Jesse's Renegade (#3 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

  “Can I help you?’ Samuel asked carefully.

  “The name’s Patricia Lee,” she said, holding out one black-gloved hand as she sailed across the room. Samuel accepted her outstretched hand and, realizing she expected him to kiss it, dutifully bent over her and laid a kiss on the somewhat soiled silk. “You’re Samuel Danner, then? The one what’s a lawyer?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his interest piqued in spite of himself.

  “I been not knowin’ what to do. But I’ve got some information. I thought about sellin’ it,” she said, a real blush now flooding beneath the fake one. “It’s the kinda thing would make a blackmailer’s day, if’n ya know what I mean.”

  Samuel hesitated, assessing her. She was from a lower class than his usual clientele: Her dress, her demeanor, her language, suggested she had little or no education. “And you think I’d be willing to pay for this information, is that it?”

  “Oh, no, sir! It’s just you’re involved, and I been strugglin’ with my conscience. But when a man tells me he murdered someone, I can’t keep it to myself. You understand?” she asked anxiously, peering at him through the screen of her veil.

  Baffled, certain he would be sorry for asking, Samuel inquired, “Someone confessed a murder to you?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Danner. He did.” She clutched her bosom as if expecting her hands to encounter a cross, but her fingers closed around a cheap-looking bauble meant to look like a ruby.

  “You want me to defend him?” Samuel hazarded, groping through the dark.

  “I should say not!” Her lips tightened in exasperation as if she deemed him completely dense. “There was a man what’s name was Pete. He came to me though he shoulda left town. Had lots of money. Wavin’ it in front of everyone’s noses, he was. Said murderin’ was the quickest way to get rich.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs. Lee,” Samuel suggested, gesturing to the chair. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, resigning himself to the fact that this was bound to be a lengthy interview.

  “Lee’s my middle name,” she said, daintily arranging her skirts around her as she settled into Samuel’s one comfortable chair. “I don’t go by no last name.”

  “Who was this Pete?”

  “I don’t ask too many questions. None of my business. Good way to get yourself murdered, if’n ya know what I mean. But he was braggin’ somethin’ fierce, and then he said he shoulda killed her like the first one. He was drunk, y’see. Babblin’ away.” Her lips curled in remembered distaste. “A man gets like that, he don’t have any sense left on how to treat a gal.”

  Memory flashed inside Samuel’s head. Kelsey’s voice, quiet and humiliated. Inside Briny’s bar. “He spent our wedding night with a woman named Mamie.”

  And then another voice, a man’s voice, responding from the back of the room: “No, it were Patricia Lee…”

  “Was this Pete—a customer of yours?” Samuel asked as delicately as he could.

  “Just the one time,” she assured him quickly. “Just that once.”

  “You said I’m involved somehow,” Samuel reminded her.

  “Well, Danner’s the name he said. Knocked her down with a horse. She be your wife, Mr. Danner?”

  “Wait a minute.” Samuel stared at her, gathering his thoughts. “Kelsey Danner? Did he say her name was Kelsey?”

  “No, sir.” Patricia Lee screwed up her face in intense concentration. “I thought he said it were Mary.”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Lady Chamberlain beamed at Kelsey as if she were a long-lost relative come home to the manor—which, in an absurd way, she was. “My dear, I’m so glad you’re all right,” Agatha said for about the tenth time, shooing Cora Jean out of the way as the downstairs maid hovered by Kelsey, her own face wreathed in smiles as if she, too, had received some bountiful gift from the gods.

  “I’m glad too,” said Charlotte, who was nervously arranging and rearranging the flowers on one of the drawing room tables. She could scarcely meet Kelsey’s eyes.

  “But what dreadful news about Mr. Drummond,” Agatha said with distress.

  Kelsey nodded. She didn’t like thinking about what had happened to Zeke. It reminded her too much of what could happen to Jesse.

  “Was there a funeral?” Charlotte asked, moving a brilliant orange chrysanthemum behind a sprig of Oregon grape.

  “A memorial service.” Kelsey had sat by Samuel. They’d hardly spoken a word to each other, just held hands, both wrapped in worry over Jesse.

  “I’m really sorry,” Charlotte said, swallowing.

  Kelsey met Charlotte’s misery-filled gaze, and her heart turned over with a painful flip. Teasingly, she said gently, “And here I thought you’d rather see me drawn and quartered.”

  “Oh, Orchid!” Charlotte wailed, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it one more minute! Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? Can you forgive me?”

  “No, it’s my fault. I’ve been an absolute beast!” Charlotte suddenly made a beeline toward Kelsey, who opened her arms to her young friend.

  “Charlotte, you silly nincompoop,” Kelsey whispered fervently, hugging her. “Don’t you know the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you?”

  “I thought I loved him,” she said in a muffled voice. “I really thought I did.” She disengaged herself from Kelsey and stepped back, swiping angrily at the tears collecting in her eyes. “But he was a fake! A fraud! Just like you said. You simply must get out of that marriage, Orchid!”

  “Charlotte,” Agatha remonstrated on a sigh. “Let Kelsey make her own decisions.”

  “We’re planning to end the marriage,” Kelsey admitted with an effort, the words sticking in her throat.

  “Good,” said Charlotte, lifting her chin in justified indignation. This posture lasted about ten seconds, and then she asked anxiously, “It is good, isn’t it?’

  Kelsey nodded, firmly, her heart aching. “It’s for the best. Jesse and I both got what we wanted out of this marriage, and now he’s in San Francisco, finishing up some business. When he gets back, then we’ll—divorce.”

  Agatha lifted a delicate flowered teacup to her lips, her snow-white brows arching. “No annulment?”

  Kelsey lowered her lashes, slanting Agatha a look. “No.”

  “My stars…” Charlotte’s voice was so low and breathy, Kelsey could scarcely hear her even though she was standing less than five feet away. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? You’re really in love with him. I knew it! I knew it!”

  Kelsey regarded her in distress. “Charlotte, it isn’t what you think.”

  “Yes, it is!” For a moment she looked as if she would cry, then she suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth and broke into peals of laughter. “Who’s the silly nincompoop now? You love him, Orchid… Kelsey. You do, you do, you do!”

  “Charlotte!” Agatha sighed wearily.

  “Jesse Danner is not the kind of man to fall in love with,” Kelsey corrected Charlotte quickly. “He’s womanizer, and a renegade, and doesn’t know the meaning of true romantic love.” She glanced to Agatha for confirmation, unaware that her feelings were naked on her face.

  Agatha gazed at her fondly. “Your opinion of him’s elevated somewhat. I believe you called him a rapist and murderer before as well.”

  “You’re in love with him,” Charlotte insisted. “You just can’t admit it!”

  Kelsey stared from one to the other of them. They were her dearest friends. They’d taken her into their home, loved her, and forgiven her her misdeeds, and now all they expected was a bit of honesty.

  “Yes, all right, I’m in love with him!” Kelsey declared, sinking into one of the chairs and throwing up her hands in surrender and misery. “But it doesn’t alter anything. I can’t live with him. He’d be the last man on earth I’d want for a husband.”

  Agatha took another sip of tea. “The last man on earth? I believe you’ve forgotten about Tyrone Mc
Namara, my dear.”

  “And Charles DeWitt.” Charlotte gave a mock shudder. “Your children would be downright ugly.”

  “Charlotte!” Agatha laughed.

  Kelsey shook her head. “I’m really glad you’ve both forgiven me,” she said softly, the moment of hilarity fading. “When I leave Jesse, I’ll probably leave Portland, but it’ll be good to know I still have friends here.”

  “Don’t say that.” Charlotte knelt down by Kelsey’s chair. “You can’t leave. I’ve just got you back. I can’t bear to lose you again! I need you. I need your advice.” She sent a mischievous glance at her grandmother and added daringly, “Now that you’re married and have more experience in—matters of lovemaking, you can help me make some decisions.”

  “Child, you’ll send me to an early grave,” Agatha said with a shake of her regal head. “If we were in England, fresh words spoken from a young girl’s mouth could ruin her reputation. Kelsey, didn’t you say you wanted to take that temperamental Justice for a run? Now would be an excellent time, as Charlotte and I have some other things to discuss.”

  Kelsey grinned at Charlotte’s crestfallen expression. “Be smart,” she told her as she headed for the door.

  “When I marry, it’ll be for love. Just like you,” Charlotte declared.

  As Kelsey reached the drawing room doors, they suddenly swung inward. Cora Jean tiptoed nervously into the room, knowing that Agatha was a woman set in her ways who absolutely abhorred unexpected interruptions.

  “Yes?” Agatha demanded, tipping her head without looking at the maid.

  “Madame Lacey Duprés to see you,” Cora Jean announced diffidently.

  “Hell’s bells,” Charlotte muttered, drawing daggers from her grandmother’s eyes. Kelsey smothered a smile.

  Lacey Duprés thumped into the room without further ado. She wore a bilious green caftan that flowed around her heavy frame unattractively, looking the exact shade of sewer water. Spying Kelsey, Lacey’s expression changed to one of consternation, even, Kelsey thought fancifully, fear. Jeffrey, her faithful companion, hovered outside as Cora Jean closed the doors.

  “Lady Chamberlain,” Lacey intoned gravely. “I just learned about Mrs. Danner’s terrible accident, and I—I wanted to express my worry and sympathy.” Her hands worked the end of her cane as if she were under terrible stress. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said to Kelsey. “Truly.”

  Thinking the woman’s distress was out of character. Kelsey smiled away her concern. “I’m right as rain,” she said. “It was really more frightening than debilitating.”

  “No aftereffects?” Lacey asked anxiously. “You’re fully recovered?”

  Kelsey glanced down at her now-unsplinted fingers. She hadn’t been able to stand the damn nuisance of having them tied together. “Fully recovered,” she agreed.

  “Your concern is well taken,” Agatha murmured, her gaze skating over Lacey as if she, too, were wondering why the woman was so shatteringly upset.

  “I would hate to see anything happen to you,” Lacey said with difficulty. “I would like you to know that I’ve been extremely worried. That I—feel responsible.”

  “Responsible?” Kelsey questioned.

  Perspiration formed on Lacey’s powdered brow. “It was one of my servants who ran you down, Mrs. Danner. A man in my employ, I regret to admit. He lost control of the black devil. He should have never trusted that miserable piece of horseflesh on a city street! Mrs. Danner, it was a all a terrible error. A horrible mistake, and—and—” She drew herself upright. “And a horrible, horrible man! He’s gone now. I fired him without pay, and he’s left town. So, there’s no need to search further. You’re safe now.”

  Kelsey blinked in bewilderment. “You’re sure the man was employed by you?”

  “Positive.” She drew a fortifying breath. “I’m leaving Portland,” she added stiltedly. “This unfortunate incident has—ruined my plans.”

  “Ruined your plans?” Kelsey repeated blankly. Was the woman daft? “No one will blame you personally, Madame Duprés.”

  “You told me yourself how much you wanted to be reacquainted with Evanston Reevesworth and his wife, Beatrice,” Agatha put in softly, eyeing the colorful dowager with something approaching amusement. “You were terribly insistent about it, as I recall.”

  Lacey stiffened, nearly lifting her cane off the rug. “Circumstances have changed,” she stated tightly. For a moment, Kelsey thought the upset dowager might actually topple over and faint. “I’m moving back to San Francisco. Jeffrey!” she practically screamed, sending him scurrying to her side. “Good afternoon, Lady Chamberlain, Charlotte, Mrs. Danner…” She seemed about to say something more to Kelsey. Her lips moved and the muscles of her throat worked. But then she shook herself and left, moving with surprising speed across the foyer for a woman who relied on a cane.

  “Well,” Agatha said thoughtfully.

  “I don’t think she really needs that cane!” Charlotte declared in a hushed whisper of excitement. “What do you think, Kelsey? What was that all about?”

  “I have no idea. I thought I knew who was responsible for my accident, and it wasn’t anyone associated with Madame Duprés.” Kelsey was reflective. “After my ride, I think I’ll have a talk with my brother-in-law about this.”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Samuel was waiting on the front porch, slapping his gloves impatiently against his thighs as Kelsey drove the buggy around the back to the carriage house. He followed her, catching up with her at the back door, practically dragging her into the privacy and seclusion of Jesse’s study.

  “What is it?” Kelsey demanded fearfully. Then, “Oh, my God, it’s Jesse, isn’t it?” Her heart began thumping the death knell. “Is he all right? Is he hurt?”

  “It isn’t Jesse. Not directly. It’s…” He closed his eyes and drew a breath. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Where is Jesse?” Kelsey demanded, her hands lifting to her lips. “Have you heard from him?”

  “Kelsey, sit down. Please.” Samuel paced the room in jerky strides. Belatedly, Kelsey noticed his chalk-white pallor.

  “You’re scaring me, Samuel.”

  “Have you ever heard the name Victor Flynne? Actually, Victor Flynne Flannigan? He’s an investigator here in Portland.”

  “Investigator?”

  “Sit down, please.” He clasped her arms and gently forced her into one of the chairs, but Kelsey sat stiffly and as soon as Samuel walked away she rose to her feet.

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured anxiously.

  “Flynne’s an old enemy of Tremaine’s.”

  “Tremaine? What does this have to do with Jesse?”

  “I think Flynne’s after revenge, and he’s chosen Jesse and me, and anyone associated with us, as targets. It wasn’t Montana’s man who ran you down. It was Flynne’s. I’m positive of it. He’s got a longtime grudge against my brother, and probably Lexie, and so he went after you. And he went after my wife,” Samuel added in a hard, chilling voice. “Jesse has no idea Flynne’s even out there.”

  Kelsey held out a hand to stop him. “Your wife?”

  “I was married once,” Samuel bit out tersely. “She’s dead now.”

  “Dead?” Kelsey repeated, shocked. “Oh, Samuel, why didn’t you say something before?”

  “Jesse’s playing a bluffing game with Montana,” he said shortly, deliberately changing the subject. “We concocted it together, but now I’m not so sure it’s going to work. I didn’t know about Flynne. Dammit,” he bit out with repressed violence, stalking to the window, reminding Kelsey poignantly of her husband. “If he isn’t back by Friday, I’m going after him.”

  “Then I’m going too.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Kelsey!” he exploded. “You should still be in Rock Springs with Tremaine and Harrison and the rest of the family. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

  “I’m not afraid. You know I can defend myself.”

  Samuel ducked his hea
d in weary acceptance. “We’ve got two factions working here: Montana Gray and Victor Flynne. Maybe they’re working together, I don’t know. But you need to stay out of it!”

  The front door creaked open, sending a waft of cool September air through the crack beneath the den’s double doors. Kelsey automatically turned toward the sound, wondering if Drake had let himself in.

  Then the den doors were thrown wide and Jesse stood between them, dark and dangerous and so wonderfully familiar that Kelsey forgot everything she knew and simply ran across the room and threw herself into his strong arms.

  “Mrs. Danner,” he murmured in surprise.

  “Jesse, thank God!” Samuel clasped one of Jesse’s palms in a hard handshake.

  Kelsey buried her face in his neck, drawing in deep drafts of his scent. She hadn’t realized she’d been so viscerally frightened until this moment, until she could hold and touch and feel him again. She never wanted him to go away again, she realized dully. Never.

  “How are you?” Kelsey asked, collecting herself slowly.

  “Fine. A little tired, but—satisfied.” Jesse’s gaze sliced to Samuel. “Montana went for it.”

  Samuel released a pent-up breath. “Good.”

  “Went for what?” Kelsey demanded, disengaging herself from her husband’s arms as she realized he must be wondering what had possessed her to act so lovingly.

  The look on his face said exactly that, but then he dragged his gaze from her and grinned slyly at his brother. “I told Montana I had evidence against him, written evidence linking him to all his crimes. At first he didn’t believe me, but I guess he figured I wouldn’t be half so bold to follow him to his lair, so to speak, if I didn’t have some kind of proof.”

  “Did he give you much trouble?” Samuel asked.

  “Some,” Jesse admitted, remembering how Montana’s henchmen had flanked their leader as if they were guards to some unholy king. In truth, they’d looked rapaciously eager to take him apart again, but Montana hadn’t given them the chance. He’d listened to Jesse whether he’d wanted to or not, his face drawn in lines of intense concentration. All the while Jesse had stood in the hallway of Montana’s luxurious San Francisco home, he could practically hear the wheels turning in the man’s villainous mind as he tried to finagle a route of escape.