The Outsider (3 page)

“Take a walk with me.”

Though surprised by the suggestion, Patrice supplied his crutches, letting him lever himself up and out of the chair without offering her assistance. She’d never compromised his sense of worth by fussing; it was one of the things that so endeared her to him.

Once the padded supports were wedged under his arms, he started toward the lobby of the hotel, through the throng of well-wishers, pausing often to wait for Patrice to receive hugs of guarded congratulations. She followed without question until they left the noise of her celebration behind. Once in the foyer, she stayed him with a hand upon his arm.

“Dodge—?”

Then she saw what he’d seen, the one missing—and uninvited—guest who would have completed
the joyous event in heart, if not in mind.

Tyler Fairfax stood in the shadows of the foyer. He wore clothes that looked slept in, his shirt half untucked, his black hair unruly over eyes red and raw from too much drink. His bleary gaze took in Patrice in her wedding finery, anguish cutting a brief swath through the dull glaze before he pulled his impassive mask together.

“I beg your pardon,
chère
. It was not my intention to sully the evening by showing up unannounced. And unwanted.”

Patrice steeled herself behind a chill of bare civility. “Not even you could ruin tonight.” She turned to go, but with unexpected agility Tyler caught her wrist. Dodge made no move to intercede. Tyler Fairfax posed no threat except to himself. Dodge recognized the signs of a man suffering from a case of unrequited devotion.

While Patrice stood stiff and still, Tyler lifted her hand with the utmost care to where he could place a brief kiss upon it. His intense stare never left hers, except for a flicker downward to observe the shiny gold ring she wore. A wry smile warped his lips.

“
Bonne chance
, Mrs. Garrett I wish you well.”

Patrice withdrew her hand with a curt, “If that’s true, you can stay away from us. And from Starla.”

“It’s for my sister that I ask a favor.”

She glared at him narrowly. “What?”

“When you return to the Glade, take Star with you. It’s not safe for her to remain in town unpro—alone.”

“Unprotected” was the word Dodge guessed he meant to say. But unprotected against what?

“Patrice, I beg you to do this for her sake, not mine. You’ve my word I’ll stay away. She’s just arrived. Her bags are still at the station. She can’t come home. Patrice … if you ever cared for us at all … please.”

There was just enough honest agitation in his voice and in the furtive shadowing of his stare to alarm Patrice into nodding.

“All right, Tyler.”

Her cool tone offered no opening for further conversation. Still, he hesitated, his stoic facade wavering when he finally said, “Tell Reeve—” But he broke off abruptly and wheeled away, leaving the rest unspoken.

And as Dodge escorted the troubled bride back to her reception, he was disturbed, as well.

What danger was Tyler so afraid would befall his sister upon her return to home and family?

Chapter 2

H
ome
.

The relief of it shivered through Starla Fairfax as she stood on the cool balcony of Glendower Glade. She’d spent many a social day and evening at the Glade, enough to feel comfortable within its sprawling rooms, but it wasn’t the house that embraced her with welcome; it was the sense of familiarity.

She took in a deep breath redolent of the rich, fertile scents of Kentucky soil and blue stem grasses still wet with dew. More subtle aromas were entwined with those of springy earth, of horse and fragrant blossoms, of crisp inland air free of the thick salt tang she’d come to despise. It was the clean crispness she missed the most in the air, across the endless pastures and unclouded sky. Heaven on earth in Pride County, Kentucky. And no matter what her brother warned, she was home to stay.

Of course, for now she was just a guest of the Glade and her best friend since childhood. She might have felt awkward coming home with the
newlyweds, but the sprawling Glendower horse farm was large enough to afford a Northern Army battalion privacy in one wing and yet house a Southern regiment in the other without one knowing of the other’s presence. She hadn’t hesitated in accepting Patrice’s offer. There was something to say about Providence. She needed the solitude, the benign surroundings, the time to gather her thoughts and the direction of her future about her.

For the last four years she’d made herself forget those she’d loved and left behind. She’d lived someone else’s life in a world foreign to her own—until it was more dangerous to remain and pretend than to return and face the demons of her youth. She told herself she was ready to meet them.

All the way up from the Gulf Coast she’d repeated that catechism of bravery. But now, even here, tucked safely within the bosom of the Glade, she felt the tendrils of shadowed recall reach for her, chilling along her flesh like an unhealthy breeze, knotting her stomach in remembered anxiety. The shadows housed at Fair Play. She knew then, as panic tightened, that she’d fooled herself if she thought she was strong enough to greet those memories head-on.

“Good morning.”

Starla gave a start at the sound of another’s voice, then turned to greet her friend with a smile.

“Why, Mrs. Reeve Garrett, you are the last soul I expected to see before noon.”

Patrice wasted no time with false blushes. Her features glowed from a happiness that touched
Starla’s spirit with a bittersweet pang. The new bride embraced her warmly.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel excluded here.”

Starla’s laugh held a sliver of its former sharp wit. “Why, Patrice, honey, you’re not suggesting something indecent, are you?”

Patrice hugged her hard. “Oh, Lord, I’ve missed you, Star. Why did you stay away so long?”

Caught up in the same tangle of regret, Starla could think of nothing clever so she stayed silent, soaking up the joy of being with her dearest friend on earth. They’d grown up sharing every secret, every wish. But now Starla could share no more than her gladness. Her motives and her memories were best locked away from even the most sympathetic ears. Patrice would never understand, even if she might forgive.

Starla pushed away, adopting an air of conspiratorial naughtiness. “So, tell me, how you finally managed to snare ol’ Reeve Garrett without your sourpuss brother putting a hole in him.”

Arm in arm, giggling like schoolgirls, they looked out over the placid pastures of Glendower Glade to tell secrets once more. Starla went teary-eyed at hearing of the deaths of both Reeve’s and Patrice’s fathers—Avery Sinclair in battle, Byron Glendower to natural causes less than two months ago. She listened pridefully as Patrice told of holding the Sinclair properties until her brother’s return and mourned, along with Patrice, the martyred execution of Reeve’s half brother, Jonah, at the hands of the Union Army. For a short time Jonah had
been Patrice’s fiancé. It had taken tragedy and turmoil for her and Reeve to realize they belonged together. Then, finally, Starla asked the dreaded question.

“What about Tyler? Why wasn’t he at your wedding? He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“You haven’t seen him yet?”

Starla shook her head. “I came right to the hotel from the station. Nothing’s happened, has it?”

If Patrice thought it odd that Starla had gone to a wedding before going to her family’s home after a four-year absence—that she’d yet to visit there—she knew her friend too well to mention it. Instead, she addressed her anxiousness.

“Tyler is—fine. When was the last time you heard from him?”

“I haven’t, really. Just short messages to say he was well.”

“Then you know nothing of what he’s been doing since you left.” Patrice’s expression told her more than any words. She couldn’t meet her friend’s eyes. “He’s changed, Starla.”

Knowing her brother, Starla braced to hear the worst. “Tell me.”

“Since the war, he’s been running with the Dermont brothers.”

That said plenty. Starla wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Them! Ugh! Not a brain among the lot of them. Why would Tyler turn to the likes of that trash?”

“Reeve, Mede, Noble—they all left to follow the fighting. Tyler stayed to take care of your father and the distillery. He helped the Dermonts form a
local Home Guard. At first they did some good, protecting a few of the small outlying farms from raiding Yankee bands. But when the federals declared martial law in all pockets of Confederate support, like here in Pride, they stirred up trouble, as often with the people they were supposed to protect as not.”

Starla took a deep breath, her heart aching. “And now?”

“Now they hide behind hoods in the night and frighten those they can into supporting their causes and—”

“And?”

Patrice faced her then, her features toughened to exclude all sympathy. “And they ‘intimidate’ those who won’t bend.”

“By ‘intimidate,’ you mean what?”

“Burning barns, killing livestock, sometimes worse.”

Starla’s eyes squeezed shut on the images that arose. “I never should have left him.” She gazed at her friend in anguish when Patrice gripped her shoulders.

“You cannot blame yourself for Tyler, Star. He made his own choices.”

Her disbelief and pain continued to grow. “But he wouldn’t have done such things if I hadn’t gone.”

“He’s drinking and he’s angry, Starla. He’s not thinking about anything the right way anymore. I don’t know that your being here would have made any difference. To some men a little power is worse than your daddy’s hundred-proof.”

Finally, she had to ask. Her voice thinned with strain. “And my father? He just let Tyler go?”

“No one’s seen him, Star. Not for a long time. I guess his illness has gotten worse.”

By “illness” Patrice was politely referring to her father’s dissipation due to drink. Starla squared her shoulders, drawing on the resolve hidden by her frivolous manner. “Well, I’ll just have to keep Tyler in line myself, then. I won’t tolerate such boorish behavior.” When Patrice didn’t react to that claim with any degree of confidence, Starla knew a terrible fear that her brother might already be beyond redemption. She slightly changed the subject. “But ‘Trice, you haven’t told me why Tyler wasn’t at your wedding. He was always so sweet on you, you know. I can’t believe he’d not want to be there.” Her gaze begged silently not to learn the truth if it was something awful, so Patrice softened the blow as much as possible.

“He had a falling out with Reeve.”

“But Reeve was his best friend.”

“Reeve took up the Union cause. That made him a traitor in the eyes of most of the county, my brother and yours included. It was rumored that he might have been behind Jonah’s death—”

“No! Oh, Patrice, I don’t believe it!”

Under Patrice’s feminine form, a foundation of rigid steel supported her fierce words. “It was a lie. But it caused a lot of trouble.” She glanced away uncomfortably. “For a time, even I considered it might be true.”

“But you and Reeve married. You put that behind you and moved on.”

“But Tyler hasn’t, Starla. And I don’t know that he’ll ever be welcome here again.”

Starla smiled nervously. “Now, ‘Trice, you don’t mean that. You and me, Tyler and Reeve—we grew up together. We’ve been friends forever.”

But Patrice lost none of her hard edge. “Nothing’s forever, Star. I can only hope what’s between Tyler and my husband won’t come between us.”

Starla hesitated, torn by loyalty and love. She hadn’t heard her brother’s side of things yet, but she knew and trusted Patrice’s honesty. And she knew Tyler. The terrible things she’d just learned were fact. And she was to blame through her cowardice.

“I’ll make things right, Patrice.”

“I don’t know that you can.” The hint of sadness in her friend’s voice both frightened and encouraged her. If there was remorse, there was also regret. That meant all was not lost. Starla cast off her doubts with a bold shrug.

“I will. I’ll slap some sense into that brother of mine and have him here apologizing. He’s not going to get away with any more nonsense now that I’m home.”

Patrice smiled wanly, not unmoved by her neighbor’s vow, but not yet convinced she could make miracles happen. “These aren’t childish pranks he’s involved in, Starla, and the Dermonts are more than teasing bullies. They’re backed by some important men. Judge Banning, for one.”

“Oh, pooh! Tyler’s just a rambunctious puppy. He’ll run with a pack if you let him loose, but you
keep him at home on a short leash and he’s a darlin’.”

Patrice said nothing. In her silence an awkward sense of separation settled between the two friends, warning of what might happen to their closeness if they allowed it. Neither was willing to allow it.

“Tell me about you,” Patrice said suddenly, turning to face Starla curiously. “Where on earth have you been and what have you been doing these past four years?”

Starla smiled, the gesture chilled with wariness. “Didn’t Tyler tell you?”

“Tyler was very vague.” A touch of accusation edged in with those words. “He said you were in Louisville. He also said you were in Chattanooga.”

“He was right. I did a lot of traveling.”

“During a war?”

“Patrice, honey, did you ever know somethin’ as trifling as a little ol’ war to get in the way of somethin’ I wanted to do?”

Patrice had to laugh. “No.”

“I traveled some. I visited family, but most of all I missed being here. I don’t want to talk of where I’ve been anymore, not when I’m so happy to be back home.” She turned up her radiant smile to throw Patrice off her line of questioning. Though Patrice knew her friend too well to be misdirected, she chose to let the matter slide.

“I’m glad you’re home, too.”

They embraced again like sisters, Starla heaving a deep sigh of relief. Before Patrice could come up with any more uncomfortable topics, Starla linked their arms together.

“Have you got anything to eat down in that big ol’ pantry, or were you planning to live on love? I’m starving.”

Patrice hugged her arm. “Let’s go see.”