This was Eamon. He hadn’t been just a farm hand. He’d been a friend, someone they cared about.
The girls had grown close to him, as had everyone else. She drew in her breath. At least, she wouldn’t have to tell everyone he was gone. Quincy, Lou, and Wynn would already know as he wouldn’t be there to help with the morning milking. They, most likely, would tell Marianne and Granny, but she’d still have to tell Thomas. The knowledge sat in her stomach like a rock. The boy would be just as devastated as the girls, which made her heart hurt more.
She turned to her bed, the idea forming in her head that she could take refuge on the soft mattress and never move from it again, but she couldn’t crawl under the blankets and hide . . . as much as she wanted to. She had responsibilities—a farm to run, horses to take care of, children to raise. She hadn’t curled up on the bed and let the world pass by when Henry died—for the same reasons—and she had mourned his passing as she worked.
This was a different kind of mourning though. Eamon wasn’t dead . . . but he might end up that way.
Taking another deep breath, she forced herself away from the window and moved across the room toward her bureau and the washbasin. She splashed the cold liquid on her face, then dipped the washcloth into the water, and pressed it against her eyes. The coolness felt good on her hot skin, but only lasted as long as she held the washcloth in place. She dipped the cloth in the water again, then pulled the chair away from the vanity and sat. The reflection in the mirror stared back at her. The cold water hadn’t helped. Her eyes were still swollen.
She heard the thump, thump, thump of stocking-clad feet racing down the hall, accompanied by little girl giggles and quickly pinched her cheeks to add some color. She turned away from her image as Charlotte and Gabby skidded to a halt at her doorway. In an instant, giggles stopped and smiles faded, and Theo found herself on the receiving end of the most unflinching scrutiny.
“What’s wrong, Mama Theo?” Gabby asked immediately . . . as Theo had known she would. Out of the three children, Gabby was the most perceptive . . . and the most inquisitive. Charlotte tended to let others take the lead, hiding behind her innate shyness, and Thomas, embarrassed by his stutter, which sometimes made speaking a difficult experience for him, was inclined to remain quiet, but Gabby? If she had a question, she asked it. If she was happy, everyone in the world knew it, just as they all knew when she was sad. The girl didn’t hide her emotions or her curiosity. They were there on her face and in her eyes . . . as they were right now.
“Will you go get your brother, Charlotte? I’d like to talk to all of you.”
Charlotte gave a quick nod, then raced off. Gabby remained in the doorway and didn’t move except for twisting her fingers together, but her gaze remained intent, so much so that Theo had to close her eyes for a moment to gather her strength. It didn’t help. Even with her eyes closed, she still felt the intensity of Gabby’s stare. She opened her eyes and tried to smile.
“Come in, Gabby. Please.”
The little girl hesitated, then slowly moved from the doorway. She said nothing as she crossed the room, climbed on the bed, and sat with her legs dangling over the side, her head tilted slightly. She didn’t even blink.
Thomas and Charlotte arrived a moment later. They hovered in the doorway for a moment or two, then shuffled to the bed like men walking to the hangman’s noose and climbed onto the mattress beside Gabby, their faces reflecting their confusion. They might not have been as perceptive as Gabby, but they certainly knew when something wasn’t right. Their morning routine had been broken, which only happened on very rare occasions, usually when someone was ill or Granny’s arthritis hurt more than usual.
Theo sat in the vanity chair and faced the children lined up on her bed. The expressions on their faces made her draw in her breath. There really was no easy way to tell them, no magic words that wouldn’t make the news hurt less. Keeping her tone as neutral as possible, she said, “Mr. MacDermott has gone away.”
“Like Mama and Papa went away? And Papa Henry?” Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears instantly, and she reached for Thomas. He put his arm around her shoulder.
“No, Charlotte, not like that at all.” She inhaled, struggling to keep her emotions in check, but it was so damned hard. She had had to tell both Charlotte and Thomas when their parents had died from diphtheria. The children had been here when she’d come home from Paradise Falls without Henry, and she’d had to tell them that Henry had died and gone to heaven like their parents. It had been difficult then, but somehow, this seemed more so. Angela and Thomas White Senior hadn’t wanted to die of a dreadful illness, and Henry hadn’t wanted to be killed by a bullet from an outlaw’s gun. Dying hadn’t been their choice, but Eamon? He had a choice, whether he chose to believe it or not. “Mr. MacDermott just couldn’t stay here anymore.”
“But why? Doesn’t he like us?”
“Of course he likes us, rosebud.” She couldn’t tell these sweet children the truth or make him any less in their eyes. She also didn’t want to worry them. Telling them their friend was searching for an outlaw to kill him—and might end up dead himself—was not something one did to a child. No, it was best to keep the explanation as simple as possible. “How could he not? He just had to go. Sometimes that happens.”
“Will he c-c-come back?”
Theo shook her head and swallowed hard against the constriction her throat. “No, Thomas, I’m afraid not.”
The boy gave a solemn nod, accepting the circumstances and her explanation, though he certainly didn’t like it. Unshed tears made his eyes shiny, but he didn’t cry. He slid off the bed. “I’m gonna help Quincy with the m-m-milking. Come on, Charlotte.” He held out his hand, and Charlotte climbed down from the bed and took it.
Gabby remained behind after they left the room, then jumped off the bed, her sock-clad feet making a soft thump on the floor. She reached up, and Theo thought she’d be getting a hug from the little girl, but instead, Gabby put her hands on each side of her face and looked deeply into her eyes. After a moment, she touched her forehead to Theo’s, then pulled back, never taking her hands from their position. “Don’t worry, Mama Theo. Mr. MacDermott will be okay.” She dropped her hands to her sides, then shoved them into the pockets of her trousers and rocked back on her heels. “And he’ll come back as soon as he takes care of business.”
Theo drew back, a little surprised by Gabby’s choice of words, and the fact that she seemed to know something she hadn’t been told.
“How do you know?”
The girl grinned like she had a secret, one that she couldn’t wait to share. Her eyes fairly glowed, and her chest puffed out. “His guardian angel told me.”
“Eamon has a guardian angel?”
The girl nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve seen him, but I don’t think Charlotte or Tommy have. I don’t think Mr. MacDermott sees him, either. He was leaning against the corral fence one time when Mr. MacDermott was brushing Daphne. He smiled at me.”
“What does this guardian angel look like?”
“He’s tall, like Mr. MacDermott, but he isn’t dark like him. His hair is light, like Charlotte’s, and he brushes it back from his forehead.” She demonstrated, pushing her hair off her forehead and smoothing it back against her head. “I think he had stuff in it to make it stay there ’cause his hair didn’t move when he took off his hat. Oh, and he had nice eyes. They were all crinkly when he smiled.”
Theo’s jaw dropped open as Gabby described Henry Danforth to a T, though she’d never met him. She had seen the photograph of him in the office though, many times. Yes, that was it. She saw the photograph, and somehow, in her imagination, the man in the photograph became Eamon’s guardian angel.
“I don’t think his angel will let anything happen to him,” she said and skipped from the room, not the least bit worried or upset that Eamon had gone. Theo wished she could say the same for herself, and though she didn’t believe in guardian angels like Gabby did, she
still bowed her head and prayed for Eamon’s safety.
• • •
Eamon dismounted in front of the Cattleman’s Saloon and flipped Traveler’s reins around the post, then took the stairs to the raised porch two at a time. He sauntered through the batwing doors and took a look around. The room was empty except for a man who made busy work of wiping tables and straightening chairs—such a different sight than when he’d been here last night. The place had been bustling then, the bartender sliding mugs of beer and whiskey down the long mahogany bar to his waiting patrons. The tables had been filled with men intent on poker or faro or other games of chance, but Logan hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been in the next saloon Eamon walked into or the next, but he would find him. Or better yet, make Logan find him.
That was the idea he’d come up with after his fruitless search the night before. Exhausted and heartsore, he hadn’t gotten a hotel room. Instead, he’d made a small camp outside of town and slept under the stars. Or tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Theo’s face. Even with his eyes open, he saw her face and the hurt he had put there. She hadn’t understood his need to find Logan . . . and kill him. She probably never would. Theo Danforth was all about love and kindness . . . there was no room in her heart for revenge, even after what had happened to Henry.
He shook himself, firmly placing himself in the here and now. He’d have plenty of time later to regret walking out on Theo and giving up the best thing that had ever happened to him . . . if he lived.
“We ain’t open,” the man said as he glanced in Eamon’s direction, then went back to his task. He wasn’t the bartender from last night. Perhaps he was the owner or maybe just the person who cleaned up after everyone else.
“I’m looking for Tell Logan.”
The man stopped wiping the table and straightened. He let his gaze wander around the empty room, then looked at Eamon like he was the stupidest man on earth. “Well, he ain’t here, an’ I got work to do.” He pointed to the batwing doors with the rag in his hand. “That door swings both ways. Why doncha look somewhere else?”
Eamon didn’t let the expression on the man’s face or his rudeness bother him. He’d been on the receiving end of that particular look more than once, and he wasn’t about to leave just yet either. “I have a message for him the next time you see him.”
“I ain’t no messenger service, mister.” He went back to wiping the table. After a moment, he stopped, both hands as well as the rag on the table, sighed deeply, and gave his full attention to Eamon. “You ain’t goin’ away, are ya?”
Eamon shook his head.
The man sighed again, then straightened and put his hands on his hips. “Ah, hell, what is it? If I see ’im, I’ll tell ’im.”
“Let Tell Logan know that Eamon MacDermott is looking for him.”
• • •
Aldrich Pearce sat back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. He grinned as those smoke rings dissipated. In fact, he’d been smiling all day and just barely resisted the urge to rub his hands together with glee. From the moment he’d heard Eamon MacDermott walked into the Cattleman and left a message for Tell Logan, then proceeded to visit every saloon and brothel after that, his day had brightened. He couldn’t have manipulated a better plan.
What better way to get rid of a lazy, too big for his britches outlaw he was tired of paying and the former Marshal who stood in the way of what he wanted? Pit them against each other in a shootout that pretty much assured him neither would remain standing. Now all he had to do was push Logan to meet the man and accomplish the deed. So far, he’d been stubborn about it and Aldrich was getting tired of waiting.
“What are you so happy about?” AJ sauntered into the study and strode directly to the bar to pour himself a whiskey. He glanced at the nearly empty glass on the desk, then brought the bottle and poured more of the dark liquid into it, left the bottle on the desk, and lowered himself into a deeply cushioned chair. He crossed his legs, adjusted the sharp crease in his trousers, and then took a sip of the fine whiskey.
Aldrich studied his son and noticed immediately that he hadn’t slurred his words. The second, third, and fourth things he noticed in quick succession were that AJ’s hands weren’t shaking, he was freshly groomed, and he was immaculately dressed in the new suit that had just arrived from New York. In fact, he appeared downright sober, a sharp contrast to how he’d been ever since Theo had made it clear she wasn’t interested in him . . . and never would be. Even so, AJ had held out hope she would come around, but that hadn’t happened either, much to AJ’s chagrin and Aldrich’s delight. Indeed, he had taken great pleasure in letting his son know Theo and her hired hand were lovers, dashing any dreams the young man may have had, but none of his own.
The information hadn’t bothered Aldrich at all, neither the hearing of it nor the telling. Actually, knowing that Theo had taken MacDermott as her lover fell right into his plans, especially since MacDermott was the former U.S. Marshal who just happened to have a personal history with the outlaw in his employ. Manipulation worked best when emotions came into play.
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
Aldrich smiled and sat up straight, his stomach full of butterflies caused by his excitement over the turn of events. “MacDermott has been leaving messages all over town. He’s looking for Logan. I think he’s determined to finish what Logan started years ago.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“Of course. I have no doubt they’ll kill each other, which takes care of two of my problems with one fell swoop.”
AJ stiffened in his chair, but didn’t say a word, not quite the response Aldrich had hoped. He decided to let it go. “Do you know where he is?”
“Who?”
“Logan, of course.”
AJ shook his head. “Haven’t seen him. And I don’t want to see him. Nor will I go looking for him. I have plans for this evening.” He took a sip of whiskey, then licked his lips. “I actually have plans for the rest of my life, Father. In fact, this will be the last drink we ever share.”
“Last drink? Plans? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You see, I’ve learned a few things over the past couple months. I’ve watched you and how you treat people, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re simply a bully. Oh, not in the truest definition of the word, Father, because you don’t actually badger and intimidate people yourself, except for me and maybe one or two others. You let others do that for you. Outlaws and hired guns and lawyers who are as ruthless and manipulative as you are. They all carry out your orders while you stay behind the scenes and direct them like we’re in some kind of play.” He very carefully put his drink on the table beside him and pushed it farther away. “This isn’t a play and the people . . . never mind. Let’s just say I can no longer stomach the sight of you. I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.”
Aldrich let the insult flow over him. Besides, he couldn’t argue with the truth. He was a bully. Actually, he was rather proud of that, considering where he came from. “Where will you go? What will you do?”
“Does it matter? Do you really care?” AJ stood but his gaze never faltered. “I heard about the fire out at Morning Mist. You went too far.”
“I didn’t start that fire, son. It was Logan.”
AJ shook his head. “Doesn’t matter who started it. People could have been hurt. Or killed.” He picked up his glass and turned it in his hand, but he didn’t take a drink. “I’ve had enough of your manipulations and interfering in people’s lives because you want something you can’t have. Like Theo. She’s a good woman, kind to a fault, but because she doesn’t want you—or me, for that matter—you want to take her farm, want her to lose everything she’s worked for. It isn’t right. Theo doesn’t deserve it. And neither do I.” He put his drink down with a final thunk, then walked toward the door, a slight bounce in his step.
“If you walk out that
door, we’re done. You won’t get a penny from me.”
AJ stopped in the doorway. “I don’t want your blood money, Father.” His shoulders tensed, then relaxed before he turned around. “I never wanted it. Oh, there were advantages to being the son of the richest man in Colorado, but the price you demanded was too high.” He took a deep breath. “There was only one thing I really wanted from you, but it just so happens that the one thing I wanted was the one thing you couldn’t give me. I’ve been educated, I’ve traveled the world, I have everything that money can buy, but I was never loved, not after Mother died. I don’t think you’re capable of that emotion.”
And with that, AJ turned once more and walked out the door. Aldrich stood behind his desk and watched his son give instructions to Wilson, shake his hand, then say good-bye. A moment later, the door closed softly behind him.
Aldrich moved into his chair and pursed his lips. A minor setback. Nothing more. He had intended to have AJ head over to Mimi’s bordello to fetch Logan and bring him back to the house. He’d have to find some other way, as he couldn’t be seen entering or leaving a brothel. He had a reputation to uphold. After a moment, he scribbled a note and yelled, “Wilson!”
“Yes, sir?” The man moved from the foyer and into the study on silent feet, as was his custom.
“Take this to Tell Logan.” He held out the folded note. “This time of night, he’ll be at Mimi’s.”
“Mimi’s, sir? I don’t believe I’ve ever . . . ” His voice trailed off, evidence of his discomfort.
Aldrich stared at the man and noticed the peculiar green cast to his features. A proper English butler, trained in London many, many years ago, visiting a brothel would be odd to him. He’d never permit himself that particular pleasure. Aldrich chuckled. The man didn’t know what he’d been missing. “Never been to Mimi’s, have you, Wilson?”
A Kiss in the Morning Mist Page 25