She loved his body almost as much as she loved him—especially his nude backside. It was nice and round and heavily muscled, a perfect thing for her to hang on to whenever the ride got too rough. Mariah blushed at the memory of one of those rougher "rides," amazed that she could still have such a response after all they'd been to each other of late.
Cain fit his hat onto his head. "See you at breakfast," he whispered as he opened the door and peered out into the hallway. Then he was gone.
Mariah sank back against her pillow, loath to climb out of the bed, so rich with his scent. She thought of how pious and proper he'd looked in his frock coat and preacher's hat as he slipped out of her room, then of how very irreverent and wicked the man beneath the Brother Law costume could be.
It was time, she decided, to buy the man she loved a little present, something to replace that ugly skimmer. He would most certainly appreciate the thought; Cain hated that hat as much as she loved the lovely bonnet he'd bought for her.
Her mind made up, Mariah decided to stop by her parents' room and borrow another twenty dollars from Zack's dwindling purse. Then, later in the morning, but before the troupe had to prepare for their opening performance, she would take him to Sherwin & Houghton's General Merchandise store.
Mariah smiled. The hat would be her first gift to him, another little way for her to say "I love you," just in case the actual words hadn't yet fallen from her lips.
* * *
After a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, and plate- sized flapjacks, the troupe split up. Zack and Artemis went to the livery to groom the mules, and Oda went back to her room to mend a few loose beads in the Princess Tanacoa costume. This left Mariah with the free time she needed to do a little shopping.
Smiling secretly as she and Cain strolled down Greene Street, Mariah drew in a deep breath of crisp mountain air. "Don't you just love Silverton?"
Cain thought it was funny that she mentioned that subject. He had just been dwelling on the little pocket town—in fact, thinking about it almost nonstop since early this morning. Even though none of the landmarks, the hotels, or public buildings looked particularly familiar to him, he knew without question that he'd been there before. More disturbing, his gut told him that for some reason, Silverton had once been a very important part of his life.
"Cain? Are you listening to me?"
"Sure, princess. I was just trying to figure out if I've ever been here before."
A cold little finger seemed to tap at the back of her neck, but Mariah shrugged the sensation off. She would let nothing spoil what she and Cain had together now. Nothing. "This is probably your first visit here. You'd remember a place like Silverton if you'd been here before. Why, it even has a bowling alley."
"A bowling alley?" He rolled the words on his tongue as if tasting them, trying to understand what they meant. "I don't think I know what that is."
"You mean you've never heard of bowling before?"
"I've heard the word, but I don't know what it is. Things like that have happened to me a lot since the accident. I know a word, but not what it means."
"Then let me help with this one. There's a small building around the corner with a couple of wooden alleyways inside. You throw a heavy rubber ball at a number of wooden bottles, and hope that you can knock them all down. A young boy at the other end of the alley sets the bottles back up, and then rolls your ball back down to you so you can try again. That's all there is to it. It's just a silly little game."
Silly, yes. Bowling sounded like a real waste of time to Cain, and yet something about the word continued to disturb him. He seriously doubted that he had ever tried to play the game. Maybe Virginia had been the one who liked to visit the bowling alley. She was awfully fond of games. Virginia?
A sudden, sharp pain shot through Cain's head. He stopped in his tracks, his boots scraping against the boardwalk in front of the livery. At almost the same moment Virginia's name had sprung into his thoughts, the image of the mysterious blond woman had come to mind. Was she Virginia? If so, what part had she played in his life before Mariah?
Sick to think what the memories might mean, Cain closed his eyes and mind against the answers—answers he now knew were there waiting for him to call them up, waiting patiently like old friends... or bitter, dangerous enemies. Yes, finally he knew something, and knew it without question. If he wanted to, he had it within his grasp to figure out who and what he was. If he wanted to.
"Cain—is something wrong?"
He could feel Mariah tugging at his sleeve, saw that she was worried about him, but he couldn't speak or think past the stunning revelations in his mind. He felt helpless—the day he was born he hadn't been this helpless—and even worse... scared. Oh, but he was scared. What would Mariah do if she knew what he'd discovered? How would she react? Would she realize, as he did, that those answers might just mean the end of what they had together?
The end of his time with Mariah. No, no. He couldn't think of it. He wouldn't. If Cain didn't know another thing right then, he did realize that he'd never been happier in his life than he was with her. Never.
"Cain, please," Mariah said, her voice quivering. "What's wrong? You're making me nervous."
He had to touch her, had to feel that which was real to him. Then he would be himself again. Cain put his arms around Mariah, hugging her tight for a long moment, propriety be damned. When he released her, his voice was hoarse as he said, "I'm all right. I just felt a little nauseous for a minute."
"You're sick?" Her hand automatically went to his forehead. His skin was cool—almost too cool. "The store is on the corner of Thirteenth Street just a few feet ahead, darling. Do you feel well enough to go on, or would you rather go back to the hotel?"
"I'm fine." He assured her by wrapping his arm around her waist and coaxing her forward. "Let's go on."
But as far as Mariah could see, Cain looked anything but fine. He was unnaturally pale, and a network of tiny wrinkles she'd never seen before webbed the corners of his eyes and his mouth. The cold finger at the back of her neck grew icy, insistent, but Mariah refused to acknowledge it. She centered her thoughts on Cain.
As they stepped down from the boardwalk to cross the alley, Mariah heard the chatter of youngsters. She glanced in the direction of the voices, and saw that two young girls were playing jack-straws in the dirt.
One of them, a child of around five who lacked her front teeth but more than made up for the deficit with a riot of flaming red curls, looked up at Cain and broke into a huge grin. "Hi, Daddy."
Mariah's first impulse was to laugh, but she put her palm over her mouth and shifted her attention to the second youngster, a girl of around seven who was busy chiding the little redhead.
"Don't pay any attention to Amelia," said the younger girl's friend. "She thinks every man she sees is her daddy!"
"Do not."
"Do too."
And so the conversation continued, until Mariah had to turn away to release her laughter. She glanced around to see how Cain was taking to "instant fatherhood," only to discover that he was no longer beside her. When she turned all the way around, she saw that he was back up on the boardwalk, leaning against the post with both hands pressed against his temples. He looked as if he was about to pass out.
Mariah rushed to his side. "Oh, Cain. You are sick. Let's go find a doctor."
He heard her voice, but it seemed far, far away, belonged to another lifetime... another woman. The image of something bright burned into his brain, and as it came into focus, he realized that it was the badge of a United States marshal. The badge of Morgan Slater. His badge.
"Cain, please—you're scaring me." Mariah grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, tugging at it, and his hands fell away from his face. He straightened his spine, but continued to use the post for support.
She expected to see that he'd gone even paler, to perhaps find a measure of pain in his expression, but the haggard, hateful features that looked on her instead turned that icy finger at her nec
k into a hand. And then wrapped it around her throat.
His fury bigger than both of them, he clenched his fists at his sides, and said, "God in heaven, Mariah. How could you have done this to me?"
Her world went black, filling with terrible gloom. She took a backward step, her voice quivering. "Done what?"
More images now, rolling though his mind like some hideous fireball. The medicine show. Bucksnort. This band of lying, thieving—
"What's wrong?" Tears built up in her throat, making her voice wobbly. "Please, Cain. What's happened?"
"Cain? Who the hell is that?"
"Oh, no." Mariah took a few more backward steps, this time stumbling and nearly falling. "Oh... God."
"You lied to me." His features were black with rage. "You stole my life, you... you bitch!"
"Oh, but I never meant—"
Morgan wrapped his strong fingers around her arms, hauling her up close. "What in God's name were you thinking? How could you have done this to me?"
"Please—please let me go. You're hurting me."
Her voice was pitiful, a wail, but still Morgan's hands squeezed. His rage knew no bounds. He wanted to shake her, crush the very life from her lying, cheating body, and most frightening and irrational of all... kiss her until she begged for mercy.
Even more furious now—with himself as well as her—Morgan abruptly released Mariah and flung her away from him. "Get out of my sight."
She didn't move. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her chin quivered, but she made no move to save herself.
Morgan seethed with anger. He couldn't deal with her now, not with her betrayal, and not with his rage over that terrible treachery. Even worse, he could no longer trust himself, didn't know what he might be capable of doing to her at that moment.
Protecting them both the only way he could, Morgan advanced on Mariah, his voice harsh, gritty. "If you care just a little bit about your worthless hide, even this much"—he held two of his shaking fingers not a quarter of an inch apart, and stuck them in her face—"do us both a favor and run. Do it now. Run, damn it. Run."
Tears pouring down her face, Mariah whirled around and flew along the boardwalk, her new hat flying off her head to roll end over end along the muddy street, black hair tumbling down over her shoulders, streaming out behind her like the silken tails of a child's kite.
Morgan didn't allow himself the satisfaction of watching her flight for long. He had other business to tend to, another life to remember. First he needed to calm down, to bank this raging inferno inside, but how? If he were a drinking man, he'd have fortified himself; a smoker, he'd have rolled a cigarette. But he was a—hell, he didn't know who or what he was anymore.
He took several long, cool breaths, pumping oxygen into his overheated system. Then finally, slowly, he turned on his heel and woodenly marched back to the alley.
Morgan stood there staring at the children for several long moments, watching them play their game as he continued to calm himself, struggling at the same time to fit the pieces of his missing life together. Then, when he was finally ready, he hunkered down in front of the little red-haired girl.
Arms outstretched, Morgan quietly said, "Hi, Amelia. Come say hello to your daddy."
Chapter 16
Her legs were shaking so badly, Mariah didn't know how she managed to move, much less run, but she made it to the end of the block and turned onto Twelfth Street. She stood there trembling like a cornered rabbit for a few moments, gathering her wits, and then finally dared a peek down the boardwalk to where she'd left Cain.
He was kneeling in the alley, his arms wrapped around the little red-haired girl. Before Mariah could grasp the full significance of this display, he rose and lifted the girl onto his broad shoulders. Then he headed up Thirteenth Street, away from where Mariah was huddled in the shadow of the livery. Unable to stop herself, she began to follow them.
Oblivious of the shoppers she stumbled across, of the censuring gasps from the fine ladies of Silverton as they noticed her dishevelment, Mariah dashed to the corner of Thirteenth and Greene, and peeked around the building to see Cain approaching a little white house at the end of the block. It was a relatively plain home, no gingerbread at the windows or gables, and yet the yard was well- tended, the walkway swept and tidy—clearly the dominion of a woman.
Mariah's heart slowed to a dull thud in her breast, and then turned to stone as the door to that orderly little home opened. She caught a glimpse of a slight blond woman—one who looked a great deal like the photograph she'd seen in Cain's watchcase. After exchanging a brief embrace with the woman, Cain carried the little girl across the threshold. Then the house swallowed him up, taking him away from Mariah. Forever.
* * *
Oda had just folded the repaired costume and set it aside, when the door to her room burst open.
"Oh, Mother." The words came out on a sob. "It's happened."
She knew. Somewhere in her motherly breast, Oda knew exactly what had happened, but when she crossed the room and closed the door behind her trembling daughter, she just glanced at her and calmly asked, "What happened, baby? Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she said sarcastically. "Just fine." The dam burst then, robbing Mariah of the ability to speak or even think. Crumbling inside, she flung herself toward her mother's bed and threw herself upon the mattress.
Because she hated confrontations of any kind, Oda's first impulse was to run and get Zack. He would know how to calm their hysterical girl better than she could. She moved toward the door, but at the last second changed her mind. She was certain that Cain had had at least a little to do with Mariah's collapse, and Zack wouldn't know what to do or say to help his daughter, short of going after the marshal with his shotgun.
Numbly going about the task herself, Oda dragged a spindle-backed chair up beside the bed and waited until Mariah's sobs had subsided a little before she spoke. "What is it, baby? Did Cain's memory come back?"
"He... knows." Her voice was a shattered whisper, garbled with tears. "Cain knows... everything."
"I expect he's pretty upset about it, too, huh?"
"Upset?" She laughed, the sound frantic, heart- wrenching. "He was definitely upset, to say the least."
"Well..." Oda sighed heavily. "It ain't like we weren't expecting it, you know."
"Oh, Mother, you don't know the half of it." She began weeping again, her throat and heart aching so badly, she expected to split apart at any moment. "There's a child," she said, picturing the little red- haired girl.
"Did you say there's a..." Oda almost strangled trying to get the word out. "a... child?"
"Yes—yes." Mariah's sobs increased, the flow so fierce, she had to bury her face in the pillow to keep from drowning in tears.
"Oh, Lord." Oda was crying now, talking more to herself than her daughter. "I knew this would happen. I knew it the minute you set eyes on that good-for-nothing lawman. Saw it every time you looked google-eyed at him, too."
She thought back to the night she'd told her daughter about her own conception, to Mariah's stiff formality toward her ever since that night, and then hurled a few of Mariah's own words back in her face. "Answer me this, young lady—do you hate it? Do you hate that baby the way you think I hated you?"
As the meaning of Oda's words finally sank in, Mariah slowly lifted her head from the pillow and stared at her mother as if seeing her for the first time. "You think that I'm going to have... Cain's baby?"
Oda blushed as her gaze fell to Mariah's lap. "Ain't you?"
"No." But she suddenly wished she was, and knew one other, even more important thing: If she were carrying Cain's child, she'd love it more than life itself. Mariah swung her legs over the side of the mattress and threw her arms around her mother. "I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry about the things I said to you back in Durango."
Oda, none too good at this emotional business, tried to get away with a few pats to Mariah's back, but that brief contact was her undoing. She wrapped her stub
by arms around her daughter's shoulders, squeezing her tight, embracing her the way she hadn't done since Mariah was a small child.
"I told you that I never hated you, girl, and I meant it. I guess now you understand what I was saying." Speaking through her tears, Oda wiped her nose and went on. "I ain't gonna hate that babe of yours, neither. I'm a Penny now, not a Fitzgerald. You and your baby are staying with this family for the rest of your life, if'n you take a notion that's what you want."
Both laughing and weeping, Mariah released her mother and held her at arm's length. "As far as I can tell, I'm not in a family way, but knowing how you'd feel if I was, knowing that you'd..." Mariah started to cry again. "The child I was telling you about was in the alley, a little girl we happened across on the way to the store. I think she might be Cain's daughter."
"Oh... goodness."
Mariah swallowed her tears, determined to keep them down. "That was almost as big a shock as the rest. He nearly went crazy when he remembered who he was, yelling at me, calling me names." She closed her mind and ears to the memory.
Oda, still seeking ways to comfort her, said, "We knew this might happen. We knew anything was possible when we decided to keep the marshal with us. That's why I didn't want you to fall in love with him."
"I know." Mariah hung her head. "I just never thought it would hurt so much to lose him. I never thought... I guess I somehow hoped that he'd never remember who he was, that he'd only have memories of me." She collapsed against the flattened pillow, awash in fresh tears despite her determination to keep them inside.
Because she didn't know of any other way to help at this point, Oda reached over and patted Mariah's back for several minutes. Finally her daughter's tears ebbed and her sobs became intermittent, punctuated by miserable little hiccups. Feeling that the worst was over, Oda sat back in her chair. Then someone knocked at the door.
Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One) Page 91