Read Deborah Camp Online

Authors: Blazing Embers

Deborah Camp (34 page)

BOOK: Deborah Camp
10.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Cassie jerked herself free of Delphia’s biting fingers and folded her arms across her breasts in defiance. Delphia continued to glare hatefully at her.

“Well?” Cassie demanded, stamping one foot on the Persian rug. “You going to tell her I’m here, or you going to keep standing there looking like a puffy-cheeked bullfrog?”

Delphia pinched up her brown face sourly, whirled around, and waltzed herself regally up the stairs to Jewel’s parlor.

Cassie felt as if she was literally steaming, she was so angry at Delphia. She had never come visiting but that Delphia hadn’t been out and out rude to her! Delphia always treated her as if she were trash, and Cassie resented it bitterly.

Delphia leaned over the banister and curled her upper lip in distaste. “You can come on up, says Miss Jewel, but I’m not telling Cook to make you breakfast.”

Cassie mounted the stairs and fired a steal-coated glance at Delphia. “You will if Jewel tells you to.”

“Mebbe. Mebbe not.” Delphia laced her hands in front of her and swayed back and forth childishly.

“Get outta my way.” Cassie brushed past her and strode into Jewel’s parlor.

“Hello, hon.” Jewel smiled and bit into a biscuit that oozed butter and strawberry jam. She seemed like all the comforts of home rolled into one contented picture to Cassie’s red-rimmed eyes; Cassie suddenly felt faint and her joints felt like rubber. “You hungry?” Jewel asked kindly.

“Oh, Jewel!” Cassie’s eyes filled with tears and she dropped onto the settee beside Jewel. “I’m starved and I’m scared and I’m so tired I don’t even know my own name!”

“Cassie Mae, what’s wrong?” Jewel moved the serving tray away from her and gathered Cassie against her bosom. “What you crying about, honey? Has something happened?”

“Blackie came, Jewel.”

“Blackie!” Jewel’s arms tightened around Cassie.

“Him and his gang. They came and took Rook away! Oh, Jewel!” Cassie lifted her face from Jewel’s lilac-scented bosom and released her tears in an outpouring of grief. “I think they shot him again. I think Rook’s dead!”

Chapter 15
 

Hysteria coupled with a broken heart is a tough combination to deal with, Jewel Townsend decided as she studied the puffy-eyed, damp-cheeked, straggly-haired girl in front of her. She set her face in a stern expression, not allowing it to soften in response to Cassie’s quivering lips and mournful eyes. Jewel indicated by pantomime that Cassie was to drink the rest of the cold lemonade and whiskey she’d given her after Cassie’s sobs had run their course. Jewel didn’t want to face another bout of wailing and wild imaginings from the girl, so she kept her strict-matron scowl firmly in place while Cassie gulped down the rest of the potent concoction.

Delphia peeked around the doorjamb, and Jewel waved her inside the parlor.

“Delphie, honey, go tell Cook to scramble some eggs and fry up some bacon for Miss Cassie. Oh, and tell her to throw in some of those blueberry muffins while she’s at it—and a big glass of milk. Go on, now.”

“But Miss Jewel—”

“What?”

Delphia sent a resentful glance toward Cassie. “Cook done finished with breakfast. She’s workin’ on supper now.”

“What do I care? What do you think I pay her for? Now go on and do as I say.”

“But Miss Jewel—”


What
?”

Delphia flinched and stepped backed. “Can’t she wait
till supper?” she asked, favoring Cassie with another resentful glare. “Beggars can’t be choosers, my mama always said.”

“I don’t give a rat’s behind what your mama always said. Get your butt downstairs and tell Cook to fix our guest some breakfast!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Delphia screwed up one eye in a wicked squint at Cassie and slouched out of the parlor.

“I swear I don’t know about that Delphia sometimes. She acts like I’m her daughter instead of her boss lady.”

“Sh-she h-hates me-e-e-e!” Cassie wailed.

“For crying out loud, Cassie Mae Potter,” Jewel said, shouting to make herself heard above Cassie’s caterwauling, “will you stop crying out loud? I’ve had enough of that, girl. Sit up straight, dry those eyes, and act like a grown woman! We’ve got serious business to discuss and I’m not talking to you while you’re bawling like a baby.” Jewel stepped back and gave Cassie a glare that miraculously dried her tears. “Look at you! You look like something the cat dragged in.”

“I had to sleep in the mine and I didn’t have time to change clothes and Sheriff Barnes smells like an outhouse!” Cassie responded defensively, listing her grievances.

Jewel allowed a brief smile to escape. “So he does. Well, after you’ve eaten something you can take a long bath, and I’ll find fresh clothes for you to wear. Doesn’t that sound good?” Jewel drew the footstool closer to the settee and sat on it. Her flowing dressing gown settled around her like a pale pink cloud, covering not only Jewel but the footstool as well. “But first things first. You didn’t actually see anyone shoot Rook, did you?”

“N-no.” Cassie pulled the hem of her shirt up and wiped her nose. “But I saw blood on my porch and in my house.”

“How much blood?”

Cassie shrugged. “Drips and drops. Not much, I guess. But it looked like somebody had been dragged through the blood in one place.”

Jewel thought for a few moments. “Yes, but there weren’t any pools of blood, were there?”

“No.”

“Did you see any signs that a gun had been fired? Any shattered glass or bullet fragments? Did you smell gunpowder?”

“No. But one of my chairs was broke into pieces.”

“Sounds like a fistfight to me.” Jewel breathed out and some of her tension went with it. “And Rook’s horse was gone?”

“Yes, but Blackie mighta taken it.”

“If Blackie shot Rook then he wouldn’t have taken Rook’s body along for the ride. He’d have left him for you to find and bury. And he wouldn’t have just wounded him. He’d have killed him this time. No, I don’t think there was any kind of gunfight.”

Cassie suddenly realized the implications of Jewel’s logic and smiled radiantly. “That’s right. If Blackie had murdered Rook he would have left him where he fell! Rook’s alive!” Her voice lifted in a gay chant. “Alive! He’s alive!” Tears of joy filled her eyes.

“Yes, hon. I believe so.”

“But he didn’t come here?”

“No. I haven’t seen him or Blackie, but they’d be fools to come into town, and I didn’t give birth to any fools.” Jewel stood up and went to the windows that faced the street. “I just hope they’re safe and sound—wherever they may be.”

“You think they’re together?”

“I doubt it. If they rode off together, they won’t be that way for long. Rook and Blackie don’t mix well.”

“They had a nasty woman with them.”

“Oh?” Jewel turned away from the window and the sunlight made a halo around her red hair. “Was it Annabelle?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“She was one of my girls once. Not for long; maybe two weeks. Blackie came by and she rode off with him. That was … oh, I suppose it’s been nigh a year since I saw her last.”

“Is she Indian?”

“Partly. She says she’s part Gypsy too, but who knows?” Jewel wandered back to the footstool. “So she’s still with Blackie, is she?”

“Yes, and she slept with Rook. That’s what caused all the ruckus.”

“She
what
?” Jewel sat down on the settee beside Cassie. “Who told you that?”

“They was all talking about it. Rook said that Annabelle rubbed it all over him and that’s why he jumped on her. Annabelle said he was a liar, but I don’t think anyone much believed her.” Cassie shivered and crossed her arms against herself. “That Annabelle’s like an animal. You shoulda seen how she looked at Rook … like he was something to eat. It was disgusting!”

“That Rook! I’ll skin him. He didn’t tell me about him and Annabelle. He should have more sense than to rassle with a wild thing like her, especially if Blackie’s already staked his claim. Lordy, no wonder those boys are on the outs with each other.” Jewel looked up to see the cook standing in the doorway holding a tray filled with platters of food. Jewel motioned to her to bring it in. “I should have known that a woman would be at the heart of their problems. Put that tray over there on the serving table, Cookie.”

Cookie, a rotund woman in a white dress and red apron, smiled jovially at Cassie before she left the room.

“Enjoy your breakfast, honey.”

“Thanks, Cookie. Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“No trouble!” Cookie’s round eyes grew like balloons. “If you loves to eat, then I loves to cook.” She left the room in a swish of starched cotton.

“She likes me but Delphia hates me,” Cassie said, forcing herself up from the comfort of the settee and across the room to the drop-leaf table that sat against one wall. She dropped into one of the high-backed chairs and breathed in the aroma of bacon and muffins. “I don’t ever remember being so hungry.” She selected one of the muffins, tore it open, and smothered it in butter. As she ate, she glanced sideways at Jewel. “So Annabelle was one of your girls.
Did I tell you that Rook called out for her when he was rassling his fever?”

“That doesn’t mean a thing, so don’t think it does. Rook isn’t the type of man to take a woman like her seriously.”

“He took her serious once.”

Jewel sat opposite Cassie at the polished table. “He took her, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Men take my girls day after day, but do you think they love ’em?”

Cassie conceded the point with a wry grin. “What do we do now, Jewel?”

“We wait.” Jewel’s face folded into soft wrinkles and she looked plumb tired out. “I’ve got experience in that, I tell you. Seems like I’ve spent most of my life waiting to hear if one of my men was dead or alive.”

Cassie shoved the last of the biscuit into her mouth. She felt miserable for Jewel. She didn’t want to spend her life waiting for such dreaded news, she thought as she attacked the breakfast Cookie had made especially for her. That kind of man wasn’t worth the trouble, even one like Rook who could make your toes curl with a look. Cassie decided that she’d take a banker’s son any old day over a desperado—former or otherwise.

Standing back from the full-length mirror, Cassie admired the violet dress Jewel had given her to wear. Beige lace ran around the high collar and tight cuffs, and a beige drawstring cinched the waist.

“You’ve got the prettiest clothes around here that I ever did see,” Cassie said, running her hands down the soft cotton fabric.

Jewel stepped up behind her and placed her pudgy hands on Cassie’s shoulders. “A woman should always look her best, Cassie Mae.”

“It’ll be ruined by the time I get home. I should wear my old clothes and then—”

“I burned your old clothes.”

“You what? Those clothes were—”

“Rank,” Jewel finished for her. “You won’t muss this dress because you’re not walking home. You’re riding in a buckboard.”

“You don’t have to take me, Jewel. I can—”

“I’m not taking you.” Jewel’s hands slipped off her shoulders and she went over to the window, motioning to Cassie to join her. “Last week one of my customers spent the weekend here and didn’t have a piece of silver to his name, so we took his buckboard and horse in trade. I’m giving ’em to you.”

“No, I can’t—”

“Take ’em,” Jewel urged, drawing Cassie closer to the window so that she could look down at the buckboard and the black horse. “It’s a rickety old thing, but it’ll do. As for the horse, he’s seen better days too. His name is Hector, I was told.”

“But Jewel, you can use this rig here.”

“No,” Jewel said, waving a dismissive hand at the buckboard. “We’ve got all the vehicles we need. Wouldn’t ever use that one anyway. You take it, Cassie. This is 1888, child! Everybody’s got a wagon of some kind! Take it and use it. I don’t like the idea of you being out in the country without any way to get into town except on foot.” Jewel took Cassie’s hand and led her to the settee. “Sit on the floor in front of me and let me comb out your hair. I used to do this for my Peggy when she was little and had just washed her hair. She has dark red hair. Darker red than mine.”

“I bet she’s pretty,” Cassie said, sitting on the floor in front of Jewel and leaning back between her legs. “Was Dubbin black haired? Is that where Rook and Blackie got their coloring?”

“Yes. Dubbin had coal black hair and dark brown eyes. He had olive-tinted skin. Both my boys look just like him. Before Blackie got all scarred up, he and Rook could have passed for twins.”

“I think Blackie’s got a heavier face. He looks …” Cassie shrugged. She was going to say “evil,” but she didn’t want to hurt Jewel’s feelings.

“Blackie’s got a sour look about him, I know.” Jewel pulled an ivory comb slowly through Cassie’s shoulder-length whitish gold hair. “Bad living will do that to you.
I just hope I can get out of this business before I look like a dried-up lemon.”

“Jewel, don’t talk like that about yourself. Nobody’s been better to me than you. You’re not a bad person.”

“That’s sweet of you to say. I’m going to braid your hair.”

“Do whatever you want with it.”

Delphia came into the room on whispering bare feet. She stood in front of Cassie and addressed Jewel as if Cassie weren’t even in the room.

“Miss Jewel, Flossie’s wearing the rag today and can’t work. Edith’s got her time still too. That leaves us with six girls and we got a party of seven coming in tonight, remember? That Bakersfield clan is coming from Berryville to celebrate one of them’s birthday.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. One of the Bakersfield boys is turning eighteen and itching to be with a woman.”

Cassie frowned her disapproval of such a birthday present.

“Well, what we gonna do ’bout it? We’s short one gal.” Delphia tapped her foot impatiently.

“Oh, let’s see.” Jewel thought a minute and sighed. “I don’t want to fool with them young bucks, so you tell Lucy to take two of those boys into her room tonight. The boys will like that as a change of pace, and Lucy can handle them.”

Cassie shivered with revulsion. Delphia looked down at Cassie and grinned like a cat on the prowl.

“Okay, Miss Jewel. I’ll tell her.” Delphia padded silently out of the room, in keeping with her feline character.

BOOK: Deborah Camp
10.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Alpine Icon by Mary Daheim
Gently Continental by Alan Hunter
Bunker Hill by Howard Fast
Christian Nation by Frederic C. Rich
Blue Skies by Catherine Anderson
The Great Rift by Edward W. Robertson
Ill Wind by Kevin J Anderson, Doug Beason
This Rough Magic by Mercedes Lackey, Eric Flint, Dave Freer
Death On the Flop by Chance, Jackie
French Children Don't Throw Food by Druckerman, Pamela