Payton's Woman

by Marilyn Yarbrough

  A light burned in the study. She didn’t know if Betsy expected her to report immediately upon her return, but she had no intention of doing so. She hurried to the back entrance; she wanted to go inside and up to her room as quickly as possible without being seen.

  When she reached the steps that led to the door, she heard the rustle of leaves coming from the bushes by the corner of the house. Startled that someone might be hiding there, she froze in her tracks. Her mind sorted out her options. She could chance running up the steps to the safety of the house, or she could turn and run to the front of the house to get away from whatever—or whoever—lurked in the shrubbery.

  Before she could move, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the bushes. The tall trees surrounding the house prevented any illuminate from shining on the man dressed in black, but she recognized his form. She let out a sigh of relief.

  “Payton, you frightened me.”

  Without speaking, he walked toward her, his stride brisk, his manner determined.

  Memories of his brutish behavior at the restaurant returned in a rush. Was he here to finish what he started? Did he intend to rip off her clothes and force himself upon her?

  “Stay away from me.”

  Once more she contemplated her escape options, but he approached her so quickly she had didn’t have time to react.

  He grabbed her arms and pulled her into the deep shadows beside the house.

  She struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he held her tightly. His arm wrapped around her body to subdue her movement. His other hand clasped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming for help.

  “Easy, Julia. It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He removed his hand from her mouth when she quit struggling.

  “I don’t believe anything you say.” She tried to keep her tone to a harsh whisper, but her voice crackled with emotion. “You’re rude and vulgar, and I have no respect for you anymore.”

  “Are you serious?” His voice was a tight whisper. “I thought you understood what I was doing.”

  “I understood perfectly. You tried to force me to go to your hotel room and spend the night with you.”

  “No, no, Angel. I’d never force you. You must know that by now. Didn’t you hear me say we needed to put on a show for Betsy’s coachman? That’s all I was doing. I thought you were playing along with me.”

  “You were just playacting?” She didn’t need to hear him speak to confirm it. Her nerves were so tightly wrapped that her body came unraveled all at once. Her legs went limp. Her body swayed, and she collapsed against his chest. His strong arms prevented her from crashing to the ground.

  “Of course I was.” He made a slight laugh that reverberated in his chest. “You don’t think I’d want you to deliberately hit me for no good reason. I already know how hard you can punch.”

  “Oh, Payton.” She slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed him to her. “I was so angry with the way you acted that I was afraid I was going to be sick.”

  “I’m sorry.” His hands rubbed over her back in a soothing gesture. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You’re so convincing with your playacting, you ought to go on the stage.” She sniffed back a sob. When she attempted to blot her tears on his shirtfront, he handed her his handkerchief.

  “You were pretty convincing yourself, but I guess you weren’t acting.”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t have slapped you so hard.”

  “Then it’s just as well you didn’t know. Otherwise, the coachman might not have believed our little act.”

  Suddenly, his voice turned serious. “You can’t stay here. I want you to leave with me now.”

  She gasped. “I’m not going to your hotel room.”

  “That’s not what I mean. This is getting too dangerous. I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.”

  “I’m not the one whose life has been threatened. It’s you. That’s why I want you to leave Sacramento.”

  “I’m not leaving. And I’m certainly not leaving you alone here with Betsy Collins.” He gripped her upper arms and tipped her back, forcing her to look at his face. “Leave with me now. I’ll take care of you, and you won’t have to work for her any longer.”

  “Take care of me?” she repeated, not entirely convinced everything had been playacting on his part. “You want me to be your mistress?”

  “That’s not what I’m suggesting. I know people you can stay with. Good people.” When she shook her head, he squeezed her arms tighter and gave her a shake. “Don’t you realize the danger you’re in?”

  “I’m not in any worse danger than you are, and you won’t leave.”

  “I can take care of myself, but you’re a different matter. You’ve needed my help since the first night I met you.”

  “That’s not entirely true, but even if you’re right, I can’t leave just yet. I only need a few more weeks.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “What I ought to do is drag you away from here even with you kicking and screaming.”

  “Please, don’t do that. I’ve had all the excitement I can handle for one night. You’ll just have to believe me when I say I’m not going to get into any more trouble.”

  “Trust you to stay out of trouble?” His voice carried a hint of amusement. “Not bloody likely.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Julia pulled back the lace curtain and peered out the window to see the activity by the curb. Betsy scurried into the coach and flopped back against the cushions. Mr. Gilbert jumped into the driver’s box and snapped the harness traces. The horse pulled the carriage down the street. Their speed increased to a brisk trot by the time they reached the end of the block. When the coach disappeared around the corner, she moved from the window.

  Betsy had dashed out of the house quite easily for a woman with an injured knee. Up to that moment, things had returned to the usual, tedious routine of being her secretary.

  With yesterday being Julia’s day off, it had been quiet. She had spent the morning at worship service. Her afternoon had been equally uneventful. She’d had Sunday dinner with a church elder and his family.

  She hadn’t seen Payton since Saturday night. He’d wanted to meet her in the park the next morning, but she’d refused. She hoped by cutting off any further contact with him, he’d leave Sacramento.

  Betsy didn’t seem eager for her to see Payton again either. She’d not been able to avoid her questioning that night, but she’d relayed the story Payton had wanted her to give—that he claimed Dunbar owed him something, but nothing more. She’d also told Betsy he’d tried to force his attentions on her. She then relayed how she’d slapped his face and came home alone.

  During the interrogation, Mr. Gilbert had come into the study and confirmed everything she’d said. The coachman had added his own comment about Payton. He thought him coarse and vulgar with poor moral character. Julia hadn’t bothered to correct him since that was exactly the opinion Payton had wanted to convey.

  Now something strange seemed to be afoot. Right after reading that mysterious letter, Betsy’s expression had paled. Then she’d dashed around the house in a frightful tizzy.

  Strict orders concerning the mail had been give to Julia from the beginning of her employment as a secretary. She’d been instructed never to open a letter addressed to anyone other than Elizabeth Collins.

  Julia had obediently done that this morning. She’d reached across the desk and handed her the envelope addressed to “Betsy Dunbar Collins” as soon as she’d found it mixed in with the rest of the mail.

  Mrs. Collins had no sooner opened the letter, than she’d shoved it into the desk drawer, locked it, and ordered Julia to have her carriage brought around. She’d then shouted for Elsie to fetch her hat and cloak.

  When Julia had reminded her that Sylvia Morgan would be here in less than an hour, Betsy had been so distressed that she’d blurted out Sylvia was the very person she intended to visit.

  Julia had
then smiled to herself. Everyone would be out of her way for a while. That would allow her an opportunity to see the contents of the letter that had sent Betsy fleeing from the house.

  As soon as she heard the back door slam, she knew the maid and housekeeper were gone. She dashed up to her room. In her haste, the navy blue skirt and white petticoat wrapped around her legs. She lifted them to her knees so she wouldn’t trip on the steps. She grabbed the key hidden behind the small mirror and rushed back downstairs.

  Making a copy of the key had not been an easy task, but she had chanced it. She’d traced the outline on a blank piece of paper when Betsy had stepped out of the room. Then, over the next several days, she’d filed down a similar key until it matched the drawing she’d made. With the duplicate complete, she had access to all Betsy’s unholy secrets.

  She slipped into the study and left the door ajar so she could listen for sounds of someone moving through the house, although she felt relatively safe.

  The coachman had driven Betsy to Sylvia’s house. Elsie and the housekeeper had hurried out almost as quickly in the opposite direction so they could catch up on the neighborhood gossip. That left the old Chinese gardener and his helper in the front yard. The French chef didn’t speak English, plus he guarded his privacy with fanatic insistence. He stayed cloistered in the kitchen, so she didn’t fear him wandering through the house.

  The key fit snugly into the desk lock. With just a tiny twist, the entire contents lay at her fingertips. Carefully, she searched through the drawer. She lifted papers until she found the letter.

  As she removed the white sheet of paper from the envelope, a newspaper clipping fell out and floated to the carpet. She read the letter before bothering to retrieve the clipping.

  Dear Betsy,

  Thought you might be interested in this notice. I recall him being a steady customer. Evidently he could no longer bear to live without your excellent services. Ha-ha

  Yours truly,

  Sugar Johnson

  Puzzled by the message, Julia read it once more. How could a letter that ended with a laugh possibly upset Betsy so greatly?

  She bent down to retrieve the clipping, but when she did, her body froze in place. Mere inches from her fingertips lay the obituary notice of Wilbur Hennigan. Too shocked to move, she continued to stare at the notice. She closed her eyes and forced her lungs to take a breath. No one knew she’d been with Hennigan that night. No one except Payton. But she trusted him. The rest were nothing but a pack of murderous thieves and debauchers.

  An eye for an eye, and a life for a life; her father had preached that lesson. She demanded the same payment for the person who murdered her brother, even if she had to become just as heartless and unfeeling as the rest of them to receive justice.

  The only person for whom she cared was Payton. Perhaps too much. He had popped into her life so unexpectedly, so completely, that she’d had little time to put up any defenses. He’d found a way into her heart, and she didn’t know how to push him back out. The other night he’d admitted he cared for her, but she couldn’t allow him any closer.

  Betsy had become suspicious of him. If she believed he was a threat to her son, his life could be in danger. For his own good Julia had to get him out of Sacramento, perhaps even out of California. She didn’t want him hurt by any of Dunbar’s people.

  A single floorboard squeaked in the hallway right outside the study. Her body jumped at the noise. She came out of her stupor. Her alertness returned.

  A regular household member would make more noise in their passage down the hall. That meant someone crept through the house and tried not to make a sound.

  She shoved the contents back into the envelope and returned it to the drawer in the exact spot she’d found it. Just as she attempted to close the drawer, the study door opened. She squatted down behind the desk and held her breath.

  The barely audible sounds of well oiled hinges working, along with soft footsteps shuffling over the carpeted floor, indicated someone had entered the room. Then she heard her name whispered.

  “Payton?” She peered over the top of the desk. He stood in the middle of the room, his fists planted on his hips, and a smile on his lips. A gray shirt covered his broad shoulders. Black trousers skimmed down his muscular legs.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hushed voice.

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  She hurried to the door and shut it completely. “You have no business being in here.”

  Instead of being chagrined, he looked amused. “Apparently, neither do you.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I have every right to be here.”

  “Then why were you hiding behind the desk?”

  “I wasn’t hiding. I dropped something,” she lied, but her annoyance quickly turned to concern. “How did you get in here? Did anyone see you?”

  “I came in the back door by the kitchen.” He held up both hands and motioned for her to calm down. “Don’t worry. No one saw me. I slipped past the cook while he had his back to me. He was busy anyway, cutting up a chicken and swearing in French.”

  “Good.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Now you have to leave.” She tried to nudge him to the door, but he stood his ground.

  “Easy there, Angel. When you didn’t show up in the park this morning, I became concerned. I decided to come over to see if you were all right.” He furrowed his dark eyebrows together. “I saw someone leaving in a rush just as I made the corner. That worried me even more so I ducked out of sight until the carriage passed. Then I made my way to the back of the house.”

  The worried look dissolved from his face. A smile played on his lips. “I was relieved when I spotted your pretty blonde head bobbing up and down at the window, so I thought I’d come in and surprise you.”

  “Well, you did,” she said with a huff. “Now please go.”

  “First, I want you to explain why you were hiding in here.” He grabbed the back of a chair to better position it as an invitation for her to sit down.

  “Don’t do that,” she said frantically. She moved the chair so the legs fit back into the indentions in the carpet. “Mrs. Collins will know if anything is disturbed.”

  “Then why are you in here if you’re so worried about her finding out?”

  “I just needed to get something from the—” She remembered the opened drawer. “Why don’t you go back to the park? I’ll meet you there when I’m finished with my work.”

  “Why don’t I help you?” His playful smile caused the dimple in his cheek to become more prominent.

  “That isn’t necessary.” She put her body between him and the desk.

  “What are you looking for?” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her aside so he could see the desk.

  When he reached into the drawer and lifted a stack of papers, she grabbed his wrist. “Don’t touch anything.”

  His smile slipped. “Then tell me what you’re up to.”

  An explanation didn’t seem like a good course of action. Payton had become so protective she knew he’d object violently if he discovered the truth. Then he’d most likely find a way to prevent her from continuing with her plan. On the other hand, he might want to help. That she couldn’t allow. He had a way of blatantly confronting obstacles. He didn’t seem to know the first thing about acting surreptitiously. His aggressive manner would only attract trouble. Then he would get himself hurt.

  She decided to try one of his tactics. “It’s none of your business.” She pushed the drawer shut and locked it.

  “Ah, when all else fails, be rude.”

  “Well, you’re forcing me to behave that way. Can’t you just go? I’ll meet you in the park later.”

  “Not until you explain a few things.” His expression no longer looked playful. “I want to know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  Her only option was to become just as obstinate. “I suppose being the captain of a ship makes you unaccustomed to having your order
s disobeyed, but need I remind you that I am not one of your deckhands. And I am not in your employ. So do not attempt to order me about.”

  His eyelids narrowed, and his lips thinned. He stepped closer to her. “Perhaps not, but you don’t seem to realize you’re treading in dangerous water. I’m not about to let you get sucked under by a deadly riptide. I think you’re working for Betsy Collins for more than just the money. You’re involved in something, and I have a bad feeling it’s connected to Larry Dunbar. I want to know what it is. Now.”

  Shocked at his accusation, she stared at him without speaking. His assumption of her activities was so close to the truth she didn’t know what to say. If she admitted his accuracy, he’d do everything in his power to prevent her from continuing with her plan. He might even drag her off, kicking and screaming, as he’d threatened to do the other night.

  “How can you be so unfair?” Her lower lip quivered. “I thought we agreed not to pry into to each other’s private life. Your secrets are yours. I haven’t tried to take them away from you. You have no right prying mine away from me.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out with a huff.

  “Will you please leave?”

  A long moment passed before he relinquished. “All right, I’ll go. We can talk about this later.”

  “No,” she said quickly. She couldn’t risk letting him discover anything more. For his own good, he had to leave California. “I don’t mean leave this house. I mean leave town. Go away altogether. Go back to your ship.”

  Julia put her hand to her throat and pressed against it. She hoped to prevent her voice from quaking when she delivered her final blow. “I want you out of my life completely.”

  He stared at her, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. She strove for just the opposite—no expression at all.

  “Is that what you really want?”

  “For you to go away? Yes.”

  “Never let it be said that I didn’t give a lady exactly what she wanted.” Anger flickered in his blue eyes. His voice took on a harsher tone. “I’ll go away. Far away. Then you won’t have to endure my prying into your life again. You can forget you ever knew me, the same as I’m going to do with you.”