Lisa Plumley (23 page)

“Well done,” Blackhouse observed. “Like father, like son.”

Like father, like son.
Dumbstruck, Cade stared at Whittier.

But Judah only smiled. “I
knew
we’d find you!” His injured leg scarcely slowed him as he went to Whittier with a smile on his face. Gruffly, he embraced him. “Simon said he’d almost tracked you down. I wanted to be here when he did.”

Near them, Blackhouse nodded. He glanced at Cade. “How much more proof do you need?” he asked. “Just look at your hands.”

Cade did. He was, he saw instantly, still nervously juggling that match safe—exactly the same way his father had just done.

A huge wellspring of emotion surged inside him. Buffeted by it, Cade watched silently as Judah and Whittier—
Foster
—parted.

They both looked at Cade. He cleared his throat. “Papa?”

The smile on his father’s face erased all doubt. “I’m sorry, Cade. It wasn’t right, what I did. I need you to know—”

For once, Cade didn’t need answers. “It’s
really
you?”

His father nodded—or at least Cade thought he nodded. It was hard to tell, because his vision went blurry, his eyes stung...and he could as soon have flown as he could have spoken past the lump of emotion stuck in his throat. He tried to move—

But his father moved faster. With urgent strides, he crossed the short distance separating them. He gazed at Cade, who was trying desperately not to bawl, then hugged him.

He felt different from the man Cade remembered. He felt leaner and tougher and older, but he still felt...right.

A heartbeat later they separated, curtly and awkwardly. There were more apologies, more promises—and more vexing, perceptive grins from the likes of Blackhouse and Judah.

Feeling overcome, Cade scowled at them. He swiped at his eyes, then demanded, “What are you two doing here anyway?”

Blackhouse shrugged. “You didn’t think we’d let you go on this adventure all alone, did you?” he queried with his usual jauntiness. “We followed you from the train car, of course.”

“That’s right,” Judah agreed with a nod. For the first time, Cade noticed he was tottering—probably on account of the whiskey he’d drunk. “I’ve just found you again. I wasn’t going to let you sneak away so soon after our reunion. I’m a little slow these days, on account of my leg—” he gave that appendage an impressive frown “—but I’m pretty hard to stop, all the same.”

“We thought we’d be witnessing your groveling to Miss Benson,” Blackhouse admitted, “but as a secondary feature—”

“This is mighty fine, too,” Judah alleged. He slung his arm around Whittier’s shoulders with genial—and possibly drunken—aplomb. “Although I
was
keen to meet the minister’s daughter.”

Blackhouse clucked with dismay. “Yes, that’s too bad.”

Violet.
Suddenly reminded of her, Cade went still.

Nothing had gone the way he’d planned this night. But everything had turned out providentially, all the same. Could it be, he wondered, that his good luck was back for good?

He would have been a poor gambler not to think so.

Filled with new resolve, Cade raised his hand. He turned to Whittier—to, remarkably, his
father
. “I have more questions for you. There are so many things I want to know. But first—”

“First he has to settle accounts with a girl,” Blackhouse said, a knowing grin on his puckish face. “With a special girl.”

“With a damn go-gooder of a reverend’s daughter,” Judah specified, plainly having learned a few more pertinent details from Simon—and then having editorialized them further, “with lovely red hair, an excess of kindness and—near as I can tell—woefully poor eyesight, if she’s smitten with my big lummox of a brother.”

Cade let that insult slide. He felt too relieved just then—too amazed and grateful and hopeful—to quarrel with Judah.

“A redhead?” Whittier raised a brow. “Is she skinny? Fearless? Fond of calico and cockeyed pep talks?”

The trio of Cade, Blackhouse and Judah nodded.

“I think I know her,” Whittier mused. A nod. “Nice girl.”

Cade only shook his head. “I let her get away from me once. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try to get her back.”

With that, his friend, his brother and his long-lost father all agreed to return to Blackhouse’s train car. “After all,” Simon eagerly pointed out, “I’m having a party tonight!”

Watching them make plans, Cade knew it would take a while to resolve everything. It wouldn’t be easy to come to terms with the Fosters’ long separation and decide where to go from there.

For the first time, though, Cade felt the stirrings of belief that they could do it. For now, that was enough.

Determinedly, Cade tossed back his father’s silver match safe, then straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be next door,” he announced with twice the bravado he felt, “winning back Violet, finding the means to locating Tobe’s mother, dazzling Reverend Benson with my wholesome good intentions and—now that I won’t be carousing through town—possibly saving the whole of Morrow Creek from descending into debauchery.”

Blackhouse raised his eyebrows. “That’s a mighty tall order you’ve set for yourself.”

“I know,” Cade replied with a grin. “But I feel up to it.”

At least he
did
feel up to it—until he arrived at the Benson household and learned, too late, that Violet had left for the rest of her life as the belle of the ball...without him.

Chapter Fourteen

I
t was an altogether different experience, Violet realized as she wandered through the crowded, elaborately decorated rooms of Mr. Blackhouse’s luxurious private train car, listening to the music provided by a small group of musicians and carrying a fluted glass filled with an assuredly alcoholic beverage, to attend a party as a woman of interest, rather than a person who hung decorations and cheered up all the wallflowers.

Where once she’d spent her energies volunteering, fetching refreshments for elderly friends or chatting with other plain girls on the fringes of events, now Violet found herself smack in the middle of things. Handsome men flirted outrageously with her. Popular ladies pursued her with invitations to their own upcoming soirées. Even the waiters—and the kindly gentleman valet, Adams, who’d admitted her to the private gala—seemed to treat Violet with a mixture of burgeoning respect and interest.

Feeling overwhelmed by the newness of it all, Violet maneuvered to the train car’s window. Through it, she saw that the town she knew and loved—and had been born in—might as well have vanished for good. From her vantage point, only the barest hints of Morrow Creek’s existence remained. Some lantern light could be seen, faintly, coming from establishments like the Lorndorff Hotel and Jack Murphy’s saloon—and the nearby train depot, of course. Otherwise, all the houses looked dark. From inside the warm, festive, brightly lit train car, the entire town could have disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

If it had, Violet never would have known it—and just at that moment, she realized, she’d already lost enough. Her first real love. Her pure-hearted motivation for doing good works. A part of her innocence. She didn’t want to lose Morrow Creek, too.

Why had she come here, anyway? She no longer needed Mr. Blackhouse—or his fortune—to help her track down Tobe’s mother. She no longer needed the validation of other men’s interest to make her feel beautiful. All she needed, truly, was Cade. And he was as lost to her, just then, as the lights of her friends’ and neighbors’ houses were. They stood nearby, it was true; but it felt in the evening darkness as though they were gone forever.

Then Violet remembered something—something Cade had once said to her:
the real tragedy in life isn’t failing to believe that hope exists, Violet. It’s convincing yourself that you don’t want any hope, even when it’s right in front of you.

Was
hope right in front of her? What if Cade was here—what if her second chance was
here
—and she was overlooking it?

She was no gambler, Violet assured herself. But maybe it was time she took one more chance with her life. After all, it was possible that Cade
was
at his benefactor’s party. With a little looking—and a little luck—maybe she could find him.

Determinedly, Violet gulped down her drink. She set down her glass. She straightened her shoulders, then faced the animated crowd of partygoers again. They were a mix of visiting strangers, professional gamblers and their associates, and townspeople who either knew Simon Blackhouse or wanted to.

None of those smiling men was Cade.

But if he was here, Violet knew she could find him.

She began in the parlor car, weaving through laughing women and groups of cigar-smoking men. No Cade. She progressed to the library car, where a variety of games of chance were taking place. Cade was not among the sporting men there, either. She sneaked into the rearmost quarters, where the staff was bustling with gala preparations. Cade was not there, unsurprisingly, but the valet, Adams, was. He rebuffed her with cordial firmness.

“I’m sorry, Miss Benson, but you shouldn’t be back here.”

“I know, Adams. But I’m searching for someone.”

“Mr. Foster, perhaps?” His respectful face betrayed no sign of where he’d gained the knowledge that Violet knew Cade. “Have you tried the central car, miss? That’s where the musicians are. It’s the liveliest by far. If Mr. Foster has returned—”

“He was here and now he’s
gone
? Where did he go?”

“—that’s undoubtedly where he’ll be.” A bow. “Good luck.”

“But where did he go?” Violet persisted. “I must know.”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that.” Adams offered a regretful expression. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Frustrated, Violet considered pressing him for more. At the same moment, Adams crossed his arms. He offered a slight frown. He was, it occurred to her, quite formidable when he had to be. Why on earth did Mr. Blackhouse need such an intimidating valet?

“Thank you, Mr. Adams,” she said. “I’ll try elsewhere.”

Feeling increasingly dismayed, Violet hurried back to the central train car. Strains of rollicking music reached her, carried on the same currents of air that held the fragrances of ladies’ perfumes, exotic incenses and cigar smoke. The party had grown even more crowded during her short absence. Now she could scarcely see past all the packed-together men and women.

Where in the world was Cade? Had he left town altogether?

Just as she conceived that awful notion, someone touched her shoulder. “There you are!” a man said from behind her, in a firm, self-assured voice. “You’re missing our dance!”

She’d heard those words before, from Cade. But he couldn’t be here. She’d have seen him. This was an unkind joke. It was...

It was...
wonderful
, Violet realized as she turned. It was wonderful because Cade stood there, close enough to touch, looking handsome and manly and exactly as dapper as he had on the night they’d met—the first time she’d heard those words.

He also appeared, she noticed with a second distressed glance, a little beleaguered...and a little apprehensive. Did he truly believe that she might refuse his invitation to dance?

There you are! You’re missing our dance!

Well, if he did believe that, Violet had the perfect solution to offer. Stepping into his outstretched arms, she gave him her sauciest smile. “Oh no I’m not!” she said, just as she had on the very same night. “I’d never miss a dance!”

Like magic, Cade whirled her into the dance. Never mind that the train car was jam-packed with revelers. Never mind that they risked stomped-on toes and jostled shoulders. With the same command that he’d displayed on that oft-remembered night, Cade drew Violet into the crush of the celebration...and then made her feel that they were alone in the midst of all the frivolity.

“I was afraid,” Cade said, “that you’d say no.”

“To you?” She could scarcely believe he was here. “Never.”

“You appeared engrossed in something. I saw you rushing from car to car, but I couldn’t catch up. If not for Adams—”

“Adams?” Maybe that rascally valet
did
know much more than he let on.

“—slowing you down and then sending you back here, we might not have crossed paths all night.” Cade twirled her. His hand felt warm against hers; his hold on her waist felt perfect. “Do you need help finding something? You seemed to be searching—”

“I
was
searching. I was searching for you.”

He didn’t seem to know what she meant. “I was trying to find
you
,” Violet said. Smiling with relief and hopefulness, she explained, “You’ve been searching, yourself, for so long now. I thought it was about time that someone came looking for
you
.”

At that, Cade appeared humbled. “I won’t be searching anymore. Tonight I found what I was looking for.” He gave her a tender smile. “It turns out it was right here, all along.”

“You found Whittier?” Excitedly, she grabbed his arm. “See? He
was
in Morrow Creek! I knew it. I told you I’d seen him.”

“Yes. I did find Whittier,” Cade confirmed. “I found even more than that, too. I found my father, and my brother—”

“You
have
been busy! No wonder Mr. Adams couldn’t explain.”

“—and I found some of the answers I needed. But that’s not what I meant. What I meant...” Here, Cade pulled Violet to the side. Away from the frolicking dancers, he brought his hand to her face. He gazed at her, exactly as though she were precious. “What I meant was that I was looking for
you
. I needed
you
, all along. But because I was foolish and cruel and too blind to see the truth—”

“No!” Violet hurried to stop him. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was so unkind, Cade. When I suggested that I was helping you as one of my charity projects... I never meant that! I was only afraid. I was afraid to love you—afraid to believe that you could love me! Because who am I? Only plain Violet Benson—”

Just as she’d hoped, Cade kissed her. Hard and fast.

“Plain Violet Benson,” she tried again, breathlessly.

Another kiss. This time, Cade hauled her against him, too. He’d told her so many times not to refer to herself that way.

With her heart hammering, Violet managed to stammer, “P-plain Violet Benson, who’s never known a courtship that lasted and who’s never—” She broke off, casting Cade a mischievous glance. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to kiss me this time?”

Cade’s answering smile beguiled her. “Vixen. You were hoodwinking me all along. I’m fairly certain that
I
, as the professional sporting man here, should be taking that role.”

“Oh, I like the role you’re playing just fine.” Feeling happy and effervescent, Violet grinned. She
knew
she’d manage to take advantage of Cade’s unusual method of “chastising” her with kisses eventually. “Whereas when it comes to
me
, plain Violet Benson—” She stopped. Suggestively, she arched her brows.

“When it comes to you,” Cade growled obligingly,
not
kissing her yet, “I can’t get enough. Before I met you, I was lost. After I met you, I thought all I wanted was a dose of good luck—a bit of good fortune to see me through my lonesome days and the games of chance that filled them. But now—” Seeming downright overcome, Cade broke off. He kissed her again. “Now I know that what you gave me, Violet, was more than good luck. What you gave me was love. Like a fool, I almost threw it away—”

“Not while I’m here to have a say in it!”

“—but I came to my senses just in time. Or at least I hope it was just in time.” With a concerned glance at the revelers surrounding them, Cade frowned. “I know you could have your pick of men here. I know that I’m not nearly good enough. I have a long way to go before I settle down, quit wagering and stop feeling a need to indecently ravish you any chance I get—”

“And the trouble with ravishment is...what exactly?”

“I know you deserve an upright husband,” Cade said, “a
good
man to call your own, a protector and a conqueror and a hero—”

“Oh, Cade.” Violet sighed. Adoringly, she stroked his jaw. “Don’t you know? You already
are
all those things to me.”

“But I love you, Violet,” he forged on, sounding raspy and determined and fierce. “I think I’ve loved you from the start, from the moment when I pulled you into that dance. You looked at me with that impish grin of yours, and you took my hand as if we were meant to be one, and you trotted onto the dance floor with me without the least hesitation. I was so grateful for that. I was so grateful for
you
. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Violet knew she must be blushing. Raptly, she gazed into her beloved gambler’s face. While looking at him, it was easy to ignore all the hullabaloo and revelry going on around them.

“That’s because I must have loved
you
from the start,” she insisted. “You spun me into that dance and straight into another way of being. Without you, I would have contented myself with giving and volunteering and working. Without you, I would have had friends, and my family, and maybe even a husband someday.” Here, Violet clutched his hand, needing him to know everything. “But I wouldn’t have known how it felt to be carried away—to be made to feel special and lovely and beautiful—”

“You
are
beautiful,” Cade swore. “You’ve never been anything less to me. All I had to do was open my eyes.”

“—and I wouldn’t have known how it felt to love someone with all my heart and soul. Because that’s the way I love you, Cade. If I could give you contentedness, I would. If I could give you surety, I would. But all I can give you is
me
. I hope it will be enough. If only you would consider staying here, in Morrow Creek, I know that eventually things will work out.”

“They already are working out,” Cade told her. “Even with your father. I saw him when I came for you—when I went to your house this evening, after leaving Judah and Blackhouse and my father. That’s who Whittier was, you know, all this time.”

Violet boggled. “I
knew
it! I almost guessed as much when I saw him at the church.” The truth of it all was remarkable. “You actually left your long-lost
father
to come find me at home?”

Cade nodded. Assuredly, they would need to have a long catching-up conversation when all this was through.

“He’s with Judah. For now. We’ll talk again later,” Cade continued, surprising her anew with the news of his brother’s arrival in town. “Your father told me that you found Tobe’s hidden train ticket. I knew you’d persist until you found the lead you needed.” Proudly, Cade smiled at her.

Violet nodded. “Now all we have to do is take Tobe to see his mother. If our guesses are right, she’s just a skip away.”

“Hmm. I think I know someone who’d be willing to undertake that mission.” Cade cast a slanting glance at Mr. Blackhouse, who’d arrived at the train car sometime during their reunion. His former benefactor gave a somber nod. Cade regrouped. “But the whole point is,” he said, “that I spoke with your father tonight—”

“Well, of course you did. You just said so.”

“—and I made my case as best as I could, without resorting to flattery or beguilement or outright professional charm—”

“Well, now. For you, that sounds impossible!”

“—and eventually I made Reverend Benson see the truth.”