by Sandra Brown
"You goddamned bitch," he yelled.
"If you hit me, I'll go see that preacher in person wearing the bruise you gave me." The words tripped out in a rush as he came toward her with his arm raised ready to strike. The threat forestalled him. He lowered his arm, but his face was mottled with fury and his chest was heaving with pent-up rage seeking an outlet.
He finished buttoning his coat with fumbling fingers. "Don't forget your hat and cane, dear," she called sweetly as he stamped toward the door. Her laughter trilled after him as he slammed the door behind him.
Priscilla waltzed around the room and collapsed on the bed in a heap of ruffles. The apoplectic expression on his face had been worth the weeks of planning, the hours spent tolerating Grady Sheldon's sloppy lovemaking, the humiliation of being snubbed in the streets.
She laughed out loud, hugging herself. It would take more than the pious city fathers of Fort Worth to bring down Madam Priscilla Watkins.
For his part, Dub Abemathy's whole world was bathed red with rage as he elbowed his way through the boozy crowd in the saloon. His eyes scanned the sweaty faces until they lit on the one he sought. He made an understood motion with his head and moments after he left the Garden of Eden he was joined in the shadows outside on the boardwalk. Hie conversation was terse, the instructions given explicit.
The man returned to the saloon. Dub Abernathy walked to where he had left his buggy parked several blocks away. Climbing in, he clicked his tongue to the horse. He drove through the balmy night toward home, where his family was waiting for him.
* * *
Sugar Dalton woke up earlier than usual. It wasn't even dawn when she rolled over with a sour taste in her mouth and a pain in her left arm that was keeping her from sleep.
She edged to the side of her bed and sat up groggily. Shaky hands clasped her head as she bent almost to the waist in an effort to haul herself off the sagging mattress where she had, spent years entertaining too many men to count.
What had she eaten last night to give her such heartburn? Or when had she eaten last? Since she had gotten that reward, she'd been spending it on whiskey.
She stumbled down the dark stairs, having decided that all she needed was a trip to the outhouse. She went through the dim rooms and let herself out the back door.
The dew was cold and wet against her bare feet as she stepped onto the narrow stretch of grass between the back door and the outhouse. She raised the hem of her gown and tiptoed lightly. When she glanced up to measure the distance remaining, a scream congealed in her throat and was never uttered.
The gray, misty morning light added an even more phantasmogoric quality to the horror that greeted Sugar's eyes.
The madam of the Garden of Eden had been nailed to the outhouse wall. The garrote which had been the instrument of death was still twisted around her neck. Her face was blue. Her lips and tongue, which protruded, were purplish. Her eyes were bugging obscenely. Wisps of ash-blond hair stirred eerily in the faint wind, looking as mournful and gray as Spanish moss dripping from the branches of a dead free. Her arms and legs were spreadeagled against the faded wall of the outhouse. Blood had dried to a rusty residue on her palms and feet where the hails had been hammered in.
She was naked.
Sugar tried to scream. It came out a hoarse croak as her left arm seemed wrenched from her body with the pain that tore through it. She tried to run, but her knees buckled beneath her. The heart that had been taxed with years of alcohol abuse had stopped beating before the soft, damp earth cushioned her fall.
* * *
The preacher was irritated later in the day when his mail failed to be delivered to the parsonage. Such oversights were inexcusable and he told the postmaster so. But he was somewhat mollified by the headlines in that day's newspaper. The ghastly deaths of Priscilla Watkins and Sugar Dalton would provide him with fuel for the hellfire and brimstone sermon he was writing for this Sunday's service.
Citizens all over Fort Worth shook their heads sadly over the grisly accounts they read in the newspaper. Two soiled doves had died, one violently. The were to be pitied, but it was written that one reaped what one sowed. Later in the day, the two deaths were old news.
It was nothing new really. Whores died with lamentable frequency in Hell's Half Acre.
* * *
It was a miracle. Ross was still alive.
The hours of the night crept by slowly. Lydia heard the clock chime, but she didn't move from his side. With every passing minute his breathing became more labored.
Only a supreme effort had kept her from screaming when the doctor sadly shook his head after probing the wound and softly declaring there was nothing he could do. Even Jake, whom the doctor gave a wide berth after hearing of the man's temperament from his colleague, didn't argue. It was obvious to everyone, even to Lydia if she admitted it to herself, that had Ross not been so strong he would have died instantly from the bullet's impact.
Ross knew it as well. Hours ago he had bade his children goodbye. Banner had wept copiously, clinging to her father. Lee had tried to maintain more reserve, but here were tears in his eyes when he fled the house after leaving his father's side. Micah had followed him saying, "I'd better stay with him." They had ridden out of the yard and hadn't been seen since.
Lydia didn't fear for Lee. He would be all right.
She was more concerned about her daughter. They had had a tearful reunion. Lydia ached for Banner, knowing that she could find no joy in her wedding day. Lydia had been thrilled with the news that Jake was officially a part of her family, though she felt that he had been for years. When Jake quietly announced that he and Banner were married and explained why he and Ross had been fighting, there was much weeping and hugging all around.
Lydia had laid a hand on Jake's arm. "Ross was reacting like a father. When he has time to think about it, he'll be as glad as I am."
"We've made our peace," Jake had told her.
When Ross last spoke to Banner, he took her hand, patted it, and smiled at her. "I'm glad about you and Jake. Be happy," he whispered. Rather than making Banner happy, her father's words only served to deepen that haunted, stricken look in her eyes.
She couldn't be comforted, even by her husband. Ma had finally coaxed her to lie down in the parlor on the sofa. Jake sat nearby. Ma kept vigil in the kitchen, brewing tea nobody wanted and insisting that everyone should eat to keep up their strength. But she wasn't eating either.
Lydia had retreated to Ross's office and shut out the rest of the world. If this were to be their last night together, they would spend it alone.
Now, as if she had silently beckoned him, he opened his eyes and looked at her clearly. God granted small favors. Ross had been granted the privilege of thanking Jake for killing Clancey. Now he was being blesed with enough strength to say goodbye to the woman he loved more than his life.
Seemingly without effort, he raised his hand and threaded his fingers though her hair. "Remember... how I used to make fun. ..of it?"
She bowed her head, willing herself not to waste these precious moments weeping. When she lifted her head, her eyes were sparkling. "Yes. You were a bully."
"I love it now." He fingered the wayward strands.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know," he responded quietly. His hand moved from her hair to her cheek. "I remember the first instant I looked into your face. I got lost in you, Lydia."
A sob tore through her throat. She forced her trembling lips into a smile. "You needed a shave."
"I remember everything."
"So do I. Every moment with you has been precious. I didn't live until I met you." She rubbed her forehead against his. "If Jake hadn't killed Sheldon I would have. Why did he do this?"
"Shh, shh. It could have happened any time in the last twenty years. We've had so much time together we didn't expect. Let's not be selfish."
"Where you're concerned I've always been selfish. I'll never have enough of you." Ardently she kissed his ha
nds.
His body spasmed with pain and she sank from the chair on which she sat to her knees. She laid one arm across his stomach. The other she enfolded around his head. His hair was mockingly crisp, lively against her hand.
When the worst of the pain passed, he gazed up at her. "How will I bear heaven until you get there?"
"Oh, Ross!" Her face crumpled and the agony she had tried so hard to hide couldn't be concealed any longer. Her tears gushed out. "The time will pass quickly for you. But me. How will I live without you? I can't. Let me come with you."
He shook his head and reached out a hand to comfort her. He was thinking of the grandchild she didn't even know about. "You can't. Our children need you. Lee will be confused and hurt. See him through this for me. Banner..."
"Banner has Jake. They love each other."
"I wish for them... what we had."
"No one will have what we had."
He smiled. "All lovers think that."
"It's true in our case," she insisted as her fingers skated over the lips she loved, over his thick mustache. "Because of you."
His eyes dimmed with pain. "No, my love, because of you." He reached for her blindly. She grasped his hand and laid it against her breast. "Lydia... Lydia... Lydia..."
She let him slip quietly into the other life because she couldn't stand to see the pain he was suffering in this one. But for hours she continued to hold him.
* * *
Banner awakened suddenly. Sleep deserted her with a brutal severance. She was instantly aware of everything at once, the pink dawn light seeping around the parlor draperies, Ma's gentle snores coming across the room from the chair in which she had finally allowed herself to rest. She also knew that her father was dead.
And she became aware that Jake was no longer in the parlor. She threw off the quilt he had spread over her when she finally consented to lie down and walked on silent, stockinged feet toward the hall.
At the portiere she was brought up short.
Standing in the hall, with the timid new sunlight filtering through the beveled glass of the front door were her mother and her husband.
Lydia clung to him as she wept into his shoulder. Jake's arms were holding her tight, his hands were comforting her tenderly, and his lips were moving in her hair.
Banner retreated before she was noticed.
TWENTY-SIX
"Lee and I are taking a trip to Tennessee. We're leaving tomorrow."
The quietly spoken statement had a profound effect on those eating breakfast in the kitchen at River Bend.
Lydia dabbed at her lips with a napkin and took a sip of coffee while Jake, Banner, Ma and Micah stared at her speechlessly. Only Lee wasn't surprised by the announcement.
Jake put down his fork and propped his elbows on the table, clasping his hands loosely over his plate. "Tennessee? What for?"
Lee cleared his throat noisily and avoided looking at his friend Micah, who was staring at him as though he'd just sprouted antlers from the top of his head. They shared every confidence. There hadn't been a secret between them since Micah and Ma Langston came to live at River Bend.
"I want to see where my mother came from," Lee said self-consciously. "I might have distant kin still living back there. Lydia said she wanted to go with me and show me places Papa had told her about. We might be gone for several months."
It had been two weeks since the funeral. Every mention of Ross still created an uneasy silence while everyone experienced the pain of loss all over again.
"Lydia, are you sure you want to leave? Now?" Jake asked her.
Banner lowered her eyes to her plate while her hands gripped each other tensely in her lap. What little appetite she had fled and she felt mildly nauseated. Her pregnancy was responsible for only a portion of her sickness. Every time Jake looked at Lydia, his eyes probing and concerned, Banner sustained a painful blow to her heart.
"I'm sure," Lydia replied softly. "This trip will be good for Lee. He needs to have a sense of his mother's background." She sighed. "And getting away will be good for me too. This house, this land... they are Ross." Her eyes began to cloud with fresh tears. "The memories are too fresh."
Lee shoved his chair back and stood. "Micah, will you ride into Larsen with me today? I need to get some things for the trip."
Together they went to the back door. They reached for their hats hanging on the pegs at the same time and their heads bumped.
"Excuse me," they said politely in unison. Ordinarily there would have been boisterous bantering between them, jests about one or the other's clumsiness. Instead their eyes met awkwardly. Lee was feeling guilty because he hadn't discussed the trip with his friend, but Lydia had sworn him to secrecy. Micah was feeling rejected and betrayed.
But when they looked at each other, their friendship was reconfirmed. Micah slapped Lee on the back and said, "You'll let us know where you are and what you're up to, won't you? I hear there are some mighty pretty girls in Tennessee. Maybe you'll bring me back one, huh?" With their arms around each other's shoulders, they left through the back door.
"Jake, as soon as you're finished, I'd like to go over some things in the office," Lydia said, standing. "I want to make sure everything's in order before I leave."
"I'm finished." He scraped back his chair and tossed his napkin down beside his plate.
His hand was riding on the small of Lydia's back as they left the kitchen and went down the hall toward the office in which Ross had died.
With an aching heart, Banner watched them leave. She sipped her tea. It had gone tepid and tasteless. Listlessly, she shoved the cup aside. She stared out the window vacantly, aware of nothing but her own misery until Ma lowered her bulk into the chair next to hers.
"What's ailin' you, girl?"
"I miss Papa."
"What else?"
"Nothing."
"And pigs can fly." Ma planted her meaty hands on her knees and leaned forward. " 'Member when I tied you in that very chair until you ate your collard greens? Well, I just might try that again if you don't tell me right this minute what's wrong with you."
Banner's head came up haughtily. "I lost my father two weeks ago. I saw him shot before my very eyes."
"I won't take sass from you either, young lady. I know your pa's death was godawful. It goes without saying. But you're still a bride and you ain't actin' like one. Leastways a happy one. Now sumpin' ain't right and you're goin' to tell me what it is. What's wrong between you and Jake?"
"Nothing," Banner averred. She wasn't going to discuss Jake's feelings with anyone. It was bad enough knowing them herself.
"Have you told him about the babe?"
Banner's eyes rounded as she stared at Ma. "How did you know?"
Ma snorted. "I been there enough times myself to know the signs. If your ma hadn't been so upset lately, she would have noticed too. Does Jake know?"
"Yes," Banner answered in a small voice. She twisted her napkin until the corner of it made a fine point, then squashed it with the pad of her index finger. "That's why he married me."
"I doubt that."
"It's true! He doesn't love me. He loves—" She bit back the words that had been pounding in her head like tomtoms ever since her father's death. He loves my mother.
"Who does he love?"
"Oh, I don't know," Banner said impatiently and shot from her chair. She moved to the window before Ma could see her tears. "But it's not me. We fight like cats and dogs."
"So did your ma and pa when they first got married."
"That was different."
"What was different about it? The only two people I know who're more ornery and bullheaded than the two of them are you and Jake."
She came to Banner and none too gently spun her around. "You get out of this house today and get some sunshine in those cheeks. Brush your hair right proper. Smile at Jake every once in a while. You've been slinkin' 'round here like a haunt. You figurin' to tell your ma about the baby?"
Banner sho
ok her head. Jake had told her that Ross had died knowing about the baby and was glad about it. Together they had decided they would keep the news from Lydia awhile longer.
"I didn't want to tell Mama just yet. Expecially now. She might cancel her trip, and I know how important it is to her and Lee."
Ma patted her shoulder. "I'll take care of you. She'll be proud as punch when she gets back."
"She'll be angry with us for not telling her."
"But it'll occupy her mind. And that's what she needs right now. You know, don'tcha baby, that your mama ain't ever gonna be the same without Ross Coleman?"
Banner's throat constricted. "Yes, Ma, I know."
Ma gave her a light push. "Go sit on the porch for a spell. The fresh air will do you good."
As Banner went through the quiet, cool rooms of the house, she knew that Ma's advice was sound and had merit. She was married to a man who loved someone else. Things like that probably happened with more frequency than people admitted to.
She couldn't spend the rest of her life moping around or her soul would atrophy. Banner Coleman Langston would become an empty shell. She had the rest of her life in front of her. She would just have to make the best of it, continue to love Jake, and accept the fact that she was second choice in his heart.
* * *
Her resolve lasted only until Lydia's leavetaking the next morning.
A sad group collected in the shade of the pecan tree. "I selected this spot for the house because of this tree," Lydia said, gazing up through the dense branches. "It wasn't near this tall then. Ross laughed at me, saying we'd have pecans dropping on the roof all the time." She smiled shakily through her tears. Everybody stood solemnly around her.
"Well," she said briskly, sniffing back her tears, "we'd better be off. We don't want to miss the train."
She hugged Ma. As always, Lydia seemed to draw strength from her and held her close for long moments. "Watch over everything while I'm gone."