twenty–four
ZANE STOOD AT THE WINDOW of the boardinghouse parlor, watching Wells and Marshal Pierce cross the street to the train station to meet US Attorney General Amos Akerman and defense attorney Alonzo Maney, scheduled to arrive on the last train of the day from Oxford. He understood why, under the circumstances, Wells could hardly have allowed Zane to come along, but it was frustrating to find himself relegated to the role of observer. He deeply desired to confront Maney, the central figure in all this chaos. Instead, he had to content himself with the thought that he would have his day in court.
Assuming he could keep himself and Aurora alive.
He looked over his shoulder at her. She sat in her favorite chair, listlessly picking at a mangled piece of handwork in some sort of hoop in her lap. All her sunny personality seemed to have dimmed to moonglow within the space of twenty-four hours, and he suspected—no, he knew—it was entirely his fault. He should have been guarding her door when she went downstairs the first time. He should have awakened someone to make sure she didn’t come back down the second time.
He should never have kissed her at all, let alone twice. In the cellar. In her nightgown. He was embarrassed and chagrined and angry with himself. This time he would keep his distance, be the professional lawman he’d been trained to be.
“I wish you would sit down,” she said without looking up. “I know I’m not a paid deputy of the law, but that seems a stupid place to stand when one has a killer’s target on his back.”
She was right. He stepped to the side, putting his back against the wall. “I’m sor—”
“If you say that to me one more time, I’m going to come poke your other eye out with this needle.” She jumped to her feet, tossing the hoop and fabric into her chair. Staring at him, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear Gussie. What is wrong with me?”
He laughed. There was his Pete. “You’re tired and scared. And aggravated with me for good reason. I know you don’t want me around—”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” She clenched her hands into small fists. “Can’t you understand, you’re the one person who knows how I feel? I just don’t want you forced to stay around. Like I’m some—some horrible obligation!”
He reminded himself that he needed her to feel this way so that she wouldn’t walk over here and destroy all his good intentions. “Pete, we can’t change the circumstances. Even if we could be, you know, regular friends, I’m never going to be anything other than a seriously damaged fellow with responsibilities. You’re a lady who needs feelings, and I can’t give you that.” He paused. “I won’t.”
A heavy silence fell. He watched Aurora breathe, saw the moment when blank acceptance drew a shade over her expression. “All right,” she said colorlessly. “I have to go upstairs for a few minutes.”
He followed her.
She wheeled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going with you.”
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t—”
“I’ll wait outside the door.”
“Zane, this is humiliating!”
“I’m sorry”—he put up his hands—“keep your needle in its pincushion! I know it’s awkward, but it’s got to be this way until Jones—”
“And don’t say his name again! I can’t bear it!”
He racked his hands on his hips. “Now you’re being childish.”
“No, I’m not! I’m being normal! I don’t want the man I love waiting outside the door while I use the—” Her golden eyes widened, and she collapsed at the bottom of the stairs to bury her head in her arms. “Oh! Oh! Dear God in heaven, just take me home in a chariot of fire right now.”
Electrified, Zane stared at her, listening to her soft sniffles, watching her shoulders quiver. He knew he hadn’t misunderstood her. But she couldn’t have meant that. She was simply overwrought with fear and frustration.
“What in the name of everything holy is going on down here?” Mrs. Winnie stood at the top of the stairs, both hands resting on her cane. She thumped it on the next step for emphasis. “Can’t a person take care of correspondence in her room in peace, without all this shouting and sobbing and histrionics?”
Zane looked around to find Rosie and Bedelia standing behind the bar, Joelle at the kitchen doorway. He was surrounded by angry women. “I was just . . .” He shifted his shoulders. “Will somebody take her upstairs just long enough to . . . I’m going to wait right here.” He met Joelle’s narrowed eyes.
“What have you done?” she hissed, marching past him.
“I don’t know. Please—”
“All right, that’s enough.” Joelle put a hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Then we’ll sit and meditate. That’ll suit me better anyway.”
At last he was alone with the two working girls. Rosie regarded him in bewildered silence, while Bedelia busied herself wiping down the bar, her expression a masterpiece of disdain.
“What?” he said, daring her to criticize.
Bedelia rolled her eyes. “For a smart man, you sure act like a simpleton. I coulda told ya that train wreck was comin’, so.”
“For your information, I knew it was coming too. It’s better this way.”
“Oh really? Feeling good about the outcome, are we?”
Tight-lipped, he just stared at her. Something occurred to him. Bedelia was mighty good at listening in where she wasn’t supposed to be. “How long did you say you worked here at the saloon?”
“Boardinghouse,” she corrected automatically.
He waved a hand. “I mean when it was a saloon.”
“I moved in about four years ago. Before that I lived in the rail camp with me man.”
“I’d be willing to bet you know more about the inner workings of the local Klan than anybody in town. They ever meet here?”
Bedelia shoved a lock of curly blonde hair out of her eyes with her arm. “Maybe.”
“Would you be willing to testify? Name names?”
Alarm flashed in the green eyes. “Those men carry some weight around. They’d be like to squash me and Rosie”—she glanced at her friend—“like a coupla ladybugs.”
“The marshals could protect you.”
“Like you did Jefcoat and Moore?” she sneered. “No thanks.”
“Fair enough.” Zane sighed. “Then we’ll get you out of town, send you out west with a nest egg to start over.”
That might have been a spark of interest that crossed Bedelia’s blowsy face. “I dunno. What you think, Rosie?”
Rosie looked troubled. “I like eggs. I like to cook.”
Zane grinned. “I’m fond of eggs myself. Bedelia, did you ever hear the name Maney or Forrest out of Whitmore or Brown or any of that gang?”
“Not sure. They was more like to call each other boy-club names like Grand Titan or Grand Cyclops and such nonsense.” She scrunched her face. “The moniker Maney might ha’ come up.”
Zane nodded. “Good. I’ll let the attorney know he can call you in, if that’s all right with you.”
Bedelia shrugged. “Sure.”
It was a long shot, but . . . “What about Jones? Sam Jones? You ever hear that name?”
This time pure terror suffused the woman’s face. “No! Absolutely not!”
Bedelia twisted the rag in her hand. “I never seen him, nor heard anybody here mention him.”
He approached her carefully, slowly, as though she were a feral cat. “Listen. Deedee, this is important. Jones is the man who broke in here last night. You know that. Aurora shot him—clipped him, at least—but he’s running loose and could come back here at any time. Tonight even.” He was close enough to touch her, but he simply held her fearful gaze. “If you know where he might have gone, maybe another booze joint or flophouse—someplace he’d go to recover from a wound—I need you to tell me so we’ll have a chance to grab him before he hurts anybody else.”
Bedelia wrung the rag as if it were the throat of some antagonist. Moments passed before she flung it onto the bar with a groaning curse. “He said he’d hurt Rosie.”
“Who? Jones?”
Bedelia nodded, teeth gritted. “I know where he is. But you got to get Rosie out of town tonight, before you do anything.” She glared at Zane. “Promise me.”
Aurora lay supine, arms and legs flung wide, upon her bed. There were no more tears left in her body. She was wrung dry as a chamois left out in the sun for a week. Rolling over, she saw Joelle sitting sideways in a chair under the window, catching the last rays of sunlight in order to read some tome she’d brought with her from Daughtry House.
The man I love . . .
Of all the things she had ever said—and wished she had the magic ability to reel back into her mouth—that one won first prize. There were some thoughts a girl simply didn’t say aloud.
She cleared her aching throat. “Joelle. I’m going to live.”
Joelle swung her feet to the floor. “Of course you will,” she said gently. “They don’t mean to be so stupid. They just can’t help it.” She smiled. “You’ll learn to overlook the stupidity and find the things he’s good at.”
Aurora sat up. “That implies there might be some universe in which Zane Sager and I are on speaking terms again. I’ll get to heaven and ask God for a mansion on the other side of eternity from him.”
Joelle laughed. “You know he loves you.”
“Of course God loves me.”
“Well, yes, but so does Zane.”
“He’s had every opportunity to say so. But he hasn’t.” The last word cracked off on a miserable wobble. “I find that I don’t care.”
“Pete, don’t be silly. Not every man is a fountain of urbanity like Schuyler or Levi. Hasn’t he shown you that he loves you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But then again, maybe it’s my imagination.” She folded her arms. “I want the words.”
Joelle sighed and shut her book. “No wonder he’s losing his mind. You’re quite a pill sometimes. Come on, I promised I’d bring you back so he could keep an eye on you after you’d calmed down.”
“I’m far from calm.”
Aurora continued to resist until Joelle finally resorted to opening the door and shouting, “Zane! Come and get her!”
Humiliated all over again, Aurora brushed her hair, glared at her sister, and marched downstairs.
Zane met her halfway. He looked at her with that tensile muscle working in his jaw, the one that said he was a breath away from yanking her close. A thrill of something delicious bounced from her stomach to her throat, terrifying in its power.
“Are you all right?” he growled.
“Just dandy,” she said, lifting her nose and sashaying past him down the stairs.
He followed. “You have a surprise guest.”
She kept going. “I find I’m quite tired of surprises.”
“I think you’re going to like—” Zane stopped on a grunt as Aurora threw her arms wide, whacking him in the chest.
“Grandpapa!” She picked up her skirts and pelted down the last three steps. Her handsome, elegant grandfather stood in the entryway, issuing instructions to a porter from the train station as to the disposition of his luggage. When she reached him, she flung herself at him. “Oh, Grandpapa! I’ve missed you so much!” He gave her one of his lovely, strong hugs, and she held in fresh tears. Knowing he wouldn’t appreciate getting his shirt front wet, however, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then stepped back to grin at him. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
He glanced over her head. “Your grandmother knew.”
Aurora looked around to find Grandmama observing the reunion with a small smile.
“To be precise, I insisted that he come.” The smile gained a touch of vinegar as Grandmama approached. “It seemed to me a rather firmer hand on the yoke might be needed under the circumstances.”
Unable to conjure a firmer hand than her grandmother’s, Aurora smiled at Grandpapa and tugged him to the settee. “Come tell me about your trip. How are Vonetta and Alistair?” She had missed the McGowan housekeeper and butler as much as anyone she’d left in Memphis.
“They are well and send their love.” Grandpapa sat down beside Aurora with a tired oof. “The trip was noisy and uncomfortable, and I’m glad to finally be here. Now explain to me this nonsense I hear about saloon girls and whiskey cellars and home invasions.” He scowled at her.
Aurora glanced at Zane, who stood like some stoic statue under the chandelier in front of the stairs. “Did you meet Deputy Marshal Sager?”
“I did. Actually met him a long time ago, after that steamboat disaster in ’65. Seems to be a sensible, hardworking young fellow, and Duke Teague, God rest his soul, held quite a high opinion of him. Your grandmother thinks you’re going to be very happy together.”
All the air exploded from Aurora’s lungs, and she needed several seconds before she regained the power of speech. “She thinks—happy about what?”
“Marriage, of course. Young women cannot go cavorting about in the middle of the night in their undress and expect to maintain a proper reputation. You were not reared with such low morals, Aurora. Surely you know what is expected of you.” He glanced at Zane. “Young Sager seems aware of his duty.”
“But Grandpapa!” Aurora tried to untangle one coherent thought from the mass of boiling protests that surged through her brain. “I was in my nightgown because there was a killer in the house! Surely I can get a pass—”
“It’s possible that you might have. But your sweetheart admits that there passed some physical intimacy between you.” Grandpapa’s expression softened. “Aurora, you may not believe it, but your grandmama and I were young once, and I’m not so prudish as to believe that modern young people observe the stricter tenets of morality we once adhered to.”
“Sweetheart?” Aurora said on an embarrassing squeak. “Grandpapa, it’s not like that—”
“But under the circumstances,” he continued, “I believe the deputy’s offer of protection mandates the blessing of God and church upon your remaining in the same house, let alone the same room.” He patted her knee firmly. “Your only alternative would be to return to Memphis with me and Winnie, where we could place you under our own protective custody.”
Aurora grappled for dignity. “Grandpapa, I’m not a child. I’m almost twenty, a grown woman.”
“You are a young and beautiful woman of good birth and fine reputation. I won’t allow you to throw it away.” His gnarled, clever surgeon’s hands grasped hers. “Aurora, if you love me, you’ll respect my wishes.”
She had one more ace in her hand. “But Zane doesn’t want to—”
“Zane does want to.” Zane’s quiet, deep voice reached the muddle in her head. She saw now that he had moved close enough to kneel at her feet. “We have to, don’t you see? Your grandfather is right. I need to stay with you at all times or I’ll—I’ll go out of my mind with worry. If you think anyone will be willing to stay in your boardinghouse after you’ve forfeited your reputation, you don’t know Southern bigots and snobs very well.”
“I hardly think I should be required to marry every gentleman who offers to serve as my bodyguard, Grandpapa! This is absurd.” She couldn’t make herself look at Zane. What he must be thinking—after telling her in no uncertain terms that he had no feelings for her.
“Dr. McGowan, may I have just a few minutes alone with your granddaughter?” Zane’s voice was grave and respectful.
Ooh, he could put on the charm when he wanted to.
And Grandpapa fell for it. “I suppose I could allow it.”
“Not the cellar, though,” Joelle called. She sat at the top of the stairs, observing the action as if it were a stage play.
Giving her sister an exasperated look, Aurora rose. “Come in the kitchen, then, Zane, and let’s settle this farce. I can’t think of a less romantic location for . . . for . . . anything.”
The kitchen, long deserted since supper, had been scrubbed clean by Rosie and Bedelia. Hopping onto the butcherblock table, Aurora folded her arms across her middle and swung her feet.
Zane approached, looking wary, and stood silent for a long moment.
“This was your idea,” she prompted him. “So talk.”
“I’m trying to pick words that won’t get me stabbed in the eye with a needle.”
“Would you please forget I said that?” Reluctantly she laughed. “Forget everything I said.”
“Some of what you said was pretty wonderful.”
She peered up at him.
“The part where you said you love me.”
Putting her fingertips to her temples, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh . . . my . . . goodness. Zane, you have turned me into a raving lunatic.”
“Aurora, I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re so bright, you make my head hurt, but I can’t look away. You scare the life out of me, but you make me braver than St. George.”
“Who’s St. George?”
“The fellow with the dragon.”
“Oh. Never mind, I’ll ask Joelle later.” She lowered her hands, and he took them. There was a brief tug-of-war, which he won. Admittedly, she didn’t try very hard. “All right, then, St. George. Carry on.”
He stroked her fingers. “That’s all I’ve got. I know I botched this thing, but when your grandparents brought up my obligation to your reputation, I knew this might be my one and only excuse to inflict myself on you. You simply don’t know what you’d be taking on, and I didn’t want to risk leaving you alone with a b-baby or—” He stumbled into silence. “Do you know what I mean?”
She stared at him, fascinated, drawn and confused. “I have no idea what you mean. But I don’t care. Joelle asked me if you’d shown me that you love me, and I think you just did.” She chewed her upper lip and watched his gaze fall to her mouth. So she sucked in her bottom lip and then let it go. He leaned a little closer. “Zane, do you love me?”
“I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you, not just the next few days.”
That was a douse of cold water. “Wait. Where do you think you’re going? After all this is over, I mean?”
He shook his head. “Let’s worry about that when the time comes.”
There was something very off about this whole backward-inside-out proposal. But then, she’d seen her sisters’ courtships and engagements begin in unorthodox ways, then proceed satisfactorily. She had to have faith that God was going to work this thing out between her and Zane as well.
“All right,” she said. “As long as we are laying cards on the table, you should be aware that you’ll be getting a pretty shady deal too. I have it on good authority I’m managing and bossy. And a little spoiled.”
He nodded. “Noted.”
“And I wake up cranky.”
“I’ll keep my distance until noon.”
She laughed. He still hadn’t said he loved her, and maybe he never would. But he did have a nice sense of humor. And that eye patch was downright alluring. “I think I deserve a kiss after the trauma you’ve put me through in the last day or two.”
“I’d be happy to oblige, but your grandmother is in the next room, and she scares me more than any dragon. And more than you.”
“Good point.” As he let go of her hands, she slid off the table and landed so close to him that it was a simple matter to slide her arms around his waist and hold on. “You don’t have to say words. I’ve got enough for both of us.”