Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  “There’ll be paper work to do before they release her.”

  “That and the captain might ought to take time to give Officer Rush a stern talking-to,” Matthew added.

  With a dip of his head, Buchanan acknowledged the point. Matthew stretched his legs in front of him and cradled his clenched fist. Only now was he beginning to feel the knuckles that had pounded that cad. They wouldn’t hurt long, though. Teddy’s head would take more time to heal.

  Waiting was misery, made even more miserable by the railroad magnate’s ease. Matthew wanted to shake him until he was as fired-up as he was, but he was in a police station, and he’d probably get in trouble for that. Besides, Buchanan was a friend, even if they’d got off on the wrong foot.

  Finally, their wait was over. The captain came in like a bull was running behind him and he was wearing red. Having to take orders from Mr. Buchanan had put him in a foul mood.

  He sat and scooted a few papers around before he addressed them. “Your friend will not be released tonight. She is under arrest.”

  Buchanan’s face paled even as Matthew’s burned.

  “You can’t do that,” Matthew said.

  “On what grounds?” Buchanan asked.

  “On suspicion of conspiracy to kidnap. It’s our belief that organized crime is involved as well.”

  “Organized crime?” Matthew moved to the edge of his chair.

  Captain Dirk glared at Matthew. “Either you’re a criminal, or you don’t know your friend very well. And, Mr. Buchanan, you might have sway in New York or Chicago, but this is Joplin. We’re not impressed with your fine airs. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy a criminal freedom.”

  “It’s not about my money.” Buchanan’s voice grew cold and precise, just as Matthew was feeling like he was losing control. “It’s about the law. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and you can’t hold her.”

  “She refuses to answer our questions,” the captain said. “She’s already written a report about her attack, but she refuses to answer questions about her other activities.”

  “Has she requested a lawyer?” Buchanan asked.

  The captain gave the merest shake of his head.

  “Well, she’s going to get one.” Buchanan pounded his knee. “As soon as he can pull his suspenders on and lace up his shoes, I’ll have a lawyer here to end this crisis.”

  “Unless that lawyer can explain what she’s been doing here in town, I don’t know what good he’ll do you, but be my guest.”

  Was it morning yet? Matthew felt the weariness of the night, but the fight in him was far from giving up. Mr. Buchanan, for all his confidence, wasn’t swaying the captain. If Calista was going to be held all night, someone needed to know.

  “You get the lawyer,” Matthew said. “I’ll have Maisie take me to Calista’s Grandma Kentworth. Her family will be worried about her.”

  “Wait.” The captain turned his head to the side and watched Matthew from the corner of his eye, as if he was afraid of what he was going to see. “Are you talking about Laura Kentworth?”

  Matthew tensed. “Yes. Miss York is Mrs. Kentworth’s granddaughter.”

  “I thought I knew all the Kentworth clan,” Captain Dirk said.

  “Miss York is from Kansas City. Her mother married a man there.”

  The captain wiped his hand across his jaw. “I’d forgotten that. And then with a different last name . . .” His chin wobbled. “Has Miss York been in touch with her grandmother since she’s been in town?”

  “Of course. She’s been in touch with all the family.” Here Matthew was only guessing. He’d met Maisie and Amos and knew that Olive had watched Howie, but he had no idea how many more cousins were prowling around.

  Captain Dirk darted a glance over his shoulder as if he hoped to find a new route of escape in the corner of his office. Evidently, Mr. Buchanan didn’t pull the weight that Calista’s little granny did. The captain picked up a pencil. “If she would’ve told us she was here visiting family, we wouldn’t have detained her.” He scribbled on a pad of paper. “I apologize for the inconvenience. Please make that clear to Miss York and send Mrs. Kentworth my regards.” He ripped off the top sheet and handed Matthew the paper. “Present this to the officer on duty at the jail behind the building. I’ll explain my decision to Officer Rush, but I wouldn’t want a repeat of tonight. Impress upon Miss York the importance of staying in the respectable parts of town.”

  “Yes, sir.” As if Matthew hadn’t been trying. He took the paper, barely grumbling a thanks as he rushed out of the office.

  He’d made it out of the police station and to the jail before he thought to look for Buchanan, but Buchanan was on his heels.

  “You didn’t need me after all. One mention of Granny Laura’s name—”

  “If I’d known that, I would’ve said something sooner.” The electric streetlights had gone dark. The streets were nearly empty, and those still on the street would probably sleep where they lay.

  “Isn’t it interesting that Calista didn’t say anything? If her grandmother has that much influence, why wouldn’t she drop her name sooner?”

  Matthew didn’t like that question. “She’s probably protecting them. It’d be just like Calista to shield her family while claiming there’s no real danger.”

  Graham nodded. “The important thing is that she’s not being held in a cell with criminals all night.” He looked toward the light coming up in the east. “Or all morning.”

  The clock had never moved so slowly, but finally they were at the desk and Calista was brought forward to sign out.

  Her bristling outrage had dissolved into something more cautious. She thanked the clerk who handed over her handbag and baton, and then signed a form. Matthew couldn’t image how she was maintaining her dignity. Then again, there was a lot about Calista that he didn’t know. But when she turned and gazed at him, he reckoned he knew enough.

  He held out his arms, and she folded into his chest. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she sighed against him.

  “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” She winced at her raspy voice and touched her throat.

  Thinking of her injuries, he handled her gently. “Actually, I did leave, but only to get Mr. Buchanan.”

  He felt her body straighten, and then she stepped away.

  “Graham, my apologies. I didn’t see you standing there.”

  “Evidently not.” Buchanan’s eyes twinkled. “Seeing that you’re in good . . . hands, I’m going back to the car. Willow will be fraught with worry until she hears that you’re alright.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You are alright, aren’t you?”

  She shot a look at the clerk at the desk. “For the time being, but something is wrong. I’ll call the office.”

  “Yes, they have concerns.” He gave a small bow to Calista and offered Matthew his hand. “Watch out for her. At least, as much as she allows you to.”

  “I intend to.”

  Matthew couldn’t get her out of there fast enough. Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the wasted streets. A milk wagon crossed the intersection in front of them as they reached the hotel. All the lights in the lobby were out except a lone lamp on the clerk’s stand. They quietly passed, not wanting to be spotted sneaking in early Sunday morning, disheveled and tired.

  When they reached her door, Calista handed him the key.

  “My eyes are so blurry, I don’t think I can see to unlock it,” she said.

  All he wanted was to get her somewhere safe. Someplace where he could take care of her. He motioned Calista inside and looked up and down the hallway before closing the door of the apartment.

  Maisie rushed forward. “Are you alright? What happened?” First she held out Calista’s ripped skirt, then took her hands to look for bruises. “At least you got a few strikes of your own in.”

  “I was attacked,” Calista said, “and now that the police have figured that out, things will be fine.”

  So, Maisie didn’t
know about Calista’s job? Matthew had wondered who in the family she’d taken into her confidence.

  “You look a mess,” Maisie said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Taking Calista by the arm, she started toward the washroom.

  “I don’t want you to go,” Calista said to Matthew. “Will you wait for me?”

  “As long as you need.”

  He rearranged pillows on a sofa, trying to imagine how she would be most comfortable. He might have dozed a bit, listening to the girls’ low voices in the next room. When Calista returned, her sleeves were rolled up and her forearms glistened.

  Matthew stood, took her by the fingertips, and pulled her to the sofa. “You must be exhausted.” He bent and lifted her foot to unbutton her boots.

  The ghost of a smile graced her lips. “Maisie heard Howie stirring, so she went back to soothe him. She won’t hear us talking.”

  “Good, because I’d like to know how the man who attacked you is involved in your case.”

  “The attack, that was just bad luck. Perhaps Teddy is involved in kidnapping, or he could just be an opportunistic cad who thought he’d found a vulnerable woman he could meddle with.”

  “Kidnapping? You’re going after a kidnapper?” Forgetting the buttons on her boots, Matthew lifted his head. “You were going alone to find a kidnapper?”

  “I wasn’t trying to arrest him, just get information. But now that the police know about me, Mr. Pinkerton is bound to replace me. He’s not going to be happy about this.”

  “I’m not happy about it. Do you know how close you came to disappearing?”

  “I don’t want to think about that. If I think about that, how will I do my job? How am I going to help Lila? I can’t forget that picture of her.” She blinked up at him, begging his indulgence.

  “I’ve seen that same haunted look on most of the girls out there,” he said. “They all need help.”

  “You can help the many. I’ve got to find the one.”

  “At what cost? What makes her life more valuable than yours?”

  Calista closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the sofa. “What made you leave your family and come to a desperate town? What made you take the most dismal position at the mines? The same God who compels you to declare freedom to the captives has given me the task of freeing a very specific captive. There’s no difference.”

  He bent back over her boot and unfastened the last button. The pieces began to fall into place—her persistence, her knowledge of Scripture, the glimpses of worship he caught at their studies, her bravery, her family’s influence. Calista wasn’t a flighty woman looking for adventure. She was the woman he’d hoped she was, and so much more. The answer to his most pressing question had been given, and he’d almost been too irate to catch it.

  “Tell me more about Lila,” he said at last and pulled her boot off her foot.

  “Her family hired the agency to find her. They think she was spotted at the House of Lords, but she isn’t there any longer. We know she was brought on a train from Chicago, and Della Rush purchased her ticket with Lila’s. You can see why I suspect Officer Rush. He became suspicious when I asked about Della, but when I mentioned Lila Seaton . . .”

  “That’s when he decided to stop you.” Matthew lifted her other foot, dropped it on his knee, and started on those buttons.

  “Which means he’s hiding something and isn’t afraid to abuse the law to succeed,” Calista said. “I’ve got to wonder if more officers are involved. This might be bigger than I can handle.”

  “And more dangerous. There.” He removed her second shoe and dropped it to the floor. “Is that better?”

  She extended her bottom lip in a pout. “So much better.” Drawing her feet beneath her, she reached for a white woven blanket.

  Matthew took the blanket and spread it out so it covered her better. In the poorly lit room, he shouldn’t have been able to see the marring on her neck, but the bruises had gotten darker since the attack. A knot bound his throat, making words impossible. He thought of the man’s hands, how his fingers had been right there, crushing her beautiful neck, choking out the air that filled her lungs. He wished he could wipe away every trace of that man, all the grime, all the dirt, but the marks would remain.

  His heart pounded as he gathered Calista against him, fitting her shoulder into his side and resting her head on his chest. He’d do anything for her, including taking her pain if it was possible, but he couldn’t bear to see the ugly marks on her neck in the new day’s light.

  “Thank you for everything.” She lifted her head. “We’ve both been so sorely tested tonight that it’s no wonder we’re behaving rashly.”

  She didn’t know about him running all over town. She couldn’t know about his jealousy of Buchanan. What had he done rashly?

  The deep richness of her eyes and hair contrasted with the white blanket. Despite her exhaustion, her color had returned, pinking her cheeks and tinting her lips.

  Oh . . . that was what he’d done.

  Matthew shifted against her. “Is this about the kiss?”

  The pink on her cheeks deepened. “It was out of character.”

  “You don’t know me as well as you think.” Matthew found her waist beneath the blanket and lifted her to him. “Let me acquaint you.”

  He didn’t need the excuse of fury and fear this time. The warmth that floated through his veins as their lips met was comforting. The night had been agony—loving her, aching for her, wishing he could do more, be more for her. But here she was, and she was accepting what love he could give.

  But after all she’d been through, he wanted her to rest. He raked his lips across hers one last time, despairing of her sweetness, then drew away.

  Holding on to his shirt, Calista pulled herself against him and snuggled into his arms. At the end of her sigh, she trembled and then burrowed even closer.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Nothing can happen here.”

  “I didn’t mean to involve you.” Her voice was muffled by his chest. “You know everything now.”

  “The most important thing I know is that you’re not just a nice lady I’m trying to help. You’re my heart, and anything that threatens you threatens my future.” He lifted her face and went to kiss her again, but she turned away.

  “‘I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love,’” she quoted. “Until its time.” Her eyes fluttered as she looked up at him with gentle merriment, waiting for his response.

  “The time is coming, O daughter of Jerusalem,” he said, his voice husky. “The time is nigh.”

  “That’s not Scripture.”

  “It’s a prophecy.” After pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles, he got slowly to his feet, trying not to disturb her. “I have to prepare for our church meeting this morning. Is there anything I can tell the group?”

  “No. I’m going to get some sleep, but if I wake, I’ll go to the Tabernacle. Reverend Dixon is convinced he’s making progress on my sanctification.” She stood, and with her first step, she faltered. He held out his hand, but she waved him off and took a few more steps, testing her balance. “I’m going to be sore, but I think I’ll sleep well, at least until Howie and Maisie wake me.”

  “Sun’s up. It won’t be long.” He shifted his feet. Leaving was turning out to be a lot more work than he’d thought it would be. “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I hope so. I don’t know if these bruises will leave me presentable.”

  “As long as you promise you won’t go anywhere alone.”

  So intent was Matthew on getting a last kiss, he didn’t realize until later that she’d never responded to his request.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Whatever was bouncing against her face, Calista didn’t bother pushing it away. Her sleep was so restless and troubled that the barrage barely registered. She was too busy trying to stay out of the clutches of a crazed man who was chasing her around a barred cell while Officer Rush
egged him on. The pats on her face were the least of her worries.

  But they were more persistent than her dreams. Flopping onto her back, away from the edge of the bed, Calista blinked the midmorning light into perspective. Her throat hurt, her head throbbed, and her joints ached. Having heard about her close call, Mr. Pinkerton would be adamant about replacing her. She’d do her best to persuade him otherwise, but beneath all the difficulty, she had the assurance that she wasn’t in the struggle alone. Finally, Matthew knew everything, and he approved. At least, she assumed he didn’t make it a practice to kiss people he disapproved of.

  But what did his approval mean? Did it matter? Not unless she was going to turn her back on her duty.

  A squeal in her ear brought her eyes wide open. What in the world? She turned toward the noise. Leaning against the side of her bed, Howie was slapping the mattress with an open palm. Only after Calista offered him a finger to hold did she see Maisie standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked. Her bare arms looked as sinewy as a miner’s. “Any worse for wear?”

  “No worse than getting scratched up in the blackberry patch,” Calista said.

  Maisie’s smile showed that she didn’t believe Calista but was willing to let it pass.

  “I’m going to Matthew’s church with Silas. You want to go? Matthew asked me to come and visit with Loretta Campbell. She could use a friend right now.”

  Calista covered her eyes against the light. “What’s wrong with Loretta?”

  “She strikes me as being very solemn, don’t you think? I’m hoping I can cheer her. If Dan’s mine doesn’t prove out, I might see if Pa could hire him onto the ranch for a bit. Just trying to help.”

  Calista smiled at her cousin. It was good to see Maisie thinking of someone besides herself. Other than their ages, she and Loretta Campbell didn’t seem to have much in common, but perhaps she was right. Maybe Loretta could use some of Maisie’s tomfoolery to lighten her mood.

  Once Calista agreed to keep Howie, Maisie lost no time in slipping on her boots and getting out the door, leaving her hat behind in the process.