California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1) (49 page)

"Wait!" she called out. He
turned, and she shivered, certain that this time her voice would register. But
he simply stood there, poised, pulling at her in a way that could not have been
more powerful if he had thrown a rope over her and tugged it with all his
might. She began half-whispering again. "There isn't any need to feel bad
about what Billy did. He was… obviously… well-intentioned."

"I suppose so. But—"

"Why don't you stay for a few
minutes? Would you like a cup of tea? I'm afraid I don't have any spirits in
the house."

"You're very kind, Mrs. Cable. But I
think—"

"I
have
some port, now that I recall."

"I've had a little too much to drink
already."

"Just one, Mr. Todd. It would be a
graceful way to extricate ourselves from this awkward situation."

He thought for a moment. "I'd be
pleased, and I thank you. You've made it less uncomfortable already."

"Why don't you sit there on the
porch swing? I'll go in and get the bottle and some glasses."

"But just one—"

"Of course. You might blow out that
lamp. It's drawing all kinds of insects."

Her hands were shaking as she placed the
port and glasses on a tray and carried it back out. Near the front door she
blew out the lamp in the hallway. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could
barely see his features. She put the tray down, poured, and handed him a glass.

"What's that you're wearing? I can
hardly see, it's so dark."

Her heart almost stopped. "Just a
garden hat, with mosquito netting."

"You really are shy, aren't you? I
can understand that. I've seen you a few times in town—at a distance. And in
your buggy at the rally last week. You always cover your face, don't you?"

She gripped the rattan arms of her chair,
making them squeak. "Not always. And it's… it's not just shyness,"
she said, still whispering, "although… that's part of it. I have a scar.
And I wear these gloves because I have two fingers missing. Gruesome, isn't
it?"

He looked away and sighed. "It could
be worse. And your face certainly has a lovely outline, from what little I've
seen. Listen to me! I sound like somebody courting."

"You're still grieving over your
wife. I was so sorry. She was such a lovely woman."

"Yes, she was. She liked you. Told
me she loved

working with you during her brief time at
the school."

"Yes, it's a small world, isn't it?
I liked her very much, too."

He drained his glass. "That was a
lovely note you sent. I appreciate it. God, I have this urge to tell someone
how I really feel."

"Why don't you? It will ease the
pain." She fought down the desire to get up out of her chair and sit with
him in the swing.

"That's just it. There is no pain.
Oh, I feel sad about her passing. Very sad. But it doesn't compare with what I
felt when I lost my first wife. Can you understand that?"

I must remember to keep
whispering. I must.
"I
think I can. I… I didn't know you'd been married once before… You must have…
loved her very much."

"More than life itself. There was so
much sorrow, so much numbness after she… she and my son…" his voice began
to break. "She and my son were with the Donner Party… It felt like I was
the one who died… I didn't have any feelings left. Not for years. I don't think
I ever got all of them back. I cared deeply for Judith, loved her, I suppose.
But it was never the same. Elizabeth was…" His voice trailed off.

Tears brimmed in Esther's eyes. To
control herself, she took a deep breath, then reached out, took his glass, and
refilled it. She prayed he wouldn't notice the way her hands were trembling.
"I… can understand that, too. I know… that… I will never feel again… what
I felt for my husband."

"When did it happen?"

"A long time ago."

"It creates the damnedest feelings
in a man. But I don't ever remember going through what plagues me now. This
time I feel a total indifference to women—except in a way I try never to act
on."

"Physical need?"

"Yes.
God,
it's so good to talk to someone. A woman, particularly." He sighed and
started to get up. "Forgive me. I probably sound like a complainer."

"You needn't apologize. A man needs
to talk to a woman about some things. Things men never have the courage to tell
one another."

Relaxing, he sat back again.

"I know that… Mr. Todd," she
went on, "the physical business. It can be so intense…
I…
I know."

"Yes. It can. Almost uncontrollable
at times. That's why I've been drinking so much these last few weeks. To dull
it. That's not like me, either. I talked to my doctor about it. Righteous as it
sounds, it bothers me. Oh, I joke about such things with friends. Men friends.
It's a cover-up. Down deep, I've always… it sounds conceited, I suppose… but
I've always wanted to be better than most men in that way. Never wanted to let
animal craving control me. We deserve, owe ourselves more than that. Men as
well as women. I… I haven't always been successful…"

She wanted to wrap her arms around him,
rock him like a baby, tell him how rare he was. Moved to the limits of caution
and suddenly, giddily beyond the first stages of arousal, Esther got up, poured
Alex another glassful, and sat opposite him on the swing. "What matters is
that you try. What did the doctor tell you?"

"Says it's a common experience. Has
some foolish notion that death and grief stir a man's… Well, you know what I
mean."

It was so dark now she could scarcely see
him, three feet away. He started to get up again. She moved over to him
involuntarily, put a hand on his forearm. "Don't go just yet."

"I'm making a fool of myself. I
sound like an idiot."

She could smell the liquor behind the
port on his breath, and she could smell
him
. "No you don't. It all
seems quite natural."

"You probably think—"

"No, I don't, Mr.—Alex. You don't
mind if I call you Alex, do you?"

"Not at all."

"Did it ever occur to you that women
experience the same feelings? I know we are not supposed to. But I have…"
She forced herself to say, "I am… feeling them this very minute."

She had lost her senses. She thought she would
fall off the edge of the earth when he reached out, gently lifted the mosquito
veil on her garden hat, and touched her face with his fingertips.

"You're a beautiful woman. I
suspected that, even with the veils you wear. Now I know it, just from the way
your face feels."

The pulse in her neck actually ached. She
reached out and took his hand, bravely, short of breath, terrified, not knowing
what would happen, knowing full well that she might be revealed at any moment.
And that if she were, he would probably hate her. She could not stop herself.
Kissing his fingers, she pulled him gently toward her, lifted her face, and
brushed her lips against his. He looked up and away for a moment, not sure,
then kissed her; tenderly at first, then passionately. He stood up and pulled
her to him. She let him wrap his arms around her and pressed her cheek against
his. She wondered if the moon would rise and betray her, if the stars would
fall and burn her alive for what she was doing. She no longer cared.

"You feel so good against me,"
he said, swaying, revealing how close to drunkenness he was.

"You're lonely. Just as I am."

He kissed her again, hesitantly pushing
his tongue just inside her lips. She felt moisture, then a sudden pulsation
between her legs. Waiting until she was Sure she could stand on her own feet,
she pulled away gently. "I don't want to talk anymore. Will you come
inside with me?"

He stumbled
once
as they went up the stairs hand in hand.
"I'm a little drunk."

"That's perfectly all right."

They
reached the upstairs hallway. Soft light spilled out through her bedroom door.
She turned her face away from him. "Will you wait here until I call
you?"

In her bedroom, she blew out the lamp and
looked in the mirror. Even after she grew accustomed to the darkness, she could
not see herself. She experienced a wave of terror, pushed it away.
He cannot
possibly see me
, she told herself
. He does not recognize my voice…
I
have borne two children… I will not feel the same. Larger there… She remembered
the skills she had learned from Arabella Ryan. He would never expect that from
me… I will use everything… it will throw him off if he even begins to suspect.

She placed the snuffed lamp on an armoire
shelf, closed its door, undressed, and got into bed.

Somehow her fear made it even more
remarkable. Once, while they were making love, he whispered, "I don't have
to see your body to know how beautiful it is…"

"Shhhhh."

Afterward, while she drifted back down
through a sequence of her own aftertremors and he lay nestled on her breast
with his eyes closed, she asked him what he was thinking about.

"Nothing," he said, his hand
cupped tenderly over her hip.

"Tell me."

"You'd be angry."

"Why? Please tell me. I won't be
angry."

"All right," he sighed.
"But you won't like it. I know you won't."

"Tell me."

"It hasn't felt like that
since—"

"Your first wife."

'Yes.
You're…
much more… knowledgeable. She was just a young girl. But I don't mean in that
way. I mean the rest of it. The tenderness. What I felt like… in my mind. It
reminded me so much of being with her. You even wear the same lavender
scent."

She held her breath. Then, relieved but
still on guard, she stroked his hair. "That doesn't make me angry.
It's…" She was almost crying. "It's a compliment."

He got up and dressed, walked back to her
unsteadily, and kissed her on the cheek. She heard him stagger slightly as he
went toward the door, then hesitated.

"Will I see you again?" he
asked. "I'd like to… after a decent interval. Perhaps we could have
dinner."

"We shall see." She wondered
how on earth she could have allowed herself to do it, knew she could never get
away with it again. "In the meantime,
i
think it best we forget this."

"If you really feel that way—"
The touch of sadness in his voice cut into her.

"I want us to remain friends, first
of all. Seeing each other again… this way… might… spoil that."

"You're a very generous woman,"
Alex said, bumping himself with the door as he closed it behind him.
"i
hope I…"

The door shut, and she didn't hear the
rest. Only then, as she began to tremble at the thought of what might have
happened, did she realize how much the alcohol had dulled his senses, made it
possible. She heard him stumble in the driveway, ask himself where in hell he
had left the buckboard. After he was gone, she put on a bathrobe and went
downstairs. For the first time in her life she drank herself senseless. Short
of laudanum, she knew there was no other way she could blot out the shame she
felt about deceiving him.
Erase
the
aching wish that things could be different. Wipe out the icy determination
concerning Mosby and Carter that was crowding her thoughts again. Make her
forget that she could never risk being with Alex this way again.

She was aware of the hesitant, tapping
sound before she opened her eyes. Sunlight streaming through the windows nearly
blinded her, and she felt as though her head would split open from the pain.
Everything seemed on its side. Then she realized she had passed out, had
slumped over and slept with one cheek pressed to the kitchen table. She sat up,
wiped her mouth, and heard the sound behind her again. Turning, she saw Bull
Carter standing on the steps just beyond the rear screen-door.

"In God's name, what are you doing
here at this hour of the morning?" She glanced at the clock. It was almost
noon.

Sheepishly, he glanced down at his shoes.
"I… I come to the front door first. When you didn't answer and I seen the
carriage out there, I thought… I thought somethin' might be wrong."

She got up and unlatched the door, trying
to control the wretched mood she was in. "Well, come in. I'll make some
coffee."

He didn't move.

"Well,
are you coming in or
aren't you
?" She suddenly realized her bathrobe was partially open.
She jerked at the lapels and snugged the cloth belt tight. Ignoring him, she
padded to the cupboard barefoot and reached for a mason jar full of coffee. She
heard  him come in and almost laughed when she realized he was tiptoeing. When
she turned, he stared at her, bug-eyed.

"For God's sake, haven't you ever
seen a woman in a bathrobe before?"

"I'm… I'm just not used to it,
that's all."

She knew before he had finished speaking
that he was looking at her nose rather than at the fullness of her bosom.
Turning, she jerked her coffeepot off its hook on the wall, walked to the stove,
and set it down on an adjacent counter. "Frostbite," she said.
"Lovely, isn't it? Do you still want to bring me flowers?"

"It don't matter, the scar. I wasn't
lookin' at that."

She bent over a bin and removed some
kindling and a few sheets of old newspaper. "Well, what were you looking
at, then?"

"Your face. I never seen such a
beautiful face before. I never dreamed—here, let me help you with that."

She let him take the wood and the paper,
absently measured coffee into the pot as he placed a small shovelful of coal
over the kindling. "I'm sorry… I don't feel well this morning."

He glanced at the empty port bottle on
the table, then reached under his arm. "I… I brung you a paper. Fresh from
Virginia City with all kindsa news from east of there. Come by Pony Express
just this mornin'."

I "How nice of you, Mr.
Carter." Her back turned to him, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
"Are you hungry?" She opened the paper and glanced at the front page.
A pen-and-ink sketch of Luther Mosby stared up at her.

"I could eat somethin'." Carter
said, lighting the kindling.

 "Yes…
well… I'll fix some eggs…" Mosby was gone, so far out of reach it made her
dizzy for a moment. She steadied herself and scanned the story:

…
failed in his attempt to win alignment with… left for the South this morning…
Confederate Army commission… likely, he said, before departing… serve on the
staff of… his distant relative… John Singleton Mosby…

Bull Carter's voice seemed to be coming
from deep in a mine shaft. "Won't be much longer for the Pony Express.
Telegraph across the Sierras ought to be finished this year. That'll kill
it."

Three thousand miles, she thought. Across
mountains, desert, the plains… at war… months. Perhaps years. "Is that
right?" she finally responded, aware of Carter again. She put the coffee
on and went to the cellar door. "I'll get the eggs. Sit down and make
yourself comfortable."

In the coolness of the basement she
weighed it all—Mosby, Carter, the need to construct an artificial barrier that
might prevent her from giving way to her yearning to be in Alex's arms again.
The ends were clear, the means—as far as Mosby was concerned—still vague. But
it
would
work, somehow. That she knew. By the time she went back
upstairs, she had decided.

He was putting her glass in the sink, and
the bottle was gone. "Tidied up a bit for you. Hope you don't mind."

"That was very nice of you."
She scrambled the eggs and poured the coffee. When she set the plates down, she
reached out hesitantly and put her hand on his. He stared at it incredulously.
"I hope you don't think I'm a heavy drinker."

It took him ten seconds to find his
voice.

"One bottle don't make a
drunk."

She sat, sipped her coffee, put it down,
and massaged her aching temples. "I… I was seized with a fit of loneliness
last night. Oh, dear. I'm getting too personal."

"It's all right. It's all right. I
get that way sometimes." She shoveled in some eggs and washed them down.

"You do? I would think you'd have
all the company, a handsome man like you."

He couldn't look at her for a moment.
"Don't know about that. And there's difference between company and…
and…"

"A woman you admire."

"That's it."

"Do you know, I have admired
you
—from
a distance?"

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at
her. "You have? I can't believe it." He looked away.

"Tell me, Mr. Carter—this will seem
terribly forward of me—but are your intentions honorable?"

His eyes darted back to her. "As
pure as the driven snow. And now that I've really seen you…"

"You like what you see?"

"God, yes."

"You would like to marry me?"

He nearly choked. "Why… why… yes.
After a decent period of… of… courtship."

"I should hope it wouldn't be too
long a period. I never want to feel the way I did last night… never want to
drink out of loneliness that way… again."

"Are you sayin… you'll marry
me?"

"I will have to think about it, Mr.
Carter. I'm not an experienced woman… I don't care too much for the physical
aspects of marriage, you understand. But it's been too long without someone I
can lean on. I need a man like you. Strong… decent… honest."

He stared at her wide-eyed. "I don't
believe it. Are you sayin'—?"

"Yes, Mr. Carter. I am. I fully
expect my answer to be Yes."

"Gaaaaaaah-damn! Uh, excuse
me."

"It's
all right, Mr. Carter. I understand
exactly
how you feel."

Billy Ralston sat behind his massive desk
at the bank, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "There's nothing I
can say that will dissuade you?"

Esther leaned back in her chair.
"No. We will be married this weekend."

"It wasn't what I did the other
night? Having Alex Todd—?"

"Don't be silly. I have known Mr.
Carter for quite some time."

"But not as long and as well as some
do. Forgive me, Esther. I just have your interests in mind."

"And your own."

"That's true… but a little
unfair."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound
cutting. You've been extraordinarily skillful with my investments. Totally
honest. And a friend. Always. That's the primary reason I'm here. I want you to
help me arrange things so only enough for Mr. Carter to buy a silent
partnership will be available to him."

Ralston's eyebrows shot up. Then he
thought for a moment and smiled. "Esther, you amaze me. It could easily be
done. All we need is to sign most of it over to someone you trust. With an
accompanying document, signed at the same time, that returns all of the stock,
cash, whatever, to you the moment you exercise it. Or transfer it to an heir
automatically, in case of your death. We'll need an alternate holder in case
the first one dies… I need the names of two people you not only trust that
much, but who would do it."

"Why not yourself? And… Alex
Todd?"

"Esther, I don't want to be in a
position where you might even suspect I was acting purely out of self-interest.
And you hardly know Alex."

"He's… a friend. And I know he's an
honest man. If I'm wrong about that, well…"

"All right. Alex as an alternate.
Who first?"

"William Kelsey?"

"Fine. If you want me to, I'll sign
as a second alternate—in case, God forbid, both of them should—"

"Let's not even think about
that." She smoothed her skirts, adjusted her veil, and got up. "I'll
be going back to Sacramento after a short"—she almost gagged on the
word—"honeymoon."

"I'll have the papers drawn up this
afternoon. You can sign the initiating document late today or tomorrow,
whichever's more convenient. By the way, who'll be the heir?"

"I'd like to keep that
private."
Who else but Alex?
she thought.

"All right. I can have a separate
document drawn up for that. I'll send it along. You can fill in the name. Just
be sure to put it in a safe place."

"I'll be seeing Bill Kelsey this
evening. I'm sure he'll agree to do it. Would you see Mr. Todd? I… I'll be
somewhat busy the next few days. It would be helpful if you could get his
signature."

"Consider it done, Esther. I'm
having dinner with him tonight."

"Are you still playing
matchmaker?"

Ralston laughed nervously. "As a
matter of fact, I am introducing him to a young lady this evening. Katherine
McDonnell… ah, an acquaintance of an acquaintance. Do you know her?"

"I can't say that I do," Esther
said, fighting down a wave of regret. She paused at the door. "You're
wasting your time, Billy. He's really not interested right now."

Ralston
hurried
to join her at the door. "He will be. She's an extraordinarily beautiful
woman. And he needs company, if nothing else."

"You may be right. Well, thank you
for taking care of this for me."

"Glad to. You're certainly nobody's
fool, Esther." He opened the door for her. "I can't tell you how much
better I feel about this now."

"I'm a bit more comfortable myself.
I
hope you don't think any less of
me."

"Why should I? You're just
protecting yourself. Wisely, I might add."

"Yes,
you might. But it is calculating. Someday
I
hope I can explain why
I
did this… All of it."

Bull Carter brought the lamp over to the
bed where she lay with the covers pulled up to her neck. "You're not mad
at me for asking you to postpone the honeymoon, are you sweetheart?"

The sound of his voice almost made her
sick. "No. I'm just cold." She tried to appear cheerful. "And
driving back to Sacramento
is
like a short honeymoon, isn't it?"

"Kinda." He slipped out of his
shirt and trousers.

She could see the outline of his genitals
beneath the stained front of his long johns. She was surprised and then
relieved that he was so small.

"This is a nice little inn, isn't
it?" He got into bed with her. "Benicia used to be the capital."

She stared up at the beamed ceiling.
"It's lovely."

When it was over, a mercifully few
minutes later, she waited until the revulsion subsided, then turned to him.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"You're not going to like this, Mr.
Carter."

"For Christ's sake, call me Bull.
And what won't—?"

"No. I will call you Mr. Carter now
and in the future."

He frowned. "What the hell does
that
mean?"

"It means that I have never for a
moment fallen for your stupid little scheme.” She paused for a second. “ And
that you have had all you are going to have of the marriage bed with me."

"What…?"

For a moment she wondered if he were
going to hit her. But then she saw that he was too shocked even to speak.
"Listen to me, Mr. Carter. I have known all along what you wanted. And now
you have it. I want to leave it that way."

"But…"

"But nothing. There will be a
transfer of my savings and the money from all the stocks I have liquidated to a
bank account in both our names as soon as we reach Sacramento. It will not be
quite what you expected, but it will be enough. You can take it to Mr. Crocker
and buy your way in. Do you understand? I won't get in your way. It suits my
purposes, as well. You can have it. But that is all you can have."

"Sweetheart, you're all wrong about
me. I—"

"Oh, I've seen the change in you
since the other morning in the kitchen. The moony eyes. The fear of
displeasing. No doubt it's authentic. But it comes too late. You have a choice,
Mr. Carter. You can leave me alone and get additional money as the few stocks I
have kept in my name turn their investments. Or you can be made a laughingstock
when I leave you and inform your half-brother that I am his silent partner as
well."

"But, Esther…"