The Outsider (5 page)

Someone was down there, and it didn’t take her a second to figure out who.

Starla hurried through the shadows, calling out as she reached the gazebo.

“Tyler?”

Then he was there in front of her, the moonlight kind to the ravaging of years upon his familiar features. At the first hint of his smile, she catapulted into his arms, hugging to him despite the acrid bite of bourbon clinging to his rumpled clothes and lacing the quick kiss he pressed to her temple. She hadn’t planned to cry, but tears wet her face in a torrent, soaking through his shirt and right to his heart.

“Lemme look at you, darlin’,” he said at last, easing her away by a tender grip on her shoulders. His fingertips touched her damp cheek. “You look wonderful, Star. Nothin’s ever looked better to me.

Through the tears and choking emotion, her own reply was gruff with censure. “And look at you, Tyler Fairfax. I’ve seen better ruts in the road. What have you been doing? Obviously you’ve not kept your promise to take care of yourself while I was away. Patrice tells me you’ve been—”

He halted her words with the press of his forefinger against her mouth and a chiding, “You can’t even say hello to me before you start right in a-harpin’ on my virtues—or the lack thereof?”

A smile spread beneath his fingertip. She caught his hand and held it to her cheek. “I have missed you so much.”

With that candid claim, she brought him to his knees. He blinked at the rush of gladness skewing his vision, smiling with a remembered sweetness to belay whatever else might tarnish his soul. To Starla, this was her brother, and it mattered not what he had or hadn’t done in her absence, only
that they were once again together. Nothing else was important.

Then she saw a purposeful remoteness mask his expression, dulling his gaze, blanking his features of all animation.

“What are you doing here, Star?”

“Tilly wrote me about Patrice’s wedding. You weren’t going to tell me, were you, even knowing how much I’d want to be here?”

He never flinched beneath that accusation.

“Tyler, she’s my best friend. They’re the best friends we’ve ever had! It was important to me!”

“Keeping you safe is important to me.” The flat tone of his voice cut through her anger. “That’s why you’re going to get on the first train and get the hell outta here in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving.” Her statement sounded firmer than her courage. She fought not to cringe when Tyler rounded on her with sudden ferocity.

“Yes, you are!”

“Tyler, this is my home. My friends are here. I’m tired of running, hiding, sick of pretending—”

He drew uncomfortably close, fixing her gaze with one of fierce intensity. “And what would you be doing here? You planning to just come on home to Fair Play to be one big happy family again? You ready to start pretending there’s nothing wrong, that you got the marks on your face from falling down or that you can close your eyes at night without jumping at every sound? Is that what you want to come back to, Star?”

He stopped when he saw the starkness of her
expression. The hollow terror in her eyes went all the way to her soul. She made a soft, inarticulate sound and he had her in a tight embrace, holding her as if he could crush out the memories, the fears, the damage that had been done with a hurried apology.

“Oh, darlin’, don’t cry. Don’t you cry. I’m not sayin’ these things to hurt you. I’m trying to protect you the best I can. An’ I can’t when you’re in that house. I tried, but we both know I can’t do a damn thing—”

She pulled back with sudden forcefulness, surprising him with the determination setting her pale features. Surprising him more with her incredible words.

“I came back to protect you.”

“Me?” He blinked in bewilderment, then started beneath the stroke of her palm along his cheek.

“Tyler, it’s too much for you to take on alone. It’s worn you down to nothing. I’ve spent the last four years, not a day going by without me growing sick with worry over what you were going through up here—with him.”

He tried to speak, the effort unsuccessful.

“I can’t let you carry it all by yourself anymore. I’m not a scared little girl, Tyler. I can take care of myself. And you need someone to take care of you.”

A fractured smile flickered across his lips. “I’m fine, darlin’.”

“You’re not fine; you look like hell. And what’s this I hear about you running with that Dermont trash?”

All the fondness left his expression. His eyes became chips of glittery green glass. “What if I am? I’m taking care of business, Star.”

“What business is that?”

“My business and none of yours.”

“It is mine when it affects our friends. What happened between you and Reeve? What did you do to turn Patrice against you?”

“I can’t change none of that.” No hint of remorse, no word of explanation. Then he smiled, a brilliant gesture meant to distract her from her scolding. “Can we put all that aside for a minute? It’s been four years, darlin’, and I don’t want to spend the first four hours of our reunion fighting.”

Starla sighed, her pose relaxing. “Neither do I.”

For a moment she saw the old Tyler returning to life, the rogue-charmer no one could stay angry with for long. She’d never been able to. His tender concern undid all her suspicions.

“Did they put you up all right at the Glade? I didn’t want you to have to stay in a hotel your first night home.”

“You did this? You asked them to take me in?”

Darkness skirted his reply. “I didn’t want you to stay in town any longer than you had to.” Then the heartbreaking smile again. “Are you happy here?”

A shadow of worry made her ask, “Who did you tell about why I left home?”

Tyler scowled, offended. “Not a soul.”

“I want it kept that way. No one is to know anything.”

“What about New Orleans? Did you tie up all your loose ends there?”

It took her a moment to get control of her features so she could answer with a degree of nonchalance. “It’s all behind me now and nothing to lead anyone here.”

“There’re gonna be questions.” His gaze said he had some of his own.

“I’ll handle them. I told Patrice I’d been traveling, visiting with relatives. I don’t like lying to her. I never liked lying to her.” She sighed and glanced back toward the house. “I feel like a little girl again. It’s so good to see Patrice. Remember all the times we had?”

Tyler’s gaze went soft and bittersweet. “I remember.”

“So much is different, yet it’s like nothing’s changed at all. I keep expecting to see the squire and Jonah.”

“They’re gone.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “But not everything’s lost, Tyler.”

His smile was small, fragile. “No.”

Not sure if that was an agreement or an argument, Starla continued, trying to push her agitation behind her; her worry that he would ask for more details than she was ready to give. So she grabbed for the distraction foremost in her mind.

“The one thing I can do without is that Yankee friend of theirs.”

“The banker? Why? Is he bothering you?”

“If you classify being forced to endure his rudeness and sly behavior a bother.”

Tyler’s stare chilled. “Do I need to teach him manners?”

Recalling the sly grin, and still bothered by the effect it had upon her normal breathing, Starla snorted. “As if anyone could perform that miracle.”

“You’d be surprised, baby sister.”

The banker and his disquieting effect were forgotten. The quiet menace in Tyler’s voice snagged Starla’s full attention. This was something new in her brother’s character, something she hadn’t seen before, and she studied it with the caution one gave to the prodding of something potentially poisonous.

“What exactly do you mean by that, Tyler?”

He allowed a small, tight smile. “I can make things happen here in Pride. I’m not without a certain degree of influence.”

Then she understood. “I don’t want that kind of assistance.” She told herself she didn’t speak up so vehemently to protect the likes of that Yankee from the glitter behind her brother’s glare.

“Star—”

“I won’t have you playing some dangerous game with the Dermonts on my behalf.”

“They’re not games.”

And that upset her all the more. “How did you get so ‘influential’?”

“I saw a need and filled it.”

“What kind of need?”

“The need of the oppressed to speak out loud and clear against those who would take unfair advantage.” He smiled, waiting for a sign of her approval, and was confused when it didn’t come.

“And how do you manage that, Tyler? With hoods and torches?”

His expression faded. “By any means I see fit.”

Starla just stared at him, her censure and dismay provoking him to take a haughty stand in his own defense.

“I get things done, Starla. Folks respect me—”

“You mean they fear you. You don’t earn respect burning barns—”

“Who told you that?”

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t find out?”

“I was hoping you’d understand.”

She did, all too clearly. And it made her sick inside.

“What’s he turned you into? You’re becoming just like him!”

That got a reaction. He froze up, a tragic twist of horror working his expression. But it was fleeting, too fleeting for Starla to hope she’d reached him. His eyes narrowed in accusation.

“How could you say that to me?”

“How could you make me think it? Tyler, we’ve only spent a few minutes together, and already I can see the changes in you. I don’t like them; they frighten me.”

His smile was thin, even cruel. “I thought you said you didn’t scare easy anymore, baby sister.”

She didn’t waver. “I do when I see the shadow of a monster in the brother I love.”

“Then look away, Star. It’s too late for me to turn back time. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you. Seems I can’t manage to get nothin’ right.”

“Don’t—”

“Don’t
what?
Cry over my sorry lot? I won’t. I’m paying the price for the choices I’ve made, and I’m not going to wail over them now. I made mistakes, big mistakes, but I did what I thought I had to—for you, for us. But I won’t have you paying for ’em too. I won’t let you join me in hell. So you get on that train and you don’t look back, you hear? If you can’t go back to New Orleans, pick someplace else—anyplace else! ‘Cause if everything I’ve done, I’ve done for nothin’, I don’t think I could live with that.”

“I’m staying.”

The flare of his temper was so sudden and severe, Starla cried out in alarm when he gripped her forearms. “For once in your selfish life, think of someone other than yourself! I didn’t throw away my future so you could come waltzing back here on a whim, thinking you can make everything better with a pretty smile. Damn it, Star, you’ll do what I tell you, and you’ll do it now. I don’t have any more of my soul to sell to protect you from your foolishness.”

A cold chill came over her, a rigid denial of his battering words and bullying tactics. With an abrupt movement she broke away from his grasp.

“I’m not asking you to,” she spat at him. “I don’t want any more of your sacrifices thrown up in my face as if they’re all my fault. You’re not the only one who had to make them. You made your choices, Tyler; now I’m making mine.”

She swept out of the gazebo, away from the turmoil of guilt and gratitude he wrung through her. And when he called out her name, she kept walking,
ignoring the panicked vulnerability wrenching through his voice, though it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. Because if she was going to stay to reclaim her life, it was obvious to her now that she’d have to do it alone.

He heard a sound in the other room. Night noises wouldn’t normally bring him out of bed pistol in hand, except that those noises were coming from the interior of the bank where half the town kept its money.

Dodge shrugged a shirt on over his long underwear and reached for his crutches. A frugal man of few creature comforts, he’d made a home for himself in the back rooms of the bank, saving rent and face before the town—well knowing none would provide him with accommodations. He doubted that movement in the main room meant someone was bent on robbery, but he checked the rounds in his pistol just the same. A constant victim of vandalism since he’d reopened the bank’s doors, he had a sense of humor that was growing dangerously thin, especially when it came to pranks in the middle of the night.

As he swung awkwardly through the doorway into the bank proper, two things were immediately apparent: his intruder was seated in his desk chair enjoying one of his cigars, and the man’s identity was a mild surprise.

“Mr. Fairfax. Kinda late to be doing your banking. If you’d care to come back during regular hours, I’d be happy to talk business with you.”

Tyler sent a perfectly round smoke ring spiraling
toward the ceiling. His manner was relaxed, almost affable. “I ain’t here on bank business, Yank.”

“Oh?” Dodge tucked his pistol into the rear band of his long johns but didn’t surrender his caution. “I can’t seem to remember inviting you over for a late night smoke and pleasant conversation.”

“The conversation I had in mind won’t be pleasant for long if I have to repeat myself again.”

Dodge laughed softly. “Forgive me. Sleep must be addling my brain but I can’t recall the conversation.”

“Stay away from my sister.”

He said it easily enough, but the glitter in Tyler Fairfax’s direct stare implied anything but goodwill. Yet the subject of discussion brought Dodge to an instant combativeness. He wasn’t about to give up on the pursuit of the lovely Starla because of a brother’s ire.

“Excuse me? I hardly know your sister.”

“And I aim to keep that acquaintance to the minimum. I think I’ve made my feelings for you very clear.”

Dodge grimaced. “I’d say so.”

“Now I’m just letting you know, in a neighborly fashion, that my sister don’t think much of you, either.”

Dodge raised a single brow. That put a different slant on things. A slant that unbalanced his hopes and set his mood awry. “I didn’t think I’d made that strong an impression.”

“You made an impression, all right. Don’t force me to make one in the back of your thick head. Leave Starla alone. She don’t need the extra aggravation
of having the likes of you pestering her.”