Breathless

  “Neither do I but he’ll put us up.”

  “You sure?”

  Kent nodded. He understood the younger man’s worries. Being employed by Blanchard had given Matt a place to call home for the first time in years and he wouldn’t be looking forward to being at loose ends again.

  “What about pay?” Matt asked. “Mr. Fontaine won’t pay us if we aren’t working, will he?”

  “I don’t know what he’ll decide, but if not I have some money saved up. Should be enough to keep us both above water until things are worked out.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask. I volunteered.”

  “But—”

  “Look, we can sit here and argue or we can ride back to the hotel and get a bath and some food. How do you vote?”

  Matt smiled. “I vote for the hotel.”

  “Thought you would. Hopefully Rhine will have some word on the posse by the time we return, so, let’s go take that look around.”

  They were walking to their mounts when Rhine rode up. He dismounted and scanned what was left of the ranch house.

  Kent told him. “They used kerosene. Burned both buildings right down to the foundations. Is the sheriff getting a posse?”

  “No.”

  Kent stared. “Why not?”

  “Geronimo escaped last night and the army wants all the lawmen in the area to help track the old chief down. O’Hara has no one he can spare.” Rhine then explained why the sheriff couldn’t deputize him or Kent.

  The injustice of the illogical restrictions left Kent tight-lipped. “So did he say we couldn’t track Parnell down on our own?” Having to look over his shoulder for Apache while tracking down Parnell was a complication he hadn’t planned on.

  “No, but we’ll have no legal status to arrest him.”

  Kent didn’t care about that. He’d ridden in Wyoming’s range wars and not everything done there had been legal either, but it had been right. “If we bring Parnell in, will they jail him or not?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  Kent was so frustrated he wanted to punch something.

  Rhine asked Matt, “What can you tell me about Parnell?”

  “Not much. He bragged a lot but you never knew how much of what he was saying was true.”

  “For example?”

  “He claimed to have run guns to the Apache, that he’d ridden the Chisolm Trail with a Texas outfit, and that he had a Mexican wife. He also said he had a good friend in Tucson, which is how he wound up working for Mr. Blanchard.”

  “Did he say who the friend was?”

  “Mrs. Landry’s husband, Charlie.”

  Rhine paused. “I never knew that. I wonder if Charlie’s back from—did Missy say Kansas City or St. Louis, Kent?”

  Kent shrugged. He didn’t remember but he did remember Mrs. Landry planned to disappear. He wondered if Landry knew his wife had flown the coop on the wings of Rhine’s bank draft. “If he is back, maybe he can tell us where Parnell’s likely to be.”

  Kent then told Rhine about Howard Lane’s help in putting down the fire. “He and his men rode over because they spotted the smoke. He had the bodies driven into Tucson. He’s offering to help with the burial costs.”

  “Howard’s a good man.” Rhine studied Kent for a long silent moment. “There’s not going to be much work for a foreman in the next few weeks but I will need help rebuilding. Are you moving on or staying?”

  Kent smiled for the first time since the fire. “Too late for you to get rid of me now, old man. I’m here for keeps.”

  “What about you, Matt?” Rhine asked.

  “I’d like to stay on, too, sir, if you’ll have me.”

  “Good. Once things settle down, we’ll talk about rebuilding and go from there. Kent you can have your old room back at the hotel. Matt, we’ll put you up in one of the guest rooms.”

  “I’ll be okay out in the stable, sir.”

  “Mrs. Fontaine is not going to let you live in the stable, son, and neither am I.”

  Matt dropped his head and smiled.

  Although Kent and Matt had used the pond to wash up as best they could, their clothes were covered with soot and reeked of smoke. “We lost everything we owned in the fire,” Kent told Rhine. “Do you have any clothes we can borrow until we get these washed up and can go into Tucson tomorrow to buy new?”

  “I’m sure I can find something, and the hotel laundress will take care of what you’re wearing now. Just set them in the hallway when we get back. Shouldn’t take them long to dry on the line in this heat.”

  Kent was relieved.

  “So were you on your way back to the hotel when I rode up?” Rhine asked.

  “Yes, but I wanted to see if I could track Parnell first. With the ground being so rocky and churned up by all the horses and Lane’s men, I doubt we’ll find anything but you never know.”

  “Then let’s see what we can find.”

  While they rode, Kent realized he hadn’t asked Rhine how the hotel’s guests were holding up. It wasn’t every day city people had a personal encounter with murder. Had he not summoned the doctors to aid Buck, Ada Jakes and the widow might have been spared the grisly sight. Under normal circumstances he would’ve asked the women to stay back, but nothing about the incident qualified as such. He had no idea if Portia had ever witnessed something like that, but she seemed angrier with the taking of the men’s lives than repulsed. First Blanchard and now Buck and Farley. It was a lot of death for a person to handle but she hadn’t acted squeamish. Not that he’d expected her to. She was tough, that Portia. One of the many things that made her stand out and drew him in.

  Arriving at the hotel, they turned their horses over to Cal. Kent asked him, “No trouble with the guests on the way back, Cal?”

  The older man shook his head. “None. City folks leaving in the morning though.”

  Rhine nodded in agreement. “I forgot to tell you that.”

  Kent wasn’t surprised by their decision. Life in the West could be cruel and harsh. It wasn’t the game of pretend many of the dudes wanted it to be.

  Leaving the stables, Rhine said, “The maids will bring you lunch and you can join us for dinner this evening. Matt, let’s get you to your room. Kent, I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks, Rhine.”

  In his bedroom, a weary Kent stripped off his dirty clothes, set them in the hallway, and walked naked into the washroom to soak in the big claw-foot tub.

  As Portia and her family mingled with the guests before dinner, she tried to convince herself she wasn’t anxious to see Kent. She knew he’d returned earlier and was using the guest room he’d been given before. Logically she shouldn’t need to know more than that, but being around him made her illogical and the parts of herself that were attuned to him missed his presence. Seated beside her was Ada Jakes, who seemed to have recovered from the day’s ordeal. She was telling Portia about a women’s convention being held in San Francisco and Portia realized it was the same gathering Eddy and her friends planned on attending. When she mentioned it to Ada, the woman asked, “Are you coming along, too?”

  “Yes, and I’m very much looking forward to the speakers.”

  “Frances Harper will be giving the main address.”

  Portia was delighted. “I’ve always wanted to hear her speak.”

  “Then you shall have the opportunity. She’ll be staying at my home. I’m having a dinner for her with a few select people the night before her talk. I’ll make sure you and Mrs. Fontaine are sent invitations so you can be introduced.”

  Portia felt honored.

  “In fact, why don’t you and your aunt plan on staying with me and Winston?”

  Portia smelled a trap but offered a smooth counter. “We usually stay with Uncle Rhine’s brother, Andrew, and his wife when we visit the city.”

  “I see. Well, I will speak with her about the matter and see if I can’t have you as my guests instead.”

  Portia
didn’t argue. As she discreetly glanced up to see if Kent had arrived, her eyes met Winston’s across the room. He was speaking with Rhine, Phillip, and Matt. He smiled her way.

  “You two would make an outstanding couple, you know.”

  Portia hadn’t realized Ada was watching her so closely. “Maybe if I were looking to marry, but I’m not.”

  Ada patted her hand. “So you say, my dear. So you say.”

  Portia enjoyed Ada’s company, but her attempts to play matchmaker were not endearing. Portia was glad when they were called to dinner a few moments later.

  Everyone had just taken their seats when Kent walked into the dining room. “Sorry, I’m late. I fell asleep.”

  Portia thought it was a sin for a man to be so handsome. He had a slow easy way about him but beneath the exterior he crackled with a power that was raw, vital, and dangerous to a woman determined to keep her heart guarded and buttons done up. Her nipples tightened as if agreeing.

  Eddy said, “No apologies needed. You had a long morning. There’s an empty seat next to Portia.”

  Portia hoped her aunt wasn’t playing matchmaker, too. She was beginning to feel like a pawn on a chessboard. Not that you don’t want him near. She ignored that and hoped she didn’t embarrass herself again by dropping her silverware. Winston was seated directly across from her. Regan was on his right and his mother on his left. As Kent made his way to the empty chair and sat down, irritation flashed across Ada’s face but was gone just as quickly. It was as if the plainspoken women somehow knew the heat of his nearness played havoc with her senses.

  “I see you got back okay,” he said quietly.

  “I did.”

  “Sorry all the work you did on the roof went up in smoke.”

  “So am I.”

  Only then did he turn to the other guests. “Evening, everyone.”

  They nodded.

  Portia warmed with the knowledge that he’d spoken to her first. Regan gave her a knowing grin.

  Phillip Pratt, seated next to Matt on Portia’s side of the table, cracked, “Mr. Randolph, my sister decided to eat in her room. Feel free to enjoy your dinner in peace.”

  Kent chuckled and saluted him with his wine. “Thanks.”

  The first course was a cold soup served in wineglasses.

  Ada studied her glass with wondrous eyes. “This is certainly a unique presentation. What is this?”

  Eddy answered. “A cold cucumber and melon soup from Spain known as Melón Piel de Sapo.”

  Portia loved the sweet tangy soup. Its refreshing, creamy texture was garnished with diced red peppers and a thin slice of fried ham that rested vertically in the center.

  Winston dipped his spoon and took a taste. “This is delicious. Perfect counter to the hot weather.”

  Eddy nodded. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow, Rhine thought we should make this evening special, so thank him. The soup was his idea.”

  They voiced their thanks.

  Ada glanced down at Eddy. “Mrs. Fontaine, Portia told me that you and your friends are coming to San Francisco for the convention.”

  “Yes we are.”

  “My women’s group is one of the sponsors. She said you usually stay with relatives when you visit but Winston and I would love for you two to be our guests.”

  “Why thank you,” Eddy replied. “Portia and I will discuss it and let you know.”

  “I may be speaking out of turn but I think she and my son would make a fine couple. Don’t you?”

  Eddy raised an eyebrow.

  Winston cleared his throat and smiled. “My mother is a handful as you can see.”

  “I’m known for speaking my mind, and I’m not ashamed of that. She’d make you a fine wife and me a wonderful daughter-in-law. It’s an idea that should be pursued.”

  Portia sensed Kent studying the Jakeses. “I’m flattered, Mrs. Jakes, but as I said—”

  “I know, I know, but the right gentleman can change your mind. I never thought I’d marry either, but Gavin, my late husband, showed me the error of my ways. Being married doesn’t mean you have to set aside your own desires, isn’t that true, Mrs. Fontaine?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “See, Portia. Even your aunt agrees with me.”

  To his credit, Winston appeared embarrassed. “Let’s change the subject, Mother, shall we?”

  “If you insist, but I have one last point to make. Portia, I doubt you’ll meet anyone around here who can match my son in intelligence and refinement.” And she shot Kent a smug smile over her wineglass before turning to Regan and asking, “Tell me about this mail route of yours.”

  Portia’s anger at the outrageous dig matched the glowing hostility in Eddy’s eyes and the coldness reflected in Rhine’s.

  Kent, obviously not cowed, leaned over and whispered, “If you marry him, you’ll shoot her dead within a week.”

  Portia snorted then did her best to regain her composure. Ada and Winston turned and eyed her suspiciously but she pretended not to notice.

  Ada Jakes’s dig made Kent no never mind. Her son hadn’t made Portia laugh just a moment ago, nor seen her eyes slide shut with passion. He added Ada to the list of folks who considered themselves superior, like the pompous Darian Day and Edward Salt. The list had ample room to add others should the need arise.

  “Mr. Randolph, will you be escorting us to the train depot in the morning?”

  He met Winston Jakes’s gray eyes. “Yes.”

  “That will make me and mother feel safer with Geronimo running loose.”

  Kent wanted to say something sarcastic about being refined enough to protect their greenhorn asses but not enough to court Portia but kept that to himself. “The Apaches are probably south of the border by now. You shouldn’t be in any danger.”

  “Good to know.”

  It occurred to Kent that the man might be trying to make amends for his harridan of a mother, so he decided to be pleasant and give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Once the main course was served and they began eating, Winston addressed him again. “How long have you been employed by the Fontaines?”

  “I worked for Rhine back in Virginia City.”

  Regan interjected. “He’s known Portia and me since she was twelve and I was ten.”

  Jakes couldn’t hide his surprise. “So long?”

  “Yes. He’s like family in a way,” Portia explained, and the shy smile she sent Kent made his heart rear like a pleased stallion.

  Regan said, “He calls her Duchess.”

  Ada blinked with shock. In response, Regan smiled innocently his way and proved to Kent once again why he found her such a joy. Ada seemed to be evaluating him from an entirely different place now. Yes, you old biddy, I am a threat to your plans for your perfect son.

  She asked, “May I ask why?”

  “No,” Kent replied.

  Rhine coughed to hide his laugh. Kent ignored the smoke pouring from Ada’s ears and went back to his meal. She’d already labeled him unsuitable, so he might as well live up to it. She’d probably tumble out of her chair were he to boast of having attended Howard Medical School and that his father, like her son, was a doctor, but he wasn’t ashamed of the path he’d chosen for his life, nor the man it had helped him become.

  One of the maids came in and spoke quietly to Rhine, who nodded and stood. “Excuse me. Someone’s here to speak with me. I’ll be back shortly.”

  After his departure, the meal continued, but when shouting drifted in, Eddy shot Kent a look of concern. He stood and left the room.

  He found Rhine and a big overweight man standing by the door that led out to the grounds. The man’s face was red with anger and his eyes narrowed. His blue shirt was wet with sweat but whether it stemmed from the heat or his fury, Kent couldn’t tell.

  The stranger barked, “I will take you to court, Fontaine!”

  Rhine always in control, shrugged. “Do whatever you feel necessary, but the deed was legally signed and recorded, and th
e bank draft deposited.”

  Kent guessed the man to be Missy Landry’s husband. “Everything okay, Rhine?”

  The man looked Kent up and down.

  “Name’s Randolph,” he said by way of introduction.

  Landry didn’t respond.

  “Mr. Landry is upset that his wife signed over the deed to her father’s ranch.”

  “She had no right!”

  Rhine pointed out. “The land was left to her in the will Blanchard drew up ten years ago, and she had a representative there to advise during our transaction.”

  “He said you bulldozed her.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “I want that land back!”

  “Does Missy claim I pressured her?”

  Landry’s jaw tightened even more before he admitted, “I don’t know where she’s at.”

  “Ah. If it’s any help, she said she was going to join you in St. Louis, but according to my bank notice, the draft was deposited in a bank in Chicago.”

  “That bitch!”

  Kent asked, “Have you heard about the murder of Farley and Buck?”

  “I don’t know nothing about it.”

  “So you have heard?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Undeterred, Kent continued, “Before Buck died, he said Ty Parnell was the man who shot them. Do you know where he is?”

  “No. Just got back yesterday.”

  “I hear you two are good friends.”

  “He didn’t shoot nobody. Maybe if Fontaine hadn’t pressured Missy to sell that land they’d still be alive.”

  Kent marveled at the man’s response. “Are you saying the place was burned down and two men murdered because your wife sold Rhine that land?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with it and neither did Ty.”

  Kent sensed Landry was lying through his teeth.

  Rhine said, “I need to get back to my guests. If you want to pursue this legally, have your lawyer contact me. Good evening, Mr. Landry.”

  Kent said, “Nice meeting you. Hope you find your wife.”

  Landry looked like he wanted to explode a fist in Kent’s face. Kent waited. Landry muttered an ugly slur and stormed out the door.

  Rhine smiled. “You really need to stop taunting folks.”

  “Who me?”