Beau had made his share of mistakes in life. But he didn’t usually make them on such a colossal scale. A raucous saloon, even one turned into a temporary theater, was no place for a decent woman of good, moral, Christian upbringing like Hannah Southerland.
But they were here now. Close to the end of their journey. And he doubted Hannah would be willing to put off the confrontation with her sister any longer.
At least Logan had thought ahead and ordered box seating for their party of four. The deputy might be young, but he was smart. And Beau was glad the lawman had agreed to accompany them tonight.
With as little spectacle as possible, Beau escorted Hannah and Mavis toward the back stairwell leading to their private box. The steps were old, and creaky, but out of sight from most of the other patrons. Nevertheless, Beau had insisted Logan bring up the rear, sufficiently shielding the women against interested stares.
At the top of the landing, he waved his party into the curtained booth. Following closely behind Logan, Beau took a quick look around while the others settled into their seats.
His stomach dropped at the sight before him.
It was much worse than he’d anticipated, and he’d expected ghastly. The box’s walls were adorned with the same red velvet as the cushioned chairs and balcony railing. In the center of the room sat a plate of fresh fruit and an empty silver bucket that would have chilled a bottle of champagne if they’d been any other group. Obviously, the management had attempted to create an illusion of upper-class elegance.
But it was only an illusion.
Even if he ignored the smell of stale whiskey and unwashed bodies, there wasn’t much to hide the fact that the Bird Cage was nothing more than a saloon with chairs lined up in front of an empty stage.
There was no orchestra, just a bass drum set up next to an ancient piano. An equally ancient gentleman sorted through a pile of sheet music. But for now, the only melody came from the bawdy jokes yelled out across the general seating area. Every few seconds, the shouts were interrupted by the high-pitched ping, ping, ping of tobacco hitting spittoons.
As if determined to turn the experience into a Wild West cliché, a fight broke out over an empty seat. Beau couldn’t tell which of the cowboys won the ridiculous match. Within moments, they both ended up passed out on the floor.
Speaking his thoughts for him, Hannah muttered, “What on earth was Tyler thinking?”
Beau took his seat next to her and said, “That’s just it, my dear Hannah. He’s not thinking.”
Just then a bottle came sailing their way. Palm to nape, Beau forced Hannah’s head forward and ducked, as well.
“Lovely,” he mumbled. “First-rate.”
Hannah didn’t respond. She just raised her head and stared at the stage. Her sudden gasp had Beau following her gaze to an easel and placard. Squinting, he could just make out the words through the veil of cigar smoke. Faust. A Tale of Damnation.
“Love-ly,” he muttered again.
At the precise stroke of ten, a man sauntered toward the oversize drum and began beating a rhythmic cadence. After a round of hooting and shouting, a dark-hooded figure glided onto the stage. A hush came over the crowd.
The drumming ceased.
The mysterious character continued to stand in silence.
A gun fired, its bullet hitting the ceiling and spraying plaster over the audience. Hannah jumped in her seat. “Oh!”
Beau reached out and took her hand.
She braided her fingers through his and held on tight. “What is this?” she whispered.
“I have no idea.”
Using the thrill of suspense, the dark figure stretched its arms slowly overhead.
The audience leaned forward, paused and held its collective breath. The apparition reached down and, with a flick of a wrist, whipped off the cloak.
The crowd went wild.
A loud gasp escaped Hannah.
Logan muttered under his breath.
Mavis looked to Hannah, back to the stage, then to Hannah again. “It’s...it’s you.”
Speechless with shock, Beau blinked at the woman standing in the center of the stage. Her eyes gleamed with impish delight as she accepted the bawdy roars as her due. Beau shifted in his seat, fighting the urge to mutter an expletive. Dressed in a red silk gown in the latest Parisian fashion, the woman was Hannah. Only...somehow...less.
Taking command of her audience, Rachel Southerland stretched out her arms again and the noise died down to a smattering of whistles and howls.
The man at the piano poised his fingers over the keys, then started banging out a happy melody.
Rachel sashayed across the stage, humming along to the tune. Her movements weren’t elegant or even practiced, but rather coarse. Suggestive. Beau was ashamed for her. And disgusted with his brother. Tyler should have taught her better.
There was acting. And there was what Rachel Southerland was doing on that stage.
Even as anger gnawed at his shock, an ache clutched at his chest. Tyler knew better. But did Rachel?
Raise up a child in the way that he should go...
The Scripture said it all. Reverend Southerland had done Rachel a disservice by shutting his eyes to the truth all these years. By allowing Hannah to take the blame for her sister’s transgressions, without once questioning the veracity of her stories, he’d failed both daughters. Rachel most of all.
Jesus had said a man’s enemies would be members of his own household, but surely the cycle could yet be broken.
Lord, may redemption be at hand. May You shine Your light into this darkness and bring healing to both women, bring peace to their family.
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Rachel began to speak. “I present to you a story as old as time. A sad tale full of sin and ultimate damnation.”
The male-dominated crowd went wild again, laughing and calling out promises to take a trip to hell as long as she joined them in the journey.
She stuck out her hip and parked her fist there. “Let this be a warning to you all.”
Hannah buried her face in her hands—the safest place for her eyes in Beau’s estimation. Unfortunately, she raised her head in time to catch Tyler’s entrance.
Always the showman first, actor second, Tyler strolled toward Rachel with confidence and purpose in his steps. His slow, deliberate pace made him look almost predatory while the crafty light in his eyes made Beau bristle.
Whatever Tyler was about to do, it was not going to be proper.
With a bold wink to the audience, Tyler roped an arm around Rachel’s waist and drew her slowly—very, very, very slowly—into his arms.
He dipped her low. Lower still. Then...
He kissed her. Right on the mouth.
The endearment had nothing to do with love, but possession. Ownership. Beau’s gut twisted with a fresh surge of disgust.
“Oh, oh!” Hannah shook her head violently, as though she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.
Unfortunately, Beau wasn’t quite so shocked. He’d seen worse in the brothels. He knew sin was rampant in the world, knew evil lurked in every man to some extent. Hence the need for a Savior.
But Beau hadn’t expected to see such wickedness displayed so blatantly in a member of his own family. He found himself harboring a strong desire to wrap his fingers around his brother’s throat and squeeze.
Humiliated for them all, Beau touched Hannah’s arm in a show of sympathy. Even Mavis made a clicking noise with her tongue. And as the kiss turned into two, Logan pretended grave interest in his thumbnail.
Hannah jumped to her feet.
Beau followed suit.
Wild-eyed, she clutched at her throat. In a haphazard fashion, her gaze bounced off the far wall, to the stage and back to the wall again. “I can’t watch any more of this.”
Beau eased her around to face him. He placed a finger under her chin and pressed gently until her eyes met his. “Hannah, listen to me.” He kept his tone low, but he could feel his own temper licking at the edges of his calm. He gulped. “It’s all right. We’ll wait outside. Together.”
Hannah opened her mouth, shut it and then nodded. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”
“I’ll stay a bit longer, myself.” Mavis snorted in dismay. “I ain’t so easily shocked as you two. And someone had better find out what those two naughty children are up to.”
Beau turned a questioning stare to Logan.
The deputy’s expression was as bleak as Beau’s mood. “What do you want me to do, Reverend? Just ask.”
“Keep an eye on Mavis for me,” Beau said. “Take her back to the hotel if we don’t reappear shortly.”
Neither Mavis nor Logan argued, which would have taken Beau by surprise if he’d been in a more lucid state.
Laying his palm on the small of Hannah’s back, he led her into the empty hallway. Once they were alone, Hannah spun around. Beau reached to her, hoping to give her comfort, but she shrank back and collapsed against the wall.
Gasping for air, she closed her eyes on a shudder.
Beau shifted his body so that he shielded her from the view of any wandering patron. Guilt gnawed at him.
Lord, what have I done? Why did I bring her here? She shouldn’t have witnessed that unseemliness.
“Hannah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“I knew it was going to be bad,” she choked out, wringing her hands together and blinking rapidly. “But I never thought...” She let her words trail off and gazed up at him.
The shock and helplessness in her eyes made him want to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the bad in the world. Even if that corruption was in her own family. And his.
Speechless with frustration, Beau drew in a sharp breath. Heart pounding, head reeling, one powerful thought arose.
There was going to be a reckoning tonight. And Tyler had better come bearing answers.
“It’s all my fault,” she said through clenched teeth. “All of it.”
“Hannah,” Beau began, but she cut him off with a finger to his lips.
“No. Let me say this.” She dropped her hand. “If I hadn’t always accepted the guilt for her transgressions, Rachel wouldn’t think she could get away with such...such behavior.”
Her words were so close to his earlier thoughts that Beau couldn’t deny their veracity. Whether Thomas Southerland had believed her or not, Hannah had told untruths. She might have been motivated by her promise to her mother. Perhaps guilt had played a role, as well, but in the end she had chosen to claim acts she hadn’t committed herself.
That had been wrong.
At least she was here now, in this ugly world where she didn’t belong, accepting her share of the responsibility and attempting to break the destructive cycle at last.
He admired her courage, and would support her to the end. At this point, his loyalty belonged to Hannah alone.
Using a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “This is your day, Hannah. You have the opportunity to undo the dangerous pattern once and for all.”
“I know.” Hannah sighed, then lifted her chin at a determined angle. “That’s why I’ve traveled so far. It ends here. Tonight.”
Beau doubted this would end clean and neat, nothing between families was ever that simple—especially when something as complicated as an estrangement was involved.
But Hannah was right about one thing. The end was near.
And once the performance was over, Beau would demand answers from his brother. Tyler’s explanations had better be worthy of them all.
Hannah had never wanted to punch another human being. Never. She wasn’t prone to violence. But Tyler O’Toole was asking for a fist right in the middle of his nose.
Needing a moment to calm her distress, she let her gaze rest on Beau. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the room. His expression was unreadable, but she could see his tension in the rigid angle of his shoulders and the thin line of his lips. She could tell it cost him to remain silent. But he’d promised to let her handle this initial confrontation. So far, he’d held to that promise.
Hannah had never met a man with that much patience and strength of character. His presence alone brought her the courage to finish having her say.
Rising to her full height, she broke eye contact with Beau and ran her gaze across the jars of face paint to the dirty tissues strewn about the dressing table. The tools of her trade looked ugly in this cold, dank room. Mere items used to create deception, rather than entertainment.
If the saloon-turned-theater had seemed sordid from the box seating, this dressing room was far worse. The furniture was faded and threadbare. The scent of mold, stale cigars and rotting wool cloaked the damp interior.
Hannah couldn’t understand why Tyler would choose to perform in such squalor, such filth. Not when he could have top billing at the most prestigious theaters in the world.
And to subject a woman he reportedly loved to this dark existence? Something didn’t add up.
“I don’t understand why you chose to stay here, when you could have escaped to New York. Or Europe. Or even San Francisco.” She tasted the bitterness on her tongue, heard it in her voice and accepted it as her right.
Unwilling to see the seriousness of the situation, Tyler let out a jolly laugh and placed Rachel in the crook of his arm. Side by side, they made a ridiculously beautiful pair. Her dark to his light. And yet, something about the way they stood together was...ugly. Sordid.
Bile rose in Hannah’s throat.
“Soon, Hannah darling,” Tyler said, completely unaware of her growing dismay. “We will make our move in a few weeks. For now, this is our secret adventure.”
Tyler smiled down at Rachel then, the look far too intimate for public viewing. Hannah’s stomach rolled over itself, and again she sensed that she was missing something important.
As though hearing her thoughts, Tyler abruptly released Rachel and took Hannah’s hands in his. She desperately wanted to pull free of his grip, but she refused to allow him to see her distress. Nevertheless, she found she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t force her eyes off the lapel of his jacket.
He’d once been a good friend, a surrogate brother of sorts and the son of her most trusted mentor. Their shared history alone had to be worth something. “What am I missing, Tyler? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Hannah, darling, don’t you understand?” Tyler gave her the kind of smile adults spared unruly children. “We are anonymous here. Free to do whatever we wish. No rules. Just Rachel and me. Together.”
Shocked at the lewd implications of his words, Hannah snatched her hands free. Men like Tyler were so predictable. She’d hoped for more from him.
He’d proven less.
“You mean share a room while remaining unwed,” she said, then placed her gaze deliberately on Rachel. “How could you do this again? Didn’t you learn anything from your disastrous affair with Mr. Beamer?”
There, she’d said it out loud. Perhaps now they could get to the heart of the matter.
Owl-eyed, Rachel’s expression turned blank, placid even. And she completely ignored the question. “Can’t you just be happy for me this one time?”
Happy? How could Rachel be so indifferent to all the people she was hurting by embarking on this indecent liaison with Tyler? How could she be so selfish?
Hannah opened her mouth to speak, but Tyler spoke over her.
“Happy doesn’t begin to describe my feelings when I am with you, my darling,” he said, pulling Rachel into an embrace more suitable for a brothel. “Blissful. Ecstatic. Delirious. Those are much better adjectives.”
Rachel touched his cheek, ran her finger along his jaw.
Tyler kissed her on the nose.
Hannah averted her eyes.
Their bold, public intimacy was disconcerting, something that shouldn’t be shared with anyone but each other.
With a loud hiss, Beau pushed abruptly from the wall. “Tyler! Enough. You can’t—”
“No.” Hannah stopped Beau’s approach with a hard shake of her head. “Let me finish this. Please. You’ll get your turn. For now, this is still my fight.”
His face constricted with barely controlled emotion. And with that hard look in his eyes, Hannah expected him to deny her request, but he gave her one sharp nod and stepped back.
“Rachel,” she said through her teeth. “You cannot share a room with a man you aren’t married to. It’s a sin.”
Rachel snuggled up against Tyler and rolled her eyes to heaven. “You are such a prude, Hannah. Father never did understand how different we are, and that he had us mixed up from the start.”
And here it was. The moment of truth. The reason Hannah had traveled all these miles. She struggled to hold on to her temper, but angry heat flushed into her cheeks. “Father never knew because you never told him.”
Rachel cast a dark look in her direction. “Did you?”
Hannah staggered back as if slapped. “I... You...”
“Did you?” Rachel said.
“No,” Hannah whispered, her heart dipping in her chest at the ugly realization of her own guilt.
Oh, Lord, forgive me. Forgive me. All this time, all these years, I’ve blamed Rachel for not speaking up. And resented her for it. But I never spoke up, either.
“No,” she repeated. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Then mind your own business now.”
Hannah’s heart beat wildly at the prospect of her impending defeat. She’d traveled all this way, and once again a man was proving more important to Rachel than her own sister. “You can’t hide like this forever.”
“I know that,” Rachel snapped.
“Good. Because I’m performing the marriage ceremony,” Beau said, pushing from the wall. “This very night.” His words were clipped, controlled and very, very angry.
Shocked at his forcefulness, Hannah swung around to stare at him. She drew slightly back at the intensity of emotion on his face. She’d never seen him that implacable, that righteously disgusted. And yet, his unbridled anger made him seem more vulnerable to her. Even as his eyes blazed with resolve, she knew he was ashamed and hurting.
Hannah understood his pain. Tyler had wounded him as only one sibling could hurt another. Deep at the core.
Clearing his expression, Beau stepped between Tyler and Rachel, sufficiently separating them with a hard shove at Tyler’s chest.
Tyler stumbled back, caught his balance and then took a menacing step forward.
“Stop right there.” Beau squared his shoulders. “Neither of you will leave this room until you are wed.”
“Is that so, brother?” Tyler spat, the first chink in his perfectly polished armor sounding in the sour tone of his voice.
“It will be done,” Beau reiterated.
The two men stared into each other’s eyes. The anger between them was palpable. Hannah feared they would come to blows any moment. With each beat of her heart, the standoff turned more intense, more angry and bitter, becoming a ruthless clash between brothers as old as Cain and Abel.
Eventually, Tyler lowered his head and sighed in defeat. “As you wish.”
Beau placed his hand on Tyler’s arm. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I know.”
Recovering quickly, Tyler placed a careless grin on his lips. With a challenge in his eyes, he held Beau’s stare as he tugged Rachel into his arms once again.
“Rachel Southerland, will you marry me?” he asked, still glaring at Beau as he spoke. Eventually, he dropped his gaze to Rachel and cocked his head at a jaunty angle. “Will you be my wife, in name now as well as in deed? Will you—”
Beau cleared his throat, cutting off the rest of whatever improper request Tyler had been about to ask of her.
Hannah whispered a silent prayer of thanks that at least one O’Toole sibling was a gentleman.
Giggling, Rachel trailed a finger down Tyler’s cheek. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make it official.”
Hannah gasped. The realization of what marriage between the two would mean was finally sinking in. “Wait. What about Will? What about Father?”
Rachel flicked a speck of dust off Tyler’s shoulder. “What about them?”
“You must tell them of your marriage to Tyler. They deserve to hear it from you.”
“Me? No.” She slid Hannah a bitter glare from under her lashes. “You tell them. Save the day like always. It’s what you live for.”
At Rachel’s feral glance, Hannah’s lips parted in shock. She’d never seen such revulsion in her sister’s eyes before. “You must tell them yourself,” Hannah insisted, but her voice shook at the realization she was losing the fight.
In response, Rachel twisted on her heels, lifted her chin in the air and turned her deaf ear toward Hannah.
With that one gesture the battle was complete.
Rachel had made up her mind. There would be no reasoning with her now. She had literally shut Hannah out.
Hannah shouldn’t have been surprised. She shouldn’t feel this devastating sense of defeat, this...hurt.
This was their pattern, after all. She had been naive to think anything would change between Rachel and her.
Hannah slowly set her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and turned her sister to face her directly. “Write one letter to Father and another to your fiancé. I’ll deliver them personally,” she said with little expression in her voice. She turned to Beau. “It’s the only way now.”
He gave her an understanding nod.
Perhaps this had been part of God’s plan for Hannah all along. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
Hannah had lied all her life. But now she would make restitution. She would confess her sin to the one person she’d offended most. Her father.
“You won’t face Reverend Southerland alone,” Beau declared, closing his hand over hers in perfect understanding of the situation. “I won’t allow it.”
Even in her devastated state, Hannah felt a smile tug at her lips. For once, this man’s arrogance brought her comfort. And a unique sense of safety. Beauregard O’Toole was a good man. By accepting his generous offer, she would make her own bold statement. Would he understand?
“I would consider myself fortunate, fortunate indeed, to have you stand by my side,” she said.
Rachel snorted, ruining the moment. “Hannah? You? Traveling alone with a man? I’m shocked.”
Hannah’s entire body wanted to tremble again, but she would not give in to her anger now. “I have a chaperone.”
Rachel rolled her gaze to the ceiling, looking as though Hannah’s sense of propriety was anything but. “Of course you do.”
Beau touched her arm. Needing his strength, she turned to him. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “It’ll be over soon. I promise.”
Perhaps this wasn’t the ending Hannah had hoped for when she’d set out in search of Rachel and Tyler. But a sense of peace filled her at the prospect of her imminent confession.
This was the right course of action. The web of lies would be broken at last.