Into the Light (28 page)

“Decent enough to hit a man at the distance we’re expecting, nothing like Trey or your cousin.”

He started the automobile moving, and Deborah held on as she never had in a buggy. “Oh, without the horse in front I feel as if I’m going to fall forward on my head.”

Lenahan laughed. “Give it a minute, you’ll get used to it. You’re less likely to fall, because an automobile isn’t going to spook over a dog running in the street, or bolt over a loud noise.”

They glided along for a few minutes, and gradually she relaxed. “I expected it to be loud, but it’s so quiet. What is that whirring sound beneath us?”

“It has a chain, like a bicycle. We visited companies that are manufacturing steam powered machines and machines with gasoline powered engines, but these electric vehicles seemed most practical. The steam engines take too long to get going and if the pressure gets too high, boom! And where would you buy gasoline in Hubbell? We have a coal-powered electric generator of our own now. We’ll charge batteries for customers until the town electrifies.”

Deborah didn’t know what gasoline was, much less where to get it, and had no understanding of charging batteries, but she loved the Runabout.

She waved at acquaintances and friends alike as she and Lenahan rolled past the surprised faces. “Oh, I do like this. Do we have to go straight to the office?”

He turned toward the east side of town. “We can go at least twenty more miles before this little wonder will need a charge, but after a turn around town, I’d better take you home. If you go straight to the office and Trey sees that floury look, you’ll have to ’fess up.”

Deborah looked down and saw the dusting of white on the shoulders of her dark blue coat. She tried to brush it off and only succeeded in creating a smear.

“It gets into everything,” Lenahan said. “You’ll find it on your hat and in your hair.”

“He’ll be able to tell when I write the story that I’ve been there. I’ll tell him before then, but not today.”

They passed horse corrals. The animals watched with curiosity but no fear that Deborah could see. Did they worry about being replaced and no longer considered worth keeping by the humans who provided hay and grain? What a foolish, fanciful thought.

“I owe you an apology,” she said to Lenahan. “I’m sorry I was so rude when I asked for your help. I thought you were taking advantage of him. I thought you were just someone he employed when he was ill after the war. I didn’t realize how terribly he was hurt and what you did for each other and that you’re more like brothers.”

“No apology needed. You were right. I did take advantage. I presumed on friendship and asked for money for something he didn’t believe in because I knew he could afford it.”

“He believes in you. You helped each other through bad times someone like me can’t understand. I’m glad the automobiles are a success for you, and I understand why that is now. This is wonderful. I’d love to have one for going back and forth all over town. It would be so much easier to find somewhere to leave this than a horse and buggy. Could I learn to drive one?”

“You could. I’ve seen ladies driving them back East.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “I owe you an apology too, you know. I thought you were wrong for him, and I tried to put him off you. It’s what we quarreled about. I shouldn’t have done it, and I was wrong to boot.”

The joy went out of the automobile ride. “You weren’t wrong,” she said. “I wish you had succeeded. I love him, but I’ll never be able to make him happy. He should have someone better.”

Lenahan glanced sideways at her, surprise on his face. “I don’t think ‘should have’ comes into it. It’s you he wants, and he’s a stubborn man. It would take you years to make him take no for an answer.”

She smiled at that but didn’t say anything.

“When I first met him, he offered to pay for medicine for the fever, something other than plain quinine the Army was giving men like me. I almost turned down the chance. Pride came into it, but I was afraid too, afraid it wouldn’t work. How foolish was that? I was dying before, and if it didn’t work, I’d still be dying, no worse off at all.”

Lenahan drew up in front of Judith’s house and helped Deborah down. She hurried inside, glad to be out of the cold, and watched through a front window as the Runabout disappeared down the street. Which was worse, she wondered, fear of dying, or fear of living?

J
AMIE BROUGHT TWO
more men into the plan, making a total of six watching the three blocks between the Hubbell Hotel and the
Herald’s
office — Jamie, Nolan, Peter, Caleb, Shanahan, and Maguire. They positioned themselves in the cold, predawn hours, two in alleys, four on roofs.

Trey made the walk from hotel to office, not totally abandoning his previous caution, but leaving himself open as he crossed the two intersections, the back of his neck tingling with every step.

For three mornings, nothing happened. Trey couldn’t even commiserate with the blue-lipped men going to such lengths for him as they warmed up over breakfast out of sight at the Daltons’ house.

On the fourth morning, Trey approached the first intersection as he had every day, shoulders tight, cane clenched tightly in his fist. A single shot rang out. He dove to the ground and rolled, kept rolling until he reached the walk. Jamie shouted. Caleb cursed. Men and women on the street ran.

On his feet again, Trey saw his small army all on the ground, converging around something in the alley between the bank and an office building.

Caleb had been the one positioned on the roof of the two-story bank building.

“It’s where I’d set up,” he had said. “Of course this fellow doesn’t seem to be any good at killing. He may sit in an alley.”

Trey had swallowed hard at the words. He knew all too well how very good Caleb was at killing. “We need him alive.”

“We need you alive too. Deborah’s not a forgiving sort.”

Now Trey joined the others around the body. Dead, the man who had looked so large wielding a pipe looked smaller, flat. “So you had to shoot him after all?”

“I shot over his head and told him to stand, and he took off running. Damn fool tried to jump the alley. It must be fifteen feet. Even so I expected him to be alive down here. Dying, but alive long enough for a few questions.”

“He broke his neck,” Jamie said. “Look at the angle. Someone will have heard that shot and run for the police. They’ll be here any minute. Tell them he jumped.”

Jamie and Nolan jogged down the alley and disappeared, Shanahan and Maguire at their heels. “I’ll wait for you at the office,” Peter said, also hurrying away.

“You need to go too,” Trey said to Caleb. “I’ll deal with the police.”

“In a minute.” Caleb knelt by the body and began searching through pockets. “I’d like to know who he was.”

But not a single scrap of paper hinted at the man’s identity. The only thing in any pocket was a small wad of cash. “Fifty dollars,” Caleb said, pocketing it. “No wonder he wasn’t much good, he came too cheap.”

Trey considered arguing over disposal of the cash and gave it up as futile. Without an identity and family to claim it, that money was going into someone’s pocket. It might as well be Caleb’s.

“Too bad he was suicidal,” Caleb said. “At least the target will be off your back for a few days until somebody takes his place. Get rid of the police, and you can buy us all breakfast at the café. Maybe somebody has an idea what to do next. I sure don’t.”

Trey watched Caleb disappear down the alley like the Irishmen before him. As if on cue, two policemen appeared, still blocks away, but striding toward the bank fast. Trey leaned back against the bank building and waited.

T
REY HAD ADMITTED
that Deborah’s story about the mill — and her story was really about the mill and the men who worked there, not just about the new machinery — was excellent. He had also walked around for days after she confessed to walking there alone muttering about sneaky women.

She would have known even without that broad hint, however, that when William insisted on walking her to the office each morning and Peter insisted on walking her home, Trey was behind their sudden concern. He wanted to make sure she didn’t interfere with his insane plan to trap the killer. The only surprise was that he hadn’t arranged with Judith and William to lock her in her room.

How he could think she’d sneak into the middle of his trap, she couldn’t imagine. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did things like that. On the fourth morning, she set out with William, thinking the extra danger would be over soon. Caleb was already showing signs of restlessness. He wouldn’t stay away from Norah and the farm much longer.

As they walked, she became aware of excited buzzing among the people they passed. Her heart started beating faster and took flight when she heard the words, “Shot him dead.”

William had a firm grip on her arm. “Let’s return home and wait. We’ll hear what happened soon enough.”

Deborah twisted and struggled but couldn’t break his hold. Finally, she stopped fighting. “If you don’t let go of me right now, I’m going to hit you and start screaming,” she said coldly.

“Deborah, please.”

“Right. Now.”

He let go. She ran until she reached the hotel, ran along the path she knew Trey had taken, and found where it had happened by the crowd gathering around. Pushing through the line of spectators, she saw him, leaning against a building. Alive. Whole.

She would kill him herself. Wring his neck. Smash him to smithereens. Close now, she launched at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Only her skirts stopped her from wrapping legs around him too. Forced to stop for breath, she shook his shoulders. “You. You. I heard
shot
. I heard
dead
. How could you? How could you?”

Behind her a whistle sounded, then a scattering of applause. She let go and stepped back, cheeks burning.

“I’m sorry,” William said, stopping beside them, panting, leaning over with his hands on his thighs. “I couldn’t hold her and couldn’t catch her.”

“I should never have asked you to try,” Trey said.

He had an absolutely idiotic grin on his face. As if they weren’t standing next to a dead body. As if the police weren’t there with suspicious faces. As if she hadn’t just made a spectacle of them both. Uncle Eli had looked like that once — after several drinks to celebrate the birth of his first son.

Trey waved at the goggle-eyed bystanders. “Read all about it in this week’s paper. Miss Deborah Ann Whales Sutton and Webster Alexander Van Cleve, III.”

Oh. That explained it.

Deborah didn’t say another word until they were back in the
Herald’s
office. “I never said I’d marry you.”

“Do I have to get down on one knee and make a fool of myself asking so you can say yes properly? If I do, I probably won’t be able to get up again without your help.”

“I won’t say yes.”

“You asked me not long ago.”

“That was different. You haven’t met my condition, and you said no, so I withdrew the offer.”

“You never met my condition either, although I’ve decided ‘don’t want to live without me’ is an acceptable alternative to ‘can’t live without me’.”

“That’s very generous of you, but no.”

“What if I drag you off to a cave like some Viking and keep you there until you say yes.”

“Vikings had ships not caves, and you’d end up doubled over panting like William because you couldn’t catch me.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Trey smiled back. They both started laughing and ended up in each other’s arms. This kiss was the best so far. The very best.

“Next week?” he whispered against her mouth.

“Oh, Trey, you have no idea. You need to marry someone like Judith, someone who can make you happy. I can’t be a wife. I can’t.”

“Because of something that happened when you were seven years old?”

She stiffened and tried to pull away. “Don’t....”

He kept his arms around her. “Sweetheart, at the risk of damaging my own cause, I have to point out I have my own scars. Let’s take a chance on each other anyway.”

She closed her eyes and burrowed against his neck. “Your scars are just marks on the skin.”

“No, they’re not. I’m past the point of waking up every morning afraid to try moving for fear it won’t work, but I still have nightmares about how I’ll be in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. Marry me, and there’s no telling how soon you’ll have a useless lump of a husband in a wheelchair.”

“That’s not true. You’re better all the time. You say you’ll never be able to run again, but you will. You probably could right now.”

“Ask any stove-up cowhand what happens to old injuries as the years pass. Nothing ever gets better, and you should know if we never have children the fault will be mine. The part of me needed for that was the last to show life again. In fact it never twitched until the first time I saw you.”

She smothered something between a laugh and a sob off against his shoulder. “Now I know you really are a liar.”

“No, God’s truth. The day I saw you in the ice cream parlor was the first stirring. I almost flew over to the first empty table, half because I was giddy with relief and half because I needed to hide.”

“Then it was the sight of Judith.”

“Judith was waving her spoon at Jamie. Watching a woman admire another man does not inspire lust.”

“Miriam.”

“Miriam is a mere child, and she’s plain compared to you.”

“If we all did our hair the same and dressed the same, you couldn’t tell us apart from across a large room.”

“Oh, yes, I could. Blindfolded, I could pick you out. Something would just pull me to you.”

“Flatterer. Liar.”

“Say yes. Let’s take a chance on each other. On us.”

She gave in. “Yes,” she whispered against his cheek. “Yes,” again into his kiss.

T
HE ONLY WAY
to marry Deborah in one week would indeed be to carry her off like a Viking. Judith had plans. As soon as Deborah’s aunts got word, they joined in, as did Norah.