The Rose Legacy (39 page)

The breeze billowed the curtain at the open window, but the room was still stuffy. Mae looked up from the stove, her face a steamed mixture of fatigue and concern. “How’s Èmie?”

It was an innocent question, but at the thought of Èmie, Carina crumpled. The fury that had carried her through the theft drained away, leaving only pain and guilt. She shook her head with a throat too tight to answer, then covered her face in her hands.

Mae crossed to her and stroked her head, then pulled her into a soft embrace. “What’s this world coming to?”

What indeed? Carina pressed her face to Mae’s neck as tears stung her eyes.

Mae patted her shoulder. “There must be some rhyme or reason to it, but only God knows what.”

Did He? Did God know that she had just placed herself in peril? Maybe even of her life? Did He care that Èmie lay in pain? Èmie who belonged to Him, who loved Him like a papa? She felt her heart pounding and remembered Father Antoine.
“God is all and in all.”

Not in Crystal. There was no God in Crystal. She swept out of the room, ran up the stairs, and flung herself onto her cot, releasing the tears held too long.

T
WENTY-EIGHT

What miracle joins one hea rt to another?

—Rose

Q
UILLAN RUBBED THE
weariness from his face. He’d spent the better portion of the night sitting with Cain, the rest of it trying vainly to sleep. His thoughts wouldn’t give him any peace—thoughts of D.C.’s beating, and now his struggle for life. Thoughts of Cain’s agony. Quillan almost worried more for him, and it put a hollow in his belly to think what Cain must be feeling.

Quillan sat up. There was a steely taste in his mouth, and his eyes felt like sand. The thoughts still roiled. Carina’s news about Beck’s activities wasn’t altogether unexpected, for Cain had suggested as much before William Evans was killed. What was new was her part in it.

Why had she involved herself to that degree? It was not only stupid; it was dangerous. If he brought Beck down, would it endanger Carina? He shook the thickness from his head. She was already endangered. He’d just have to protect her from the storm.

He rubbed the kink from his left shoulder, tipped his neck to one side till the spine popped softly, then to the other. Then he forked both hands through his hair and pulled it back. With his fingers clasped through it at the back of his skull, he tried to think. Things would happen today. He could feel it. Maybe his return would precipitate them. He released the hair and blew out his breath. Better to face it head on.

He tensed at the stealthy knock on his tent frame. “Who is it?”

“Ben Masterson.”

Quillan sprang to his feet and admitted the city trustee.

Masterson’s countenance was troubled, the ridge above his brows dipping into a
V.
He wasted no time. “It’s not wise for you to be here, Quillan. Beck’s raised a hue against you, and this morning he’s put the brand to the fire.”

Quillan flinched inwardly. “How?”

“Èmie Charboneau.”

Quillan scrunched his own brow. “Èmie … I don’t know her except in passing.”

“She was beaten last night. Savagely. Beck has witnesses that swear they saw you running from the cabin.” Masterson’s eyes veered away. “On all fours.”

Quillan felt a chill and a knot in his belly.

“One of your neighbors claims you didn’t come to your tent before nearly dawn.”

Quillan bristled. “I was sitting with Cain. Do you know about D.C.?”

Masterson nodded. “It’s not enough. Even if Cain vouches for you, there’s too much sentiment against.”

Quillan straightened, thinking of Carina. “I just need a little time. There’s proof of Beck’s infamy.”

“You’re beating a cracked drum.”

“A ledger, hidden under his floor. If I can get my hands on it …”

Masterson shook his head. “You’ll be lucky to get out of town alive. I’m warning you, Quillan.”

“I won’t run. Certainly not on all fours.” He felt his lip pull into a sneer and didn’t try to hide it.

Masterson sighed. “How will you get this ledger?”

“Carina DiGratia.”

“Beck’s mistress?”

Quillan stiffened. “She’s not his mistress.”

Masterson looked unconvinced. “They’re to be married.”

Quillan dismissed that with a snort. “Only Beck thinks so.”

“Tempers are high. With this last attack on a woman …” He shook his head. “I can’t hold them back forever.”

“Give me today.”

Masterson stepped back, eyed the walls of the tent, then nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

When Masterson left, Quillan washed and headed for Mae’s. The morning was well advanced, and he had to convince Carina to get the ledger without delay. He held himself straight, confident, ignoring the whispers and stares and more than one hard look as he passed. But underneath he felt every one.

Cain stumped into the room and leaned over the face of his son bathed in morning light. “How you doin’ there, D.C.? The mine’s bringin’ out good ore, don’t ya know. Good as any you thought would be there.”

He settled into the chair and rubbed his stump, which was shooting pain up his thigh and down where no flesh existed anymore. “Cain’t say it ain’t time for you to be doin’ your share, though. You always was one to shirk the work. Not that I’m blamin’ you. It’s not always been easy.” He touched his son’s hand.

No, Lord, it ain’t been easy. I’m not askin’ it to be, either. I don’t need much. Nothing for myself. Just this boy here. Now, I know I’m goin’ on like that widow woman haranguing the judge till he cain’t stand it no more. But it’s in the Good Book to keep on that way, so here I am again, askin’ you to spare him
.

It seemed the Lord had done that much already. Both docs guessed D.C. might live.
I’m right thankful for that much, don’t ya know. But, Lord, I’m askin’ just a little bit more. You said ask and ye shall receive. I’d like him back walkin’ and talkin’, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll even take his gripin’ like music to my ears
.

What he wouldn’t give to hear D.C. argue.
You work all things together for the good of those as love you. Well, I’ve loved you most all my life and I’m not stoppin’ now. If this is the best I get, then I’m grateful for it. But I know it ain’t the best you can do, what with the loaves and fishes and all. I’m lookin’ for a bit more, if you get my meanin’. And thankful for it, Lord
.

Cain sat back and closed his eyes. There were no Chinese firecrackers. Never had been. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t one of those that demanded a sign every time. He knew God heard him. And things would work out according to God’s sovereign will.
They always do, don’t ya know
.

Tears spent, Carina hid in her room. She could not go to Quillan and tell him she’d taken the ledger. She knew now Mr. Beck would have her watched. Had the guard reported her coming and going from the office? Why didn’t Berkley Beck send for her?

Was it a small thing that a woman had been beaten to teach another to guard her tongue? Did he only wait until she was so tight with nerves she would break when he called for her? Carina swallowed the knot in her throat.

She would not break. But Quillan must come. Surely he would come. She got up and stalked to the window as she had a hundred times already. And this time, she saw him. The hat hid his face, but she knew his walk, so determined, so sure.

She threw open the door and rushed down. Hearing his voice with Mae’s, she hurried into the room where D.C. lay atop the ledger. Mae and Quillan and Cain all looked at her, but it was Quillan’s gaze she felt. Standing in the small bedroom, he seemed every bit as tall and foreboding as he had in his tent.

His hair was loose to his shoulders, his jaw still unshaved. If he’d been dressed in buckskins and carried a powder rifle, she’d have thought him a mountain man. Even so, there was something wild in him this morning, something she hadn’t seen last evening in his tent. Defiance maybe, like that of a cornered animal who meant to fight. She wondered what appearance she presented. Her tears must show, and she felt flushed and agitated.

Before she could speak, Mae pushed past. “Well, I’ve work to do.”

Now it was only Cain and Quillan, and D.C., who lay unseeing. Cain rubbed the knuckles of one hand with the palm of the other. Quillan watched her steadily.

She met his gaze. “May I speak with you alone?”

He shifted his weight with a fluid motion from the ball of one foot to the other. “I have no secrets from Cain.”

The old man looked up. “Eh?”

Carina motioned with her hand. “It’s there. Under the mattress.”

Quillan’s understanding was instant. “You got it?”

“This morning. After …” Her chest squeezed painfully. She couldn’t speak of Èmie. She knelt beside the bed and reached in for the ledger. She jostled the mattress, and D.C.’s arm came down, landing on her shoulder. With a cry, she jumped back.

At the same moment Cain lunged forward. “D.C.?” His voice broke.

“I’m hungry. Can’t we ever have a decent meal around here?”

Carina gasped, looking straight into D.C.’s eyes. She couldn’t move for amazement.

Quillan crouched beside her, taking the boy’s hand. “D.C., can you hear me?”

“ ’Course I can. What’s going on?” D.C. looked around him and flushed. “What am I doing here?”

“Hee-hee-hee.” Cain slapped his thigh. “Son, you are a living miracle. Praise God!” He threw his feeble hands up.

Carina could only stare. Each day she had expected to hear the doctor say D.C. was dead. She had grown used to him lying there, rolled one way or another like a pillow you fluffed and tossed in place. But now here he was awake and whole, and she felt a surging joy.
Grazie, Signore!

How could she not thank a God who could do such a thing? She tugged her arm from under the mattress and rushed out. “Mae! Mae, he’s awake.” She landed in the kitchen where Mae was chopping potatoes. “He’s awake, Mae, and hungry!”

Mae spun. “Daniel Cain?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I … I never heard the like.” She rubbed her hands down her apron, then pushed past toward the bedroom.

Carina went to the stove and scooped a small amount of beef with plenty of gravy into a bowl. She carried it to the bedroom but couldn’t get through to D.C. “Someone should go for the doctor,” she said, thinking no one heard her over the questions and exclamations.

But then Quillan stood. “I’ll go.” For a moment their eyes locked, and he was gone.

Dr. Felden straightened and took the stethoscope from his ears. He looked across the bed to Carina and raised his brows. “Well, Miss DiGratia, it seems your hocus-pocus worked.”

She shrugged and looked at D.C. “I only told him you needed a hole in the head.” Laughter followed.

D.C. grinned. “I knew enough to run from you the first time. Guess I wasn’t quick enough the next.”

“Well, let’s see what your legs can do now.” Dr. Felden pulled aside the covers and put an arm around D.C.’s waist.

D.C. blushed furiously at his bare legs under the nightshirt. Carina wondered what he would say to the sponge baths and rubs she and Mae had given. She glanced aside and found Quillan’s eyes on her. He didn’t look away until D.C. got to his feet and stood on his own.

“Better than I can do.” Cain cackled. Again laughter.