The Outsider (26 page)
Dodge nodded, saying nothing.
Still marveling over the fact that he could stand at all, Reeve gestured to the cane. “Oughtn’t you to give it a rest for a while?”
“Don’t fuss. You’re as bad as Starla. If I wanted to be mothered, I’d go home.”
“I thought you were home.”
Again Dodge answered with silence. Then, after a beat, he said, “I foreclosed on my first farm today.”
“Who?”
“The Emmericks. Know ’em?”
“Everyone knows everyone around here.”
“Five kids, all of ’em crying, the husband cussing, the wife spitting on me. Helluva day.”
“You couldn’t do anything for them?”
He shrugged. “I can’t save them all, Reeve. Maybe if they’d talked to me a couple of months ago, before they got in so deep to the rest of their creditors. Then Emmerick took to drinking and gambled away what little they did have, instead of working to build it up. Gave them to the end of the week. I hate being the villain.”
“You didn’t make their trouble for them, Dodge.”
“I didn’t make it any easier for them, either. You can rescue a dozen, but it’s the one you let go that everyone’s going to remember.”
“Unless you’re one of the dozen.”
Dodge sighed. “I guess.”
“What else?”
“What else, what?”
“What else has got you dragging so low? Something a little closer to home?”
He took a long draw on his cigar and blew a series of irregular smoke rings toward the moon.
“I warned you, didn’t I? You’ve got the look of a man chewing on his heart. Believe me, I know the look. And it’s damn near always fatal.”
“Thanks for the encouragement. You’re a true friend in need.” Then he spoke it plain, hating the fact that he spoke at all. “Were they lovers?”
“No. She chased ’em all but wouldn’t let any of ’em catch her. Too afraid of what her daddy would do. She might have slowed down for Noble, if he’d been willing to chase her back, but he never did—not seriously, anyway.”
“Was he blind?”
“Blinded by the law. That’s all that’s ever held his interest. Starla wasn’t exactly his ideal of a lawyer’s wife.”
Dodge’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Why’s that?”
“Too fond of trouble, between her and Tyler. Noble was looking for a deep pool, and she was the rapids, all shallow turmoil, fast moves, and sharp rocks. Don’t squint at me like that. I know what I’m talking about.”
“But you don’t know Starla.”
“It’s true she’s been gone for years, but I know enough to know you’ve got your hands full. Are you worrying that she’s still in love with Noble? Don’t be. I don’t think she understands the concept. You worrying she’s still thinking of chasing after him, maybe you got a right to be. What are you going to do about it?”
The tip of his cigar flared bright and hot. Dodge sent a stream of smoke jetting through clenched teeth.
“I’m going to trust her.”
“Think that’s smart?”
“Think it’s about time someone did.”
Laughter heralded the approach of Noble Banning with an attractive married woman on either arm. Patrice slipped to Reeve’s side, but Starla remained firmly where she was. Her stare fixed upon his, but Dodge couldn’t read what flickered through its mysterious depths. He thought he recognized regret—regret that she was free to remain where she was, with the man she preferred?
They made a dramatic couple—Banning all tall, dark sophistication and Starla a dazzling flash of
femininity. The way the Southerner was perusing her attributes gave no indication that he’d be opposed to a good chase. Dodge forced a smile.
“It’s getting late and I’ve got some work waiting. It was nice to meet you, Banning.”
Noble took his hand. “Likewise. You’ve got yourself quite a woman here.”
“I know.”
Starla’s protest came as no great surprise. “Can’t your work wait until morning? The night’s still young—”
“Why don’t you stay? Mr. Banning can bring you home, if he doesn’t mind.”
Dodge waited for Starla to decline, but with a tip of her chin and a tighter cinch on Noble’s arm, she glared straight at him and said, “I’m sure Noble won’t mind.”
So much for his wife’s eagerness to retire early.
And as he drove back to Pride alone, Dodge learned a lot about the nature of trust.
Mostly that it made for bad company.
He woke from a panicked dream of drowning in the blood of those he’d led into battle.
Shaky and breathing hard, Dodge glanced at his watch. It was just after midnight; he’d been home for over two hours. And he was still alone.
Unable to close his eyes again for fear of seeing the familiar death-ravaged features from his nightmare, he dressed, and using his crutches for support, went into the darkened front room. There his restlessness couldn’t be contained. What would Starla think, arriving home to find him up, pacing the house? That he was waiting up for her? That he didn’t trust her?
Within minutes he was unlocking the door of the bank, seeking to lose himself in the challenge of business. He lit only the lamp at his desk, where he found Deacon Sinclair’s predicament awaiting his solution. The problem was, he couldn’t seem to find one.
Plagued by images of driving the frail Hannah Sinclair from her family home while Patrice spat on him, he went over the papers again, making
notes to himself on a separate sheet until he’d exhausted every possibility, and himself in the process. Knowing he was missing something, but no closer to an actual solution, he rubbed his eyes and consulted his watch. Almost two. Surely Starla would be home by now.
Yawning, he gathered his work in a pile and dropped it into his desk drawer, locking it securely. Deacon’s problems would have to wait until morning. Tyler Fairfax left him no easy course of action, except maybe to go right to the source.
He never expected that source to come to him quite so soon.
He bent to fit the key into the outside doorlock. A sudden smothering darkness enveloped him from behind as a sack was pulled over his head, muffling his curse and blinding him to the identity of his attackers. The door was wrenched open and he was thrown down onto the floor. He heard the sound of at least five pairs of footsteps coming inside after him—and felt the impact of five different boots meeting his ribs and face.
Sucking air through the coarse weave of the sack and the thickness of his own blood, he was dragged up to his feet to greet the fists of his faceless tormentors, cowards all. Finally, when he hung by his pinned elbows, close to insensible, he heard a fierce voice he recognized from the curses hurled at him that afternoon.
“Try to steal my life away, will you? Well, there’s my note paid in full.” Papers were shoved down Dodge’s torn shirtfront. Gritty laughter mixed with the ringing in his ears. “Now, I’m giving
you
until the end of the week to move the hell out of town, you sonofabitch, or we’ll be back for more.”
The moment his arms were released, he crumpled to the floor, his awareness waxing and waning. He felt the vibration of heavy bootsteps leaving the bank until the last man knelt down to whisper, “How can you expect to protect her when you can’t protect yourself?”
And with Tyler Fairfax’s question swirling through his mind, Dodge lost consciousness.
For Starla, the evening put an end to a fairy tale: Noble Banning, her handsome ideal, smiling, laughing, unchanged by the years except for a certain tightness about his mouth, a hint of sadness around his eyes. She’d been so wildly in love with him, she’d have stood on her head naked on the front lawn to get his attention.
But she could never quite win it. How that had broken her young girl’s heart so many years ago. Though she’d understood why she wasn’t good enough to deserve him, she’d hoped she was worthy of one fine thing in her life, and Noble was all she’d dreamed of. Noble, in his Confederate gray, coming back from the war to sweep her away from her abysmal life.
But of course, that had all changed. Circumstances were different now.
The evening could have been a dream, adrift upon sweet memories and golden moments, stirring tender sentiments and wistful sighs of what had been, what almost was … could have been but
wasn’t, because the focus of those dreams was no longer Noble Banning.
She wore the red dress for her husband. Her excitement, her anticipation, her enjoyment of the evening wasn’t due to the return of an old friend and an unrequited fancy; it was due to a very real opportunity to grab onto what Patrice had called the best thing ever to happen to her. It was her chance to move on to the kind of life, the kind of love, she’d also dreamed might exist, if only she were worthy.
A life with Dodge.
Though his earlier tender passion had given her every reason to hope, perhaps she was still dreaming. For Dodge’s odd behavior had put a halt to her anticipation.
She thought at first it was jealousy, and that prospect delighted her. What woman didn’t want her husband to bristle around other attractive men?
But when she’d come upon him and Reeve on the Glade’s wide porch and his dark eyes had made that erroneous assumption in connecting her to the man serving as her escort, she’d seen the truth. Jealousy didn’t imply caring, it smacked of possession. Dodge wasn’t agitated because Noble was an attractive man, he was anxious because he feared he had cause for worry. He feared she would betray him.
Because he didn’t believe for a minute what she’d been trying to show him all evening long. That he, not some long past ideal, was the man she wanted with all her heart and soul.
She’d been nothing more than a pretty possession
her entire life. Here, she thought, for the first time, she was more to the man she’d married. She could let down the pretense, she could risk being herself. She could embrace the idea of happiness after a lifetime of wondering if it was something not meant for her.
She was wrong: his idea of the future and hers were two very different things.
As Noble drove her home beneath the moonlight and the stars, everything might have been perfect. But only had they been two different people.
“You look well,” he told her.
Starla smiled. “I am.”
“Marriage seems to suit you. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
There’d been a time when she’d have killed to hear those words, but now she merely smiled again and heard herself say, “I’m going to have a baby.”
At first he appeared shocked by the idea, then he nodded. “Good for you.”
And Starla saw for the first time that it could be. She’d viewed her pregnancy, when forced to think about it at all, as a curse, a punishment for her failure to live a proper life. She felt no attachment to the child, no excitement about her baby and its eventual arrival. But sitting there on the buggy seat with a man she’d once loved with her whole heart, she placed her palms over the smooth hug of her gown where life would soon begin its altering contours, and she felt a stirring of contentment. This child had brought her to a new beginning, and she was just starting to realize what a fortuitous event that was.
If only she could hold onto it.
“How’d you end up marrying a Yankee?”
She shot him an arch look. “How’d you end up wearing the uniform of one?”
He laughed but didn’t answer her question. “He seems like a good man.”
“He is. The best.”
Noble’s smile grew bittersweet. “He’s a lucky man.”
Starla laughed softly. “No,
I’m
the lucky one.” How funny to figure out, finally, how true that was. In spite of his behavior, in spite of her concerns, she wanted nothing less than a lifetime with her banker husband.
Their carriage spun by the lane leading down to the pond where Dodge had kissed her and awakened her to the dawning of passion. Funny, how the direction of life changed, even when one was not aware of it.
“And you?” she asked the man beside her. “There’s been no woman lucky enough to capture your heart?”
A month before, even a week or a day before, she might not have noticed the melancholy in his smile.
“Not yet.”
There was someone. Someone who’d broken the heart of Pride County’s most eligible heartbreaker. Hers melted, thinking of his unhappiness. Hugging his arm and leaning against him, she vowed, “Don’t give up on love so soon. It’ll find you when you least expect it.”
She was proof of that, wasn’t she?
“Dodge?” She looked around the bedroom, finding it as empty as the rest of the house. “Tony?”
His evening clothes were neatly hung away. The covers were in a terrible twist, the pillows on the floor. His cane was at the bedside, but his crutches were gone.
It was one o’clock in the morning. Where could he be?
Sighing, she realized he’d probably gone to the bank.
There were things she wanted to discuss with him, things she’d put off too long. Things like what they were going to name their baby. Things more important than the way he’d wounded her with his actions this evening.
She was the one who’d steadfastly denied him everything. Why should she be surprised that he’d be hard to convince of her sudden change of heart?
She had to convince him, and soon. She had less than thirty days to get her life in Pride in order, to establish a family foundation strong enough to support her past mistakes.
Thinking he’d be home soon, she curled up on the chaise in the parlor to wait, tucking up the voluminous skirts that he’d wanted to take off her. When she opened her eyes, it was daylight … and she was still alone.
Anxious, annoyed, and even a bit alarmed, she threw a light cloak on over her evening gown and started for the bank.
From the sleepy early morning sidewalks of
Pride, nothing looked amiss inside the bank. A single light burned on Dodge’s desk, but he wasn’t at it. Starla tried the door and found it unlocked.
“Tony?”
His crutches were on the floor. She paused to pick up a flour sack lying next to them. Something dark and now dried stained its weave. She stared at that stain, certain it was meaningful, but the significance escaped her.
Perhaps he’d gone into the back and fallen asleep on the cot. But without his crutches?