Breathless
Page 24
“Not so high and mighty now, are you?”
“A gun will give any coward courage.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before pain exploded in the back of her head and everything went black.
When she came to she was lying in the dark. Groggy and disoriented, her head aching, she closed her eyes again until everything stopped spinning and forced herself to sit up. She was seated on a dirt floor. It took another few minutes for the cobwebs to clear and for her to remember how she’d gotten there. Edward Salt. The scene replayed in her mind. He’d had an accomplice who’d hit her over the head with something that must have knocked her out. Touching the tender spot caused her to wince. How long had she been here? And where was here? Looking around she saw only darkness. What was Salt up to? She didn’t know, but she did know that when she didn’t come home, Kent and her family were going to move heaven and earth to find her. That gave her hope and helped her manage her fear. In the meantime, she needed her raging headache to subside so she could think more clearly and find a way to free herself on her own, if she could. She thought she might be in a cellar. It was too dark to be sure, but her main focus was finding a way out and getting home to Kent because she knew he was probably sick with worry.
She heard a creaking sound above her head and tensed. A door opened, bringing with it the light of a lantern and a shadowy figure. She could now see her surroundings. There were earthen shelves in the walls, verifying that she was indeed in a cellar of some kind. The figure backed down the wooden staircase and she once again faced Edward Salt. But a second figure joined him, and she was surprised to see Mr. Blanchard’s son-in-law, Charlie Landry. She wondered if he was the one who’d struck her in the alley.
Salt sneered, “How far the haughty have fallen. I told you you’d pay for making me a laughingstock at the rodeo.”
Landry added, “Now your husband and that cheating uncle of yours will pay.”
She looked between the two of them. “What do you mean?”
Charlie said angrily, “You and Randolph are on land that should be mine. If Fontaine hadn’t cheated me out of it, none of this would be necessary.”
“So you’re holding me for ransom?” she asked.
“Yes. Ten thousand dollars. I’d hoped having Parnell burn the place down would make Fontaine change his mind about buying the place, but it didn’t.”
“Why did Parnell kill Buck and Farley?”
“We didn’t want to leave any witnesses. We thought they’d be gone.”
“So you were with Parnell that day?”
His eyes widened when he realized he’d implicated himself, and he didn’t reply. She also wanted to know how he and Salt came to be in this plot together, and if Salt’s parents were involved, but she didn’t ask. Instead she said, “You do realize that no matter how this pans out, my husband’s going to kill you both.” She doubted Kent would go that far, but they didn’t know that, and the fear that flashed momentarily in their eyes proved it. She was pleased. “So what are you getting out of this, Salt?”
Forecasting his death had apparently spooked him. Looking a bit less confident than he had when the visit began, he said, “Let’s go, Landry.”
He climbed the stairs, Landry followed, and they left her alone in the dark.
In Tucson the conductor verified that the train had been about an hour late. There’d been a couple of steers standing on the tracks. He also remembered seeing Portia. “She’s been riding with me pretty regularly the past few months.”
“Did you see which way she went when she got off?” the sheriff asked.
He hadn’t. “What this about? She in some kind of trouble?”
Kent said, “My wife is missing.”
The old man’s eyes widened. “If you need volunteers for a search party, let me know. She’s a nice little lady. Be glad to help.”
They thanked him and rode to the livery. The owner, Cassius Digsby lived up above the establishment. While the sheriff knocked on his door, Kent and Rhine walked to the stable. Arizona was there. Kent hugged her neck, needing the connection to his wife, and left her in her stall for the time being. He’d return for her once all the leads were exhausted. Where is my Duchess? He tried not to think about Portia being injured or tied up. He knew wherever she was, she was no doubt furious. He also knew she was tough and resourceful, two things in her favor. But he needed to find her before he lost his mind.
Sheriff O’Hara came down with the livery owner, Digsby. He’d known Rhine since they moved to the territory. “I’m sorry to hear about Portia being missing. I was just about to send somebody out to the hotel. It’s not like her to leave Arizona. I thought something might be wrong.”
“There is,” Rhine said. “Sometime between her getting off the train and walking here, she was taken.”
Digsby said, “I didn’t see or hear anything. It could’ve happened in the alley though. It can be pretty shadowy there once the sun goes down. Easy place for someone to hide. Talk to Raoul. Maybe he saw something.”
Kent didn’t know the man.
The sheriff said, “He has a small eating place that opens into the alley. We passed it coming in.”
They went immediately to the business and to Kent’s relief it was still open. Inside there was no one seated at the three small tables.
A tall Mexican man walked out from the back. “I’m supposed to be closing but the stove’s still hot, Sheriff.”
The sheriff nodded, introduced Kent and Rhine, and explained why they’d come. “Sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Randolph, but she didn’t come in here. I would’ve remembered because that was right around the time I was arguing with Edward Salt and Charlie Landry.”
Kent froze. “Over what?”
“Them trying to weasel out of paying the bill. Salt’s done that to me twice now. Told him to never come back.”
Kent and Rhine shared a look, and O’Hara asked, “Do you think they may be the ones who have her?”
Kent nodded and explained why. The sheriff said, “Let’s go visit Landry first.”
The sheriff knocked. Kent and Rhine stood in the shadows flanking the door. Landry answered the bell. “Sheriff O’Hara. What can I do for you?”
“Want to talk to you about something, Charlie. Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Can I come in?”
He hesitated for a moment, but pushed open the screen door to let him in. Only then did Kent and Rhine step into view. Charlie cried out, turned, and ran. Kent raised the lever action shotgun and blew out a wall. Charlie screamed. Kent fired again, took out the ceiling, and plaster and wood rained down. Charlie dropped to the floor, hands over his head, screaming, “Don’t kill me!”
Kent walked over determinedly, dragged Landry up by his hair, and stuck the Winchester between his eyes. “One chance. Where’s my wife?”
Charlie jumped like a landed fish. “She’s in the cellar. Outside! I—I . . . This was all Salt’s idea. Please!”
Kent slammed his face into the floor, breaking his nose. Without a word to Rhine or the staring O’Hara, he walked past them and outside.
In the cellar, both Portia and Salt looked up at what sounded like muffled thunder. Placing the lantern on the cellar floor, Salt hurried to the stairs and was halfway to the door when it opened and the working end of a long gun showed itself. “Back up,” she heard her husband growl.
Salt froze.
“You okay down there, Duchess?”
“I am,” she called happily, and tears of joy sprang to her eyes. The joy was quickly replaced by anger at Salt for putting her and her family through this ordeal, so she marched over to where he stood still frozen on the stairs, and without warning, grabbed the hems of his trousers and yanked. His feet flew off the stairs, his knees hit the wood followed by his chin, and he issued a high-pitched cry of surprise as he tumbled and bumped down the stairs. He was out cold when he landed in the dirt at her feet. Pleased, she stepped over him and began to climb. Now, she could go home.
That evening, after the sheriff departed, Portia sat on her porch and watched the sun go down. Last year at this time she’d been a hard-working, no-nonsense woman with her mind made up on how she would live out the rest of her life. Now she was married to an incredible man, had her own home and her own successful business, and in the spring, she’d be having her own baby. Eddy said she was the walking embodiment of that old saw: We plan—God laughs. She would probably miss her mother for the rest of her life, but Corinne’s actions would undoubtedly make her a better mother, if only in the sense of knowing what not to do. She knew Kent would be a wonderful father, and if the baby was a boy they’d agreed to name him Kenton Oliver Randolph the Second. If it was a girl she’d be named Eddy Regan after the two most important women in her life. Portia missed Regan terribly. Her letters were few and far between, but she hoped her sister was happy. Watching Kent walking up the path to the house, she was so grateful for him and his love. Her naughty cowboy husband was one of a kind and she was glad he was hers.
Epilogue
After fifteen hours of labor and screaming that she’d never let Kent Randolph near her again, Portia gave birth to a healthy, beautiful, eight-and-a-half-pound baby boy. As planned, he was named for his father and grandfather: Kenton Oliver Randolph. Sylvia, who’d been a nurse during the war and was a midwife, aided the delivery. After making sure Portia was well and asleep, she carried the baby out to the parlor to meet his father. “Here’s your son, Kent.”
Taking the precious bundle from his stepmother, Kent’s heart swelled at the sight of the miracle he and Portia had made, then stared up at Sylvia in surprise. “His eyes are open. He’s looking straight at me.”
“I know. As the old people used to say: this one’s been here before.” She went back into the bedroom and Kent sat down in the rocker and held his son. “How are you, little fella?” he asked softly. Kent couldn’t get over how perfect he was. “You know, you had your mama cursing my name in there, but it’s okay. I still love her, and I love you, too. Promised your grandfather, who you’re named after, that I’d tell you that, and I plan to keep my promise.”
He thought about Oliver and how proud he’d be to have a grandson. The baby was looking up into his face as if understanding every word, and it tickled him so much he laughed softly, “I think you’re going to give me and your mama fits.”
Kent sat and rocked his son for a long time. He told him about all the horses they were going to ride and the hunting they’d do. Promised to teach him how to cook and how much he was going to love his great-aunt Eddy and great-uncle Rhine. Kent wanted to sit with the baby forever, but he knew his son needed his mama so, gently cradling the baby against his chest, he went into the bedroom to set him in his cradle and to tell the sleeping Portia how much he loved her. Kenton Randolph the First, former bartender, cat house king, and Mexican prisoner, was now a husband and a father, and the last two descriptions made him the happiest man on earth.
Dear Readers
Dear Readers,
This concludes the second book in the Rhine Trilogy and I do hope you enjoyed it. With all the issues and heartache Portia carried inside, I knew it would be difficult for her to give her heart to someone, but Kent Randolph proved to be the man for the job, even if I didn’t know he would be her hero when the story began. Hope you enjoyed seeing Rhine and Eddy from Forbidden and, yes, they are still very much in love.
The Fontaine Hotel is loosely based on the Mountain View Hotel founded in Oracle, Arizona, in 1895 by Annie Box Neal and her husband William “Curly” Neal, who were both of African-American and Native-American descent. The Mountain View was a combination hotel and spa and catered not only to European royalty but to wealthy visitors from places like Russia, Australia, and China, too. Look them up.
The great Apache chief Geronimo surrendered on September 4, 1886, and was promptly declared a prisoner of war. He and his people eventually wound up in Florida along with the Apache scouts the army employed to hunt him down. He died at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in 1909.
The Apache warrior Lozen, also captured in 1886, was sent to the barracks at Mount Vernon, Alabama, where she died of tuberculosis in 1887. Although her name has faded from America’s memory, her bravery and fearlessness remains legendary with her people.
I only touched briefly on African-American women and the fight for suffrage but hope to get back to it in depth sometime in the future. Until then, if you’d like to do some research on your own, here are two excellent sources:
African American Women and the Vote: 1837–1965 by Cynthia Neverdon-Morton, et al.
African American Women in the Struggle for the Vote: 1850–1920 by Rosalyn Terborg-Penn
The final book in the trilogy will belong to Portia’s sister, Regan. Will the man she’s agreed to marry sight unseen actually be who he claims to be? We’ll find out.
Thanks again for the support and love. Thanks also for spreading the word about my books to everyone you know. It’s much appreciated.
Until next time, happy reading.
B.
About the Author
BEVERLY JENKINS has received numerous awards, including five Waldenbooks/Borders Group Best Sellers Awards, two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times Magazine, and a Golden Pen Award from the Black Writer’s Guild. Ms. Jenkins was named one of the Top Fifty Favorite African-American writers of the 20th century by AABLC, the nation’s largest on-line African-American book club. She was recently nominated for the NAACP Image Award in Literature. To read more about Beverly, visit her at www.beverlyjenkins.net.
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By Beverly Jenkins
Breathless
Forbidden
Destiny’s Captive
Destiny’s Surrender
Destiny’s Embrace
Night Hawk
Midnight
Captured
Jewel
A Wild Sweet Love
Winds of the Storm
Something Like Love
Before the Dawn
Always and Forever
The Taming of Jessi Rose
Through the Storm
Topaz
Indigo
Vivid
Night Song
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
breathless. Copyright © 2017 by Beverly Jenkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
EPub Edition FEBRUARY 2017 ISBN: 9780062389039
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062389022
first edition
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