Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (40 page)

Clara ignored the silence that followed her insults. “Why don’t you do something useful and come upstairs and help me see if we can’t do something with your daughter. It’s time she acknowledged we’re acting in her best interests. I think dinner in civilized company tonight might make her stop this sulking.”

Clara’s attitude didn’t soften one iota addressing Anne. “This kind of behavior isn’t going to make any difference, you know. You’ll just make things harder on yourself and all the rest of us. I’m going to allow you to have dinner with the family and my guests tonight, but only so long as you behave properly. Any fuss from you at all, and you’ll be right back here until we leave for the courthouse in the morning. Do you understand?”

Mention of freedom from the locked room brought Anne’s head up. Her throat worked convulsively, but she said nothing, just bobbed her head.

Clara said, “I can’t believe how this has turned out. You know I see Richard and his wife quite regularly. She doesn’t hold a candle to you in any way except commonsense, but they already have two children and another on the way. He dotes on them, and it could have been you. We’ve allowed you to make too many mistakes, and it’s time it stopped. Now you pull yourself together and we’ll have a nice dinner.”

Clara then directed the maids to bathe Anne and dress her in one of her own dresses, which would be too short but would fit over her enlarged waistline. When a maid reported that Anne’s passive acceptance had erupted into a raging fit at the sight of the corset, bustled dress, and accessories they had brought to her room, Leona feared even more ugliness. But, over Edward’s objections, Clara merely waved her maid away and directed her to let Anne have her way in this. No extravagance of grooming or dress, she said, could turn Anne out properly tonight under any circumstances.

The dinner guests were the Honorable Bertram Davis himself and Clara’s attorney, Bruce Abbott, who had prepared the paperwork demanded by Edward and Clara. Davis was a well-padded silver-haired man with an air of self-assured authority. Abbott was balding, short and thin, with jerky, nervous mannerisms.

Leona ate nothing herself and watched Anne push food around on her plate without even pretending to eat. Clara’s ill-fitting dress was a greenish color that only emphasized Anne’s pallor. When dinner ended everyone retired to the library. Brandy was poured for the men, wine for the women. Anne didn’t touch the sherry either. Leona wondered if Anne had had anything at all to eat or drink since being dragged out of her own home. The servants left, shutting the door behind them.

Abbott then gave Clara a letter and began to review the points he had made in it. He wanted, he said, to be absolutely sure everyone understood he was advising against the actions they were taking.

“You need to read that carefully, Mrs. Wainwright,” he advised. “I know you’re sure no one is ever going to know, but what if your granddaughter finds a sympathetic ear at the hospital?”

Clara cut him off, threw the letter on the coffee table. “Stop acting like the coward you are, Bruce. The ears at the hospital are all attached to greedy heads and hands that have been well paid not to listen to her.”

Edward joined his sister in scoffing at the lawyer’s reservations. More documents were laid out on the table. After a disdainful glance at Abbott, Judge Davis said, “Perhaps we should just sign some of these now and save time in the morning.”

Edward seized on this remark, brought pen and ink from the desk, and the two men began to sign documents. Finished, they raised brandy snifters to each other in a cordial salute.

Anne hadn’t moved since she was pushed into the chair. Now she rose shakily to her feet. In a forced voice that didn’t sound like her own, she reiterated the offers she had made her father in hysteria at the house in Mason. If they would let her go, she would disappear. No one in Colorado would ever see her, the baby, or Cord again. If they would even just let the child live and indeed give it to the Bennett family she would live in any way they wished, would go or stay here, would obey every command.

Edward growled, “I don’t want to listen to this drivel again. Call the servants and have her taken back upstairs.”

Abbott, however, saw an opportunity to drive home his points. “You really should listen, you know. Among other things, the asylum is expensive. How long do you think you’ll have to keep her there to ensure the obedience she’s offering freely now?”

As Clara gave an amused, knowing laugh, Edward condescended to explain to the attorney. “One of the few virtues my daughter has retained through all this is her inability to lie convincingly. If you knew her, you’d realize it’s written all over her face that if we agreed to this offer of eternal devotion of hers, as soon as his family had the whelp, she’d be running back to that savage the first chance she got. In addition to being uncommonly stupid, she’s uncommonly stubborn.”

Leona could no longer bear to see her daughter’s bruised face. She forced her eyes away, looking vacantly around the room. The library was paneled and furnished in dark wood. The lamps and fire crackling in the hearth gave the room a warm glow, but to Leona the room felt like an oven. Trickles of sweat ran down her sides and beaded on her lip. Hell would be like this room.

Resting her head against the back of her chair, Leona began to pray. She hoped God was not tired of her entreaties, for she had prayed with an intensity she had not known she was capable of every chance she got since those terrible moments in her daughter’s home. She prayed that there was some hope in the fact that her husband insisted on underestimating a man like Cord Bennett so badly. Once Leona herself had hated and feared Cord as a monster and a demon. Now she prayed that God would give him strength, give him wisdom, give him wings.

A tiny movement caught her eye. The doorknob was turning very slowly even as Clara’s attorney continued arguing with Edward and Clara. Leona closed her eyes, afraid to hope.

“But you can’t keep her locked up forever,” Abbott said. “If nothing else, she’ll outlive you. How long are you planning on keeping her there?”

“As long as it takes to be sure she’s given up any idea of going back to that redskin.”

“And how long do you expect that to be?”

The door swung open, and Cord’s voice filled the room. “She’d still be spitting in your eye when hell froze over.”

Tears scalded down Leona’s cheeks. Sometimes God listens. Sometimes He sends a miracle. This was her own.

The sound of the words turned the room’s occupants to statues. He was there beside the door, back to the wall. Dark from head to toe in the shadows, Cord was almost indistinguishable against the wall, but the threat of his presence chilled the room. Firelight reflected off the metal of the rifle pointing straight at Edward Wells.

Cord softened his voice as he addressed Anne. “Thought I’d see if you want to come home with me, babe.”

She crossed the room in two leaps and threw herself at him. Cord kept the rifle trained on Wells, but he caught Anne with his left arm and crushed her to him. He buried his mouth and nose in her hair and breathed deeply of her.

Until this moment there had been no room for any emotion but fear in Cord. Now, with Anne safe in his arms, rage seared through him. If they did not get out of here quickly, he would leave the room drenched in blood.

Cord started Anne toward the door just as the Honorable Bertram Davis made a furtive movement, trying to shield the papers on the coffee table from view. Pushing Anne gently back against the wall, Cord walked into the center of the room. “Give me the papers.”

Davis no longer looked self-assured or authoritative. Still, he didn’t just hand over the papers. “Those don’t mean anything to you or your wife now. There’s no reason for you to want them.”

Cord enjoyed shoving the rifle barrel against the man’s teeth. A dark spot appeared on the judge’s lower lip and turned into a thin trail of blood. “Give.”

With shaking hands Davis gathered the papers and handed them over. Cord stuffed them in his coat pocket, then used the rifle barrel to lift the edges of the judge’s suit coat, exposing more documents in the inner pockets. “Give.”

“Those have nothing to do with you. So help me. Please, leave them.”

This time Cord slammed the rifle into the judge’s diaphragm, knocking his breath out in one ugly gasp.

“Want to die for those papers?”

Wheezing as he drew air painfully back into his lungs, Davis surrendered the last of the documents.

Now Cord was unable not to face Edward Wells. Whatever his faults, Edward was no coward. He met Cord’s eyes with an unflinching, matching hatred for long seconds. Finally, straining with the effort, Cord forced himself to back away. He tipped his hat towards Leona, then pulled Anne out of the room.

Leona never realized her last prayer was out loud. “Dear God, thank you. Thank you.”

* * *

Chapter 40

THE HANSOM DRIVER CORD HAD
given a week’s earnings and promised a week’s more waited in the street. In less than an hour they were on a train again, headed west. Everything should have been fine, but it was not. As the miles passed, Cord’s concern deepened to worry, then to fear.

Rob Wells’ words reverberated in his mind: “I’m afraid she isn’t going to be Anne any more,” for the woman with him was not the creature of fire and spirit he thought of as a tigress.

In her aunt’s too big dress and the shabby maid’s coat Cord had simply stolen off a peg in Clara’s kitchen and replaced with a ten dollar bill, she looked small, thin, and colorless. One side of her face was bruised and swollen. Worse, she clung to him like a frightened child. She asked no questions, answered his only in lifeless monosyllables, would not let him go, yet would not meet his eyes. Coaxing only got a few bites of food down her. The extra money he had spent for the sleeper car on the two-day trip was wasted, for Anne would not sleep. She just leaned against him with blank eyes, staring into space.

He had had no intention of stopping back in Denver. If Keeper lived, he would get the horse later or have someone else do it. Now he began to reconsider. Just as trains only left Mason twice a week, they also came in only on Tuesdays and Fridays. They would have to lay up somewhere, and in Denver there would be no risk of a strange doctor. Howletts’ doctor could be looking at Anne days before they could get back to Mason.

There was also the fact that he was now a fugitive. Both Clara Wainwright and Edward Wells would file every criminal charge they could think of, and Cord could think of quite a few himself. They weren’t going to be able to just pick up their lives again. Aside from trouble with the law, Edward Wells was not going to let go of his obsession. It had come down to killing Wells or eluding him, and Cord had in Clara Wainwright’s library faced the fact he could not deliberately kill Anne’s father. They’d stop in Denver he decided. Marie would just have to live with it.

At Union Station Cord looked around uncertainly. Transportation might be a problem here.

A youthful voice called out from behind. “Mr. Bennett, Mr. Bennett,” and Cord turned in surprise to see the stable boy who had helped Paul ready the phaeton approaching. The boy didn’t look too sure of himself. “Mr. Howlett said this afternoon was the earliest you could get back and sent me to watch for you. He said to bring you back to the house.” The youngster eyed them nervously.

Knowing the picture they presented, Cord felt some sympathy, but all he said was, “Obliged. We’ll follow you.”

There was no conversation in the carriage, and the boy let them off at the front of the house. It was still daylight, but what warmth there had been in the day was fading as the sun lowered toward the mountains. His knock brought the same maid to the door, but this time she was polite. “Just one moment, please.”

Paul strode eagerly to the front hall, Marie following more slowly and with obvious reluctance. The wide smile on Paul’s face faded fast, but Cord had more to worry about than Paul’s feelings.

Paul asked with concern, “What can we do?”

“We could use a bath, maybe some hot food, sleep.” Remembering Anne’s wrists, Cord added, “And ointment for burns if you have it.” Mention of a doctor had had her distraught on the train. That could wait until after some sleep.

Howletts had a beautiful, deep bathtub, and when Anne showed her first signs of animation, climbing in with alacrity and beginning to wash with vigor, Cord began to feel better until he realized this was not normal bathing. She was scrubbing as if to remove her very skin and gave no sign of stopping. In the end he had to lift her, struggling against him, out of the tub and wrap her in towels.

When servants emptied the tub and refilled it for him, and he turned his back for seconds to take off his own clothes, she was in the bath again, scrubbing even more furiously. It came to Cord that he had heard Martha and Hannah talk about Marie washing like this after almost being raped. He pulled her out of the water and wrapped her in towels a second time. “Stay there or I’ll hogtie you, understand?” She turned her head. He waited until they were back in the bedroom, food had been brought, and they were alone for the night before tackling the problem.

Anne would only take a few swallows of soup, but Cord’s appetite was back with a vengeance. He cleaned the plates. With the comb out of his saddlebags he untangled her hair, then dressed the wounds on her wrists and faced her.