Only My Love

by Jo Goodman

  "My daughter knows me too well. She warned me not to do it. Warned me, not asked me. Michael would cut off her right hand before she asked me to do anything for her. She insisted on testifying; said it was her privilege and her right. Stopping her would have meant losing her, Mr. Stone, and that's the one thing I won't have. Michael and I don't always see things the same, but God knows, I love her."

  Ethan didn't doubt that. Very briefly there had been the sheen of tears in Jay Mac's eyes as he spoke. It would have been clear to the meanest intelligence that Jay Mac loved his daughter. "I've come to make certain she stays safe, Mr. Worth. You and I are not at cross purposes here."

  Jay Mac relaxed slightly. He leaned back in his chair, breathed the pungent aroma of Jarret's cigar smoke drifting in his direction, and met Ethan's direct gaze again. "Your telegram was short on details. There's been nothing in the local papers about the escape. Even the Chronicle didn't pick up the story."

  "I asked Logan Marshall not to run it," Ethan said. "I thought it would be too alarming for Michael to learn about it that way. It was better that she hear it from you. You've told her, haven't you?"

  Jay Mac nodded. "Her and her sisters and her mother. They all had a right to know. And they all had questions I couldn't answer."

  Jarret picked up a small pewter tray and knocked a little ash off the glowing tip of his cigar. "Detra Kelly had the help of a guard at the woman's prison. Apparently she seduced him." Jarret's lazy grin deepened. "Dee's a good looker but I don't think it hurt that she promised a sizable share of the robbery money that's never been recovered."

  "I didn't even hear about her escape until she aided Houston in his," Ethan said. "That was ten days ago. I wired a message to you as soon as I learned of it. Ben was injured in the escape attempt. He took a nasty fall in the quarry where they were digging. Jake was killed. One report says that Houston took a bullet in his leg, but it apparently didn't slow him much. Dee managed to get him away. They've eluded every search party sent after them."

  "Ethan and I split from the main posse and tracked them as far as St. Louis," Jarret said. "I lost them then. The trail went cold."

  "New names?" Jay Mac asked. "Disguises?"

  "That's a pretty safe bet," Ethan said. "We wouldn't waste time trying to follow them at that point. We needed to get ahead of them."

  "Do you think you have?"

  "I don't know. Houston and Dee could already be in New York and I doubt we'll find them first. Have you acted on my suggestions in the telegram?"

  "Moved my family out, you mean?" Jay Mac asked. Incredulity was clear in the expression. "Mr. Stone, I couldn't have moved Moira and my daughters out of the city this week with anything less than the 7th cavalry. And they're not stationed where I can get them." He put on his spectacles, took his watch out of his pocket and glanced at the time. "Ninety minutes from now my daughter is getting married. They've been planning and carrying on for months now. The news of Nate Houston's escape made them pause for all of a second. They went right back to choosing flowers for the church and arguing about the menu for the reception. Took their cue from Michael, they did, and when she wasn't concerned, they weren't concerned. Or at least pretended not to be."

  Ethan wondered if he was as pale as he felt. At the mention of the wedding it seemed that the blood drained from his face and settled in his stomach. For a moment he couldn't breathe or swallow. When Jay Mac offered him a drink he accepted, then knocked it back as if it were water. It burned all the way down and did nothing to clear his head.

  Jarret sipped his own drink, watching Ethan out of the corner of his eye. His old friend had it bad, he thought. His deep amusement was partly rooted in the fact he considered himself immune to what was so obviously ailing Ethan. "Ethan told me you have five daughters," he said. "Now which one would it be that's tying the knot?"

  Jay Mac's level gaze slipped away from Ethan and fell innocently on Jarret. "Didn't I say? I thought I mentioned it was Mary Renee."

  "Rennie," Ethan said softly. His immediate relief was quickly overshadowed by anger at being manipulated. The old codger, he thought. "You wanted me to think it was Michael."

  Jay Mac shrugged, putting away the liquor. He carried his own glass back to his desk and sat on the edge. "I needed to know what you felt for my daughter," he said without apology. He glanced at Jarret. "I think he loves her. What do you think?"

  "The very same, sir."

  Ethan glared at his friend, then at Jay Mac. He ignored the subject of his feelings altogether. "Does Michael know I planned to come here?"

  "I didn't tell her," Jay Mac said. "Quite frankly, I was afraid the news would send her packing. That would have been fine, except that she would have been running from the wrong person. There was every chance that Houston and this Dee woman would have found her before you did. I didn't want that to happen."

  It wasn't comforting to know that Michael would have gone out of her way to avoid him, yet had no sensible fear of Houston or Detra. He rolled his shot glass between his palms. "Jarret and I discussed a plan on the way here. We think that Michael should go on with her routine, apparently just as she has. That will draw out Houston and Dee. In deference to the rest of your family's safety, however, I think they should leave the city for a while."

  Jay Mac was silent. He took another sip of his drink. "I can't say that I like the idea of Michael being used as felon bait and that's exactly what you're proposing. On the other hand, I don't have any hope of convincing her to leave her job at the Chronicle for even a day, let alone the weeks or months that it might take for you to flush out Houston. Mary Francis will be quite safe at the convent. Maggie and Skye and their mother will go to my summer home in the Hudson Valley."

  "And Rennie will be honeymooning with her new husband," Ethan said.

  Jay Mac hesitated. "Well, actually, Rennie poses something of a problem. I'm not so sure she'll agree to leave the city once she finds out you're here."

  Jarret dismissed the notion. A wreathe of blue-gray smoke hovered in the air in front of him. He exhaled, blowing it away. "Surely her husband will have some say in that."

  "Hollis Banks?" His snort was clearly derisive. "He wouldn't have the nerve to gainsay Rennie. He'll do what she says."

  Ethan sunk back in his chair. The double shot of whiskey on an empty stomach loosened his tongue. His tone was faintly accusing. "Don't you have any daughters who do what they're told?"

  "Not a one." Although he threw up his hands he didn't sound especially disappointed. "Moira's raised them with a mind of their own, I'm afraid."

  Somehow Ethan doubted that was entirely truthful. There was a great deal about Michael that spoke to Jay Mac's influence. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

  Jay Mac finished his drink. "I was rather hoping this business with Houston would have a silver lining."

  "How's that?" Ethan asked.

  "I thought it might put Rennie's wedding on hold." He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and looked at his watch again. "Just a little over an hour now. I wish to God she weren't marrying that milksop."

  Jarret grinned, making an obvious show of enjoying his cigar. "I take it you'd strike a bargain with God if you had another vice to give up."

  Jay Mac blinked at the younger man's impudence. Then he gave a short bark of laughter. "You're exactly right, Mr. Sullivan, exactly right."

  Ethan stood. Rennie's wedding wasn't his problem. "Jarret will stay with Michael's mother and sisters in the valley. If you're quite certain that Mary Francis will be safe there's no need for additional protection there. If you don't trust Rennie's future husband to do right by her, then I suggest you hire someone. I'll be with Michael." The manner in which he said the last was almost a challenge to Jay Mac.

  Michael's father merely returned Ethan's steady regard.

  Jarret put his shot glass on the edge of the desk and followed Ethan's lead. "I suppose we'll meet them all at the wedding then. We're not really dressed for it though." Neither
was Jay Mac, he realized. "Should we follow you there?"

  Dead silence followed Jarret's question. Ethan knew the reason; Jarret only understood he had inadvertently broached a subject that was meant to be avoided.

  Jay Mac went around his desk, drew out a paper and pen from the middle drawer and quickly wrote out directions. The rapid movement of his hand across the page made the slight trembling of his fingers almost invisible. When he spoke his voice was carefully modulated. Only the dark green eyes hinted at the intensity of his pain. "I won't be attending the wedding," he said. "Or giving Rennie away. One of the prices a father pays for siring bastard daughters, I'm afraid." His smile was filled with self-mockery. "Perhaps that's the silver lining. I don't have to see her make the worst mistake of her life."

  He blew on the paper, drying the ink, folded it into quarters, and passed it across the desk to Ethan. "The wedding's at St. Gregory's Chapel here in Manhattan. There are also directions to Michael's hotel. She's been boarding at the St. Mark since she returned from Denver. I'm leaving with Moira and the girls in the morning for the summerhouse. I've hired protection of my own. We won't be needing Mr. Sullivan."

  Jarret nodded. "Then I'll stay close to you, Ethan."

  Jay Mac shook his head. "I'd feel a lot better if you stayed close to Rennie."

  All vestige of amusement faded from Jarret's face. He crushed his cigar on the tray. "On her honeymoon?"

  "Since I doubt she'll agree to leave now, she'll need as much protection as Michael."

  Jarret and Ethan spoke at the same time. "Why?"

  Jay Mac's head tilted to one side and his sandy brows drew together. His forehead was ridged as he looked at Ethan, puzzled. "You really don't know, do you?" he said. "Michael never told you about Rennie."

  Ethan shook his head slowly. "I'm not certain what you mean."

  This time when Jay Mac Worth threw up his hands he was clearly frustrated. "That's just like her," he said, more to himself than his guests. "And Rennie would have done the same thing. They've been playing these sort of games with people since they were children. One would think that now, at twenty-four, they wouldn't take so much delight in it, but obviously some things never change. God only knows when she would have thought to tell you."

  "Tell me what?" Ethan asked, impatient.

  "Tell him what?" Jarret asked, intrigued.

  "Michael and Rennie... they're identical twins."

  Ethan's mouth had opened a fraction. Now it snapped shut.

  Jarret whistled softly. "Twins. Imagine that." His black brows rose a little as the full implication set in. "Houston and Dee might stumble on the wrong sister."

  Jay Mac's gaze shifted from one man to the other. "Precisely. And that fool Hollis Banks can't protect her. I'm not sure anyone can if Rennie decides to draw attention to herself to save Michael. And that, gentlemen, is just the sort of maggot Rennie's gotten into her head." He pushed away from his desk and stood. He took off his spectacles, folded them, and put them in his pocket. "I'd be willing to pay ten thousand dollars to stop that wedding."

  "I don't want your money, Mr. Worth," Ethan repeated. He held out his hand to Jay Mac, shook it, and turned to go.

  Jarret Sullivan followed suit, but on the point of leaving he turned back to Jay Mac. "About that ten thousand dollars," he said. "I could be very interested."

  When the door closed behind them John MacKenzie Worth sat in his comfortable leather armchair and reached for a cigar. He inhaled the aroma and even placed it between his lips for a moment. He'd have to find another way to celebrate his good fortune, he thought. Ethan Stone and Mary Michael. The man hadn't traveled a thousand miles just to offer his protection. If Jay Mac was any judge of character, and he thought he was a good one, then Ethan Stone intended to marry his daughter—and about time, too.

  That left Rennie. What would Moira think when she found out he'd offered money to stop the wedding? His mustache lifted as he smiled. She'd come around eventually. On most things she usually did. And the family would survive the scandal; somehow they always managed. Moira would be shocked at first but Jarret Sullivan being at least half Irish would go a long way to soothing her fears.

  He put away the cigar and closed the black lacquered box. Tomorrow he'd be with Moira in the summerhouse. The sort of celebration he meant to have began to form in his mind.

  * * *

  "Why did you tell him you wanted the money?" Ethan asked as they stepped out of the Worth Building and onto Broadway.

  "I didn't say I wanted it. Just that I was interested. Aren't you?"

  "I don't need it."

  Jarret shrugged. "I don't own a silver mine. I can always use ten thousand dollars."

  "Then I'll let you be in charge of stopping the wedding. I don't want any part of that. If Rennie's anything like her sister, she won't thank you for it."

  "I don't care about her thanks," he said, grinning. "Jay Mac's money will make up for that."

  Ethan hailed a hansom and they climbed on. He gave the driver the chapel's address with a curt order to hurry. The May sun was warm but there was a strong wind. Women walked along Broadway holding onto their bonnets with one hand and batting at their skirts with the other. The thoroughfare was crowded with pedestrians, buggies, and wagons. Vendors on the sidewalks hawked vegetables, flowers, and fruit.

  They passed Printing House Square on their way to the chapel. Ethan pointed out the Chronicle's offices and the white marble French palace that housed the New York Herald on the corner of Broadway and Ann. "Supposing you do manage to stop the wedding," he said. "What are you going to do with Rennie?"

  "If her mother and sisters are going to be in the valley, there's no reason we can't stay at their home. Don't worry, Ethan. I'll take care of her."

  Ethan supposed that if he could trust Jarret with his own life—and he had on several occasions—then he could trust him with Rennie's. "All right."

  Jarret glanced over at his friend. He couldn't recall ever seeing Ethan so tense. A jar of nitro would have exploded in his hands. He knew better than to think it had everything to do with Houston and Dee. "What do you think she'll do when she sees you?"

  Jamming his hands in his pockets, Ethan leaned back in his seat. "Damned if I know," he said softly.

  * * *

  Everyone hovered around Rennie in the side chapel. Skye Dennehy was on her knees in front of her sister, making last minute adjustments to the hem of Rennie's gown. Her small oval face was flushed and tendrils of flame-red hair were curling away from the smooth chignon at the back of her head. She mumbled around a mouthful of pins and no one paid her the least attention.

  Maggie fiddled with the bouquet, arranging and rearranging the orange blossoms to show them off to their best advantage. Her small, delicate features were taut, her mouth screwed comically to one side as she concentrated on her work.

  Mary Francis, her beautiful face framed in the cornet of her habit, fussed with Rennie's hair, tucking hairpins back in place and adjusting the veil. She hummed lightly while she worked, carrying the same tune the organist played in the main chapel, and inadvertently reminding everyone that there wasn't much time left.

  The mother of the bride smoothed the satin sleeves of Rennie's gown. Moira's hands shook slightly as she worked, her brow creased with concern. A lace scarf covered her dark red hair. From time to time she glanced worriedly at Rennie.

  "A wake is more fun than this," Michael said. She was on her knees beside Skye, threading a needle.

  "Michael!" her mother admonished.

  "Well, it is," she said, unrepentant. She gave the needle and thread to Skye and carefully plucked the pins from her sister's mouth. "Looking at all of us, one would think the Irish only know how to have fun at funerals. All this last minute fussing because Rennie tripped on the steps and ripped out her hem, soiled her gown, and tossed the bouquet before she was supposed to. If I were a bit more superstitious I'd say this wedding wasn't meant to happen."

  Rennie glanced down at
her sister, her mouth twisting in disgust. "I'll thank you to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself. I know you mean well, but I've heard all I care to hear from you on the subject of my marriage to Hollis Banks."

  Now that Skye's mouth was free of pins she took up Michael's cause. Her young face was earnest. "It's not that we don't like Hollis. Well, it's not that we exactly like him either."

  "Schyler!" Moira said, shaking her head in despair. Where had her daughters learned to speak their mind so bluntly? It was Jay Mac's influence, she thought. And he wasn't here to see what he had wrought. "She didn't mean it quite that way, Rennie."

  "Yes, I did," said Skye. "Hollis is all right, I suppose, but he's not the sort of man I imagined you'd marry."

  Rennie snorted delicately. "I can only guess at what you conjured in that head of yours. Hollis suits me just fine. He's kind and gentle and smart and—"

  "He's after your money," Mary Francis said with serene confidence.

  Moira gasped at her eldest daughter's pronouncement.

  "Actually," Maggie said, shaking the bouquet at Rennie, "he's after Jay Mac's money and thinks you're just the Dennehy who can get it for him."

  Moira fanned herself. She wished she were a woman given to fainting spells because she would have liked to have had one right then. As it was her daughters completely ignored her.

  "This is a fine time to be telling me," Rennie snapped.

  Michael stabbed the collected pins into a pincushion. "We've been telling you all along. You didn't want to hear."

  "You should be supporting me now. You should be happy for me, wishing me well." Rennie started to shake everyone off, feeling as if she were being pulled in five different directions. She was only peripherally aware that she had caused them to back away, shamed-faced and sorry for their lack of sensitivity. In spite of the activity all around her, something else had caught Rennie's attention.

  Two men stood on the threshold of the side chapel, hat in hand, looking distinctly uncomfortable in their dust-covered and travel-wrinkled clothes. Their gun-belts were jarringly out of place.