Whispers of Moonlight (15 page)

"What is it?"

"Rebecca went to town right after you left this morning. She said she wanted to be on her own for a while and hasn't returned."

Evening was falling, but that didn't stop Travis. He immediately pushed his hat back on and went out
the
door.
Lavena watched from the door as his long legs ate up the distance to the barn. It wasn't five minutes before he rode Diamond from the stable yard. He wasn't beating the horse into the ground, but
Lavena knew without a doubt that his mind must be going ten times faster than his mount.

Rebecca stood behind a tree, sagged against it, and begged God or whoever was in charge not to let her be sick again. It had started on the stage. At first she was certain it had been the rocking, but she'd been off the stage for two hours and still her stomach rolled.

Why did I leave? Why did I run like this?

Rebecca laid her head back against the tree and told herself she was not going to cry. What a time to get sick. All she could think to do was to get away, away from Travis and away from the memory of her father. Lavena had wanted to go to town with her, but Rebecca had lied and said she wanted to be alone. She could never have left with Lavena there, and now she wished she had allowed her to come. Much like when she left her aunt's, her anger had carried her for miles, all the way through the first day and part of the second, but now on the third day she just wanted to throw herself at her husband's chest and cry her eyes out. Right now she didn't care why he'd married her; she just wanted to be home and safe in her own bed.

"Is someone there?" A husky feminine voice spoke out of the gathering darkness. Rebecca started. She tried to shrink back against the bark, but the woman was headed her way. She stopped less than a dozen feet off.

"Come away from the tree, please."

Rebecca held very still, but the voice called again, and this time it sounded amused.

"If you're going to hide in my backyard, the least you could do is tell me your name."

Rebecca let out a sigh. What was the use?

"Rebecca," she spoke quietly. "Rebecca Wag " Again the sigh. "Buchanan."

"Well, come here, honey. I'm not going to hurt you."

Rebecca hesitated but then stepped toward the woman. Evening was gathering swiftly, but she could still make out a tall-looking figure in rather fancy evening clothes.

"I'm Angel," the sultry voice said when Rebecca stopped some six feet in front of her. "You passing through Pine Grove or here for a time?"

"I'm not certain."

"Which means you're out of money," she said knowingly, her tone matter-of-fact. "Will you be looking for work?"

"Yes, I suppose I will."

Angel stared at her for a moment. "Come on in," she finally said and moved, assuming Rebecca would follow. Rebecca hesitated only a moment before covering the distance to a small house and climbing the stairs into a small kitchen. It was very dark and dim in the house, and since her host had disappeared, and Rebecca froze. A match flared from beyond the kitchen door, and Rebecca saw a rising glow.

"Come on in," Angel repeated. Rebecca shut the door and moved with quiet steps toward the light, which grew much brighter as she neared. This short walk brought her to a rather large sitting room, fully illumined by the lantern. Through a wide archway, she could see what looked like a dining room table and chairs. Again she found herself under Angel's inspection. The other woman's eyes, very knowing and shrewd, took in every aspect of Rebecca's grubby appearance.

"There's only one thing in the world that can make a woman look like you do," Angel said without preamble. "A man. I don't expect you to tell me about it if you don't want to, but just know that I know."

Rebecca dropped her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Travis.

"You're just into town?"

"Yes." Rebecca looked up. "On the stage."

Angel nodded. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Again the look came, the woman's eyes narrowing slightly. Rebecca looked back. Angel was beautiful, but there was a hard worldliness about her.

"Can you cook and clean? I hate to cook and clean."

Wanting to lie, Rebecca blinked but just said, "A little."

The next instant Angel's front door burst open. Rebecca started violently. She stared
wide-eyed at a tall man, also dressed for an evening out. He was coatless, but his tie, shirt, and pants were spotless and without wrinkle or crease.

"Preston is looking for you. Angel. You'd better put a move on it."

Angel didn't even look at him.

"Angel?"

"I heard you, Dan. You can tell Preston to keep his shirt on."

The man did not look the least bit offended, but his eyes suddenly landed on Rebecca. He made no effort to disguise his interest.

"New girl?"

Angel cocked her head to one side, still taking in Rebecca's huge eyes and exhausted expression.

"I don't think so," she said slowly, finally turning to the man. "Tell Preston I'll be right along."

Dan's eyes swept Rebecca's features one last time, his gaze lingering on her eyes before he slipped away. Angel looked back to her guest.

"If you want to cook and clean house for me, you're hired."

Rebecca hesitated.

"Or you can come down to the Silver Bell, and Preston can find work for you there."

"The Silver Bell?"

"Yes. Pine Grove's post prestigious dining establishment. The owner is always looking for girls to serve drinks and meals, or to dance and sing on the stage."

Rebecca was speechless. Serve drinks? Dance on the stage? She had the vague thought that there must be more of Aunt Hannah in her than she realized.

"Or," Angel drew the word out, "you can cook and clean for me."

It never once occurred to Rebecca to refuse both. She was tired, three days' stage ride from home, and completely out of money.

"I'll cook and clean for you, but I'm not the best."

"Anything has got
to be better than cooking for myself. I'll warn you though, I work nights, sometimes staying late when we're extra busy. I like to sleep into the morning."

"So you'll need quiet."

"No, I can sleep through a hurricane, but you'll be on your own much of the time."

Rebecca nodded, suddenly so tired she could hardly stand.

"Go on upstairs. My bedroom is the first. You can take the other one. Don't worry if you hear me come in late. And don't worry about doing anything tomorrow. Get rested up, and we'll talk about your duties sometime after noon."

All at once Rebecca wanted to cry. A shrewd judge of faces, Angel felt a deep stirring of compassion. It was an unusual emotion for her—she'd learned early that a woman couldn't let her heart get involved.

"The stairs are behind you," she said quietly as she pressed the lantern into Rebecca's hand. "Have you got a bag or anything?"

"I left it by the tree out back," Rebecca answered in a wobbly voice.

"I'll
put it in the kitchen on my way out. Go on now. Go upstairs and just crawl into bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

Rebecca couldn't answer. Travis' face loomed in her mind, and then her father's. She turned and found the stairway, telling herself to take one step at a time. Angel had said she would put Rebecca's bag in the kitchen, but a few minutes later the other woman, carrying the small satchel, came to the door of her room.

"Here, let me get those buttons."

Tears were pouring down Rebecca's face, but she stood obediently with her back to Angel and allowed her to undo the back of her dress. When she continued just to stand and cry, even after the buttons were free, Angel pulled Rebecca's dress from her shoulders and
then pushed her toward the bed. She actually managed to divest Rebecca of dress and shoes before ordering her to lie down. Rebecca did so out of misery and confusion, suddenly not able to tell where she was. It didn't last, however. The younger woman was asleep before Angel had time to blow out the lantern.

Preston Carwell, the owner of the Silver Bell, enjoyed a fair amount of respect in Pine Grove. For the most part he was a fair man, one who had gone after everything he wanted and eventually gotten it. The only exception was Angel Flanagan. Not that she knew his feelings. He'd been very careful over the years. He'd never once hinted that she was a woman he couldn't live without, because in his business a man didn't show his heart. However, when Angel arrived very late, her brow creased in what appeared to be anger, he approached.

"Problems, Angel?" His voice was typically casual.

"Nothing I can't handle."

Preston's brow rose in question.

"I found a kitten on my back doorstep," she explained. "She was more helpless than I first believed.*

"I could send Dan to get rid of her."

Angel suddenly remembered the look in Dan's eyes and shook her head.

"Trust me when I tell you that's the worst thing you could do. This one is dangerous."

Preston smiled cynically. "Are you telling me I might lose my heart?"

Angel's smile was of the same variety. "Not you, Preston, and not me. But then, we're not quite human."

Preston's eyes hardened and so did Angel's, but their thoughts were self-condemning and not directed toward each other. Preston watched as Angel plastered a beaming smile on her face and went to greet the evening's first diners.

Rebecca woke slowly and stared at the lace curtain on the window. Not only was the curtain all wrong, the window itself was in the wrong place. She shifted her head against the pillow to find the door and in doing so caught the slightest hint of perfume. The night before flooded in on her.

Because she felt achy and a little sick to her stomach, Rebecca rose slowly and padded to the door. The floor felt gritty under her feet, and she remembered Angel's words about hating to clean.

Her steps still quiet, Rebecca moved down the hall. The light from her own bedroom window illumined the hall as did the light from the bedroom she was approaching. Rebecca didn't cross the threshold, but from the doorway she looked at her hostess, or rather what she could see of her.

Angel's face was hidden, but a wealth of pale blonde hair lay fanned over the pillows. There was no sound and there was no movement, and Rebecca also remembered that Angel said she was a sound sleeper. She went back to her bedroom and had a swift look around. She felt little emotion at the moment and realized that she was simply too tired to care. Her head swung in the direction of Angel's room as though she could see through walls. The other woman had made it sound as if she would sleep half the day away.