Fair Play

by Deeanne Gist

  He made a horrible face. “Bite your tongue, woman. My ma’s a great gal, but I don’t want to live with her. How about a nanny?”

  “A nanny would be fine. But no boarding schools.”

  “Agreed. No boarding schools.”

  “So is it a deal?” she asked.

  He rubbed his mouth. “You sure you won’t change your mind about doctoring fellas?”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “What about my Rangering and being away from home?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I’m not going to like it. But I’ll try not to resent it.”

  “Then I guess I’ll try not to resent you doctoring men.” He frowned. “But I still don’t like it. I really, really, really don’t like it.”

  She smiled. “But you’ll manage it, won’t you?”

  “I suppose I’ll have to.” After a second or two, a light began to grow within his eyes. “You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna come here and seal the deal?”

  “Guess I’ll seal the deal, that is if the Lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise.”

  He barked out a short laugh. “You poking fun at me, missy?”

  “No, I’m just practicing my Texan.”

  Chuckling, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. “Come here, woman, and let’s practice something else.”

  After he’d thoroughly kissed her and she’d gone all jelly-like, he rested his forehead against hers. “There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

  She rubbed her nose against his. “What’s that?”

  “It’s about Derry.”

  Sobering, she pulled back. “What about him?”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up and it probably won’t work out.”

  She pushed out of his arms and sat straighter. “What won’t work out?”

  “I’m asking if I can have custody of him, on account of his age. I’ve asked if I can take him to Texas with me under the condition that I’d be responsible for any crimes he were to commit, if he committed any, that is.”

  Her lips parted. “Will his parents allow that?”

  “They’re more than willing to let me have him. As you know, they’ve no great attachment to him other than for the money he can bring in. Still, they said they’d rather let me have him than leave him in jail.”

  “Well, that’s something, anyway. Who did you talk to about his release?”

  “I talked to the mayor, but he doesn’t have the authority to do that. It’ll have to come from the governor.”

  “Do you think he’ll agree to it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. But my captain knows him and met with him about something while he was up here. So I’ve cabled him, told him what’s going on, and asked him to cable the governor and see if he can vouch for me.”

  Bringing her hands together with a clap, she rested them against her lips in a prayer-like fashion. “Do you think he will?”

  “My captain? I don’t see why not. But I haven’t heard back from him.”

  She launched herself into his arms, knocking him backward.

  He immediately took advantage of their position and kissed her again with a great deal of gusto. When she could see he was at his breaking point, she pulled back before she reached hers.

  “Where you going?” His voice was husky, full of promise.

  “No more. We have to stop.”

  “Just one more.”

  She untangled herself from his embrace. “Come on, cowboy. Time to walk this cowgirl home.”

  “Cowgirl? Heaven help me. You’re already a lady doctor. The last thing I need is for you to be a lady cowboy, too.”

  Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to his feet. “Come on. You sound like a hog in a woodpile.”

  He gave her backside a playful swat with his hat. “Sweet Mackinaw, it’s hog in a coal pile, not hog in a woodpile.”

  She lifted a brow. “Then let me say it in Chicago style: Come on and quit your whining.”

  With a quick shuffle to the side, she skirted out of range, then hurried to the door before he had another hankering to paint her back porch red.

  CHAPTER

  52

  GOVERNOR ALTGELD GOOD MAN STOP ADVOCATE OF CHILDREN AND WOMEN STOP HAVE SENT WORD STOP CAPT HEYWOOD STOP

  Hunter tucked the telegram in his pocket, then stepped inside Chicago’s tallest building. Just months prior to entering office, Governor Altgeld had finished this building, the crown jewel of his real estate career. Marble floors sparkled beneath Hunter’s boots. Tile ceilings gleamed overhead.

  Approaching the elevators, he sighed. He didn’t like those newfangled things. He didn’t see why any fellow felt the need to go two hundred feet in the air. The folks in Babel had tried that and it hadn’t worked out too well for them.

  But you couldn’t tell Chicagoans that. To them, the higher the building the better. The doors opened and folks spilled out like cattle from a chute.

  As soon as it emptied, that many more pushed and shoved their way inside. Caught in the vortex of the stampede, he was herded to the center of the box, pressed tight from every angle. All the way up, he kept reminding himself that Billy would be done with the fair in another week. Then he could leave this godforsaken city.

  He decided they would head out the day the fair ended. That very night. He’d take her to the preacher the minute the exposition’s closing ceremonies were over, then go straight to one of those fancy sleeper cars and have himself the most pleasurable ride to Texas a fellow could ever dream of.

  He couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to go. But now that she had, he’d found that his impatience to make her his had increased a hundredfold. Still, at moments like these, he wasn’t sure if he was more excited about leaving Chicago or about getting her into his bed.

  He shook his head. That was all hat and no cattle, and he knew it, but he was looking forward to being home just the same.

  Little by little the crowd eased as folks exited the box. By the time he got to the sixteenth floor, it was just him and two other fellows.

  The doors opened. Hunter started walking up and down corridors looking for Altgeld’s office. If the man said yes, Hunter would have to figure out what to do about Derry during the honeymoon. Maybe one of the Rangers from home would come up and escort Derry back. That’d be the only viable solution. There wasn’t anybody else he’d trust to see after the boy, and Derry would love the chance to meet another Ranger.

  In the northeast corner, a plaque announced Altgeld and his Unity Company. He knocked.

  A pretty little typewriter gal opened the door. “He’s expecting you, Mr. Scott. Right this way.”

  He shook his head at all the fancy carpets and wallpaper and scrollwork. Was there something wrong with just plain and simple?

  Stepping inside a corner office, the gal held the door open with her back and waved Hunter in.

  Reaching above her, he steadied the door with his hand. “I think you have that backward, miss. I’m supposed to be holding the door for you.”

  She smiled, a pretty blush of pink touching her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  She dipped under his arm and went back the way she’d come.

  He stuck his head in the office.

  A man with a respectable black beard and black hair cropped short smiled and came around his desk. “You must be Ranger Scott. Come in.”

  Letting the door close, Hunter shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Certainly. I know your captain very well. We’ve had meetings in D.C., and he was just up to see me late this summer. But I suppose you know that already. Please, have a seat.”

  Hunter settled into a brown leather chair. “Did the mayor tell you why I wanted to meet with you?”

  Altgeld pulled up to his desk. “He did, and so did your captain. So, I’ve been poring over the records the stenographer took of the trial.” He shook his head. “Quite a nasty business.”

 
“Yes, sir, it is.”

  “And you think Derry Molinari is innocent?”

  “I know he is. I’ve seen him on a daily basis all summer long. The boy’s a hard worker and anxious to do right by his family and right by women. Have you read his testimony and that of the other boys?”

  “I’ve read the whole thing. And I have to say, I’m inclined to agree with you. Molinari’s testimony was consistent and convincing. Between that, the Lonborg boy’s testimony, and your endorsement, I think there was definitely a case for reasonable doubt. The way the defense handled the case was disappointing, to say the least.”

  Hunter’s hopes soared. “So what do you say? Will you pardon him? I’m willing to be his ‘jailer,’ if you will. And I’ll take all responsibility for any mischief he gets into—no matter how serious—until he’s old enough to go out on his own.”

  Altgeld leaned back in his chair. “Ordinarily, given his age and your reputation, I wouldn’t even hesitate. The problem is, this case is being watched very closely. Not only by the citizens of Illinois, but by the higher-ups in Washington. And everyone has an opinion—a strong opinion. I’m just not sure what the reaction would be if I released him to you.”

  “Listen, sir. I know this boy. All he needs is guidance. An example. A father who can give him some extra attention. He simply needs someone to show him how to be a man.”

  “And you’re going to show him how to be a man?”

  “I am.”

  “In Texas, I assume? Where you’ll be a Ranger?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Don’t you think it’s going to be hard to give him all this fatherly instruction if you’re always away on assignment?”

  The click of a fan competed with the ticking of a wall clock.

  “I wouldn’t always be away.”

  “I’m no stranger to Rangering, Mr. Scott. As I said, I know your captain quite well. And even if I didn’t . . .” Sitting up, Altgeld sifted through several papers, then stopped and laid a finger on one of the lines. “According to your testimony, it says here, ‘I’ve spent more time on the trail than I have in my own bed.’ ”

  Hunter swallowed. “I could settle in the same town as my mother. Then he’d have the influence of not just the woman I’m marrying, but of my ma as well.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s passed.”

  Altgeld shook his head. “I’m sorry. Like I said, if the case wasn’t receiving so much attention, it wouldn’t be a problem. But if I did do this and my justification was that you’d offered to be Molinari’s jailer, as you called it, how would I respond when the higher-ups pointed out you’d never be around to do the job?”

  Chest tightening, Hunter sat forward. “Sir, the boy’s only nine. We can’t leave him locked up with vicious, hardened criminals for the rest of his days, especially when he didn’t do anything but try to protect the victim. There’s got to be a way we can work this out.”

  Resting his arms on the desk, Altgeld clasped his hands. “Calm down, son. There’s a way. I never said there wasn’t a way. I just said I couldn’t release him to you under the conditions you’ve described.”

  “All right. Then what conditions would you pardon him under?”

  “I have two.”

  “Okay.”

  “One.” He held up a finger. “You have to be married. The boy needs a mother.”

  Hunter’s hopes rose. “That’s already been arranged.”

  “Good. Two.” He held up the second finger. “You’ll have to have a job that allows you to be home every night.”

  His pulse began to race. His lungs completely quit working. Gripping the armrests of the chair, he forced air through his nose and out through his mouth. Finally, he managed to speak. “You’re telling me I have to give up being a Ranger.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t be a Ranger. Being a Ranger is a fine and noble profession. I’m just saying that you need to make sure you’re home every night.”

  “You’re talking about sitting behind a desk. Rangers don’t sit behind desks. We roam the range. I’d have no choice but to give it up. And I can’t do that, sir. It would kill me. I need, I need to be able to move around. To spend time outdoors. To go from one county to the next. I need be able to push my horse to a full gallop and sleep out under the stars. It’s too much. It would—”

  The room started spinning. His head became light. Spots appeared over his vision.

  Sweet mother of all that is holy, he was going to black out. He ordered his blood to go back to his brain, but it had long since gone south and had no intention of returning.

  Spreading his knees, he bent over and hung his head between them, forcing the blood to flow back into his head.

  “Scott?” The governor’s voice rose in concern. “Are you all right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “It doesn’t have to be a desk job,” the governor said. “There’s plenty of jobs besides Rangering that you could do outdoors. Like farming. You could farm. Or ranch. What about ranching? That involves horses.”

  “It’s not the same, sir.” The blood was slow in returning, so he stayed bent over. “There’s no chase involved. No tracking. No danger. No sense of adventure. And you have to have a lot of money to be a rancher. You can’t just one day say, ‘I think I’ll be a rancher.’ You may as well ask a chicken to fly. It may have wings, but there’s just some things it can’t do.”

  Altgeld made no response.

  Finally, Hunter felt it safe to raise his head.

  Altgeld’s expression was incredulous. “I thought you were supposed to be tough?”

  “If you want a powder burning contest, I could have you winging it to Saint Peter before you even reached for your gun. If you’d rather use fists, I could knock your ears down so they’d do you for wings. But I could never sit at a desk for years on end or gamble my family’s well-being on the whims of a crop or chase cows my whole life. I’m not that tough. I’m just not.”

  Altgeld shook his head. “Then I can’t release Derry to you. I’m sorry.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands. “You’re positive? There’s no changing your mind?”

  “He needs a jailer and he needs someone to teach him how to be a man. You can’t do those things unless you’re home.”

  Propping his elbow on the armrest, Hunter pressed his palm against his forehead. He needed to talk to Billy. Maybe she could figure something out. “Can I get back to you tomorrow, sir?”

  “That would be fine.”

  With a deep breath, he picked up his Stetson and pushed himself up. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  HULL HOUSE PARLOR40

  “The parlor was full of women and children, along with one man, waiting to see her.”

  CHAPTER

  53

  He needed someplace private to talk to Billy, but there was no place. It was still daytime, so the Woman’s Building parlor would be open to anybody who wanted to walk in. Crockett’s island would have folks coming and going. Her dormitory didn’t have a sitting room. And Hull House was always busy.

  Still, that was where she was, so that’s where he headed. And once he arrived, he discovered Hull House had temporarily given her a private room on the second floor where she could conduct her examinations. The parlor was full of women and children, along with one man, waiting to see her.

  He sized the fellow up. Somewhere in his fifties. Hadn’t shaved for several days. Hadn’t bathed for several months. And he looked kind of green. Hunter decided he’d let the man see her, but he didn’t like it. Not one single bit.

  It was a good three hours before she finished.

  After the last patient left, he knocked on the door and stepped into the room. Several instruments were laid out on a dresser, along with bandages, rags, vials, and her doctor’s bag.

  Pulling linen off a chaise longue, she glanced up, then froze. “You’re back. What’d he say?”

  She wore a
plain brown skirt and a simple white shirtwaist, just the way he liked it. She’d pinned her hair in a twist, her cheeks held a breath of pink, and her eyes had a bit of a glow.

  “You really like your doctoring, don’t you?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I love it. Now, what did the governor say?”

  “He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no.” He took a deep breath. “He, um, had some conditions.”

  Furling up the linen, she studied him. “You didn’t like the conditions.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What were they?”

  He eyed the chaise longue. “Is it safe to sit on that?”

  She glanced at it. “You mean because of the germ theory?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes. I cover it with multiple linens.”

  “Well, let’s sit then.”

  She shook her head. “You sit. I’m going to clean up.”

  “I’d really like you to sit.”

  Tossing the linen by the door, she crossed to the ewer and began to soap her hands and arms. “You’ll want to kiss me and we can’t kiss in here. It would be disrespectful to Miss Addams.”

  “I won’t kiss you, then.”

  Picking up a huck towel, she dried her hands. “No hugging. No nuzzling. No nothing.”

  “You sure are bossy.”

  “I mean it.”

  He sighed. “You might as well keep doing what you’re doing, then.”

  Shaking her head, she started soaping and washing her instruments. “So what are the conditions?”

  He admired the view, mesmerized by the jiggling that occurred while she scrubbed.

  She looked over her shoulder, then rested her wrists against the side of the bowl, suds dripping from her hands. “Hunter.” A warning.

  He gave himself a shake, then ran a hand through his hair. “There were two conditions. One of which was pretty dismal.”

  She turned back to her washing. “What are they?”

  “I have to give up Rangering.”

  She whirled around, soap and water flying, a knife of some sort in her hands. “What?”

  “He thinks Derry needs me to be home every night. So, whatever I decide to do, it has to be something I walk away from come suppertime.”