They must have chatted because Hunter had returned with papers that Smith had given him to sign, with instructions on how to transfer his money to Smith and Sanders. He remembered wiping his hand on his pants as he’d left the office, the feel of the criminal’s touch on his skin like a plague.
Ten years he’d spent looking into the face of every man he’d ever arrested, always hoping to see the black dead-fish eyes of the man who’d gunned down the teller and his father while Hunter crouched under the desk.
He closed the door to his room and sat on the bed, his arms tightly crossed against his chest. Sweat beaded his forehead as he had tried desperately to swallow the bile rising at the back of his throat. He began to shake, his teeth chattering as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. Whipping the blanket off the bed, he wrapped himself in its warmth, but nothing helped. He closed his eyes and remembered.
Once the man fled the bank, Hunter sat, unable to think, unable to move. His father lay in a pool of blood, the bright red stream seeping into the wooden boards of the floor. His eyes were open, staring at nothing. Hunter felt a scream starting deep inside, but he held on, rocking back and forth—numb. After a period of time, he crawled from his hiding place, and stumbled out the back door.
He started to run, the tears spilling from his eyes to his chin, to be swept away with the wind. He ran until he had no breath left, then stopped, bent over, and emptied his stomach onto the dirt.
It was dark when he’d returned home. Michael, Rachel, and Ellie sat at the kitchen table, their eyes swollen. “Where have you been?” Rachel’s accusatory tone hit him like a hammer.
“Out.”
“Papa’s dead.” Ellie’s chin quivered.
Hunter turned on his heel and walked away. He climbed the stairs to his room and lay on his bed, where he stayed until the morning they buried his father.
Hunter sat up with a jolt, disoriented. He ran his palm down his face, trying to adjust to the darkness in his room. He patted his chest, noting that he’d fallen asleep in his clothes without even removing his boots. Still confused, he pulled his boots off, then stood and unbuttoned his shirt.
He stopped in mid-motion as his memory rushed back like water bursting from a slight crack in a dam. The monster Emily was married to was the man who’d put a gun to his father’s head and pulled the trigger.
He almost laughed at the irony. Ten years of looking at one criminal after another, and all that time Smith was here in Galveston, pretending to be an upstanding businessman.
And beating his wife.
He stripped off the rest of his clothes and climbed back into bed, naked. He flipped onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, linking his fingers. Careful consideration of his next move would be the best way to bring Louis Smith down. He was a liar, a cheat, a wife-beater, a thief, and a murderer.
If Jeremy was able to come to Galveston, he would have more than just shady business practices to investigate. Between the two of them, they needed to see that Smith was charged with murder and hanged for his crime.
Before Hunter killed the man himself.
“Dressmaker again?” Louis glanced up from his morning newspaper, his usual scowl firmly in place.
Emily fiddled with her tea cup. “I go every Tuesday. It’s a standing appointment.”
“Perhaps you are spending too much of my money.”
She quelled the anger that arose. Once Louis had gotten his hands on the vast amount of money her parents had left her, she’d never seen a dime that she hadn’t had to beg for. And account for. There was no such thing as ‘pin money’ for Mrs. Smith. All items, no matter how small, were charged and the bills sent to Mr. Smith.
The sale of some of her mother’s jewelry and burying the money she’d received had given her the cache to flee to Guthrie. There were still some pieces to sell, but for now she would hold onto them. She would love more than anything to be able to keep a few of them as it was all she had left of her parents. Louis had even sold the lovely home she’d grown up in, furnishings and all, and kept the money.
“I’m just following your orders, Louis. Every time we have a function to attend, you want me to have a new gown.”
He shook his newspaper and folded it, then placed it neatly alongside his empty breakfast plate. Leaning forward, he said in a soft voice, “Maybe instead of a new gown, I should think about a new wife.”
The blood left her face. Was he contemplating her murder? He’d threatened it many times before, and she’d always feared one day it would no longer be a threat. She had to get away from him, once and for all.
“May I use the automobile, then?”
Louis waved his hand. “Yes.”
Before he could change his mind, Emily pushed back from the table and fled the room. She was to meet Hunter about eleven o’clock. That would give her time to have an actual fitting before she snuck out the back door. Thank God Millie understood her predicament. The fact that the dressmaker had been the brunt of several of Louis’s insults and tirades over her bills had helped.
The late summer sunshine kept the air warm and humid as Emily patted the beads of perspiration from her forehead and entered the automobile.
“The dressmaker, Mrs. Smith?” Martin asked.
“Yes. Please.” She settled back as the vehicle rolled away from the house into the morning traffic. Her Tuesday visits to Millie’s shop had become the highlight of her week. She lived for the moment she was excused from her fitting and able to join Hunter behind the store.
He’d told her last week he was going to investigate Louis’s firm. He also had a friend who was very good at uncovering deceptive business practices that he would contact. What she clung to was his assurance that he would also find a way to free her from the clutches of the vile man she’d married. Her thoughts wandered as she stared at the people crowding the business district, with the shops all doing a lively business. For the first time in three years she had genuine hope.
Forty minutes later, she tapped her foot and took deep sighs as Millie adjusted her most recent gown and stuck her with innumerable pins.
“Mrs. Smith, if you would only stand still, I would be able to finish this fitting and you may be on your way.”
“I know, and I am sorry. But we have so little time together, I hate to waste it.”
Millie stood back and observed her, the dressmaker’s eyebrows raised. “Please remember if it wasn’t for these fittings you would have no way to see your young man at all.” She nudged Emily on her hip as a signal to turn, giving a critical eye to the hem as she turned. “I’m also nervous at the thought of your husband showing up here some day with you nowhere in sight.”
“Oh, God, I never thought of that.” Emily stepped down from the pedestal and turned so Millie could unfasten the back of the gown. “I don’t remember him ever coming here while I had a fitting, though.”
“No. I don’t remember that either. He’s only been here when he wanted to complain about his bill.”
“I’m so sorry, Millie.”
“Don’t apologize for his actions. Just be grateful you have someone who will help you.” She took Emily by her upper arms, gripping tightly. “Is he a good man?”
Emily felt the heat rise to her face. She wasn’t comfortable speaking about Hunter with Millie. Regardless of her husband’s actions, she was still legally married. To be discussing meeting another man left her with an uneasy feeling. This was not how she ever thought her life would go. “Yes. He is a good man.”
“He will take care of you?”
Emily nodded, tamping down her doubts about trusting anyone again to take care of her. “Yes. I believe he will.”
“Good. We’re finished. Go on and meet him while I’m busy working on your gown.”
Emily gave her a quick hug the
n shimmied into her dress, buttoned it up, and headed to the back door. She slipped out and spotted Hunter right away. He stood leaning his forearm against a rail fence, his foot resting on the bottom rung. As soon as the door closed, he straightened and turned to her. Her heart did a double thump at his smile.
He reached out and brushed the hair off her forehead. “We need to have a serious talk.”
Her stomach took a dive at his somber expression. With shaky hands she tied the ribbons of her bonnet tighter and attempted a smile, but failed. “Where shall we go?”
“More than anything I want to take you by the arm and stroll up and down the streets of this town. Then escort you into the finest restaurant Galveston has to offer.” He cupped her chin, his eyes telling her something she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for. “I promise you one day I will do that.” His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “Whatever it takes.”
She shivered at his mood that washed over her like a cold winter morning.
His face softened, and just like that he became the Hunter she’d grown to care so much for. “I have the carriage again, and had one of the cafés pack a lunch for us.” He took her by the hand and pulled her forward. “We’re going on a picnic.”
He’d tried to act as if everything was all right, but the darkness she’d first sensed when he stood by the fence hadn’t left. The ride to the area she liked to think of as ‘theirs’ was quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence she’d experienced with Hunter in the past, but a different type of stillness. This was not a tranquil quiet, but one of tension. She shivered again.
Her actions seemed to draw him from wherever he was today. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “Not really.” She studied his hands as they clenched and unclenched the reins, mesmerized by the strength there.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m very good company today.”
Trying to shake the feeling of doom, she asked, “Does your mood have something to do with what you want to discuss?”
He glanced at her sideways as he drew the carriage up to the stable they’d used before, across from the beach. “Yes. It does.”
“You’re leaving.” Her stiff lips barely moved, the words coming out a whisper, even when her insides screamed with pain.
“No, honey.” He tossed the reins over the carriage rail and grabbed both of her hands. The caring in his eyes and the warmth from his palms against hers gladdened her heart, allowing the knots in her stomach to ease.
“I promised you when I leave here, I will be taking you with me. Nothing about that has changed. If you believe nothing else, please trust me on that.”
Trust. There was that word again. But nevertheless, she closed her eyes in relief, and then sagged against him. The roughness of his shirt against her cheek reminded her once again of Hunter’s strength. As long as he was here with her, she could stand anything Louis did.
“Come on, let’s have a picnic.” Hunter jumped from the seat and helped Emily down before grabbing the basket. She took the rug from the carriage, and hand in hand they strolled to the beach. This time she’d worn more sensible shoes so he only had to help her slightly over the boulders.
The air was still warm, but the breeze from the Gulf cooled them. Once they’d settled on the rug, Hunter placed dishes of cold chicken, potato salad, apples, and lemonade in the center. They both dug in.
“From which restaurant did you get the food?” Emily asked as she licked her fingers clean of the tasty chicken.
“A place called The Flatiron Restaurant.”
“Oh, is that the one that the new movie theater was built underneath at Chutes Park?”
“Yes. I did see something about that. Have you been to Chutes Park?”
She shook her head. “No. I wanted Louis to take me there, but he said it was silly, a place for children.”
“I don’t know about that. According to the Galveston Tribune, Chutes Park and the amusement park right next door are attracting a lot of visitors. And certainly not all of them children.”
That was another contention between her and Louis. He accused her for three years of being barren. Frankly with the way Louis treated her, she would just as soon not have children. It would kill her to see him abuse her child.
Hunter placed the last of the dishes in the basket and stood. Holding out his hand, he said, “Walk with me.”
His serious expression had returned, along with the fluttering in her stomach. There was something bothering him, and she was afraid it was not anything she wanted to hear.
Since they hadn’t removed their shoes and stockings, they walked along the beach, her arm in his, avoiding the water skimming over the sand before it returned to the Gulf, only to repeat the action.
“I need to tell you something that happened to me when I visited Louis at his office the other day.”
“You visited Louis?” The fluttering in her stomach turned into a full-out dance. Had Louis known who Hunter was? That didn’t seem possible, but whatever had happened Hunter looked very somber about it.
Feeling the tension in his muscles, she stopped and turned to him, looking up into his face. His full lips had tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “I’ve spent the last ten years as a Ranger looking into every criminal’s face, searching in vain for the man I witnessed murder my father in cold blood eighteen years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, then rested his hands on his hips. His mouth worked as if his lips were unable to form the words he wanted to say. Blowing out a deep breath, he said, “Emily, as unbelievable as it sounds, I recently discovered that man is your husband.”
Chapter 11
Thank goodness Hunter reached out and grabbed her arm, or Emily would have collapsed onto the wet sand. “What? I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
“Damned if I know.” He cringed. “Sorry for my language.”
“I’m confused. Shocked and confused. In fact, I am at a loss for words.”
Hunter turned them so they walked back to where their belongings lay on the sand. He continued to hold her elbow, and when her steps faltered, he placed his arm around her shoulders which helped to keep her upright. Her knees were as weak as a baby colt’s.
Once they settled again on the rug, he leaned against a boulder, resting his wrist on one drawn up knee. “When I was thirteen years old my father was manager of our local bank. I’d stopped by for a visit one afternoon when a man came in and demanded money. My father pushed me under his desk and approached the robber, then instructed his teller to hand over the money.
“The teller did as he was told but before the thief left, he turned his gun on the teller and shot him. Then he moved the gun in my father’s direction and shot him.”
Emily’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh my goodness, that’s terrible. He gave the man the money, why did he shoot him?”
“I’m assuming so there wouldn’t be any witnesses.”
Her mind in a whirl, she tried to make some sense out of what Hunter had just told her. “So I’m thinking the outlaw didn’t know you were there?”
“Exactly. After he shot my father, he glanced quickly around the room, then left. I sat there for quite a while—I couldn’t tell you exactly how long since I was numb—and then I left through the back door.”
“And no one else came in the entire time?”
Hunter shook his head. “It was past closing time, so even though the door wasn’t locked, no one came.” He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb.
She sat for several minutes, trying to understand Hunter’s story. To witness your father gunned down in cold blood must have been awful for a young boy. How horrible to have to see such a thing. “What did the sheriff say?”
“Nothing. I never told him.”
“What?”
He reached out and dragged her close to him, tucking her snugly under his arm, making it difficult to look directly into his eyes. Perhaps that was his purpose. “I couldn’t talk about it. The numbness stayed with me for days. All through the funeral and for a time afterward I ran the scene around in my mind, but couldn’t form the words. When I had reached a point where I felt I could tell someone what I’d witnessed, we had already moved to Oklahoma.” He turned to her. “This happened in Kansas.”
“Even then you could have contacted the sheriff.”
“Maybe. But you know how a kid’s brain works. I figured we were too far from our town to deal with it. So I mostly shoved it to the back of my mind. In fact, it only came out in nightmares—which I am still plagued with today.
“Once I finished high school I packed up and left, with the intention of finding his killer. After drifting from job to job, mostly on ranches in Kansas, I joined the Texas Rangers. I figured that would give me the best chance to find him since criminals tend to travel state to state evading the law. For ten years I swore I would track down the killer and see that he was brought to justice.”
“And you’re telling me the killer was Louis?”
“Believe me, honey. No one was more surprised than I was.”
“It happened so long ago. How can you be sure?”
His jaw muscles worked and shifted so he could look at her. “I’ve dreamt that face at least once a month for the last eighteen years. It was Louis. Or whatever his name was when he held up the bank. I figured him to be about nineteen or twenty back then.”
Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) Page 10