And of course he didn't have a gun. It wasn't his habit to go around Galveston with one strapped to his waist. He would have been arrested.
He didn't have any problem following the men. It was past midnight and almost no one was on the streets. Holt stayed well back and hugged the shadows. He followed them east along 21st Street. They cut across the square and headed north on McKinney Street, one street over from Broadway. Holt went below the square and turned up William Street. Two blocks later he turned up 19th Street, then headed north on McKinney. He figured they were going to approach the targeted house from the rear.
They were going to rob Gloria Webster's house. She and her husband were at a party which would probably last two or three more hours. Holt cut through between houses, hoping he would see Captain Lytle or one of his men coming up Broadway, but the street was empty. Unwilling to wait longer and risk missing the thieves when they left, he raced back between houses, keeping the rear of the Webster mansion in view. It wasn't long before the thieves came out. They didn't hurry or look around as if they were afraid of being seen.
Holt didn't know what they had taken, but it had to be small. They weren't carrying sacks, and he couldn't see any bulges under their shirts. Convinced they really had stolen something, he followed as they hurried back toward the docks. He figured they planned to use their beers as proof they had spent the evening drinking.
Holt was having difficulty following them without being seen. He kept looking around hoping to see Captain Lytle, but not one policeman was in sight. The two thieves stopped at a small warehouse close to the bar and went inside. Holt got closer. Still, he didn't see any policemen. What was he going to do when the thieves came out? He couldn't stop two huge men by himself. But if he didn't stop them, there would be no way to connect them with the robberies.
Just then he saw Captain Lytle and two other policemen enter the street two blocks away. Holt waved frantically, trying to attract their attention. He wasn't sure they had seen him when the warehouse door opened and the thieves came out. There was no way for Holt to hide. They saw him immediately.
"What are you doing here?" one of them asked.
"I gotta pee," Holt said, pretending to be drunk. "Gotta pee real bad."
He didn't know if they believed him, but he turned away, pretending he was about to relieve himself against the side of the warehouse.
"Hey, don't piss on the building," one of them said. "Piss in the street if you gotta."
His partner grabbed his arm to get his attention. "What're all them policemen doing out this time of night?"
Holt looked up. Captain Lytle and his men were running toward them, but they were still a block away.
"Let's get outta here," one man said.
Holt knew he couldn't let them escape. Once out of sight, they could disappear among the docks. They could be on the mainland in minutes or away in a ship within hours. With a fatalistic sigh, Holt threw himself at one of the thieves. The attack caught the man by surprise and he went down. Hoping his luck would hold, Holt dived at the legs of the other thief, who was already running away. Both men went down in a heap, Holt ending up on the bottom.
"Cut the son-of-a-bitch's throat," the other thief shouted.
Holt managed to throw off his opponent and scrambled to his feet. The thieves broke into a run. "I know you've been breaking into the houses on Broadway," Holt shouted after them. "I know what you look like. You'll never get away."
His taunting delayed them just long enough for Captain Lytle and his men to arrive. It took all four of them to wrestle the men to the ground and hold them long enough for more policemen to arrive. By the time the thieves had been subdued and tied up, a small crowd had gathered.
"Now let's see what you've got in this warehouse," Captain Lytle said, his bruised and battered face transformed by a triumphant smile.
They were about to sit down to lunch the next day when they heard a banging on the front door.
"I'll get it," Felicity said. "If it's a patient, I'll have him come back unless it's an emergency."
Moments later, Felicity returned to the kitchen followed by a tearful Vivian.
"I've got to talk to Holt," Vivian said through her tears. "Privately."
"Use the consulting room," Dr. Moore said.
Holt had seen Vivian cry before. Tears were one of the most powerful weapons a beautiful woman could employ. Vivian rarely used them, but she always used them well. He had a feeling these tears weren't entirely genuine, but he couldn't be sure. There was a look of fear, of desperation in Vivian's eyes he'd never see before.
"What's so important that it's driven you out of your bedroom before noon?"
"I've come to ask you to marry me and take me back to Virginia."
Chapter Twenty-four
Holt settled her in the consulting room and closed the door. "What made you change your mind?" he asked. He knew Vivian well enough to know she wouldn't have changed her mind unless something terrible had happened.
"I just realized I have always loved you. If you want to go back to Virginia, I'll go with you."
She threw herself at him, clasped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the mouth. Holt couldn't help thinking it ironic. At any moment in the last six years he'd have given his right arm to hear her say she'd made a mistake when she married Abe Calvert, that she loved him and wanted him to carry her away to a secret place where they would be alone for the rest of their lives.
But that time was past. He'd come to a better understanding of himself. A better understanding of Vivian. He removed her arms from around his neck and put enough distance between them so he could look into her eyes. There had been a time when he wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. Now not even glistening tears could make him prefer Vivian's blue eyes to Felicity's dark brown ones.
"Look at me," Holt said when Vivian lowered her gaze. "Just a few days ago you were furious I would even suggest that you go back to Virginia. You practically threw me out of the house. Now you want me to believe you've changed your mind?"
"I was upset," Vivian said. She raised her gaze and looked him straight in the eye. "I was jealous of the attention you paid that woman. You know I've always loved you. I've told you so for years."
If Holt hadn't been in love with someone else, he might have fallen for her story. She looked so sincere, so helpless, so fragile, no red-blooded male could resist the chance to do anything he could to make her happy. Tears only enhanced her appeal.
She attempted to put her arms back around his neck and fall into his embrace, but he held her at a distance.
"I can't marry you, Vivian. I love someone else."
"Why are you being so mean to me?"
"I'm just telling you the truth. And I want the truth from you."
She broke his hold on her wrists and backed away angrily. "I've always told you the truth."
"Maybe, but you've also left a lot of it out. This time I want to know everything."
"If I tell you, will you promise to take me to Virginia right away? Uncle William promised you would always take care of me."
"Just tell me why you've changed your mind."
"It's your fault, really."
"What are you talking about?"
"Laveau. You told everybody he was a traitor and a murderer."
"He is." He wanted to tell her about the capture of the thieves, but he couldn't until they implicated Laveau.
"Now everybody blames me for inviting him to parties. They say I can't ever come into their homes again. There--now you know the truth."
She buried her face in her hands, but Holt resisted the impulse to take her in his arms. He was happy that people had finally turned their backs on Laveau, but he didn't understand why this should have caused Vivian to be ostracized.
"I don't understand why they blame you," Holt said.
"Well, they do."
The more he thought about it, the more he was certain he wasn't getting the whole story. "There's more
, isn't there?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You're a beautiful woman. If it were merely a matter of social standing, you'd turn up your nose at the women and concentrate on the men. Before long, you'd be invited back into society, if for no other reason than because you'd bring the single men with you."
Vivian beamed. "You think I'm that beautiful?"
"You know you are. What could be so terrible that you can't bend people to your will anymore?"
"If they don't want me, I don't want to go to their parties," she said, tossing her head.
"Come off it, Vivian. This is me you're talking to. You live for parties. What's so dreadful to make you consider hiding away on a country farm?"
"Why won't you believe I love you?"
"Because I know you don't love anybody as much as you love money, position, and power over men. I'm only a poor doctor, remember, who doesn't care about position or money."
"I don't care about those things anymore. Besides, we can live in Richmond, where you will have a lot more patients."
She hadn't set foot outside of Galveston and she was already moving him to Richmond. Next it would be Philadelphia or New York. "Tell me what really happened."
Vivian looked mulish.
"Either tell me or leave. I've got patients to see."
"A person would think your patients are more important to you than I am."
"My patients tell me the truth. All of it."
For a moment Vivian glared at him. He was certain she was calculating exactly how much she could tell without telling all. She was probably also wondering whether she hadn't acted hastily and might be able to overcome the problem in some other way. She suddenly flashed a brilliant smile.
"I was too mortified to tell you, but I guess you'll find out anyway. I can't believe I could be so mistaken in a man."
"What did Laveau do?"
"He has been blackmailing people. He finds out who has something to hide and threatens to turn his victims in to the Reconstruction."
The door had opened before Vivian finished speaking. Her sister-in-law entered the room, followed by Felicity. "That's not exactly what people are saying," Lillie Hart said.
Vivian turned white when she saw her sister-in-law, but she quickly regained her composure. "Lillie, what are you doing here?"
"When I learned you weren't packing but had left the house, I figured you would come here to the only man who believes you're a decent woman."
"Holt loves me, and I love him. He's going to marry me and take me back to Virginia."
"That may be his intention, but I believe he has a right to know the kind of woman you are before he marries you."
"They're only lies, Lillie. Nobody can prove a thing."
"Nobody would hold it against Vivian if she'd been taken in by Laveau like the rest of us," Lillie said, turning to Holt. "What has caused Galveston to close its doors to her, and prompted my husband to order her to leave our house immediately, is the knowledge that she gave information to diViere and received payment for it."
"That's not true!" Vivian cried. "You can't prove it."
Holt looked at Vivian in disbelief. She'd never been poor, never wanted for anything. He couldn't believe she would betray her friends for money. He turned to her, hoping she'd say something to prove she hadn't done such a terrible thing. There was fear in her eyes, but behind it rage blazed too strongly to be missed.
"Surely you don't believe her instead of me," Vivian said.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because it's not true."
The door had opened again to allow Laveau diViere and Dr. Moore to enter the room.
"I'm sorry to have to contradict you, my sweet," Laveau said, "but it is true."
What had begun as a simple situation was assuming nightmarish proportions. Here, within his grasp, was the man who'd betrayed his fellow soldiers three years ago, the man responsible for so much needless death. Holt was tempted to shoot him, but he didn't want to be hanged for murder. He was willing to sacrifice a lot of things to bring Laveau to justice, but not his future with Felicity.
Holt looked at the people in the room, tried to ascertain the state of mind of each by his or her expression. Laveau appeared completely calm, undisturbed by the fact that he'd been caught in blackmail. Maybe after betrayal, theft, murder, and rustling, blackmail seemed comparatively harmless. He seemed amused by Vivian's nearly hysterical accusation that he'd drawn an innocent woman into this net, then forced her to help him blackmail the very people whose acceptance meant everything to her.
Lillie Hart's expression was harder to interpret. It seemed to be a combination of shock that a person could be as evil as Laveau, surprise that Vivian had lost control of the situation, and probably a little bit of satisfaction that Vivian had finally been shown to have clay feet.
Felicity's expression was easy to understand. Pain. Devastation. Something must have happened while he was talking to Vivian. He wanted to clear up this mess and send everybody home so he could find out what had upset her so much. He never wanted to see her so unhappy again.
Dr. Moore appeared to be the only impartial observer in the room, watching everyone with wide-eyed curiosity. It was probably the only time in the last thirteen years he wasn't thinking of whiskey.
"You've finally gone too far," Holt said to Laveau, breaking in on Vivian. "You stop at nothing to achieve your ends."
"I certainly don't stop to allow myself to be caught on the losing side," Laveau said.
His voice had lost its liquid smoothness, had turned harsh, the words propelled with great force from his mouth. His mask of sophisticated pretense slipped to reveal the hatred boiling inside him. Even his physical stance changed to one of open hostility.
"And in the process you sacrificed your honor and integrity," Holt said.
Laveau laughed. "You act as if lost honor is gone forever. You naive fool. Honor can be bought and sold just like anything else."
"Not among honorable people."
Laveau sneered. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. You'd risk everything, even your life, for this woman," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Vivian. "A woman who'd make a whore of herself for money."
It was more than Holt could stand to see Laveau untouched after blatantly flouting the laws of man, of common decency, of basic morality that governed the civilized world. Not only had he remained beyond the reach of justice, he mocked its very existence. Laveau's handsome, sneering face caused something inside Holt to snap.
He launched himself at Laveau.
It wasn't much of a fight. Two punches and Laveau sank to the floor, his face bloodied and two buttons popped loose from his vest. Holt stepped back, surprised and a bit embarrassed at his uncontrolled temper.
"That's what I expected from you," Laveau said. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked at the blood, and smiled. "You always have to do things according to the code of gentlemanly behavior." He stood up, took out his handkerchief, and wiped the blood from his hand. "You never have learned how to deal with your opponents properly." He touched the handkerchief to his mouth and winced with pain.
"And how is that?" Holt asked.
"It's embarrassing to lose a fight," Laveau said, restoring his handkerchief to his pocket, "but even winning can be ineffective. You have to deal with your opponent in a manner that makes certain he won't come back again to trouble you." Without warning he drew a pistol from his inner pocket and fired. "Anything else is a waste of time."
Holt saw the pistol, heard the deafening sound of the shot before he felt the pain. But his thoughts were far from his own hurt. They were focused on Felicity's shock and horror at what had happened. And the knowledge that just when he had found love, he was going to lose it. He reached out to her, his final words an inaudible whisper.
I love you.
After hearing Vivian beg Holt to marry her, Felicity knew her chance for happiness had vanished once again. No man could refuse Vivian, especial
ly not a man who'd been in love with her for years. Felicity had been in a kind of fog, unable to think, unable to move, even unable to explain to her father what had happened. She didn't know how she managed to open the door and invite Lillie Hart into the house, or how she found herself in the room with Vivian and Holt. She felt as though someone else was moving her body about like a chess piece. When she heard the pistol shot, saw the small hole appear in Holt's chest, everything fell away. She was at Holt's side before his body slumped to the floor.
"Papa!" she cried as she ripped open Holt's shirt to expose the wound. Her father was on his knees next to Holt almost before the word left her mouth. "You've got to get the bullet out."
"It won't do any good if he's dead," her father said, his fingers on the vein in Holt's throat.
He couldn't be dead. As much as it would break her heart, she'd rather see him go back to Vivian than be dead. But to die at the hands of a cowardly traitor! She pushed her father's hand aside. "Let me," she said. She started to tell everyone in the room to be quiet, but all noise had ceased. She moved her fingertips along Holt's neck, searching desperately for signs of even a weak pulse. All the time her lips were moving in silent prayer.
Suddenly her fingers stopped. Her lips froze. Her entire concentration was on confirming what she had just felt... a faint pulse. She was afraid she felt the pulse because she wanted it so desperately. But when she felt it again, so weak she could barely perceive it, she knew she wasn't mistaken.
"He's alive."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"I'll send for a doctor."
"We don't have time. You have to operate."
"You know I'm not a surgeon like Holt. I'm afraid--"
"I don't want to hear excuses," she shouted, for the first time not bothering to be careful of her father's feelings. "Holt says you know more medicine than he does." She grabbed her father's wrist. "All my life I've taken care of you. I've cooked your meals, cleaned your house, helped with patients, made excuses when you weren't fit to see them, put you to bed when you were too drunk to do it yourself. I'm twenty-six years old and I have nothing because I gave everything up for you. Everything! Finally I ask one thing of you and you tell me you can't because you're afraid?"
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