Tarnished Angel (31 page)

    Ross broke the strained silence with a low laugh. "So you knew all along that I was stealing Till-Dale payrolls."

    "Yes. Everyone else thinks you're still in Yuma with two more years to serve on your sentence, but I kept close track of you. I knew you were released, and when the payroll robberies started shortly afterward"

    "Tie him up, Jake."

    "Ross…"

    Ross halted Carter's instinctive step forward. "Don't try anything, Carter. Sit down in that chair and be quiet. You haven't done me a damned bit of good in the past, but tonight you're going to serve a very useful purpose."

    "What purpose?"

    His eyes watchful, Ross waited as Jake slammed Carter into the chair and pulled his hands behind him. Jake was looping the coils of a rope around Carter's wrists when Ross responded to his question. "Use your imagination, Carter. What do you think I have in mind for tonight?"

    Charles paused, his eyes growing slowly incredulous. "Don't be stupid, Ross. You'll never get away with it!"

    "Oh, won't I? We're identical twins, remember? I admit there are a few differences, noticeable when you look real close, but nobody's going to be looking for those differences tonight when I show up at Dale's party in your place. Just as you said, everyone thinks I'm still in prison. They'll see only the person they expect to see… Charles Carter."

    "Ross, you're making a mistake! Someone will catch on and you'll be caught. They'll send you back to prison."

    "Oh, no, Carter, I won't get caught. My brother won't be able to lead the sheriff to me, like he did the last time."

    "Ross, I didn't lead the sheriff to you. I didn't realize he was following me. He"

    "Save your breath, Carter."

    Unwilling to listen to more, Ross stared at the black, concerned eyes so similar to his own. He remembered that concerned expression very well. It had looked at him from outside the cell where the sheriff had thrown him after Carter had betrayed him. And he remembered that Carter had said, "It's all for the best, Ross." He'd never forget it.

    "Ross, give me a chance to explain."

    Memory sharpened the
whiplike
crack of Ross's reply. "I'm not interested in explanations, Carter. As far as I'm concerned, we did all our talking three years ago."

    Carter resisted Jake's attempt to bind his feet, finally turning to Ross with an earnest plea. "Ross, for God's sake, we're brothers!"

    Ross was tempted to laugh, but it occurred to him that the situation wasn't funny. He shook his head. "No, Carter, you've got it wrong. We came from the same womb just about twenty minutes apart, or so Pa said, but that doesn't make us brothers. You did a real good job of cutting that tie."

    "That isn't true."

    "Save your protests. I was there, remember?"

    "Ross, I came to Tombstone looking for you and our father. I had no idea what your problems with Dale were all about. I didn't lead the sheriff to you knowingly, but once you were in jail, I figured it was all for the best. Half the town was out looking for you. You could've gotten killed. Everyone thought you caused that accident at the mine."

    "Including you."

    "I didn't know what to think."

    "And so you accepted everything you were told as fact. You believed everyone but me."

    "Ross, I asked you if you were responsible for the accident, and you wouldn't answer me."

    Ross gave a short laugh. The pain of that memory was with him still. "I didn't think I needed to answer you. You were my brother. But then I found out what having a brother really means. Hell, it doesn't mean a thing."

    "Ross, I"

    "And in case you're thinking you'll be able to convince me that you had a good excuse for what you did, let me set one thing straight. Because of you, I was in jail when Pa died. Pa died poor, and he died alone. I'll never forgive you for that, or forget."

    "Ross"

    "Gag him, Jake. I'm tired of hearing him talk."

    Jake slipped a gag around Carter's mouth and knotted it tightly behind his head, and Ross stifled his instinctive response to the plea in Carter's eyes. Damn, would he never learn that his brother, his long-lost brother, could not be trusted?

    Ross turned and opened the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

    Minutes later Ross adjusted the collar of the fine lawn shirt he wore, and casually knotted his tie. The dark blue serge trousers felt unnaturally smooth against his legs as he slipped on a conservative waistcoat. With no pause in his movements, he donned the suit coat and within seconds was adjusting its fit across his shoulders. He frowned as he walked to the mirror. The suit coat was a trifle tight in the arms and chest, but that was to be expected. It had been fitted to Charles Carter's exact measurements, and Carter had not done the heavy physical labor that had been Ross's lot in life for three long years.

    Conscious of the lateness of the hour, Ross walked to the mirror and stopped, momentarily stunned. He gave a short laugh, incredulous at the reflection that stared back at him. Charles Carter. Damn! He looked more like Charles Carter than he looked like himself!

    Ross studied his reflection a little longer. There were traces of Ross Morrison still remaining. If he looked hard, he could see the harshness of expression that was totally absent from Carter's face. The squint lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper, and his skin was tinted a shade darker than Carter's. But the differences were negligible. He knew they could be easily erased.

    With great deliberation, Ross smiled. He watched the upward movement of the lines of his face as the creases in his cheeks moved into the appealing expression so seldom visible. He saw his lips part to expose teeth so similar in size and shape to Carter's that he could not help but marvel. It was Charles Carter who smiled back at him, and an eerie chill moved down Ross's spine. Yes, this disguise would do. It would do very well.

    Taking only a moment to pick up his brother's Stetson, Ross adjusted it on his head and turned to face Carter.

    A low, amazed grunt escaped Jake's lips, and he shook his head. ''If I didn't know who I was
lookin
' at, Ross, I'd swear you were Carter. I didn't realize how much you two really look alike until this minute." He laughed. "Hell, it gives me a real strange
feelin
'
seein
' you like that."

    'Don't worry, Jake, the change is only temporary. I won't be Charles Carter for one minute longer than necessary."

    Quickly rolling up his own discarded clothes, Ross handed them to Jake. "Here, put these in my saddlebags. Wait until it's a little darker, and then bring the horses around and wait for me. I'll meet you as soon as I can."

    Responding with a short nod, Jake started toward the door, and Ross walked toward Carter. He leaned down and briefly checked the ropes on Carter's hands and feet. Carter attempted to speak through the gag, and Ross lifted his eyes to his brother's muffled appeal. His response was completely devoid of feeling. "I told you, Carter, I'm through talking. I'm going to Dale's party now. When I leave that party, I'll have Dale in the position I've been waiting three long years to see him in." Ross paused, his lips moving into a sinister smile. "Don't worry, I'll take real good care of your lady friend. It'll be my pleasure."

    Charles tried to speak and thrashed unsuccessfully at the bonds on his hands and feet.

    Ross touched the brim of his hat in a short salute. His voice was low, and harsh emotion filled his words. "Good-bye, brother. I hope I'll never have to see you again."

    Turning, Ross walked to the door and out into the street beyond.

    The sound of laughter almost overwhelmed the lilting waltz as Devina moved to the halting lead of her partner. She cast a quick look to the edge of the dance floor where a small group stood involved in a conversation that was obviously enjoyable. Her glance swept the floor where numerous couples danced with various degrees of proficiency, and she smiled her satisfaction. The party was going very well.

    Turning her attention back to her partner, Devina attempted to hide her distaste. Walter Sherkraut leered down into her face, and she tried harder. Her stomach temporarily revolted as a bead   of perspiration rolled down the banker's shiny face and disappeared into his high, stiff collar. She was intensely aware that the beefy hand which held hers was uncomfortably moist, and she could feel a similar moistness soaking the waistline of her dress where his other hand gripped her so tenaciously.

    Noting her scrutiny, and placing an entirely different meaning on it, Walter Sherkraut leered more broadly. Simultaneously adjusting his hold to pull her closer than she felt she could bear. he lowered his head with a breathless whisper. "Devina, dear, you must excuse me for repeating myself, but you are by far the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I can't tell you the effect you've had on me tonight. You are exquisite, glittering, breathtaking."

    Devina managed a short laugh.

    "Since my father's fortune is presently tied up in silver, I thought this gown would be appropriate. And I can certainly understand its appeal to you, Walter. After all, I expect I have all the glitter and dazzle of the silver bullion you hold in your bank's vault."

    Devina's frankness had no affect on Walter's amorous bent.

    "Perhaps so, Devina, but you're more than beautiful. You're warm and appealing. You're not at all as cold and lifeless and unresponsive as a silver bar."

    So Walter would like to believe. Devina's delicate nose twitched.

    Devina responded lightly, "But people are so often taken in by glitter and dazzle. They so often overlook the good, the honest, the loving qualities of those whose physical attraction is somewhat muted by shyness or hesitation. I'm so pleased that you're not one of those men, Walter. I admire you immensely for having the sensitivity to see beyond Hilda's natural reticence and her inability to project the true warmth of her personality in casual conversation. You are a very perceptive person for having been able to see through to the true beauty beneath Hilda's demure exterior."

    Walter's leer became sheepish. His face took on a flush she was sure was unrelated to the stress of the dance. His smile was weak. "Yes, Hilda is a very lovely woman… underneath. She has given me many happy years of marriage."

    The fine line of Devina's nose twitched once more. Happy, indeed. Hilda Sherkraut no doubt silently suffered her husband's countless flirtations and any seductions he was successful in conducting with his dubious charm.

    Her smile undaunted, Devina continued with a deepening sincerity of tone, "Hilda is so fortunate to have a husband as faithful and loving as you obviously are, Walter. I know you won't be able to believe it, but there are many men who are willing to toss aside the commitment of their wedding vows for casual flirtations and brief, meaningless affairs that break their wives' hearts. I have no use for such men myself. I consider them selfish, cruel, little more than spoiled children who desire to have the best of both worlds at the expense of the women who love them."

    Walter was beginning to look decidedly uncomfortable. A nervous tic jumped in his cheek, and Devina hid her satisfaction as her veiled barbs again struck home. Perhaps Hilda Sherkraut was not as beautiful as Devina's mother, but she had probably suffered in the same way because of her husband's infidelity. Well, tonight, Hilda Sherkraut had someone on her side.

    The music drew to a sweeping halt, and Walter dropped his hands as if they had been burned. As soon as he had escorted Devina to the edge of the dance floor as etiquette demanded, he bobbed his head and said, "Thank you for the dance, Devina. You are extremely lovely, but now I must… ah… find my wife. She does love to dance."

    Her smile considerably more comfortable than before, Devina nodded. She followed Walter Sherkraut's bulky form as he made his way through the couples around them and disappeared through the living room doorway.

    Well, so much for him and his lascivious manner, Devina thought. Mr. Walter Sherkraut, banker and lecher!

    But her satisfaction quickly faded as she again scanned the crowded room. Damn, where was Charles? She had specifically told him she would appreciate his early appearance. He was late.

    The fine line of Devina's brow furrowed into a frown as yet another of her father's overweight business associates began to bear down on her. Drat! Where was Charles? She could not suffer another assault on her poorly protected toes.

    Undecided whether to brave out Albert Wallace's steady approach or to run for her life, Devina was distracted from her dilemma by Molly's quick steps across the foyer as she responded to a summons at the front door. Her father turned from a casual exchange near the staircase as Molly opened the door.

    His hand extended in greeting, he walked toward the doorway as Charles stepped into sight.

    A relief not unmixed with annoyance flooded Devina's senses. Charles had arrived at last… but not soon enough. He shook her father's hand warmly at the same moment that she turned in response to a light tap on her shoulder. Her smile was weak as she glanced up into Albert Wallace's admiring gaze.