Tainted Dreams

by Christi Corbett

  By the time the afternoon sun was high in the sky, he was determined to forget, at least for the moment, how bleak and alone he felt. He grabbed his coat and hat, then headed to his stable, saddled Nickel, and rode for town.

  After tying Nickel to a hitching post in front of the saloon, Jake passed through the building's swinging doors and into a crowded room rife with debauchery and sin. A polished oak bar spanned the entire length of the left wall, and the rest of the room was filled with drinkers and gamblers sitting in battered chairs, clustered around battered tables. A staircase at the back wall led to the upper floor, where coins could buy companionship.

  Jake headed straight to the bar.

  Once he'd settled himself on a stool and propped his boot heels against the long brass rail bolted inches above the floor, the bartender ambled over.

  "What'll it be, friend?"

  "Something strong enough to make me forget my own name." Jake slapped a pile of coins on the bar so hard the sound echoed against the walls. "Don't give me that rot-gut whiskey, either. I want the bottle you keep back for yourself."

  The bartender's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Less than a minute later, he set a heavy glass tumbler in front of Jake and poured two fingers' worth of whiskey from a bottle.

  Jake brought the glass to his lips and tipped it back. The amber liquid slid down his throat with a satisfying burn.

  "Another!" he growled, slamming the glass back onto the bar.

  The bartender obliged.

  This time, the burn felt sweeter.

  "Leave the bottle," Jake commanded before the bartender could replace the cork.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Jake was drunk and drinking more.

  A soft rustle and familiar low, honey-smooth voice interrupted his brooding. "I knew you'd come for me."

  He turned to see Emily standing next to him, clad in a black corset and red thigh-high stockings held up by lace garters. She eyed the pile of coins sitting on the bar in front of him, then slithered closer.

  "I've waited for weeks." She lowered her eyes and stuck her painted lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Good thing I'm a patient woman."

  "Among other things," he replied, twisting too fast on his stool in his rush to face her directly.

  "Whoa there," she said, catching him by the arm.

  "You smell good," he murmured, grinning as she pushed him back onto the stool, then spun it until his back was pressed against the bar. "Like a flower."

  "Do you remember the time we spent hours in a field of daisies?" she asked, arching her back in a not-so-subtle ploy to accentuate the curves spilling out the top of her corset.

  "I do," he replied, spreading his arms wide and resting his elbows on the counter in an attempt to keep his balance.

  She stepped between his knees, slid off his hat, and twirled her fingers through his hair.

  He gazed at her through a fog of hazy confusion. "What do you want?"

  After she leaned over and whispered into his ear, Jake felt his face grow warm.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Intuition Confirmed

  Kate spent the afternoon peering through her broken door in search of more vicious visitors and picking through her possessions, all while trying to avoid the sight, and significance, of the untouched cloak hanging on her wall.

  Jake had been right all along. The revelation startled, then shamed.

  She'd been so intent on convincing herself of the need to tolerate a man like Theodore to be a success that she'd willingly pushed aside the one man she knew deep down she could always count on, believe in, and trust.

  She'd been so determined to get her land she'd ignored Jake's warnings, as well as her own small voice deep within telling her Theodore was dangerous.

  She'd been so focused on telling herself that she desperately needed the knowledge and connections Theodore had to offer, and that he was just being friendly and helpful with no ulterior motive.

  She'd made a terrible mistake. In ignoring her intuition she'd lost sight of who she was, what she stood for, and the man she loved.

  Kate stared at the cloak, recalling again Murray's declaration. He said destroy everything except that green thing.

  Murray's words were all the proof she needed that Theodore was the man behind the directive, and she had no intention of letting him get away with such savagery.

  Kate headed out to the barn. It was time to go into town.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Bottles and Blathering

  As Old Dan carried Kate closer to Theodore's hotel, her need for an immediate confrontation faded, replaced by a more compelling urge—to see Jake. Despite all that had been said between them lately, deep down she knew she could count on him. Always.

  Though she'd never set foot on his claim and didn't know what section he'd be working, she was willing to spend the rest of her day searching. She tightened her hands around the reins in preparation of turning Old Dan around and heading back out of town, but caught sight of something that stopped her cold.

  Nickel was tied to the hitching post in front of the saloon.

  She frowned. A glance around confirmed no nearby buildings he'd have reason to enter; he had to be inside the saloon.

  Kate dismounted and secured Old Dan beside Nickel on the hitching post, dread settling low in her stomach at what she'd see upon her first time ever going into a saloon.

  "Let's get this over with," she muttered, then pushed the swinging doors apart and walked into a dim room that smelled of liquor and failure.

  Immediately it began.

  "Hey boys! There's that saucy little lady from the land office!"

  Kate wasn't certain if the shouted words were a taunt or a compliment, but opted to ignore them, and all the subsequent catcalls and appreciative comments, in favor of scanning the room in search of Jake.

  Nothing.

  Like most of the patrons, the saloon's windows had been neglected of a proper washing for weeks or longer, making it difficult to see faces clearly. Once her eyes adjusted, she sighted a man standing behind the bar that spanned the length of the left wall. Thinking he might be able to help, she headed toward him.

  She'd taken only a few steps when the wiry man with oddly small ears that had lingered at Zeke's side the day she'd fired him sidestepped before her, blocking her path.

  "What'cha doin'?" he asked, eyeing her father's hat.

  "It's not your concern." She heard the defiant tone in her voice and forced herself to soften it before she continued. "Let me pass."

  "An' if I don't?"

  "Ma'am?" questioned a deep voice she'd heard before, but couldn't quite place.

  She glanced around, searching out who'd spoken. To her surprise she saw Rob, wearing his familiar fox face hat, heading her way.

  "Don't pay Percy no mind," Rob said, clapping his meaty palm on the tiny-eared man's back. "He's nothing but a pig-stealin', dystentary-havin', high-smellin' kind of guy. By the way, anything of yours ever comes up missin', you check with Percy. He's got an aversion to leavin' things be, but he's so stupid it's easy to catch him."

  Rob watched closely as Percy gave her a good-natured smile and an exaggerated low bow, then wandered off toward the collection of tables overflowing with playing cards and surrounded by chairs filled with men.

  "Ma'am," Rob said, eyeing her with obvious concern, "I don't mean to pry or tell you how to conduct yourself, but I'm wondering if you're in the right place?"

  Kate squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "I'm looking for Jake Fitzpatrick."

  "You should just go." Rob pursed his lips. "No need for you to see him like this."

  Kate hesitated, then shook her head.

  Rob sighed, then nodded toward the back wall of the room.

  No wonder she'd missed sighting Jake when she'd initially glanced around the room. He was sitting at the end of the bar with his head bowed low and his hands over his face.

  "Thank you for your assistance," she
murmured to Rob, who shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgment, then stepped out of her way. As she strode across the room, she couldn't help but notice how every man who wasn't already staring had turned to silently watch her progress.

  "Jake?" she asked, taking note of the nearly empty bottle before him and how his right shoulder was pressed against the wall, seemingly holding him upright. "Are you all right?"

  "Kate?" He raised his head and stared at her in bleary-eyed confusion. "What are you doing here?"

  She clasped her hands together tightly. "I need to talk to you."

  "I'm busy." He let out a heavy sigh and his head and shoulders drooped low. "Besides, you'd rather talk to Theo."

  "No." She shook her head for emphasis, then watched in dismay as Jake's hand knocked over the bottle, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound reverberated around the room like bullets shot through a tin bucket.

  "All right, Fitzpatrick," said the bartender as he came around from behind the bar, with broom and dustpan in hand. "I think you're done here."

  "Katie," Jake murmured just before his eyes fluttered closed and he slumped against the wall.

  Kate put her hand out—wanting to help but not knowing what to do—but a woman rushed by her in a blur of heady perfume, stained satin, and tired lace.

  Emily.

  "I'll take care of him," the harlot insisted, draping herself around Jake's neck and pressing her voluptuous, exposed curves against his arm as if she belonged there. As if she had the right to touch him.

  Trouble was, Jake didn't protest.

  "Sorry, honey, he's made his choice." Emily ran her gloved fingertips along his upper arm as she gave Kate a slow, appraising gaze from head to toe. "I always knew he wouldn't be satisfied with a woman like you."

  Kate cleared her throat, but ultimately said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

  Turning on her heel, she stumbled blindly toward the swinging doors and pushed her way through them into the cool, evening air.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Confessions and Apologies

  Wednesday, December 27, 1843

  Jake awoke to a tickling sensation on his nose and opened his eyes to find the head of a dead fox less than a foot away from his face.

  "What the—?"

  "Good morning," Rob replied cheerfully, giving Jake's cheek a final nudge with the snout of his fox hat and then tossing it on the foot of the bed. "Though, technically it's already the afternoon. I was wondering if you'd ever wake up. How you feelin'?"

  "Like I got kicked in the gut by a team of horses, then fell in the manure pile and slept there for a week." Jake eyed his favorite cup now resting in Rob's hand. "Any coffee left?"

  "Nope," Rob answered, taking a purposely sloppy sip and then smacking his lips so loudly Jake's head throbbed.

  Jake looked around at his dugout and realized he'd slept on the floor. "How did I get here?"

  "Me." Rob grinned. "I dragged you out of the saloon and shoved your considerably-sized rear end up into your saddle. Thankfully, your horse is smarter than you are; he led the way to your house. After I dumped you onto the floor, I shut Nickel in the stable and then came back inside and had myself a nice sleep in your comfy bed."

  Jake crawled to his frying pan and hurled until his eyeballs ached.

  Rob chuckled. "You did that last night too. Except Emily wasn't as understanding as I am—probably because you redecorated the toes of her favorite dancing shoes."

  Jake groaned and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "Emily was there?"

  "So was Kate."

  Jake turned around so fast his stomach lurched in protest. "Kate was at the saloon last night?"

  "You don't handle your liquor well." Rob clucked his tongue like an old woman scolding a child. "Don't you remember? Kate came in saying how she needed to talk to you about something, but Emily got to you first. If you ask me, Kate was none too pleased about the way Emily was lounging all over you, or how Emily's best parts kept brushing up against your hands."

  Jake swung his legs out from under himself and scrambled to his feet. Once he was upright, he staggered across the room and hit his head against the wall. He felt nothing in his rush to get to Kate.

  "Where's Kate now?" he demanded, struggling to slide his uncooperative arms into his coat sleeves.

  "Don't know, but she's a quick one. I hauled you out about five minutes after she left and didn't see any trace of her."

  Jake grabbed his cup from Rob's hand. He took a swig of coffee, swished it around his mouth, spit into the frying pan, and then headed out the door, rifle in hand. He retrieved Nickel from his stable, grateful Rob hadn't pulled off his saddle, then mounted up and rode out.

  The ride took less than two minutes, but it felt like forever.

  He stopped Nickel at the front of her house, grimacing to see the splintered door latch and her door hanging by only one hinge.

  Someone had kicked in her door.

  "Kate!" he shouted, dismounting and pulling his rifle from the scabbard.

  "Jake?" Her pale face peeked out the doorway, half hidden. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see what you needed." He stepped onto the porch, falling to his knee as one of the rotten boards gave way under his foot. "Are you going to let me in?"

  She didn't move, and neither did the door.

  "I needed you." Her tone was flat, emotionless. "I needed to tell you I was wrong. But last night at the saloon I learned I was wrong about so much more than I realized."

  Jake righted himself, wincing as pain shot through his leg. "I don't know exactly what you saw—"

  "I saw what I needed to see." Her expression was bland and unreadable, to his growing frustration. "I don't blame you, either, because I'm the one who pushed you away. I'm the one who didn't believe you, who didn't heed all the warnings you tried to give. It's no wonder you've taken up with that harlot again."

  "Kate, that's not what happened last night. Or any other night for that matter." Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing, so he stumbled on. "I went to the saloon for a reason, but it wasn't to be with Emily." Just saying her name left a vile taste in his mouth. "Rob clued me in on what happened last night with her, and I can assure you that her actions were done solely to make trouble, not because of desire on my part. Rob and I left less than five minutes after you did."

  She disappeared from the doorway.

  "Kate?" He waited for nearly a minute, then pushed the door aside and stepped into her house. She was standing at the fireplace, her back to him, staring at the cold ashes.

  "What happened to the door?"

  "It's broken."

  "I see that. How did it happen?"

  She turned, revealing a long, purple bruise across her cheek.

  "What happened to your face?" he asked, tossing his hat onto the table and leaning his rifle against the wall. "Did you fall?"

  Kate blinked back the tears filling her eyes. "No."

  A horrible feeling planted itself firmly in his gut and wouldn't let go. "Did someone hit you?"

  "No." She lowered her head to her chest and looked so forlorn and small he couldn't bear it. He wanted to do something, anything, for her.

  "How about you sit while I build a fire?"

  She went to a kitchen chair without a fight. He looked around for a blanket to wrap her in until he got the fire going strong, but saw none. Come to think of it, he saw no dishware, food, or bedding either.

  He took another look around the house and found it strangely bare. Even the maroon dress he'd bought her was gone from its hook on the wall. The only thing he saw was the same green cloak he'd watched Theo retrieve for her after church, and he'd build the fire sky high before warming her with it.

  So he did.

  Once the fire roared he looked for a place to sit, but found none. "Where's your other chair?"

  "Broken."

  Goosebumps ran along his arms and up the back of his neck. "Is what happened here why you came to see me at the sal
oon?"

  She nodded. "What was the reason?"

  Jake stared at her, confused at the question.

  "You said you went to the saloon for a reason," she said. "What was it?"

  "To try to forget about you." He stared at her in chagrin. "With liquor, not Emily."

  She was silent for a time, letting his last statement sink in. Finally, she spoke. "I don't know how to begin."

  Jake hated his next words even before they left his mouth. "I hear congratulations are in order. I see you're already packing up, getting ready to go live with Theo."

  Kate recoiled, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "What makes you think that?"

  "From what I heard all over town yesterday, I assumed you two were on your way to the preacher." He'd heard plenty of chatter from men in the saloon on the subject.

  Kate shook her head so hard her hair flailed against her shoulders. "That couldn't be further from the truth."

  "I saw you at the church together and thought…" He trailed off, his hopes soaring.

  "Theodore gave me a gift; a cloak. I wouldn't have accepted it, but he told me it was from Clara. I went to the Christmas Eve service with him because he said Clara would be there, and she wanted to see me." She rose to stand before the fire, and spoke to the flames. "He lied."

  Jake took a step to go to her, to comfort her, but she tensed and he froze.

  "He insisted on seeing me to my house, and then he followed me inside and asked me again to marry him." Kate shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I told him no. I told him to leave and take the cloak with him."

  Jake waited for her next words with growing apprehension.

  "That's when he got rough. He grabbed my hair and told me I could either marry him or go to jail for fraudulently claiming my land. I fell to the floor, crying, and he left."

  She whirled to face him, and he saw her fear had turned to fury.

  "Look at my house." She spat the words from her mouth in undeniable anger. "Theodore is responsible! I heard Murray tell Cyrus they were being paid to destroy everything I owned." She motioned to Theo's gift hanging on the wall. "Except the cloak."