Chapter 20

 

Jeff didn’t sleep that night. He wanted Edith too much to rest in any bed that didn’t have her warm body curled up against his. After he changed out of his fancy clothes, he dragged out the books and began to bring the records up to date, hoping to dispel the heated images that filled his thoughts. It worked until he reached the stud records. Then he had to put them down and go for a walk in the night air.

Edith saw him from her window, as he headed toward the barns. She knew he wasn’t convinced that her plan was the best way to be rid of the troublesome Mr. Sullivan. Hustling into her pretty gingham wrapper and shoes, she hurried down the stairs.

Reaching the barn, she stood still, peering into the darkness. The moon was very low to the west, but still gave off enough light to see by. Edith thought she’d lost Jeff until she heard a splash.

All her instincts urging caution, she tiptoed around the barn. At first she didn’t see him. Then, surprisingly, a seal-slick head emerged from the large wooden watering trough. Jeff came up for air, gasping, shaking glittering droplets from his thick hair. He wiped his face with his hand and sank back into the water with a contented sigh.

“Much better,” he said, floating.

Edith watched him, delighted by a chance to watch him unseen. It seemed a strange hour to be taking a bath, however. And surely the water must be unpleasantly cool. Sam told her that all the water on the ranch came from an underground spring.

Her musings fled when Jeff stood up.

She stared in openmouthed wonder as he arose from the water, like Neptune coming on land to ravish a maiden. She didn’t have to wonder any more if his whole body was as muscular as his back and chest. His firm torso ended in a carved V between his lean legs. A thicket of hair grew low. Edith squinted. Then she had to lick her dry lips. Men were very different from women. Wonderfully different.

As she watched, his body seemed to change. Perhaps it was the night air, slipping over his skin as it did over hers, like a warm caress. Then, before she could be sure, Jeff turned his back to pull on his jeans. She sighed in frustration as he drew them up over his taut buttocks.

Jeff froze and turned his head as though looking or listening for something. Edith shrank back into the shadows beside the barn. If he knew she was there spying on him, she’d be so mortified she’d just die where she stood.

“You might as well come on out, Edith.”

She considered running. There was something exhilarating in the thought of fleeing across the night, while he, with his powerful stride, pursued her. But what good would it do? He’d only catch her. That was an even more exhilarating thought.

Then Jeff said something intriguing. He said, “Aw hell. Quit fooling yourself, Dane. What you got in the buggy’s all you’re going to get. So cool down. Just cool down.”

He sat on a concrete block to pull on his boots. The moonlight danced over the sinews and hollows of his back. A memory of his madly arousing touch flooded Edith’s mind. At once, she knew exactly what had happened in the buggy. How he’d touched her, how utterly abandoned she’d become.

She felt driven to walk out there to him, wanting to complete what had begun between them. But shame held her back. How could she face him? She’d reached a wild ecstasy in his arms and probably made a total idiot of herself by crying his name and moaning. She admitted that she’d enjoyed every instant, perhaps too much. Surely such utterly selfish pleasure had to be wrong and dangerous. Edith knew her aunt would say it was.

Jeff stood up, his shoulders slumping. Astonished by the force of her need to go to him, Edith still hesitated, balanced on the thin edge of a blade. She longed to soothe his disappointment by wholeheartedly surrendering her body and soul. Yet she was frightened by the irrevocability of such a step.

He picked up his shirt. As he drove his arms through the sleeves, he began to whistle a spritely tune. Edith raised her eyebrows. Maybe he wasn’t dejected after all.

Humiliation overwhelmed her, followed quickly by anger. He should be frustrated, not whistling cheerfully as though he’d been granted all his desires. Maybe putting his hand up her skirt had been all he wanted. Next, no doubt, he’d be boasting in the local den of iniquity about how he’d had her writhing.

Edith now wanted to go out and slap his face. She mastered that impulse by the only alternative. She spun around and ran for the house, as she’d not run in years.

She was careless over the cobblestoned runway. Jeff spun around as the sound of pounding footsteps echoed around the barnyard. Instantly, he followed.

When Edith became aware that he was pursuing, she tried putting on a burst of speed. But her heart was already hammering, her throat already dry and tight. Then she tripped, over nothing more than her own feet, and went sprawling on the ground. She grunted as she fell headlong into the sweet grass.

Instantly, she rolled over, only to see him above her, his hands resting on his hips. Jeff’s face was stern, but she could see it was the severity of implacable virility, rather than anger. He wasn’t even breathing hard, until he looked at her. She felt very small and helplessly feminine, a harem slave at the feet of her master.

That thought was intolerable. Even in her stories, she’d never relished that setting. She might be obedient; she’d never be submissive. “Don’t just stand there,” she said, thrusting out a hand irritably. “Help me up.”

It seemed as if he’d never take her hand. When he did, his strength was machinelike, hauling her upright. She tried to free her hand when she was upright, but he pulled her closer.

“No,” she said, twisting. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely not . . . what?”

“I’m not letting you kiss me again.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“You don’t . . . ?” She looked at him with suspicious eyes.

“No. I’m just going to hold you . . . like this.”

She was wrapped around by his warmth, her cheek against his bare skin. The scent of clean male filled her breathing. The sprinkle of damp hair over his chest tickled her chin, a madly arousing sensation. His fingertips massaged her back lightly, right up to the sensitive nape of her neck. Edith discovered she was pressing more tightly against his body than the strength of his arms alone could explain. She was aware of his every breath, almost his every thought.

Her hands slipped around his taut waist. She grasped the distinct columns of his back either side of his spine. Looking dreamily up into his eyes, she murmured, “I’m not giving in, Jeff. I’m not. . . .”

“Hush.”

He didn’t kiss her lips, the fiend. He kissed her cheek, her fluttering eyelids, the tip of her nose. He nibbled his way, with light, fleeting nips along the soft, sensitive edge of her jaw and down to the tender cord in the side of her neck. There he bit harder, with a suddenness that had Edith shivering. Calling his name, she demanded that he kiss her.

The throbbing note in her voice and the rigidity of her nipples against his chest told Jeff how ready she was. Her defenses were down. She was so ripe for the taking. And the grass around them was soft and thick.

He had no sanity where Edith was concerned. None. Gwen had never made his head spin like this. He’d never once considered making love to his wife out-of-doors, no matter how bright the moonlight. But then Gwen had never clung to him like this, never called his name so hotly, so urgently.

Edith reached up and caught his face between her hands. He instantly answered her kiss with his own, as she strained up against his body. She moved her hips against him, mindlessly aware of the hardness behind his jeans.

“And you won’t talk to the Armstrongs,” he said, as he filled his hands with her breasts.

“Wh-what?” Couldn’t he see there were buttons down her front? Why hadn’t he undone them yet? She guided his hand to the small buttons. A tension began to coil in her mid-section, and she knew he could release it.

He drew his tongue from her mouth to say, “You won’t talk to the Armstrongs. You won’t tell them that ridiculous story about you and Sullivan.”

Edith slapped her hand down flat over his, stopping him from pushing the buttons through their holes. The sexual haze still dimmed her thoughts but an alarm had rung in her head. “Are you trying to ... Oh, you are despicable! Lower than . . . lower than ... I can’t even think how low . . . how contemptible!”

“Hey!” he protested as she shoved him.

“You can’t win this argument with seduction, my friend.” That her knees had melted was unimportant. “I’ll do . . .”

The sound of a window sash sliding up cut her off. “Hey,” said a very sleepy little girl. “Who’s yelling?”

The adults exchanged a guilty glance that asked, How much do you think she heard?

“Nobody, Louise,” Jeff said looking up. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Louise gazed blearily down. “I had a bad dream. Daddy.”

“I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in, okay?”

She nodded. Propping her elbows on the windowsill, she cradled her chin in her hands. Edith saw that the girl was nearly asleep sitting there. She dared to venture a last word.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Mister Dane.” She spun about sharply and marched away.

Try as she might, however, she couldn’t sleep. Even the weight of the sheet over her was unbearable. She stared up at the plain white ceiling and demanded to know how she wound up so deranged. It was all Jeff’s fault, of course. He would have to be amazingly good-looking, impossibly likable and overwhelmingly lovable. Who taught him how to go from arousing her right down to her soul and then, just like that, be able tenderly to comfort his daughter’s wakefulness?

It’s just not fair! she complained, raising up to punch her hapless pillow once again. She should have picked someone ordinary to fall in love with, someone easy to leave. If she’d been smart, she would have fallen for Mr. Maginn. She would have looked forward to forgetting him!

Edith feared that her restless night showed on her face the next morning. She said down to a breakfast she didn’t want.

“Well,” Sam said at the end, looking at her nearly full plate. “Seems like nobody’s hungry around here this morning. Not you—that’s a first—and Jeff didn’t want breakfast either.”

“I do, Gran’pa,” Maribel said, with a hopeful air.

Sam stood up. “We’ve eaten up all the pancake batter, darlin’. But if a split biscuit with honey’ll do you . . .”

“Yes, please,” both girls said loudly.

“All right, all right.” He fixed them the addition to their breakfast and then said, “Go on and take it outside. Pretty day today . . . might pretty.”

He sat down again after pouring himself another cup of his special thick coffee. “Okay, so how you want to work this?” At her blank expression, he said, “You know . . . the Armstrongs? Now if I were you, I ‘d talk to her first. Millie’s always been strong and a lot less likely to get riled than Ezra. He kind of loses his temper and doesn’t pay much attention to what he damages. Though he’s always sorry afterward, it doesn’t do much good to mend the broken heads and bruises. And there’s nothing in the world that’ll rile a man faster than learning his daughter’s intended is a scoundrel, a hound, and a no-good liar.”

Sam drained his coffee mug. With an impatient flick of his arm, he threw it against the wall. Edith flinched as the mug smashed into thick white shards.

Grouchy started to his feet with a muffled woof. Then he left the room, looking reproachfully over his tan shoulder.

Sam went on as though he’d done no more than put the mug in the sink. “But Millie’s different. She burns down low. If I guess right, she’ll have Sullivan’s hide off him and hung out to dry before he knows what hit him. Dulcie takes after her father more. We may have to hold her off Sullivan, or we’ll be tripping over pieces of him clear to the county line.”

“What about you, Sam?”

“Me? I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“But last night .  . .”

He waved his anger away. “I guess I was kind of sore. Who wouldn’t be? But it’s really nothing to do with me.”

Sam reached out for his coffee. When his fingers closed on empty air, he seemed confused. Turning his head, he saw the white fragments scattered widely with splatters of coffee slowly dripping down the wall. Unable to meet Edith’s eyes, he pushed himself out of his chair. “Ought to clean that up,” he said.

With a greater effort than usual, Edith achieved a state of relaxation. Using her inner sight, she gazed fixedly at Sam. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that he had strong feelings for Miss Albans. Yet Edith saw no sign of the radiance that surrounded people who loved. Even to her most searching, intense gaze, Sam remained unlit.

She must be wrong. There was no love in Sam for Vera. His looking after her must just be the responsibility that the Danes seemed to naturally accept for everyone. Even Jeff’s protection in St. Louis could be seen in that light.

“I’ll go get ready,” she said, rising.

Soon after, she came down, looking neat and honest, she hoped, in a brown seersucker skirt and waist. It was her least favorite of the four outfits she’d been given. Her little straw hat with the plain silk ribbons gave her an innocent air that Jeff took exception to.

“If you’re determined to go through with this,” he said, leaning on the buggy’s big rear wheel, “you ought to be wearing tight black satin. Or maybe scarlet.”

Edith didn’t have a chance to be shy with him. “You would know more about that sort of thing than I would, Mr. Dane,” she shot back. “Or have you forgotten your friend Sabrina?”

“No, I’m not likely to forget her. I wonder what she’s doing now?” He smiled reminiscently. “Bet I can guess.”

“Bet you can,” Edith muttered. Then she looked angelically toward the sky as though such a vulgar reply must have originated from some otherworldly source.

“Get in,” Jeff said, holding out his hand.

She hesitated. “I thought Sam . . .”

“I’m driving you. Get in.”

Wordlessly, Edith took his hand to step up. Before she was ready, he took his support away. Edith sat down harder than she had expected. It was as if he couldn’t bear her touch.

They drove in silence all the way to town. When he would have stopped before the Armstrongs’ house, however, Edith said, “Would you drive on, please?”

“Are you scared? Or have you changed your mind?”

“Neither. But I promised Louise I’d find her a muslin petticoat. She was wearing a wool one yesterday and it was much too hot and itchy. You saw how much trouble she had sitting still in church.”

“I never sat still in church,” Jeff said, “and I never wore a petticoat either.”

“Guilty conscience, then?” She gave him a look that told him soulless brutes often had that trouble.

In the dry goods store, Edith compared children’s petticoats while Jeff rocked back and forth on his heels. “How many are there?” he asked.

The lady clerk answered, “Oh, we have a wide selection, Mr. Dane. Ranging from the simple muslin at thirty-seven cents to the fine cambric with the lace at one dollar.”

“The fancy one,” Jeff said.

“No.” Edith picked up the simple white underskirt. “This one will be easier for Sam to keep clean. Wrap it up, please.”

As the clerk unrolled brown paper, Jeff said, “I thought you were trying to make Louise feel pretty. You know, I found that hair ribbon you gave her under her pillow last night.”

“I do want Louise to feel pretty,” Edith said, moved. “But the girls told me that Sam ruins lace by washing it incorrectly.

They were resigned to losing their nicest things because he just doesn’t understand that lace is different from denim.”

“Oh,” Jeff said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know that.”

The clerk came back. “On your account, Mr. Dane?”

“Thanks.” He took the package and stood back for Edith to pass in front of him. Edith was aware of his eyes tracing over her from top to bottom and wondered what he was thinking.

As they walked down the steps, Edith heard someone call, “Miss Parker?”

Squinting in the bright sunshine after the dark shop, Edith peered across the street. A woman, her lower body hidden behind a cloud of children, waved to her. Looking both ways, cautioning the children not to run in front of a hay wagon, she crossed.

“Hello, Miss Parker, Mr. Dane,” Mrs. Green said over the children’s heads. Some were laughing, at least two were arguing, and the littlest one in her arms just stared around a fat fist. They were all neat and clean, with the patches in their clothes well mended and even a few new items gleaming here and there. The baby was wrapped in a beautifully ironed shawl, while the oldest girl wore an apron hand embroidered with the fancy stitches Mrs. Green had used at the sewing bee.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to thank you for bringing little Rudy to me the other day.” She looked down fondly to where the blond boy was hanging on her skirt. “He really was frightened, poor lamb.”

Edith gazed around at the children and then again at Mrs. Green who chortled charmingly. “Oh, yes. I’m taking charge of them all. Stop it, boys.” She spoke without looking at Al and Konrad, obviously plotting some mischief against the girls. Instantly, they looked innocent as angels.

“Then Mr. Huneker and .  . .”

“I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret. We’ll be married very soon. He keeps saying “ . .” Mrs. Green glanced up at Jeff and then twinkled at Edith. “He’s awfully romantic, more like a schoolboy than a grown man. He keeps saying that every day that goes by is a day wasted. So far as he’s concerned he won’t be really living until we’re married.”

“That is romantic,” Edith agreed, not without a small sigh.

“And I wanted to thank you, Miss Parker. If you hadn’t brought Rudy along that day, I might not have met Ernst for months. You’d figure in a town this size it would have been impossible for us to miss each other, but somehow we did.” She began to sway back and forth as the baby in her arms went gradually limp, the waxy lids falling over big blue eyes.

A voice called, “Adelia!” Mrs. Green turned at once, her smile mingling tender affection and exasperation. “God love the man,” she said. “I’ve only been gone five minutes.”

The gray-haired meat cutter came hurrying up, with eyes only for the plump widow. “I remembered what else was needed. Scissors. Bing used them last to pry up some nails and they became very dull and dented.”

“For goodness’ sake, Ernst. I have scissors. Big ones and little ones. I’ll bring them along when I move . . . after we’re married. Don’t forget your manners. Say hello to . . .”

Mr. Huneker grasped Edith by the hand and shook it vigorously. “The so-nice young lady who guides my Adelia to me! Like a saint.”

It was hard to tell which women he meant by his last comment until he turned his gaze once more on his future bride. Edith prepared herself to see a renewed outflashing of the halo that surrounded true lovers. She saw nothing.

While Mr. Huneker greeted Jeff, saying he knew him well, Edith rubbed her eyes. The sunlight was very bright but nothing could be brighter than the fire that melded two hearts.

Frowning, she looked more intensely, concentrating her heart’s gaze on Mr. Huneker. Even if Mrs. Green were not completely in love with him, he was certainly mad for her. Edith still saw nothing but two people smiling giddily at one another.

Slowly, Edith said, “I wish you and Mr. Huneker every happiness.”

“As do I,” Jeff added.

“She has already made the children happy,” Mr. Huneker said, not taking his eyes off her. “And I am always happy now.”

The oldest girl took the baby from Mrs. Green’s arms and said, “Don’t forget to ask them, Adelia.”

“Oh, thanks, Friederike.” Mrs. Green said to Edith, “You must come to the wedding. It’s going to be a small, mostly just us, though . . .” She chuckled again. “Though we’re a crowd now all by ourselves. But since you’re really the cause of it all, Miss Parker, we must have you as a witness. And you too, Mr. Dane. Maybe you’d like to bring your girls and your father?”

Jeff said, “We’d enjoy that. What day?”

“Next Wednesday. Goodness, is that only a week off?”

Apologetically, Edith said, “I’ll be gone by then, Mrs. Green. But I do thank you for the invitation.”

She walked past the children and got into the buggy without waiting for Jeff. He stayed for a moment and said something to Mrs. Green, something that brought the laughter once more into her face. All the children waved as Jeff and Edith drove away.

She was frightened, feeling as lost as Rudy had been. If only she could run home! But she had no home to go to. She began to tremble. The world was so big—without her special gift, how was she to make her way in it?

“Edith?” Jeff said, as though he’d said it before. “Edith, what’s the matter?”

He glanced at her as he drove. Even after the fire when she’d appeared in his hotel, grimed and exhausted, owning nothing but a bird cage, she hadn’t looked this distressed. She was white to the lips. Her fingers worked restlessly in their smooth leather gloves, and she had a haunted look in her eyes.

“Edith,” he said again, worried now. “I’m stopping.”

She placed a hand over his as he began to draw on the rein. “No, don’t. I’m . . . I’ll be all right.”

“Was it Mrs. Green? Did she say something to . . .”

“No.” She forced a smile. How could she explain to him? He’d only say she couldn’t have lost something that didn’t exist in the first place. “Don’t worry. I’m all right.”

“Like hell you are.”

He pulled back on the reins, and the patient bay stopped in the shade of some elm trees. Not caring that half the idlers in Richey were probably watching, Jeff reached across to take Edith by the elbow. He demanded, “Now tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Really . . .” she protested. “There’s nothing.”

Jeff pulled her into his arms and kissed her ruthlessly. He paid no attention to her pushing against his chest or her whimpers of protest. Only when those noises changed to ones of pleasure did he let her go.

“Now tell me.”

Edith blinked foolishly. “I can’t . . . see anything.”

“You’re blind?”

“No, I mean ... of course I can see with my eyes, it’s the other thing . . . I’ve lost it.”

“Maybe I kissed you too hard. You’re not making any sense.”

Edith nodded. “I know. But what can you expect from me? Jeff, I’m . . . different.”

“Why do you think I ... Okay. Let’s have it. What’s the matter with you? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re a Sioux squaw. No, a dancer from some hootchy-kootchy show?” He squinted at her. “I’ve got it. You shaved your beard but you’re really Robert E. Lee.”

“Don’t joke.” The misery that set her lower lip trembling and filled her dark blue eyes with tears silenced his raillery. “It’s a terrible thing, a secret I’ve always kept. My aunt knew, but she hated for me to speak of it.”

Jeff gripped her hands, hard. “You’re not married, Edith? Never mind. I know you’re not. And even if you are, there are such things as divorces. I’ll spend every cent I’ve got if that’s what it takes. I’ll get you a divorce.”

He looked so terribly fierce that Edith couldn’t bear it. She laid her hand against his cheek and forced him to meet her eyes. “Of course I’m not married. But I am ... abnormal.”

“What? How?”

“I ... see things. Or, rather, I saw things.”

“What things? Some people see spots that aren’t there; it doesn’t mean anything.”

Edith shook her head, tiredly. Telling him was harder than she had guessed it would be. He wanted so much to explain away her dismay, to make all her troubles light enough to float away. The only thing to do was to tell him straight out, no beating around the bush. Then he’d know what to make of her.

“I can look at someone and know about them. At least, I can tell if they are in love, or if someone is in love with them.”

Jeff stared at her. “You can .  .  .”

‘The desk clerk at the hotel, the porter ... I told them about their true loves. It’s also how I know that Dulcie isn’t in love with Mr. Sullivan. She couldn’t be because there was nothing to see.”

“What are you trying to make me believe?” His frown was black.

Now that she’d opened her heart, the words poured out. “I can’t explain it very well. It just happens. I’ll look at someone and I understand. Only love, though. I can’t tell who you hate or respect. Take you, for instance. I knew as soon as I saw you that you weren’t in love with anyone and that no one was in love with you.”

“You could tell all that from a glance.”

The disbelief in his voice was enough to wilt her. “I hoped ... I guess I should have known better. Take me to Vera’s, Jeff. Then I’ll catch the first train back to St. Louis.”

He caught her hand. She struggled for a moment, then let it lay passively in his grasp. “Edith, forgive me. This is a lot to throw at a fellow all at once. If you believe it, honey, that’s good ...”

“No. It’s better if I go. I couldn’t stand for you to start looking at me as if I were crazy . . . but I can see it’s too late for that.” Edith pulled her hand free. “All I can say is that I’ve always been able to do this thing. Except . . .”

“Except?”

“Just now I couldn’t do it.” She told him about Mrs. Green and Mr. Huneker, how they should have out shone the sun, but that nothing had happened. “I can’t imagine what has changed or how it happened. Even when I concentrated . . .”

“I know what changed.”

“How? You don’t believe . . .”

“I happened.” He had a funny look, half-ashamed, half-boastful. “The ride in the buggy happened. You were so sweet, Edith. And a little drunk, I guess, on Miss Minta’s wine. One thing led to another. You don’t remember what happened next. You . . .” He hesitated, as though looking for a gentle word.

“I remember,” she said, putting her fingers on his lips.

“You do?” He kissed her fingertips. A familiar gleam came into his bright eyes. “That’s a pretty overwhelming experience for a girl, especially one like you who’s never had a whole lot to do with men. I was your first kiss, wasn’t I?”

Edith was blushing painfully. “You could tell?”

“There’s nothing crazy about you. Oh, maybe you think too much, and imagine too much, and you definitely talk too much sometimes . . .”

“But . . .”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re crazy, honey. Though I don’t suggest you go telling anybody else in town what you just told me. Not everybody has seen as much of the world as I have.”

“Then you . . . believe me?”

He tugged at his earlobe as he looked at the ground. “I believe you believe it. But . . .”

“That will have to do, I guess.” She could face the next ordeal, now that Jeff hadn’t rejected her utterly. The world seemed to shine a little more brightly, compared to the despair she’d been thrown into a few minutes since. She wondered if Jeff was right. Had the physical pleasure she’d known overthrown her mental powers?

Straightening up, Edith said decisively, “I think we must stop at Vera’s first, as Sam isn’t here to talk to her as we agreed. I didn’t think he’d back out.”

“You’re still going ahead with this?”

“Unless you’ve thought of another way to save Dulcie and Vera.”

Jeff reached for the reins, with a fatalistic shrug. “I guess we’re about out of options.”

Driving down the street, Jeff nodded toward a familiar-looking wagon. “Dad hasn’t backed out. Look. He’s there now.”

“But the girls?”

“They’re all right. He’ll have taken Mrs. Jackson to stay with them by this time. The girls love Ida. She spoils them rotten. She wants to spoil Dad too, but he’s not having it.”

He pulled up in front of Miss Albans’ building. Dropping the reins, he turned toward Edith. He tried to take her hands, but Edith clasped them tightly in her lap.

Shrugging, Jeff said, “While Dad’s up there talking her into it, I’m going to try one more time to talk some sense into you.”

“You can’t. I mean, I’m determined to do this.”

“But why?”

“We’ve been over that. Mr. Sullivan is . . .”

“A lousy excuse for a human being and a waste of fresh air. I know. I agree. The first time I saw him I thought . . .”

“When did you see him? The other day you said you’d never . . .”

“I went down the saloon the other night. He was there.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. That was very good of you, Jeff.”

He said, “Maybe it was kind of feudal of me, checking out Dulcie’s intended that way. But I didn’t like the looks of him then, and I don’t care for them much more now.”

“Now?”

Jeff nodded toward a sharply dressed figure walking down the street. “If he’s heading for Vera’s, there’ll be trouble.”

Just then, Sam left the building through the front door. He was dressed in a long black frock coat with straight-legged trousers—very fancy for a weekday. He’d even put on his second hard collar of the week. With his graying hair and proud stance, he looked every inch a distinguished gentleman, and a very handsome one too. Vera stood smiling above him, holding the door open to add a few parting words. She glanced past Sam and saw Victor.

Coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps, the dapper man touched the brim of his straw hat and gave an entrancing smile. Even from the street, Edith could see the color drain from Vera’s face, leaving her haggard.

Sam turned slowly around. His voice was deep, slow, and unaccountably dangerous. “You want something here, mister?”

Jeff jumped down from the buggy. He reached for the whip standing in its socket. Idly, he began to trace patterns with it on the boardwalk.

His toothy smile broadening, Victor said, “Merely to speak with Miss . . . Albans, isn’t it? I want to buy something for my fiancée. Is that allowed in Richey?”

“There are other stores that might take your money,” Sam said. “Get your . . . self away from here.”

“No,” Vera said above him. Edith noticed that her friend’s hands gripped the edge of the door so hard the white bones showed through her skin. “It’s all right, Sam. I’ll wait on him.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Sullivan said, putting his gaitered shoe on the first step, though Sam still stood in his way. “Money’s money, after all.”

“Is it?” Sam reached into the pocket of his long coat. He withdrew a handful of gold coins and weighed them in his hand.

“I guess I must have about a hundred dollars here, give or take a little. Pretty things too, twenty-dollar gold pieces.”

With a careless flick, he sent them rolling and bouncing down the steps. They glittered in the sunlight, flashing as they rained down.

Victor stared at the coins, his mouth hanging open, wet with greed. Suddenly Edith wondered how anyone could ever have thought him handsome. Sam’s voice was cold as a wintry wind as he said, “You go ahead and pick ‘em up, boy.”

The younger man stooped, but Sam’s voice came again. “I warn you though. For every one you grub up out of the muck, my son there will lash you. Now you ask yourself if money’s the most important thing in the world, or not!”

Victor glared at Jeff, a trapped creature. In his eyes, Edith saw a hatred born of envy and fear. “Easy for you,” he snarled. “You’ve got everything! But one day, you’ll be brought down, you fine gents. One day!”

He ran then, as he must have run when he stole apples off barrows. They watched him run, and Edith saw that the sole of one of his fancy shoes flopped. Suddenly, she felt bitterly sorry for Victor Sullivan.

“Good riddance.” Sam glanced up at Vera. “You’re crying?”

She shook her head. Her smile was as heartbreaking as her tears. Unable to speak, she stepped back and closed the door. Sam looked up at the sky and said, “Women!”

Jeff coiled his whip. “I don’t know,” he said, following Victor with his eyes. “I almost feel bad for that fellow. Sure, he’s a bad egg, but what sent him bad, I wonder.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Sam said. “Beg pardon, Edith. But if he comes around Vera again, or any other decent woman, I’ll give him that whipping all right.”

He pulled out his watch and flicked it open with his thumb. “We’d better be getting along to the Armstrongs before they take their lunch. Not they’ll have much stomach for it afterward.”

Making up her mind, Edith climbed down from the wagon. “I think we should wait.”

“Wait?” Jeff demanded. “I’ve been trying to talk you into ...”

“And you’re right,” she said, stealing his thunder. “You’re right. I’m going to talk to Mr. Sullivan.”

“Oh, no,” Jeff said. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Bad idea,” Sam echoed.

“All the same, I’m going to. I’ll see you at home. I mean, I’ll walk back to your house.”

“No,” Jeff said again, crossing his arms.

“Well, if you want to wait for me . . .”

“You’re not going, Edith and that’s final.”

She just patted him on the arm and started walking.