Mesmerist

by Pam McCutcheon

  Chapter 20

  Gina woke the morning of December 22 with very mixed feelings. She wanted to go home so badly to all the conveniences of the twenty-first century, but she had come to appreciate some of the amenities of this time, too . . . like the slower, more relaxed lifestyle of this century, and men who acted like gentlemen. Men like Drake who still believed in things like honor and keeping promises, and who knew how to treat a woman with gentleness and consideration.

  Those types were rare in her time. Or at least, she’d never run into one.

  She sighed. Well, she couldn’t have everything, and since it appeared Drake didn’t love her as much as she loved him, going back to the future was the thing to do. But first, she had to find that blasted pistol or she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Gina dressed hastily and glanced around the room. She had been careful not to acquire too many possessions here since she knew she wouldn’t be staying, so there was nothing she really wanted to take except for the locket Drake had given her, and she was already wearing that.

  Then of course there was Scruffy. She needed to make sure he stayed close to her side all day today just in case she ran across the pistol. Leaving him behind was unthinkable—he was the only one in the world who truly loved her.

  She rubbed his ears, saying, “We’re going home today, Scruffy. Would you like that?”

  He barked joyously, though Gina doubted he really understood. He had taken to these times faster than she had, due to the generosity of Sasha’s table scraps, which were of far better quality than the dog food she fed him at home. And of course, there were two humans here that he adored—her and Drake. Leaving both the food and Drake would be hard on him.

  And leaving her friends would be hard on her. She was glad she had gone back to the mercantile a few days ago and picked up things for Jack, Sasha, and Sean as well. They had all been so good to her and, though the gifts were small tokens indeed for the genuine friendship they had offered, Gina hoped they would serve to remind them of her long after she was gone.

  She labeled the packages and left them on her bed where Esme would find them after she left, certain the housekeeper would get them to the right people.

  Gina glanced sadly down at the items there, realizing there was nothing for Drake. She blinked back tears and reminded herself she had given Drake the most precious gift of all—his own life. He was probably in no condition to appreciate it now, but he would thank her some day.

  Well, enough maudlin sentiment. It was time to get on with the rest of her life. Gina left her room to look for Esme, noticing that the resort was once again bustling with activity. They were preparing for another ball, this time to celebrate the winter solstice and Christmas. But, she reflected sadly, she would be gone before this one even started.

  Gina found Esme in the linen room and pulled her aside. “Do you know what day this is?”

  “Of course.” But the housekeeper’s calm words were belied by her worried expression.

  “Will I be able to go home today?”

  Esme frowned. “That’s entirely up to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Whether you go or stay is entirely your decision—no one can make that for you.”

  “Then I will be given the opportunity? I will find the pistol?” Gina pressed.

  “Oh, yes,” Esme said, though she sounded a bit disapproving. “I would say it’s inevitable.”

  “Where? When?”

  “That will be revealed in due course.”

  Esme’s cryptic pronouncements were beginning to irritate Gina. “Why won’t you tell me more?”

  Esme’s disapproval faded, to be replaced by resignation. “I really cannot tell you more without compromising the desired outcome. And I don’t really know that much more for certain myself.”

  Desired outcome? “You mean, there’s more than one way this could go?”

  “Of course. You have free will, you always have had. What choice you make once the alternatives are presented to you is yours alone to make.”

  “And which way would you like it to go?”

  “I would like you to stay, of course.”

  Gina frowned. It sounded like there was a great deal more to this than just Esme’s desire for her company. “ But what—”

  “I can say no more,” Esme said firmly. “But if you decide to stay, you know you will always have a friend in me.”

  “Sure,” Gina said, baffled by the housekeeper’s attitude.

  With that, Esme nodded crisply and walked away.

  Gina stared down at Scruffy. “Now what was that all about?” she wondered aloud.

  Scruffy had no answer, so Gina shrugged and stood indecisively, wondering what to do next. Would the pistol just appear somewhere? Did she need to go looking for it? What the heck was she supposed to do?

  Esme made it sound like her portal would show up no matter what she did, so she supposed it didn’t matter.

  Gina sighed. All right, since Drake had canceled all his sessions for the rest of the holiday week, she would just visit her friends one last time and find a way to let them know how much they meant to her without saying good-bye. The resourceful Esme could come up with some explanation to tell them once Gina was gone for good.

  And here was one of those people now—Rupert, striding fast up the hallway. “There you are,” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “Why?” she asked, bewildered. If the Major had some sort of menial task for her, forget it. After today, she didn’t need to stay on his good side anymore. She’d be long gone.

  He leaned down to whisper with intensity, “It’s Mr. Manton. He’s back.”

  “Back?” Gina repeated in rising panic. “You mean, he’s here, at the hotel?”

  “Yes, he’s here. I just saw him, heading toward his room and looking mighty stone-faced.”

  “But how could that be? Jem was supposed to take him far, far away.”

  “I don’t know,” Rupert said. “I only know he’s back here in the hotel. If I were you, I’d keep well out of his reach for awhile.” With that dire warning, he strode off without a backward look.

  Drake, here? What the hell had happened? Before she confronted him, she had to know. So, trying not to trip over Scruffy who insisted on playing his little game of walking beneath her skirt, Gina headed off to the stables and Sean Quinn.

  Sean was standing outside, and when he saw her, he just frowned and shook his head.

  “Is it true?” Gina demanded. “Is Mr. Manton back already?”

  Sean nodded. “Yes, he arrived back about an hour ago.”

  “But how? What happened?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” Sean admitted. “And neither does Jem, really. I think it had something to do with Mr. Manton’s mesmerizing ways.”

  Of course. It hadn’t been enough to bind his hands and feet—she should have covered his mouth and eyes as well. Well, hindsight was twenty-twenty, but it didn’t help her at all now. What could she do? He was bound and determined to get himself killed no matter what she did.

  “What are you going to do now?” Sean asked.

  Her first instinct was to flee, to get as far away from this situation as possible. She had done all she could to save the man’s life. If he chose to throw it away for the sake of a woman who reminded him of his dead sister, that was his business. She didn’t have to stay around and watch him do it to himself.

  Yes, that was the ticket. Esme said it was inevitable that Gina would find the pistol today. Well, she could find it in Hope Springs just as easily as she could at The Chesterfield.

  In answer to Sean’s question, she said, “I’m catching the next train down to Hope Springs.”

  “What good will that do?” Sean asked. Then, after a disbelieving pause, he said, “Surely you’re not going to abandon him to his fate?”

  “I tried to save his life, but he’s done everything he could to make sure he dies today. How can I fight that?” she
asked in exasperation. “I don’t want to watch him die.”

  “So you’re going to just run away?”

  Unfortunately, Sean had chosen the only words that would make her stop and think. Run away? That’s what Drake had said. You run away every time things don’t go your way.

  Okay, so he was right. So what?

  So, running away doesn’t solve anything, a little voice inside her said.

  She decided to ignore it—she didn’t trust little voices anyway. What did they know? Running away had stood her in good stead her whole life. It was much easier than staying around to face the consequences. And if she wasn’t around to see the bad things happen, she could pretend they didn’t exist.

  But they still happen, the voice said, whether you pretend they do or not.

  But—

  And Drake will still die, whether you pretend he does or not. Can you live with yourself if you do nothing to prevent it?

  Do nothing? Nonsense—she’d done nothing but try to save the man’s life for the past six months. But he obviously didn’t want her help and was determined to get himself killed.

  But now is when he needs you the most, the voice insisted. And you can’t do that if you run away.

  “Well?” Sean asked. “What are you going to do?”

  Gina pulled the article out of her pocket once more and read the headline. It was unchanged, implacable. If she did nothing, Drake would die. If she tried to save him, he might still die, but at least she would have done what she could to save him.

  Sean was right—this time, she couldn’t run away.

  Sighing, Gina put the article back in her pocket. “I’m staying,” she said with determination. And though it scared the hell out of her, it kind of felt good for a change.

  “Good,” Sean declared. “What can I do?”

  The article already accounted for two dead bodies, and she didn’t want to put Sean in danger and possibly add a third. But maybe she could do some damage control. “Send someone down to Jess Garrett’s office and ask him to come right away. Tell him . . . tell him Shorty Callahan must be back in town and a crime is about to be committed at The Chesterfield. Uh, and maybe you’d better notify the fire chief as well.” She needed every possible advantage to keep Drake alive.

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “Me? I’m going to do my best to save Drake’s life.” She only hoped her best would be good enough.

  She hurried off to find him, but he wasn’t in his room, nor was he in his office. Now what? Where could he be?

  Annabelle—she was the key. She was slated to die in the fire along with Drake, so wherever Annabelle was, Drake would be, too. Could they have decided to meet at the tower? Yes, Annabelle must have finally gotten away. They had to be at the tower.

  Gina ran the long distance in record time, Scruffy’s little legs twinkling like mad to keep up with her. Sure enough, Drake was there, and he whirled around when she arrived with a rustle of skirts and an explosion of breath. “Good, I found you,” she exclaimed as Scruffy greeted him joyously.

  Drake’s expression was tense and strained. That was good, too. At least he didn’t underestimate his danger.

  “Do you have a death wish?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m waiting for Mrs. Rutledge,” he said. “She should be here at any minute.” He checked his watch and put it back in his pocket. “We had this arranged days ago when we learned her husband planned to leave on a hunting trip this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

  “Because I knew you would object since this is the day . . .”

  “The day of your death, I know. You have to get out of here.”

  “And I will, just as soon as Mrs. Rutledge arrives.”

  “No, you have to leave now.”

  “What are you going to do? Have Sean Quinn kidnap me again?”

  Gina felt herself flush, but he didn’t seem too upset about it. “I’m sorry about that, but you know why I did it.”

  His expression softened. “Yes, I know. Which leads me to something I should have asked long ago. Gina—”

  But she didn’t know what he would have asked, for Annabelle arrived then, breathless and extremely agitated. And Drake turned away from Gina toward the distraught woman as if Gina didn’t even exist.

  Damn, she hadn’t realized how much this would hurt. As Drake tried to soothe Annabelle, Gina spat out, “You’d better leave now, before it’s too late.” Drake and Annabelle together on the winter solstice was a combustible combination.

  “Yes,” he said, his concentration all on Annabelle. “I think it’s—”

  “It’s too late already,” a deep voice declared.

  Annabelle screeched and as Scruffy dived beneath Gina’s skirt, they all turned in surprise to see Clyde Rutledge at the door, holding a pistol on them—a very familiar-looking pistol.

  The dueling pistol! It had finally turned up, but in entirely the wrong hands. No, it couldn’t be. She and Rupert hadn’t been able to find it in Clyde’s room.

  He closed the door carefully and set a small bag down beside his foot, not taking his eyes off Drake and Annabelle. “I knew something was up,” he said with a sneer. “You couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it. I knew you had a lover—I just didn’t figure it would be him.” Clyde gestured toward Drake with contempt.

  Drake shoved Annabelle behind him and faced Clyde bravely. Annabelle backed away, trembling badly, until she hit the wall.

  Gina wanted to shout, no, forget Annabelle and run, but knew Drake would never do it. As for herself, she seemed frozen in place, not knowing what to do, afraid any move would only place Drake in more danger than he already faced.

  “We’re not lovers,” Drake said in a placating tone. “I’m just helping her take a little vacation, that’s all.”

  “Well, she ain’t going nowhere,” Clyde declared. “I knew she was a no-good, unfaithful slut when I married her, and I ain’t letting no woman make a fool outta me. You’re going to die. Both of you.” He cocked the pistol and trained it on Drake. With a small shriek, Annabelle slid down the wall to the floor and covered her eyes, shaking like mad. Gina couldn’t blame her and wished she could emulate her, but Drake’s life was still in danger.

  Drake slowly moved to his right, his hands out stretched in a calming gesture. “Someone will hear the shots—you’ll never get away with it.”

  “Not likely, with all this noise going on in preparation for the ball. They’ll just think it’s the hunting party having a little fun.”

  He moved a little more. “But killing us won’t do you any good. You’ll be caught and hanged.”

  Gina wondered what Drake was doing, then realized he was trying to draw fire away from Annabelle, and was speaking in the monotone he used to mesmerize his patients. It won’t work, she wanted to scream. Clyde was too intent and focused to be diverted by mesmerism.

  “No, I won’t,” Rutledge insisted, tracking Drake’s slow progress with his pistol. “I have this all figured out—I stole the pistols from a shop in town last week, so no one can connect me with them.”

  Clyde chuckled—an evil sound that made her shiver as hard as Annabelle. “And that idiot Callahan gave me an idea. I saw him set the fire at your office, though he botched it.” Clyde nudged the bag with his toe and several rags spilled out, drenching the air with the smell of kerosene. “But I won’t. After I kill you both, I’m gonna light your funeral pyre with this.” He grinned wolfishly. “It’ll hide the bullets and everyone will blame Callahan, not me.”

  Dear God, he was right. He would get away with this. And now she knew where the rumor had come from about Drake and Annabelle being lovers.

  No! Gina screamed silently. She couldn’t let it happen. But how could she stop it? She had no weapon, no skill in martial arts—the only thing she knew how to do was train dogs.

  That’s it! Scruffy would be her weapon. Mentally crossing her fin
gers and praying, Gina took a deep breath as Clyde grinned and slowly drew a bead on Drake’s heart.

  Now! “Scruffy, attack,” Gina yelled, pointing frantically at Clyde.

  With an incredible, super-canine effort, Scruffy burst out from beneath her skirt and took a running jump, soaring into the air to sink his jaws into Clyde’s gun hand. The pistol flew off, and landed next to Annabelle’s outstretched foot as Clyde cursed and shook Scruffy off with a snap of his thick wrist.

  Scruffy landed in a heap with a yelp, and Gina ran to him, thanking God when she found him he was still moving and didn’t seem to be hurt. Now she could do nothing but watch helplessly as Drake, who had moved swiftly into the breach, grappled with Clyde. Where the hell was Sean with Jess Garrett?

  There was nothing she could do here—she had to get help. “Don’t let Clyde have the pistol,” she yelled at Annabelle who was peeking through her fingers at the fight.

  Thankfully, Annabelle seemed to have snapped out of her stupor. As she scrabbled for the gun, Gina headed for the door but was halted by the sound of a meaty smack and a thud. The big man had overpowered Drake and was now standing over him, wiping his mouth.

  With a grin, Clyde reached behind him and she watched in horror as he pulled another pistol from the back of his belt, aiming it at Drake who was scrambling to his feet.

  Aw, shit. She should have remembered that dueling pistols always came in pairs.

  She made an abortive attempt toward him, but Clyde waved the gun at her. “Stay back,” he warned. “Or I’ll get you next, and your little dog, too.”

  Gina obediently froze as he turned his attention back to Drake. Now what? Should she tackle him anyway? Hell, why not? She had nothing to lose.

  She was just prepared to launch herself into the fray and damn the danger when she heard a shot. Her hands flew to her mouth, but to her surprise, Drake remained standing.

  Instead, it was a very surprised Clyde who jerked, arching backward as he slid to the floor, shot neatly in the back by his loving wife.