Patricia Hagan (23 page)

Lisa Lou stared at him, her fury mounting as she saw that he meant it. “Damn you, Scott Colter,” she erupted. “Just who the hell do you think you are? I…I’ve done everything I could to please you.” Tears threatened, but he didn’t move.

“This has nothing to do with another woman, Lisa Lou. Just get dressed and leave, please. We’ll talk later.”

She looked at him hard for a second, then knew he wasn’t going to relent. He didn’t want her. “Believe one thing, Scott Colter. You’re going to be sorry about this. You’re going to pay.”

She pulled on her clothes in furious silence and left. Scott lay down on the bed, then, tensed, waiting. The minutes rolled by.

A half hour passed. He paced the room. Hell, if he’d known Pate wasn’t going to be on time, he could’ve been the one to break the news to Holly about Sally and Norman.

He sighed, exasperated. It was almost one o’clock. Where the hell was Pate?

He turned at the sound of footsteps clattering up the stairs, instinctively knowing Pate wouldn’t be so stupid as to make that kind of noise or bring anyone along with him. Drawing his gun, he moved behind the door quickly. It opened, and at once the room filled with men, four of them, each holding a pistol or rifle. Talton Pollock led the pack.

“Drop the gun, you raping bastard!” Pollock growled. “You can’t kill us all.”

“I’ll get a few,” Scott said evenly. “Who wants to go first?”

The men began to exchange uneasy glances. It was one thing to go along with their friend in defending his daughter’s honor—especially when the odds were in their favor. But nobody had figured on Colter being ready for them. Staring down the barrel of a gun made the picture look different.

“You tried to rape my daughter,” Talton said between tightly clenched teeth, his shotgun pointed straight at Scott. “You may think you’re the law in this town, but, by God, there’s law bigger’n you. You took advantage.”

Scott knew the man wouldn’t listen to reason, but he knew he was expected to try anyhow. “I didn’t try to harm your daughter. You’ve got it wrong.” Lord, if he only knew about his daughter! “When you’ve cooled down, we’ll talk. Tomorrow.”

Talton looked around, expecting his men to share his outrage and contempt, but they were all moving toward the door. “All right, we’ll go for now,” he said. “But you ain’t heard the last of this. No man hurts my daughter and gets away with it. You’re dead, Colter!”

They shuffled out, muttering among themselves, and Scott locked the door. What in hell was going to happen next? And where, damn it, was Pate?

He waited another half hour, and then, finally, he was forced to admit that it was foolhardy to remain there any longer. Pate was way overdue, and Talton would, no doubt, be drinking somewhere and fanning the flames of fatherly rage. He just might get up the nerve to come charging back.

Scott’s hand was on the doorknob when he heard the sound of soft, cautious footsteps. Once more, he drew his gun and waited.

But Neil Davis was not so foolish as to slip up on Scott Colter. He called through the door, and Scott yanked it open, pulling him inside. “Where the hell is Pate? I thought you said…” Then he saw the expression on Neil’s face. “Tell me,” he said tersely.

“Someone found his body down at the livery stable,” Neil said, spreading his hands helplessly. “His throat had been slashed. Probably been dead since right after I talked to him.”

Scott sent his fist crashing into the doorjamb. This could mean only that Jim Pate had indeed had the information they needed. Worse, someone had known he was in Vicksburg, which meant Roger Bonham and his thieves knew someone was on their trail. Did they know it was him? He realized suddenly that Lisa Lou’s rape charge might not be all a bad thing. He had a cover now, a reason for leaving the site of the fire without explanation.

He asked Neil what had been done with the body, and his friend shrugged. “What else could I do but treat it like the death of any stranger? I acted like I didn’t give a damn, and sent poor Jim over to the undertaker. They’ll identify him eventually. I couldn’t admit I knew him.”

No, it could be no other way. But he and Neil had lost a friend, a man they’d been through the war with, and felt the scorching brimstone with. For now, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to avenge Jim Pate’s murder. For now. But later, he vowed in silent fury, later, someone would pay for the death of a good man.

Neither Scott nor Neil looked at the other during the ride back to the post. Why embarrass another man by letting him see your tears—or his?

Chapter Nineteen

Roger was extremely pleased with himself. It was the next day, Saturday morning, and he sat in his father’s study, behind the large mahogany desk, enjoying a cup of coffee laced with brandy. A brilliant sun shone through the windows, birds were singing, and a soft breeze was blowing in from the river. It was a lovely day. Holly’s cabin was gone. The Negro troublemakers were gone. It might have been less messy, he recalled with a distasteful sniff, but Barney Phillips had always been a bit crazy with a knife in his hand.

Alex Wellman was out of the way, too, and now Holly was in debt to Roger for having saved her virtue.

His eyes clouded. Her virtue! She’d handed it right over to that goddamn Colter. Well, Colonel Colter was going to be easier to get rid of now. Roger’d been prepared to send a telegram to a friend in Congress who owed him a favor, asking that Colter be relieved of command in Vicksburg, but hadn’t planned on giving a reason. Now he had one, thanks to that slut, Lisa Lou Pollock. According to the message he’d received from Phillips, Pollock had caught his daughter slipping into the house after midnight. After he’d given her a sound thrashing, she’d confessed to meeting Colter.

Roger leaned back in the leather chair and propped his boots on the edge of the desk. To top everything, Phillips had succeeded in getting rid of the spy, Pate. That had been a stroke of luck. Linwood Dobbs had heard about his father, Speight, suddenly becoming religious, heard his old man was talking too much. Linwood confided all of it to Phillips, explaining that he was sure he could make his father shut up. Phillips took no chances, however. He sent two of his men to see Speight Dobbs, and when they learned the old man had been talking to a stranger, one of them followed the stranger when he left town. The other remained behind to see that Speight had an accident, a fatal one.

When the stranger came to Vicksburg, Phillips killed him, then decided Linwood had to be eliminated, as well. Once he learned of his father’s death, he’d have become a problem.

The trouble was, Phillips had killed Pate before giving him time to make contact with anyone. There’d been no choice. They couldn’t risk Pate doing any talking. But
had
he planned to meet anyone? There was no way of knowing, and Roger hated that kind of loose end.

Roger downed the rest of his coffee and got up and stretched. There would be time enough later to worry. Now, he would enjoy the fruits of his labor.

He made his way upstairs, and as he neared the top of the stairs, he heard Jarvis’s voice. Drawing closer to Holly’s room, he stopped and listened.

“You must attend the party tonight,” Jarvis was saying. “Holly, I understand how you feel, truly I do. They were your friends. It was a horrible thing. But this whole weekend means a lot to your mother—and to me.”

Holly’s voice was just as firm as his. “I will attend the wedding tomorrow, of course, but out of respect for Norman and Sally, I will not socialize tonight. I want to make sure they have a decent funeral and burial, and I want to be with
their
friends tonight, not sipping champagne with
yours
—some
of whom may even know who killed them,” she added bitterly.

Jarvis’s voice rose. “We can have the funeral late this afternoon. Claudia and I will even attend with you. Then there’ll be time for you to dress for the party.”

“Maybe their friends don’t want to throw them in the ground so fast,” she lashed out angrily, “like so much garbage. If you’ll leave me now, I want to go and see what plans
their friends
want to make.”

Jarvis held on to his patience. “Do as you think best, dear.” He left then, Roger meeting him in the hallway as though he’d just gotten there. He nodded to his father, and went into Holly’s room. She accepted his condolences in stony silence, then went to see her mother.

Claudia was still in bed, propped on pillows, sipping tea. She looked so pale. She beckoned Holly to sit in the chair beside the bed, and she tried hard to make her smile bright. “I’m just tired, dear. The parties are wonderful, but talking to everyone, dancing till late…it’s all exhausting, to tell the truth.”

Holly said bluntly, “You weren’t dancing last night, Mother. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”

Claudia shook her head from side to side, tears sparkling. “Oh, Holly, those men won’t stop. Poor Sally…Norman…” She gave way to sobs, and Holly took the teacup away, threw her arms around her, and sobbed right along with her.

They clung together for some time, each seeking comfort, and then Holly said, “Crying won’t help.”

“No,” Claudia sniffed in agreement, “and I want to tell you something, Holly. I’m not sorry the cabin’s gone. Oh, I know how you felt, but now you can’t go back there, and
maybe
they’ll leave you alone. You will stay here, won’t you?”

“Maybe I’ll stay with Abby, in town,” she said, thinking about being in the same house with Roger while her mother was away on her honeymoon. “When you get back, we’ll talk about the future. I just don’t want you worrying about me. Put everything out of your mind except your wedding.”

“Only if you agree to stay here while I’m gone.” Claudia clutched her arm in a desperate plea. “I mean it, Holly. Roger is headstrong and spoiled, I know, and he can be quite unpleasant, but he’ll look after you and I won’t worry about you. But in town, with Abby…” Her voice trailed away as she pictured the two females alone in Vicksburg, one of them a lightning rod for troubles. When Holly did not respond, her mother tightened her grip. “Please do this for me.”

Reluctantly, Holly nodded. Her mother’s anxiety was, indirectly, her fault, and she couldn’t refuse.

They talked awhile, and just before Holly left, her mother said, “I saw you with Colonel Colter last night and I…I’m sorry if I’m prying, I am curious about your relationship with the Colonel.”

Holly couldn’t suppress her smile. “I like him, Mother, I really do,” she confided. “We had some differences,” she said cautiously, “in the beginning, but we’ve resolved things. He is a Yankee, after all, but he’s nice, and I do like him. Do you approve?”

Claudia flung back the covers and leaped from the bed to embrace her daughter. “I’m delighted. He’s just about the handsomest man I’ve ever seen—and so well bred. A real gentleman. Though he strikes me as a man you wouldn’t want to cross.” She laughed with delight. “With
your
peppery temper, I imagine you
have
had differences! Yes, I do approve. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy.”

Holly welcomed her mother’s approval. It meant more than she’d known it could. “It’s like a sudden ray of sunshine in the midst of a storm,” she told Claudia. “But then the clouds come back, and you wonder how long before the sun is going to shine again. Does that make sense?”

Claudia blinked back fresh tears. “I felt the same way about your father. I’m so happy for you. I love you so much.”

Both warmed by their new understanding, Holly left and went downstairs. The next hours were heartbreaking. The caskets arrived, and the undertaker. When the remains were prepared, there was nowhere to take them but the stable because the newly-converted barn didn’t have room for all the mourners. So, amidst the soft stirrings of horses and the sweet, pungent odor of hay, the Negroes sang their spirituals, and paid their last respects.

The afternoon passed that way, hours blending together. Roger stopped by but not for long, displaying, he felt, just the correct amount of respect. Later, Claudia came with Jarvis, and as they were leaving, Jarvis whispered to Holly, “Please don’t resent me. I’m not a monster. I don’t know what’s happened between us, but I’m not a bad man, Holly. I love your mother and I want to make her happy. If you’ll let me, I’d like to love you as I would my own daughter.”

Holly listened, then quietly thanked him. She was grateful when he took her mother and left.

Darkness fell. In the distance was the sound of carriages as people arrived for the evening’s festivities. The Negroes continued to sing, and candles were lit, casting eerie lights around the stable. The atmosphere remained reverent and respectful, despite the sounds of revelry drifting out to them from the great house.

Holly was sitting with her head bowed, hands folded, lost in thought, when someone touched her shoulder. Thinking it would be Roger, she looked up with the greatest reluctance. It was Scott.

He knelt, covering her hands with his own, and whispered, “I’m sorry about all of this, and sorry I had to leave you last night, but I had no choice. Is there anything I can do for you?”

She shook her head, wishing she could say that seeing him was enough, but this wasn’t the place for that. Realizing he was in his regular army uniform, she asked, “Aren’t you going to the party? You’re not dressed for it.”

He wanted to tell her everything, how bad things were in town, thanks to Lisa Lou. But he could say nothing with the other mourners so close by. Yet, if he didn’t tell her himself, she’d hear it from somebody else. The story was spreading quickly.