Summer of Promise (35 page)

Tears welling in her eyes, Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t go on living like this. I need to know the truth, but . . .” The tears began to fall. “Oh, Abigail, I’m such a coward. I’m afraid to ask him. I don’t want Jeffrey to know I don’t trust him.” Charlotte dabbed at her eyes. “Isn’t that silly? I’m worried sick, but I don’t want to do anything that might hurt him.”

“You love him.” And Charlotte was a peacemaker. She would never willingly confront anyone, much less someone she loved as much as she did Jeffrey.

“I do. I just wish I were as strong as you. Then I could ask him.”

Abigail closed her eyes for a second, not liking the direction the conversation was heading. “Do you want me to ask him?” Though she did not want to interfere in her sister’s marriage, if there was something she could do to ease Charlotte’s pain, she would.

Charlotte shook her head vehemently. “No. That would be wrong, but could you . . .” She hesitated before completing the sentence. “Would you see where he goes?”

Slowly, Abigail nodded. “You know I’d do anything for you, sister of mine.”

A weak smile was Charlotte’s only response.

By suppertime, Charlotte’s face bore no trace of tears, and if she was quieter than normal, neither Ethan nor Jeffrey seemed to notice. The men spoke of the upcoming baseball game, and when his team won, Jeffrey was in visibly good spirits. But when the game ended, he did not return home. He stayed on the parade ground long enough to enjoy the basket of cakes that Charlotte had brought, then left without an explanation. Though Charlotte said nothing, Abigail saw the anguish in her eyes and knew that she had no choice. She had to do what she had promised: learn where Jeffrey had gone.

When she and Ethan took Puddles for his walk, Abigail looked closely at the Officers’ Club. That was where Jeffrey claimed he was spending most evenings. Fortunately, the night was unusually warm for mid-September and the door stood open, allowing her to see the occupants. The tables were filled with men playing cards and drinking spirits, but Jeffrey was not one of them. Abigail’s heart plummeted at the realization that her sister’s fears had been confirmed. In all likelihood, Jeffrey was at the hog ranch.

Abigail had no memory of what she and Ethan discussed as they continued their walk. She must have sounded coherent, and that was a small miracle in itself, for her mind kept shrieking,
No, Jeffrey, no!
When she returned to the house, Charlotte was already in bed, exhausted by the day’s events. Locking Puddles in the back hallway, Abigail slipped out the front and headed for the stables. Though the soldier guarding the horses looked askance, he did not refuse to saddle Sally for her, seeming to accept Abigail’s explanation that she was helping her sister. That much was true, even though the help she was providing was not simply exercising the mare.

She had emerged from the stables and was headed for the bridge when she heard the call. “Abigail! Where are you going?”

She frowned. Though ordinarily her heart would have beat faster at the sound of Ethan’s voice, this was one time when she did not welcome his presence. He must have been visiting the cavalry barracks for some reason, and now he was coming toward her at double-time. “Where are you going?” he repeated.

“I’d rather not say. It’s a family matter.” Whether or not she and Charlotte were mistaken, it was better that no one—not even Ethan—knew of their suspicions.

Even in the dim moonlight, Abigail had no trouble seeing Ethan’s frown. “I cannot believe your family knows you’re out here.” When she said nothing, he continued. “I won’t ask why you think this is important, but you can’t leave the fort alone at night. It’s not safe. I’d worry every minute until you returned.”

Abigail’s heart warmed at the huskiness in his tone, for it told her that he cared for her . . . at least a little.

“Let me go with you,” Ethan said, placing his hand on Sally’s bridle. “I promise to keep whatever it is you’re doing confidential. I won’t even tell Jeffrey.”

Abigail shook her head at the unintentional irony. “Jeffrey will know soon enough. The reason I’m out is that I’m looking for him. I have reason to believe he may be at Peg’s Place.”

“Jeffrey?” Astonishment colored Ethan’s voice. “I know Oliver is a frequent visitor, but Jeffrey . . .”

“I’m afraid so. He’s not at home, and he’s not at the Officers’ Club. I don’t know where else he would be.” She wouldn’t mention the perfume. That detail was too damning.

Ethan hesitated for a moment before nodding. “All right. I’ll get Samson, and we’ll go to Peg’s.”

They rode in silence, and for the first time, the silence was not a companionable one. Abigail could not imagine what Ethan was thinking. For her part, she was praying her fears and Charlotte’s would be unfounded, and that Jeffrey had not broken his marriage vows.

Though moonlight hid many flaws, the hog ranch still looked as seedy as it had the other times Abigail had seen it. Light spilled through the open windows, raucous laughter drifted onto the still air, and the smells of cheroot smoke and cheap perfume made her wrinkle her nose.

Ethan reined his horse in front of the main door and dismounted. “This is no place for a lady,” he said, looking up at Abigail, “but I doubt I can dissuade you. Will you at least let me go in first?” When she shook her head, Ethan sighed. “You’re a stubborn woman.” But he helped her off the mare.

“Jeffrey’s my family,” Abigail said when her feet were on the ground. Though her legs were trembling at the thought of what she might find inside the smoky room, she knew she had no choice. “I need to find him.”

Ethan opened the door and allowed her to precede him. While everything inside her shrank at the prospect of finding Jeffrey here, Abigail stood in the doorway and looked around, searching for her brother-in-law. A bar stretched the length of the far wall, the mirror hanging over it so covered with grime that it barely reflected her image and Ethan’s. A few equally dirty glasses and bottles decorated two shelves. Four small tables were clustered in one corner, while a battered pianoforte occupied the opposite corner.

Though two men stood at the bar, apparently arguing with the barkeeper, and another was seated at one of the small tables, his attention on the scantily clad blonde who perched on his knee, none of them was Jeffrey. That left the large table in the center of the room, where eight men were so engrossed in their card game that they had not noticed Abigail’s arrival.

Abigail took a step forward, grateful for Ethan’s presence at her side. Papa would have called it a den of iniquity, no place for his daughter. Mama would have swooned at the mere idea of Abigail setting foot inside. As the door closed behind her and Ethan, the saloon’s occupants looked around.

The woman who’d been entertaining the cowboy in the corner jumped to her feet. “Miss Harding,” Leah hissed as she covered the distance between them. “What are you doing here? This is no place for you.”

It was no place for Leah, either, but Jeffrey was Abigail’s primary worry now. “I’m looking for my brother-in-law,” she said. “Is Lieutenant Crowley here?” When the card players had turned around, she had confirmed that none of them was Jeffrey. That did not mean that he wasn’t on the premises, though, for he could be in any of the cabins. At least he was not with Leah. Somehow that thought comforted Abigail.

Leah bit her lip, her reluctance obvious. It was clear that she knew who Jeffrey was and that Abigail’s question bothered her. “No.” Leah shook her head, setting the golden curls to bouncing on her shoulders. She glanced at the man behind the bar, then turned slightly so he could not read her lips. “Yes, he is,” she said, her voice so low that Abigail could barely hear her. “He’s in the back room.” When Abigail raised an eyebrow rather than ask the question, Leah said, “The entrance is ’round back. That keeps it private like.”

Abigail nodded. “Thank you, Leah.”

When she and Ethan were once more outdoors, Abigail drew a deep breath. “You don’t have to come with me,” she told him. Though Leah had said nothing, Abigail surmised that the back room was one where women entertained their clients. Perhaps its relative privacy meant it was Peg’s special room. When Abigail opened the door, she would likely find Jeffrey in Peg’s arms.

“I won’t leave you alone.” Ethan crooked his arm and placed Abigail’s hand on it. If he noticed her trembling, he did not mention it, nor did he seem to notice that Abigail clung to him as if he were a lifeline. It was good, so very good, that he had insisted on accompanying her. Now that she was here and within moments of discovering how Jeffrey spent his evenings, Abigail wasn’t certain she could have done it alone.

She and Ethan walked around the building, stepping carefully to avoid the piles of trash that the wind had blown in. When they reached the rear, Abigail took another deep breath, then regretted it. Whatever had been dumped here smelled worse than Puddles before his bath. Unlike the front of the building, the back had no windows. Only the light that shone around the frame identified the location of the door.

Abigail lifted her hand to knock, then let out a nervous laugh. Though etiquette demanded she announce her arrival, this situation was outside every rule of etiquette she had learned.

Ethan opened the door, pushing it inward, and Abigail stared as relief flooded through her.
Thank you, Lord.
As she had surmised, the room was Peg’s, but it was not a bedroom. Instead, it held a round table where six men were playing cards, while Peg, dressed in a gaudy crimson gown that clashed with her mahogany-colored hair, watched.

“What do you want?” she demanded as Abigail and Ethan entered. “This room’s off limits.” The soft Southern accent was more pronounced now, perhaps because of her anger, for there was no doubt that Peg was angry.

“I’m looking for Lieutenant Crowley.” Abigail’s brother-in-law ought not to be here, and yet there he was, the only officer in a room devoted to gambling. Though his back was to her, there was no mistaking his hair or the set of his shoulders. He had to have recognized her voice, but he gave no sign.

Peg’s lips curved in a scornful smile. “Jeffrey, your nursemaid and her escort are here.”

This time Jeffrey turned, his freckles prominent against the pallor of his face. “How’d you know?” The question appeared to be directed at Ethan.

Ethan placed his hand over Abigail’s, as if to give her strength. “What we have to say is better said outside.”

When Peg nodded, Jeffrey rose. Gathering the money piled in front of him, he stuffed it into his pocket. “Why are you here?” he demanded when they were outside and the door had closed behind them.

“A better question is, why are you here?” Ethan countered. “Aren’t you the man who said he’d do anything for his wife?”

Even in the faint moonlight, it was obvious that Jeffrey’s face had lost more color. “What does Charlotte have to do with this?”

Abigail took a step toward him and glared. “Charlotte’s terribly worried about you. She keeps imagining all kinds of horrible things.”

“You won’t tell her I was here, will you?”

Though Abigail heard the desperation in Jeffrey’s voice, there was only one possible answer. “I can’t make that promise. Charlotte already suspects you come here. Either you tell her what you’ve been doing here, or I will. She needs to know the truth.”

“The truth is I did this for her.” Jeffrey looked at Ethan. “You know how little we get paid. I couldn’t afford to give Charlotte everything she deserved. I had to find a way to get more money.”

“And so you turned to gambling. The games at the Officers’ Club weren’t enough, so you came here where the stakes were higher.” Though Ethan’s voice was laced with scorn, Abigail knew that as heinous as gambling was, Charlotte would find it preferable to adultery.

“It’s an easy way to make money when you’re as good at it as I am.”

The pride in Jeffrey’s voice made Abigail want to slap his face. He was so concerned about winning at baseball and poker that he didn’t seem to realize he was losing at something far more important: marriage. “It’s also an easy way to make your wife cry.”

“Charlotte’s unhappy?” The man sounded surprised, almost shocked. Could he possibly have thought that Charlotte didn’t miss him when he was absent almost every night? How deluded could he be?

“I suggest you ask her that yourself.” Abigail said a silent prayer that her sister would have enough courage to tell Jeffrey exactly how she felt.

Ethan gave Jeffrey a shove, pushing him toward the front of the building. “Let’s go. It looks like you’ve got some explaining to do.”