Twin of Ice

  “My father takes after his mother’s side of the family, I’m happy to say, but Uncle Rafe and Ian are true Taggerts. I thought this Kane, because he had money . . . ”

  “It probably makes him worse. Who is Ian’s father? I don’t remember meeting the boy.”

  “You haven’t. He’s worked in the mines for years now even though he’s only sixteen. He looks like Rafe: big, handsome, angry. His father was Lyle, Rafe’s brother. Lyle was killed in a mine explosion when he was twenty-three.”

  “And Kane’s father . . . ?”

  “Frank was the oldest brother. He was killed in an accident long before I was born and, I believe, even before Kane was born.”

  “I’m sorry,” Houston said. “It must be hard for you to have to take care of so many men.”

  “I have help from charitable young ladies,” she said, rising. “It’ll be dark soon. You’d better go.”

  “Will you please come to my wedding? I’d very much like for you to be there and, besides, you’ll see me in something a little cleaner.” Houston grinned, showing off her blackened teeth.

  “To tell you the truth, I somehow think I’ll feel more comfortable around Sadie than the Society Princess, Miss Chandler.”

  “Don’t say that!” Houston said seriously. “Please don’t.”

  “All right. I’ll do my best.”

  “And you’ll go to my dressmaker’s tomorrow? She needs all the time she can get to make the dress. Here’s the address.”

  Jean took the card. “I’ll look forward to it. And I’ll do my best with Uncle Rafe and Ian. But I make no promises.”

  “I understand that from the bottom of my heart.” On impulse, she clasped Jean to her. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

  On her way back to town, Houston mused on her talk with Jean. It made perfect sense that she was in love with Kane and, with the knowledge, she laughed aloud. All those years with Lee, and she’d never really been in love with him. She knew that now.

  Of course, she couldn’t tell anyone. It would make her seem like a woman whose love was given lightly. But it wasn’t; she was sure of that. Kane Taggert was the man she loved and would always love.

  She used the reins to urge the horses to move faster. She still had to wash and change her clothes. Then make arrangements for . . . A secret little smile shaped her lips as she thought of her plans for Friday night. She’d ask Leander to invite Kane and Edan to Lee’s men’s club and she’d ask Kane for the use of his house for a farewell dinner with her girlfriends. Just a quiet little get-together—like the one Ellie had before she got married.

  Now, if Houston could only persuade that strongman she’d seen on the billboard on Coal Avenue to do what she wanted . . .

  Houston was so busy musing on her plans that she didn’t keep her usual vigil. Behind her, hidden by the trees, was a lone man on horseback.

  Edan wore a frown as he followed her back into town.

  Chapter 12

  With only days left the wedding, Houston found herself quickly running out of time. Kane’s dinner on Wednesday was a great success.

  “I broke my engagement to John today, Mr. Taggert,” Cordelia Farrell said shyly.

  “That’s good news,” Kane laughed as he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her heartily on the mouth. Cordelia was embarrassed but pleased. “You can do lots better ’n that ol’ man.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Taggert.”

  For a moment, Kane looked puzzled. “How come ever’body calls me Mr. Taggert?”

  “Because, Mr. Taggert,” Houston said smoothly, “You’ve never asked anyone to call you Kane.”

  “All of you can call me Kane,” he said quietly, but, looking at Houston, his eyes turned hot. “Except you, Houston. You’ve only called me Kane once and I liked it when you did.”

  Houston knew his meaning was clear to everyone and her throat went dry at the embarrassment of what he’d said.

  Sarah Oakley picked up a pillow and threw it at Kane’s head.

  He caught it and everyone waited with breath held. Who could guess how Kane was going to react?

  “Sometimes you’re not a gentleman . . . Kane,” Sarah said daringly.

  But Kane grinned at her. “Gentleman or not, I see you took my advice and bought yourself a new dress. All right, Houston, you can call me Kane.”

  “At this moment, I much prefer Mr. Taggert,” she said haughtily, and everyone laughed together.

  All day Thursday was given over to preparing Kane’s house for the wedding on Monday. Kane and Edan locked themselves in Kane’s study and ignored the furniture movers, the deliveries, and the arrivals and departures of most of Chandler’s tradesmen.

  Friday and Saturday were more of the same, with Houston explaining and reexplaining their roles to all the people involved in the wedding. There were men and women to prepare and serve food, men to build tables for outside. There were the men who set up the enormous open–sided tents Houston’d had made in Denver. On Sunday, there were thirty–eight people doing nothing but arranging flowers.

  Jean Taggert sent a message that Rafe was going to come but young Ian was balking, and could she bring a covered dish perhaps?

  When Houston read the message, she was in the kitchen, and before her on the table were two butchered cow carcasses and 250 pounds of potatoes that had just been delivered. And under the cows were three enormous wheels of cheese and 300 oranges—and she was praying the oranges weren’t on the bottom.

  Through all the turmoil, Houston was pleased that Kane stayed out of her way and left her to her work. He complained that he was so far behind in his own work, from lollygagging about with her, that he’d never catch up.

  Only once did he give her any trouble, and that was when Leander asked Edan and him to spend the evening at Lee’s men’s club.

  “I ain’t got time to do that!” Kane bellowed. “Don’t those men ever work? Lord knows but I’ll have little enough time after the weddin’, what with a woman always underfoot and—.” He stopped and looked at Houston. “Maybe I didn’t quite mean it that way . . . ” he began.

  Houston just looked at him.

  “All right,” he finally said, with disgust in his voice. “But I don’t see why you women can’t have your little tea party at your house.” He turned on his heel and went back to his office.

  “Damned women!” he muttered.

  “What horrible imposition has Houston placed on you now?” Edan asked, with a hint of a smile.

  “We’re to spend the evenin’ at Westfield’s fancy club. We’re to leave here by seven and not to return before midnight. What happened to the good ol’ days when women obeyed and respected their husbands?”

  “The first woman disobeyed the first man; the good ol’ days are a myth. What does Houston want to do tonight?”

  “A fancy tea party for her lady friends. I want you to stay here and watch her.”

  “What”

  “I don’t like all those women bein’ here alone. Houston’s hired servants to fill the house after the weddin’, but tonight only a bunch of unprotected women will be here. She’s set up the dinin’ room for her little party and there’s a door in there that’s covered with cloth, you know, the one with the flowers painted on it, and—.”

  “You expect me to hide inside a closet and spy on a ladies’ tea party?”

  “It’s for their own good, and I damn well pay you enough to do a little work for me.”

  “A little work—,” Edan sputtered.

  Hours later, Houston saw Edan and noticed a bruise on his right cheek.

  “How did you hurt yourself?” she asked.

  “I ran into a stone wall,” he said tightly and walked away.

  At six, the house began to clear of workers and at six forty–five Houston’s friends began to arrive, each bearing a beautifully–wrapped gift.

  Kane, still complaining about the injustice of having to leave his own house, climbed into the wagon beside a solemn Edan, and rode
away.

  * * *

  Altogether, ten women plus Blair arrived at the Taggert house, and their gifts were placed on the eighteenth–century table in the dining room.

  “Is everyone gone?” Tia asked.

  “At last,” Houston said, closing the double doors behind her. “Now, shall we get down to business?”

  Edan sat inside the closet on an uncomfortable chair, a full bottle of whisky in his hand. Damn Kane! he thought again and wondered if he could get away with murder. Any judge would surely let him off for killing a man who’d forced him to spend an entire evening watching a bunch of women drink tea.

  Absently, he drank the whiskey and watched the women through the silk in the door panel. Miss Emily, a pretty, fragile, elderly lady, was banging her fist on the table.

  “The third annual meeting of The Sisterhood will now come to order.”

  Edan held the bottle to his lips but didn’t drink.

  Miss Emily continued. “First, we’ll hear a report from Houston on the coal camps.”

  Edan didn’t move a muscle as Houston stood and delivered a detailed report on the injustices inside the coal camps. He’d followed her a few days before and knew of her innocent little forays to deliver fresh vegetables into the camps, but now Houston was talking of strikes and of unions. Edan’d seen men killed for less than what she was saying.

  Nina Westfield began to talk of starting a magazine that the women would secretly deliver to the coal miners’ wives.

  Edan set the whiskey bottle on the floor and leaned forward.

  There was mention of Jacob Fenton—fear of him and what he’d do if he found out about the women delivering information to the coal miners.

  “I can talk to Jean Taggert,” Houston said. “For some reason, Fenton seems afraid of all the Taggerts. They were given permission to attend the wedding.”

  “And Jean visits stores in Chandler,” Miss Emily said. “I know your Kane,” she said to Houston, “used to work for the Fentons, but something else is going on. I thought perhaps you might know.”

  “Nothing,” Houston said. “Kane explodes at the mention of Fenton’s name, and I don’t think Marc knows anything.”

  “He wouldn’t,” said Leora Vaughn. “Marc only spends money; he’s uninterested in where it comes from”

  “I’ll talk to Jean,” Houston repeated. “Someone is stirring up a great deal of trouble. I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

  “Maybe I can get into the coal camps, too,” Blair added. “I’ll find out what I can.”

  “What other business is there?” Miss Emily asked.

  Edan leaned back in his chair. “The Sisterhood,” he breathed. These women, under the guise of lace dresses and gentle manners, were talking about wars.

  The rest of the meeting was involved with various charities, of helping orphans and sick people—all the things ladies should do.

  When the meeting was over, Edan picked up the whiskey and felt that at last he could breathe again.

  “Refreshments?” Meredith Lechner asked, laughter in her voice, as she opened a large, yellow-wrapped box and Pulled out a bottle of homemade wine. “Mother sent these in memory of a few meetings when she was a girl. Daddy will be told our wine cellar was robbed.”

  Edan didn’t think he could have been further shocked, but his mouth fell open when each woman was handed a full bottle of wine and a long-stemmed glass from a wall cabinet.

  “To the wedding night!” said Miss Emily, glass aloft. “To wedding nights everywhere, whether they’re preceded by marriages or not.”

  With laughter, the women downed full glasses of wine.

  “Mine first!” said Nina Westfield. “Mother and I had an awful time finding these in Denver. And then Lee almost looked in the box this afternoon.”

  Houston opened a blue box and withdrew a transparent black garment dripping with four-inch-wide black lace.

  Edan saw that it was ladies’ underwear, but not the kind for ladies.

  In disbelief, he watched the women drink their bottles of wine and open presents amid shouts of laughter and boisterous comments. There were two pairs of high-heeled red shoes, more transparent underwear, and some pictures the women passed from one to another and nearly collapsed with laughter over. Chairs were discarded and the women began to dance about the room.

  Miss Emily sat down at the piano that Edan hadn’t noticed and started banging away.

  Edan’s chin hit his chest as he watched the women dance with skirts raised, legs kicking.

  “It’s the cancan,” Nina said, out of breath. “Mother and I sneaked away from Daddy and Lee when we were in Paris and saw it.”

  “Can anyone try it?” Houston asked, and soon eight women were tossing their skirts over their heads to the tune of Miss Emily’s playing.

  “Rest!” Sarah Oakley called. “And I brought a bit of poetry to read to you.”

  When Edan was a boy, he and his friends had shared a copy of what the prim Miss Oakley was now reading from: Fanny Hill.

  The women giggled and laughed as they slapped Blair and Houston on the back repeatedly.

  When Sarah finished, Houston stood. “Now, my dear, dear friends, I have the pièce de résistance upstairs. Shall we go?”

  Several minutes passed before Edan could move. So much for a ladies’ tea party. With a jolt, he sat upright. What in the world could be upstairs? What could be more than what they’d already done? He knew that he’d as soon die as not find out what was going on.

  As quickly as possible, he left the house, circled it, and saw light in the northeast corner sitting room. Ignoring thorns, he began to climb the rose trellis.

  All that had happened before hadn’t prepared him for what he now saw. The room was totally dark except for a large candelabra blazing with light, set behind a translucent silk screen. And between the screen and the light was a well-muscled man, scantily clad, moving his body into poses to show off his muscles.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Miss Emily said and, with Nina on the other side, moved the screen away.

  For a moment, the strongman looked bewildered, but the now-drunk women began clapping their hands and cheering, so he grinned and put more enthusiasm into his posing.

  “Not nearly as big as my Kane,” Houston shouted.

  “I’ll take him on,” the strongman shouted back. “I can lick anybody.”

  “Not Kane,” Houston said stubbornly, which made the man work harder at showing his biceps.

  Edan slipped down the rose trellis to the ground. Kane’d wanted Edan to protect the ladies. Who was to protect the men from the ladies?

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, Kane slammed his office door for the fifth time in one hour. “Of all the days for Houston to be sick,” he growled as he sat down. “You don’t think she’s gettin’ afraid of tomorrow’s weddin’, do you?” he asked Edan.

  “More likely something she ate—or drank,” Edan answered. “I heard there were several young women of Chandler spending the day being ‘indisposed’.”

  Kane didn’t look up from his papers. “Probably just restin’ for tomorrow.”

  “What about you?” Edan asked. “Any nerves?”

  “Not a one. Real simple matter. People do it every day.”

  Edan leaned forward, took the paper Kane was looking at and turned it right side up.

  “Thanks,” Kane mumbled.

  Chapter 13

  The day of the wedding was so beautiful that it seemed to have been specially created for that momentous occasion. Opal woke the Chandler household at five o’clock and began the careful packing of the two wedding dresses and veils.

  Houston heard her mother downstairs but she lay in bed for several minutes before she rose. She’d slept little during the night, mostly tossing and turning. Her mind was too alive with thoughts of the approaching day to sleep. She thought of Kane and prayed that in the years to come he’d learn to love her.

  When Opal came to wake her, she wa
s more than willing for the day to begin.

  The three women were ready to leave for the Taggert house by ten o’clock. They travelled in Houston’s carriage, with Willie behind them driving a borrowed wagon, the bed covered with muslin, the dresses concealed.

  Waiting for them at the house were a dozen young women, all members of The Sisterhood.

  “The tables are ready,” Tia said.

  “And the tents,” Sarah added.

  “And Mrs. Murchison has been cooking since four,” Anne Seabury put in, as she took one end of the wrapped wedding dresses.

  “And the flowers?” Houston asked. “Were they all put in place according to my plan?”

  “I think so,” one of the women said.

  Miss Emily stepped forward. “Houston, you’d better look at them yourself. Someone will make sure that husband of yours stays in his office, and you can take a turn through the house.”

  “Husband,” Houston murmured to herself as Nina ran ahead to hold Kane prisoner in his office. Everyone was going to try to insure that the bride wasn’t seen before the wedding.

  When she’d been assured that it was safe, Houston left her mother and Blair in the hall as she walked through each downstairs room and, for the first time, got to see the reality of the decorations that she’d planned.

  The small drawing room was furnished with three long tables bearing gifts for the two brides from all over the United States. Kane had as much as said that he had no true friends in the moneyed world he dealt with in New York, but, if their gifts were any indication, it was obvious that those men considered him one of their own.

  There was a little Italian inlaid table from the Vanderbilts, silver from the Goulds, gold from the Rockefellers. When the gifts had started arriving, Kane’d said that they damn well should send presents since he’d sure as hell sent enough to their kids every time they got married.

  Other gifts came from Leander’s relatives, and the people of Chandler had done their best to come up with the most ingenious “twin” gifts possible. There were twin brooms, twin barrels of popcorn, twin books, twin bolts of fabric. The gifts ranged from duplicate papers of dressmaker’s pins to identical oak chairs from the Masons.