. “It’s just that I never would have pictured you in a place like this.”
“People that know me would never have pictured me in your casino either. I’m an accountant. Accountants are serious people. You’re a gambler, you’re supposed to be the daring one.”
“And you think I don’t look daring?”
“Look around you, gambling man. Compared to René’s other customers, you look like a man who’s doing some serious waiting.”
Though he was wearing jeans and a blue cotton shirt, Montana thought about what she’d said and nodded. With all the bright colors around the room, he did look serious tonight. They’d reversed their roles. Or maybe they’d just let their secret sides surface.
He thought about the Katie who’d presented such a competent, unruffled front to the world, then, when she’d gotten scared, she’d jumped into the Mississippi and swum to shore. He remembered a woman who faced her desires head-on and asked him to make love to her. Judging a person by the public face he or she wore was always a mistake. He’d learned that playing poker. He studied the dark-haired woman across the table. She was laughing. Instead of composure, there was a hint of rebellion under the control, a hint that suggested secret passion, controlled but ever present.
She leaned forward, touching her lips lightly to his, then pulled back. “So, smile, chéri. You’re in Cajun country. Let the good times roll.”
The music stopped for a moment, then began again, the fiddle screaming, feet stomping, and an accordion joining the fracas. Katie nodded, then turned her attention to the postage-sized dance floor where two couples were dancing. Zydeco music, the music of the Cajuns, the dance of passion.
A shout and a sudden increase in the music made speech impossible for a moment. The waiter appeared with plates of steaming red beans and rice covered with chunks of sausage, crawfish, and pungent red sauce.
“If you don’t like it hot, you’re in big trouble,” Katie called out, filling her mouth with food.
“Oh lady, I like it hot. There’s nothing tame about my taste buds.”
Katie ate, laughed, and during moments of rare quiet, carried on a running conversation with the people at the other tables.
“Been a long time. Where’s your fiery friend Cat?” one of the diners asked.
“Left her behind tonight,” Katie answered saucily. “I’ve been manhunting.”
The diner’s companion cut her eyes to Montana and said, “Well, if this was the one you were hunting, looks like you found a good one.”
“No, this is my—”
“Her fiancé,” Montana growled.
“My partner,” she corrected. “Tonight I’m looking for a gentleman who drives a big gray car, a limousine.”
The man at the next table frowned and glanced across at his drinking buddy. “Why you want an old guy like that, sweet thing?”
“Oh, I don’t want him. I just want to ask him about the man I’m after.”
“And who’d that be?”
“I’ve been told,” Katie said, “that my brother, Carson, might be with the man in the limo.”
“Carson?” René questioned as he refilled their glasses, then dropped down in the chair next to Kate, whispering in her ear, “Your brother’s a loser, Katie. Give up on him.”
Katie leaned sideways, looped one arm around René’s neck, playing with his shaggy mustache with one finger. “Carson may be in trouble, René. I need to find Leon. Please? Do you know him?”
René nodded. “I may know him.”
Montana had been holding on to the arms of his chair to keep himself from shoving René away from Katie. “You may know him?”
René glared at Montana. “Dance with me, chérie, and I’ll recollect.”
René was big, but he was light on his feet. When he pulled Katie onto the floor, everybody else fell back, leaving the two of them to dance. It didn’t take Montana long to see that Sam had missed a good chance not hiring Katie as a showgirl. René’s hands pulled her close, twirling and turning her to the rhythm. She laughed and talked, flirting openly with the older man as they danced, driving Montana crazy with jealousy. By the time the song ended, perspiration was rolling down Montana’s face and Katie was out of breath.
“Whoooeee! All them lessons. You still some dancer,” René said, his arm around her waist. “Why you stay away so long?”
“I don’t know, René. I didn’t think so at the time, but maybe Cat and Carson were my excuse to do a lot of things I didn’t dare do on my own. I’ve missed you too.”
When René left the floor, the musicians took a break, and for a few minutes the customers could hear themselves talk.
“About this Leon,” René said, leaning close to Katie. “He don’t like folks to know what he does. He don’t even use his real name. If he did, you’d know him.”
“I would?” Katie said. “Who is he?”
“Louis Gaspard.”
Katie almost choked. Everybody in Louisiana knew Louis Gaspard, at least they knew the first Louis Gaspard. He’d been a pirate. Most people didn’t know about the present-day Louis.
“Leon is Louis Gaspard? Is he still around?”
“Sure he is. He don’t leave. Just as peculiar as he was when your brother Carson ran with his boy.” René looked at Montana as if to explain. “Dario was his son. Dario was the one who got them all in trouble. He was the one Cat came here to see.”
Katie remembered Cat’s infatuation with the secretive Cajun. Dario was older and even wilder than Cat. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, hadn’t done, or wouldn’t try. For too many of Carson’s early years, he’d run around with Dario, until Dario dropped out of sight.
“What happened to Dario?”
“Killed, in a fire. Drunk, drugged out of his mind. Almost burned down that old pirate’s stronghold. Folks say old Leon’s gone squirrelly, closing himself and that mute that drives for him up in that big old house like some kind of monk. They say strange things go on up there.”
Montana held his tongue for fear of stopping René’s flow of information.
Katie tilted her head, gazing at René with the kind of barely controlled excitement Montana wanted to spark in her. “It’s still there? I thought the house burned to the ground,” she said.
“He built it back, just like it was when the first Gaspard lived in it. Brought in outsiders to do the work so none of us would know where it was.”
“So you can’t tell us how to find it?” Montana asked.
“No. Never went there myself. Crossing swords with old Leon is something nobody in his right mind wants to do.”
A customer got René’s attention, taking him back to the bar. “Well,” Katie said, as if she were talking to herself, “I guess we’ve identified our mysterious Leon.”
Montana wasn’t certain he believed René’s claim that he didn’t know where the house was. It was the same kind of brick wall he’d run into over and over, a conspiracy of silence.
“You really know Gaspard?” Montana asked, forcing himself to concentrate on Leon instead of Katie’s flushed face and sparkling eyes.
“I know of him. At least I knew Dario. Ten years ago Cat was crazy about him. I’m not sure she ever got over him.” She stood up, suddenly serious. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure,” Montana agreed, following her toward the door. At the bar he reached for his wallet and pulled out several bills. René simply took them with a nod.
“Take care of her, Montana. Some say Louis is crazy. People around him have disappeared.”
“Some good-bye,” Montana observed as they went back to the car. Just what Katie needed to hear. Even Montana felt uneasy.
Still, he knew that telling Katie he’d take it from here wouldn’t work. If he didn’t keep her with him, she’d go off on her own.
“So, any ideas on how we get to this Louis Gaspard?”
“I don’t know,” Katie said wearily. What she didn’t say was that Cat would know. She’d been to Dario’s.
“Tell me what you know about the Gaspards.”
“Two hundred years ago Gaspard robbed the original planters, including the Caritherses, of everything the Spanish didn’t take. Built himself a hideaway in a place so removed from the world that nobody could find it. Apparently, it still is.”
“Yep. Everybody’s heard about that Gaspard. It’s Leon I’m interested in.”
“They’ve always been thieves. Even Dario. While he and Carson were in college, he got arrested for dealing drugs. Then he disappeared from Louisiana. I was glad to see him go, Carson didn’t need his kind of influence. And neither did Cat. Now Dario’s dead and Carson …”
“Is missing,” Montana said.
“Oh, Montana,” Katie’s voice broke. “Do you think he’s all right?”
This time Montana couldn’t hold back. He folded his arms around Katie and pulled her close. “Of course he is.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. I’ll get you home. Once we find Leon, I’m sure he’ll be able to lead us to Carson.”
Katie didn’t argue. It felt too good to be held. She didn’t think either. The feel of Montana’s arms around her took her thoughts in a direction she didn’t want them to go. For now, she’d just accept this and his comfort.
When they reached the plantation, it seemed natural for Montana to give Katie a good-night kiss. She didn’t resist. She knew he wanted her, but he didn’t force the issue. Desire burned between them, and sooner or later they’d either smother it or set it free.
The next morning, Katie went into her office early. She needed to rearrange her schedule. Cat was late when she slid in the office side door and headed for her desk.
“And where have you been?” Katie asked.
“Nowhere. Just overslept.”
Cat’s eyes widened. “Wake me?”
“I’ve been trying to call you. You didn’t answer. Then your car phone was busy.”
“Uh, yes. I was talking.”
Katie stood and paced back and forth for a long serious minute before she stopped and walked over to Cat’s desk. “Who were you talking to, Cat?”
“I … I …”
“It was Montana, wasn’t it? He called you.”
“How did you know?”
“I know how Montana’s mind works. Once he learned that you and Dario were lovers, it made sense for him to get to you. What I didn’t expect is for you to tell him how to get to Leon before you told me. You did, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly. I’m not really sure where the house is.”
“But you have been there, haven’t you? Otherwise how would you know where it was?”
“Yes. It was the last time I saw Dario. We went to the hideaway. It was a mistake. He was out of control. I didn’t mind a little wine, but he got stoned. He scared me. I found my own way home.”
“How?”
“By pirogue.”
Katie reached over, took a map from her desk, and unfolded it. “Show me.”
“You can’t go by yourself, Katie. I’m not even sure I could get back there again,” Cat said. “I’ll only tell you if you go with Montana.”
Something in Cat’s manner told Katie that was the only way she’d get the information she wanted. “Of course,” she said.
“You promise?” Cat narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She wasn’t quite sure she ought to believe Katie.
“Why would I lie?” was Katie’s firm answer.
Cat hesitated. “I think I’d better come along.”
“No, you have to meet with the charity-ball committee in my place. I’ve already arranged it. They need someone to help with the final plans.”
“But it’s your ball,” Cat protested.
“But Carson is my brother. And I’m still the boss around here.”
Katie was studying the map when her phone rang. She toyed with ignoring it, then decided it could be Carson. After the fifth ring she picked it up. “Hello?”
It was Montana. “Are you all right?”
Her heart raced. It was the last voice she wanted to hear, the one voice she couldn’t allow herself to respond to. “What do you want?”
“To know that you’re okay. You weren’t going to answer the phone, were you?”
He knew her too well. “No, I was—um, busy.”
“I wish you were here with me.”
“Stop talking like that. I don’t want you to—”
“Yes, you do. I can hear it in your voice. That’s the only time you’re honest, when you’re not looking at me, when I can’t touch you.” He’d meant to keep the conversation on a strictly business basis, but once he heard her voice, that became impossible. “What are you wearing this morning, Katie?”
“I’m wearing a skirt and blouse,” she snapped.
Montana groaned. “Not that little black one you wore last night?”
“Of course not. I’m at work.”
“What color is it?”
“What difference does that make?” she snapped again.
“Tell me?”
Looking down at herself, she groaned. “It’s red,” she said. And suddenly she was back in his quarters on the Scarlet Lady.
She was back in his bed.
Back in his arms.
She could hear him breathing. The heavy silence between them wrapped her in memories, shared memories. She knew that he was there with her, that volumes were spoken by the pictures conjured up by words not said.
“No,” she whispered. She wouldn’t be influenced by this man. No matter that he seemed bent on coming to her rescue, on protecting her. No matter that he thought she had cheated. No matter that he didn’t laugh when she said she wanted to grow cotton.
She couldn’t let that confuse the issue. Everything had been said and done. Logically, she couldn’t be responsible for Carson any longer and soon there would be no Carithers’ Chance. And Rhett Butler Montana was totally wrong for her. But she couldn’t stop caring.
“Please,” she whispered again. “Don’t keep doing this.”
“What?”
“Talking like we … like we …”
“Like we’ve been lovers? We have. Like we belong together? I’m beginning to think we do. Ah, Katie, you can’t hide behind looking after your family forever. And I can’t pretend family isn’t important. We’ve been stripped of our defenses. This is between you and me. You may as well stop fighting it. I have.”
She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t give in to desire. Desire was temporary and she wanted so much more. “I can’t,” she managed to say. “You and I have nothing in common. You’re everything I can’t—don’t want; a man with no conscience, no roots, and no interest in commitment.”
“And you’re a woman who’s more concerned with the past than the present. You know what they say. Opposites attract. If that’s true, we’re magnetically connected.”
He was right. “The answer to that, Montana, is to avoid each other. Magnets can’t attract if they aren’t together.”
“You can fight it, darling, but in the end it’s inevitable. The fates have seen to that. You need me to get to Leon.”
“Why?”
“Because we have to go by boat.”
She’d been right. Cat had told him. “I don’t understand,” she stalled, trying to find a way out. “If there’s a house in Louisiana, there has to be some kind of road, doesn’t there? What about Leon’s limo?”
“Don’t know about the limo. But the only way I can find to reach the hideaway is by water. Old Louis was a pirate, remember. He sailed.”
“And you’re a sailor?”
“No, but before I became a gambler, I worked all along the waterfront. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”
He had her backed into a corner. With only thirty minutes, there was no way she could get ahead of him. “I’ll be ready,” she said.
Montana started to lower the phone, then changed his mind. “By the way, Katie, I agree with you.”
“About what?”
“That message you left on my mirror, the morning after we were together. I do still owe you.”
“Oh.” She’d forgotten about the message. She hadn’t forgotten about their making love. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“I noticed. I just haven’t figured out what to do about it yet. I’m thinking of a new challenge. Double or nothing.”
“Sorry, gambling man. I’ve made my last bet.”
Katie dashed downstairs and retrieved her gym bag from her car. She ducked into the ladies’ room to change. Leotards and a big shirt might not be what she would have chosen, but anything was better than a red skirt. Throwing her working clothes into the bag, she dashed barefoot up the steps with the bag in one hand and her battered gym shoes in the other.
She made it out front just as Montana pulled under the hospital canopy. She pitched the bag in the back and got in the car, tugging on a pair of thick white socks and her walking shoes.
“I liked you in the black socks better,” Montana drawled.
“What black—oh.” She remembered. His black socks, that first night.
“I liked the red skirt, too. What happened to it?” Montana asked as he pulled away from the door.
“Nothing. I just thought these were better swamp clothes. Where do we find a pirate ship?”
“Pirate ships sail. I guess I forget to tell you. For this trip we move by pole power.”
“I don’t believe we’re doing this,” Katie said, blowing a wisp of hair as she swatted gnats away from her face. “There must be a road.”
“If so, I haven’t been able to find it on any map,” Montana said.
“What makes you think you can even find the place by water?”
He reached forward with the pole, propelling the pirogue along. “I’ll find it, Katie. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help but worry. How many times have you been out in the bayou in a flat-bottomed boat?” she asked, concern etched across her face.
“Never. All my boating has been on the Mississippi.”
“In a pirogue?”
“No,” he admitted with a grin. “But I can do this.”
She twisted her body, looking behind them as if she expected to see someone there.
“Be still,” Montana said. “These things can turn over in a flash.”
“Sorry. How long do you think it will take us to get there?”
“Now, that I don’t know. These waterways change constantly, and it’s been ten years since Cat came here. We don’t know what we’ll find ahead.”
“I know. Oh, Montana, suppose … suppose …”
“No supposing. At the moment the waterway only goes in one direction. If we keep going, we’re bound to get there.”
“Maybe, but I hope you know that these swamps are full of alligators—hungry alligators. And there are more snakes out here than people.”
“We’re only looking for two people, Leon and Carson,” Montana snapped as his pole stuck in mud for a moment, jerking the boat around. “I’m sorry, Katie,” he said. “I know this is scary.”
“No. I’m okay. I can do this.”
He’d known that. She was scared and she was worried. If Leon was responsible for Carson’s disappearance, Carson could be in danger from more than alligators and snakes.
Katie gripped the sides of the flat-bottomed boat and ducked a low-hanging limb. The flutter of leaves frightened a bird from the marshy bank. It let out a cry of anger and flew away, setting off a cacophony of protests from the other swamp creatures being disturbed.
Though they were shaded from the sun, the day got warmer, the air heavier. The humidity increased steadily, as did the clouds, until the sky overhead was almost covered. Katie looked at her watch. “We’ve been at this for two hours. Don’t you want me to take the pole?”
Montana shook his head. “No, but if you happen to have a candy bar in your pocket, I missed breakfast.”
He looked tired. Perspiration dripped down his muscular arms and rolled down his cheeks. He hadn’t shaved, his day-old beard giving him a sinister look that would have made Katie think twice about crossing him. The front of his knit shirt was wet in a V that extended from his shoulders to his belt buckle. Gaspard might have been the pirate, but Montana looked every inch the part.
At that moment they reached a fork in the waterway. Montana anchored the boat with his pole and studied the terrain. “What do you think? Left or right?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Nope. In the rain all these bayous look alike.”
“But it isn’t raining,” Katie said as the rain suddenly found its way through the trees in a torrent.
The only good thing about the rain was that it quickly became clear which directin they wanted, the section that moved swiftly and clearly, the old canal. Montana poled the pirogue to the left, into a channel that soon began to widen. They passed a clearing where dead cypress tilted crazily.
“This is right,” Katie said quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb anyone. “Cat said Dario called this place the graveyard of the swamp.”
At that moment a large gator slid into the black water and swam toward them as if he were the sentry on duty. A finger of land jutted out. A large water-oak tree with graceful limbs hung heavy with slate-colored moss blocked their view temporarily.
As they rounded the tree they saw it, a gray-green building that almost disappeared into the surrounding growth. There was a dock and a path to the veranda. A dog began to bark, bringing several men into view, one wearing a light gray seersucker suit.
“The man in gray,” Katie said.
“Old Louis himself,” Montana murmured. “Listen, Katie, I don’t think he’s gonna be too pleased to see us. You’d better let me do the talking.”
“Nonsense. I can speak for myself,” Katie said. “I—” She recognized one of the men. “Carson!”
Montana barely touched the pier before Katie jumped out and ran toward her brother, leaving him and the boat behind. “You’re all right? He hasn’t harmed you?”
Carson put his arms around her and hugged her. “Harmed me? No, Katie. Leon may have saved my life.”
Katie pulled back and looked up at the brother she’d never expected to see again, blinking her eyelashes to keep out the rain. His sandy hair had been neatly cut. He was clean-shaven, and until he hugged her, his clothes were sharply pressed.
“I don’t understand. You said you were no good, that you were going away. I thought that you … you …”
“That I was going to do away with myself? I might have if Leon hadn’t shanghaied me and brought me here.”
“Well, it’s all over now,” Katie said. “We’ll get you out of here and back to the plantation.”
“First, let’s get out of the rain.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the house.
“Oh! Carson, I’ve been so worried.” She stopped and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know how to tell you, but we don’t own Carithers’ Chance any longer.”
Carson’s expression was very serious when he said, “What happened?” He stopped and looked back at Montana, who was tying the boat to the dock. “Did Montana claim it?”
“No, I didn’t,” Montana said, stepping up on the pier behind Carson. “What are you doing out here?”
“I thought I wouldn’t be found,” Carson said defensively. “I should have known if anyone could, it would be you. What are you doing here?”
“We came,” Katie said, “to get you. I’m sorry if you’re upset about that.”
“I’m not. I’m just not ready yet to face you.”
“Don’t worry, Carson. Nothing could be any worse than my losing the house.”
“What do you mean, you losing the house? I figured Montana called in my IOUs.”
“Montana didn’t claim it. I … I lost it. In a poker game.”
Katie held her breath. Never, in a million years, would she ever have thought she’d hear those words come out of her mouth.
Carson laughed. “Good!” he exclaimed, and turned from Katie to Montana. “I hope you got your money first.”
“Good?” Katie was confused. “What do you mean good? Did you understand what I told you? I went out gambling and lost. We no longer own Carithers’ Chance.”
“I heard you. You bet the farm and lost it. Good.”
Carson tucked Katie’s arm beneath his. “Come and meet Leon and the rest of his houseguests. You’re invited for tea.”
The setting was straight out of The Great Gatsby.
At the end of the veranda sat a round table with a lace tablecloth and platters of tiny sandwiches, a silver tea service, and china cups. The other guests, all men, lounged around the porch. They seemed pleasant, though reserved.
The man in the gray suit stepped forward. “I’m Louis Gaspard, your host.” Gallantly, he kissed Katie’s hand and shook Montana’s. “Let me get you some dry clothing.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Gaspard,” Katie said. “We were already soaking wet from the humidity. Besides, we’ll just get wet again. We appreciate your hospitality,” she went on in a rush, “but we’d really like to get back. Are you ready to leave, Carson?”
“No, Katie,” he said patiently. “I’m not leaving just yet. It wouldn’t be smart.”
She was bewildered, but after what she’d been through, she wasn’t about to back down. “I don’t understand. If this man is holding more IOUs from you, Carson, we can deal with him.”
“There are no IOUs, Miss Carithers,” Leon said gently. “Come and have tea and let me explain.”
Montana moved back, leaning against the side of the house. Katie had to play this out, whatever was going on. She allowed herself to be moved to a white wicker chair with bright yellow print cushions. Mr. Gaspard poured and brought her a cup of tea.
“What can I get you, Mr. Montana?” Leon asked.
“I’d like something cold—a beer,” he decided.
“Sorry,” Leon answered, “we serve no alcoholic beverages here.” He picked up a platter and turned back to Katie. “I could prepare some lemonade.”
“No! And no sandwiches or napkins or anything else you have. I’m waiting for an explanation. What’s going on here?” Katie demanded.
“Katie,” Montana began, coming to stand behind her.
“You’re right,” Leon interrupted. “I suppose I have no choice. As you may have heard, several years ago my son, Dario, died in a fire. It was called an accidental death, but he died because he was an alchoholic, a gambler, and finally a drug addict. I was so caught up in my business that I closed my eyes to his problems until it was too late. Since then, I’ve tried, in my own way, to make up for that by doing for others what I couldn’t do for him.”
Katie closed her eyes, her mind trying to fasten on what he was saying.
“I find young men, like Carson, who are heading for disaster and bring them here to a place they can’t easily leave. But—and you must understand—they aren’t forced to come. They only have to agree to three stipulations. They must stay for six months, agree to counseling and group therapy, and keep the location of this place a secret. We’ve managed to do that, until today.”
“A rehabilitation center?” Montana said.
“I prefer to call it a sanctuary,” Leon explained. “My concern has been for the addicts, not those left behind. By keeping it hidden, I can operate it as I choose, without interference from rules and regulations, and the people here can’t be rescued or run away without risking their lives.”
“But I was so worried,” Katie said, beginning to see the growing uncertainty in the eyes of the other guests. “I didn’t mean to give your location away.”
“I see that now,” the old man agreed. “Perhaps, since you have penetrated our haven today, I will have to rethink my expectations.”
“I can promise you we won’t tell anyone about this place,” Katie assured him. “And I do thank you for rescuing my brother, but I think we can get help for his problem.”
“No, Katie,” Carson said. “I’m not leaving here.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “There are all kinds of good doctors associated with the hospital. I could—”
“Katie,” Montana began.
“No.” Carson shook him off. “No, Katie. I’ll do this myself. By myself. Out here. No more having big sister bail me out. Now drink your tea and let Montana take you back to town.”
“Not in that pirogue,” Mr. Gaspard said. “I think you made it just in time.”
Katie looked up to see the last corner of the flatboat sink leisurely beneath the murky water.
“I already know that Katie’s a world-class swimmer,” Montana said, “but I don’t look forward to any close encounters with a gator. Any chance the limo is free?”
It was. And there was a road, artfully concealed, but present. The driver made no attempt to hide their path, and since he couldn’t speak, there was no asking where they were.
Katie was lost in her own thoughts, and nothing Montana said drew her out. She was grateful when he finally stopped trying. The return trip was long and strained.
Back at Carithers’ Chance, Montana insisted on escorting her to the door. “I’m glad you found your brother. Maybe he’s on his way to the kind of life you want for him.”
“Yes. Thank you for your help,” she said.
Montana’s tone had gone as flat as Katie’s. A part of her regretted the feeling of separation that had come between them, but she didn’t have the strength to change it. In her attempt to protect Carson, she’d lost Carithers’ Chance, and he didn’t even care. She supposed that all things considered, it was for the best. Carson’s gambling debts would be wiped away. The burden of the plantation would be on someone else’s shoulders. And Montana would no longer be a part of her life.
“Katie …” He seemed hesitant. “There’s one more thing. About the plantation. It won’t be transferred to Jonah right away. He’s agreed to having the fund-raiser here.”
Now it was Katie’s turn to hesitate. Montana was still looking after her. She had to stop that and there was only one way to let him off the hook and maintain any dignity. “Thank you. I’ll start looking for a place to live. And Montana, I …” She took a deep breath and gave a short prayer that she could go through with what she was about to say. “I … I don’t know any other way to do it but to say, you were right.”
“I was right? About what?”
“That first night we met, in your cabin, the night I won your boat …”
He’d been waiting for her to bring it up. Knowing Katie, and he thought now that he did, she’d never welsh or leave a loose end.
“Don’t worry about it,” he began, “I’m not—”
“No!” She cut him off. “You were right all along. I’m going to say this once, then never again. I cheated. I didn’t win the boat. So, I’m not sure where you and I stand, money-wise, I mean. But you figure it out and let me know.”
He took a step closer. “You cheated?”
“That’s what I said. I couldn’t end this without telling you the truth.”
He merely looked at her, too stunned to speak. He’d made up his mind that what she’d done that first night had been a glorious sacrifice for her brother. Then he’d fallen in love. No matter what Katie was saying, she hadn’t cheated. And he knew without a doubt that she was lying now. She was giving his life back to him, forcing him to accept it. Katie, so determined to save her family and her land, was saying good-bye to both. It had to be because she cared—for him.
“Thank you, Katie,” Montana said. “I know how hard it was for you to tell me. Life dealt us both a tough hand. But we played it out, didn’t we?”
“I suppose.”
Montana lifted her chin with one finger. “What about it, my lady in red? One final kiss? For luck?”
She must have nodded, for seconds later the heat of his lips touched hers for one urgent, hungry moment. And then he was gone, leaving her leaning against the door of a past that had just been closed.