Page 4 of Tender Is the Storm

  "You mean you were planning to marry some man you don't even know? To travel across the country . . . Steph, how could you even think of such a thing?"

  "How could I think of staying here after you marry Joel? I can't. I won't. I'll leave tomorrow, and don't you dare try to stop me."

  "But I can't let you go. You're such an innocent, Steph. Why, you'd probably get lost before you even got to the train station."

  "Just because you've been to Europe doesn't mean you're the only one who knows how to travel," Steph­anie snapped. "I've gone to Aunt Sophie's. I'll man­age."

  "You've gone to Aunt Sophie's with Father and me. You've never been anywhere alone. And . . . my God, to actually consider marrying a stranger! No, I can't let you."

  Stephanie's eyes narrowed angrily. "You would force me to stay here and watch you marry Joel? You would be that cruel?"

  "Steph!"

  "I love him!" A new flood of tears gathered. "I love him, and you're going to marry him! You know," she added bitterly, "the only thing that would prevent that wedding next week is if you weren't here to at­tend it. But would you think of leaving instead of me? Of course you wouldn't. You certainly gave up on Father soon enough. I couldn't expect you to have the courage to defy him by running away."

  "He said he would take a strap to me," Sharisse said quietly.

  "Oh," Stephanie said, all accusation dying.

  "Wait a minute," Sharisse said impulsively. "Why couldn't I leave? It would solve everything. Father would see that I am serious about not mar­rying Joel, and I would only have to stay away until he gave in."

  "Do you mean it, Rissy?" Stephanie asked, daring to hope. "Would you really do that for me?"

  Sharisse was thoughtful. Her father would be furi­ous. She might have to stay away for months. But at least she wouldn't be responsible for her sister's mis­ery.

  "Why not?" she said courageously. "I can go and stay with Aunt Sophie."

  Stephanie shook her head. "That's the first place Father will look. You don't think he's going to let you go without trying to find you, do you?"

  "Oh, dear." Sharisse frowned. "Well, let me think for a moment."

  "You could use the tickets I have."

  "Go to Arizona? That's ridiculous, Steph. I won't have to go that far."

  "But where else could you stay? At least Lucas Holt will take care of you until I can get word to you ■ that it's all right to come home."

  "Take care of me?" Sharisse gasped. "The man is expecting a wife, not a guest. And he's expecting you, not me."

  "Well, actually, he doesn't know what he's get­ting. I did send him a picture, but it was the one of you and me and Father, the one taken after you got back from Europe. I ... ah ... I forgot to tell him which of us was me."

  If Sharisse was going to be good enough to go away, she wanted her far enough away that their fa­ther would have no chance of finding her. Arizona was far enough.

  "When I wrote to him," she continued, "I signed my name only S. Hammond. So, you see, he wouldn't know the difference if you went in my place. And he doesn't have to know that you have no intention of marrying him."

  "You mean deceive him?"

  "Well, he's not expecting to marry me immedi­ately. He said in his letter that he would have to ap­prove me first. After a while, you could just say it didn't work out, you can't marry him."

  Sharisse was appalled. "I couldn't possibly take advantage of the man."

  Stephanie refused to give up. "You don't have the money to support yourself, do you?"

  "I have my jewels. They would last a while."

  "Sell them?"

  "As many as necessary."

  Stephanie began to wonder how she could let her sister do this for her, but then she thought of Joel and suppressed her conscience.

  "You probably won't get anywhere near what those jewels are worth," Stephanie said thought­fully. "I just don't see why you can't take advantage of Lucas Holt. Did I tell you he was a rancher? I'll give you his letter and the advertisement. You can see for yourself he sounds like a very agreeable fel­low. He's probably rich. You could live in style."

  "Stop it, Steph. I wouldn't dream of using the man that way. I will make use of his train ticket, though, to get me out of here." Sharisse grinned, excited by her own daring. "Shall we go to my room and start packing? If I'm going to go, I'll have to leave first thing in the morning, just as soon as Father goes to his office. You can cover for me in the afternoon and evening. Father won't have to know I've gone until the following day, and by then I should be far away. You'll have to cancel my appointments for me. I was to meet Sheila for lunch tomorrow, and there's Car­ol's party—"

  "How can I ever thank you, Rissy?" Stephanie cried.

  "By becoming Mrs. Joel Parrington as soon as you can. I don't mind disappearing for a while, but I don't want to be gone too long," She smiled wistfully. "Af­ter all, nowhere can compare with New York. I love it here, and I hate being homesick."

  Stephanie grinned. "You'll be back before you know it."

  Chapter 4

  BENJAMIN Whiskers stood behind his bar, slowly wiping a beer mug. His eyes were on Lucas Holt, watching him walk to the swinging doors, look out­side, then come back to stand on the other side of the bar. He finished his third whiskey, and that was the fifth time he'd looked outside. Ben was dying to ask him what he was looking for, but he hadn't got up the nerve. He still couldn't get it right in his mind that this was the friendly Holt brother, not the other one.

  If Ben hadn't been there the night Slade Holt shot Feral Sloan, seven years ago, then he wouldn't have been so leery of Luke Holt. But he had been there, had seen Slade shoot Feral as cool as you please and walk away without a moment of remorse. Slade Holt was a dangerous man. And this one just happened to be the very image of Slade. They were twins. It gave a man the willies.

  A lot of folks in town liked Luke, were real taken with him. It wasn't that they discounted the stories about Slade, it was just that they had met Lucas first, and while the brothers looked exactly alike, they were as different as night and day.

  Lucas took something out of his pocket, frowned at it, then put it away. Ben had seen him do that twice now. The man didn't look at all agreeable. Most times, he had a few pleasant words, but not today.

  He was downing whiskeys like water and looking ag­itated.

  It had been some shock when Lucas came to town to stay nearly two years ago. Folks wondered why he chose Newcomb, but no one asked. No one came to settle in Newcomb anymore. Since the railroad had passed them by, it was a town everyone was wanting to leave. But Lucas Holt had come, buying the old Johnson ranch three miles out of town. He kept to himself and didn't cause trouble. He was probably a likeable fellow if you got to know him, but Ben would never be friendly with Lucas. He would never be able to separate him from Slade.

  Slade Holt had been back since Lucas settled there. He didn't drift through often, but he sure gave people something to talk about when he did come. He always came into town after visiting his brother at his ranch. Folks just weren't the same when he made an appearance. Everything quieted down. All fights were postponed until Slade went on his way again.

  Hell, no one even had anything to say about the half-breed Lucas had working for him. Who would dare? Everyone had seen Billy Wolf ride into town with Slade. It wasn't hard to tell they were friends. Slade had brought Billy Wolf to Lucas because the Indian was supposed to be an excellent horse catcher, and that's what Lucas had started, a horse ranch. With all the trouble those renegade Apaches from the reservation were causing, the half-breed would have been thrown out of town if not for the Holt brothers. Because of them, no one even looked crossways at Billy Wolf.

  Lucas moved over to the door once again, and this time when he came back, Ben couldn't resist asking, "You waitin' for someone, Mr. Holt? I couldn't help noticing you keep lookin' up the street."

  Lucas fixed his green eyes on Whiskers. "I'm meeting someone on the Benson stage."
>
  "You ain't expectin' your brother, are you?"

  Lucas grinned at the anxious note in the saloon­keeper's voice. "No, Whiskers, I'm not expecting my brother any time soon. I've got a bride coming to­day."

  "A ... bride? If that don't beat all! Well, if that don't beat all!" Ben was too excited to be cautious. "Sam Newcomb will sure be glad to hear that."

  "Oh?"

  "Don't get me wrong," Ben amended quickly. "But I reckon you know Sam ain't been married too long, and I reckon you also knew his wife can't seem to keep her eyes off you. Not that Sam's a jealous man, mind you, but I reckon he likes to know what's his is his. He'll be mighty glad to know you're gettin' yourself settled down with a wife of your own."

  Lucas said nothing, but he was fuming. Ben had hit the mark. The very reason Lucas was here wait­ing to pick up his bride was Fiona Newcomb. He wouldn't be in this fix if not for her. Oh, they had had some good times together when he first settled in Newcomb and she was still Fiona Taylor, operating the only boardinghouse in town. He had never led her to believe he was looking for anything besides a little fun. She, on the other hand, had wanted to get married! When he refused even to discuss it, she had turned her wiles on Samuel Newcomb.

  Sam knew he had got Fiona on the rebound, and it ate away at him. Before Fiona, Lucas had had Samuel Newcomb right where he wanted him, on friendly terms. That was because of Slade. Ironic, but the rich man felt indebted to Slade for getting rid of Feral Sloan. The man had been a thorn in his side.

  Things had all gone according to plan until Fiona. Because Lucas was from the East and had more money than could possibly have been obtained by horse ranching, Sam figured Lucas knew what he was talking about when he mentioned those few small investments. Did Sam want to get in on them?

  He did. And after those paid off, it was easy to talk Sam into the big investment.

  They weren't nearly finished with Newcomb, and now it wouldn't be so easy to clean the man out. Sam's friendly interest in Lucas had cooled because of Fiona. As Billy Wolf pointed out, Sam would never relax and be gullible again as long as Fiona had the hots for Lucas.

  Still, Lucas never should have let Billy talk him into getting married. It had sounded sensible at the time, but he'd had a few drinks in him, and just about everything Billy said that night sounded rea­sonable.

  "Newcomb will keep his eye on you as long as he knows she still wants you and there's the chance you might take off with her. But if you get hitched, he'll think you've settled down. He'll quit worrying. As it is now, the way he has you watched, he's going to start wondering soon how come you get so much mail from back East. If he ever gets the notion to find out what your dealings are, well, that'll be the end. You have to get his eye off you right now, and marriage is the way."

  He didn't want a wife. So what if, when he watched Billy and his wife, Willow, together, he sometimes got a yearning to have his own woman? It was just that life on a ranch was lonely. He wasn't used to staying in one place, and an isolated place at that. He was used to having women whenever he needed them. When this was all over, he would want to move on, but how could he if he had a wife?

  So Lucas had hedged. Instead of looking around the area for a woman who would know what she was letting herself in for, he had written his lawyer and had him place notices in the Eastern papers for a mail-order bride. It was his hope that the Eastern girl would be horrified when she saw what she was up against. He wanted her to insist he send her back—and he gladly would, after a reasonable time.

  That was the problem. He had to keep her there long enough to finish what he had started.

  Having a preacher who came through town only every month or so would help. Just so long as Samuel Newcomb believed he was getting married, he had solved his problem.

  He hadn't told Billy that he had no intention of marrying the girl. With Billy and Willow there, and old Mack, too, the girl would be decently chaperoned, and no one could say anything about her staying at the ranch with Lucas before the preacher had his say. She might not like it, but then, Lucas figured, anyone desperate enough to turn herself over to a complete stranger couldn't be too choosy. Besides, he intended to pay her well for her time and trouble. He meant for her leaving to seem entirely her own idea, so no one was going to be hurt by his deception.

  He took the picture out of his pocket once more. If he'd realized how often he had done that in the last weeks, he would have been furious with himself. His eyes passed right over his intended "bride" and went to the other girl in the picture. That one posed re­gally, her shoulders thrown back, her small breasts pushed out. Her height gave her a queenly air, and there was a haughtiness to the set of her features. She looked skinny as a reed, yet there was some­thing about her that had captured his interest from the first time he looked at the picture.

  Lucas had just about settled on a girl from Phila­delphia when Miss Hammond's letter and picture ar­rived. He knew immediately that she was just what he was looking for. The clothes had done it, the qual­ity of the clothes the three people in the picture were wearing. Those clothes spoke of wealth, and Lucas knew from experience that pampered rich girls knew absolutely nothing about hard work. Therefore, a rich girl would balk at the life he offered. He wasn't at all disappointed that the girl happened to be the most beautiful of all the applicants he had considered. He couldn't help wondering why a girl of Miss Hammond's charms would be a mail-order bride.

  He wouldn't mind having a pretty face around for a while. But he had no intention of taking advantage of her, lovely or not. If she arrived a virgin, she would return East that way. Even if she wasn't, he wanted no entanglements with her that might put ideas into her head, make her think she was honor-bound to accept him.

  Lucas realized he was staring at the picture again, and he quickly put it away, annoyed with himself. He moved to the door again, but there was still no sign of the stage. He wondered what the city-bred Miss Hammond was thinking about the Arizona Ter­ritory, where the sun could bake you through and through, where you could ride for weeks without see­ing another soul. He grinned. The trip had probably already decided her on going back. The time of year was on his side, for it was the middle of summer. The poor girl had no doubt fainted half a dozen times al­ready from the heat. No, a wealthy, gently bred New York City girl definitely wouldn't like it there.

  Chapter 5

  SHARISSE waved her handkerchief through the air, hoping the wet cloth would cool a little before she brought it to her brow again, but it didn't. She was appalled to be wiping herself with a piece of linen already soaked with perspiration, but there was no help for it. Her underclothes clung to her, as did her long-sleeved blouse, and the hair on her fore­head and temples wouldn't fit into the tight bun at her neck, so it clung, too.

  She had given up worrying about her appearance. She had meant to tone down her looks anyway, to be sure she wouldn't be accosted on the train, even bor­rowing a pair of glasses from one of the maids before leaving home. Those had long since been broken and discarded, but it didn't matter, because she looked her worst, anyway.

  How had everything gone wrong? She still couldn't credit that she had only two dollars left. That would buy one more meal if this stage stopped again before reaching Newcomb. She had eaten atro­cious meals and had lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. Lucas Holt would take one look at her and send her packing.

  She wasn't supposed to be in this awful, hot place. She was supposed to be living comfortably in seclu­sion in some small midwest town with Charley to keep her company. Poor Charley. With his long, thick hair, he was suffering even worse than she was, losing great patches of fur, listless, panting con­stantly. How was she to know it would be this unbearably hot here? This was land she knew noth­ing about. But even if she had known, she couldn't have left Charley behind.

  She still couldn't believe Stephanie had done this to her. Sharisse was the one taking all the risks, in­cluding risking their father's wrath, and all for Stephanie. Why would he
r sister have wanted to make things even more difficult for her? Yet she had tried to talk Sharisse into going all the way to Ari­zona. Worse became clear when Sharisse found her jewelry missing. She remembered handing her reti­cule that contained the jewels to Stephanie while she secured Charley in his traveling basket. After leav­ing the house, she had not set her reticule down once, tucking it beneath her skirt when she napped on the train that first day. She had found the jewels missing when she searched in the reticule for Mr. Holt's let­ter. Why had Stephanie taken the jewels? The thought of being stranded so far from home terrified her, and she had no money to get back with. She would just have to wait and see what kind of man Lu­cas Holt was.

  His letter gave her no clue, though he sounded al­most arrogant in making the stipulation that he have some time to approve her before they married. Well, that could work to her advantage if she had to depend on him for a while. She could use that excuse to postpone the wedding as long as necessary. She would have to disdain everything about him and his life so he wouldn't be too surprised when she insisted it wouldn't work out. And from what she had seen so far of Arizona and its hardy men, she didn't think she would have to pretend very hard.

  The large Concord stage swayed as it crossed a nearly dried riverbed. Only patches of slimy puddles remained of the river. The brightly colored stage had room for nine passengers, but there were just four on this run. Only Sharisse would be staying in New-comb. Because of the ample room, no one had minded when she had brought Charley out of his basket. They had stared at him, though, as if they had never seen a pet cat before. Maybe they hadn't. She cer­tainly hadn't seen another cat since changing trains in Kansas.

  There were mountains ahead that actually had trees on them. This so surprised Sharisse after the deserts and wastelands and mountains of nothing but rock and cactus that she completely missed see­ing the town until the driver called out, "Newcomb ahead. A one-hour stop, folks."

  Sharisse's stomach twisted into knots. Her vanity surfaced, and she suddenly wished that she had changed clothes at the last stop. But that had been something she hadn't been able to do completely since leaving home. She realized she had taken Jen­ny's services for granted and had left wearing a blouse she couldn't get out of by herself.