Anything for You

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  He found Gypsy’s bonnet and placed it on her head. His eyes would not focus, but he managed to tie a lopsided bow under her chin. When she winced, he knew he was not the only one hurt.

  Fury cut through him. He had let the fool knock him senseless. His skull still rang. Then that cur had hurt Gypsy. She could have been raped or killed or both while he slept in a snowbank.

  “Adam,” she whispered, “he said he’s coming back.”

  “He’d have to be crazy to try this again.”

  Her voice splintered. “He’s mad. He vowed to finish what you interrupted.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be prepared.” Rubbing his head, he smiled grimly. “He won’t escape next time.”

  “I don’t want to talk about next time. Just take me back to the cookhouse, Adam.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and staggered as they walked slowly along the path. “You sure you can walk?” he asked.

  “Are you sure you can?” Gypsy returned when he swayed against her.

  He might have smiled if his jaw would stop throbbing. “Not much of a hero, am I?”

  “We’re both alive.”

  “And we’re getting out of here.”

  She shook her head and winced. “No, I can’t leave.”

  Pausing, he said, “Why not?” When she hesitated, he said, “I think it’s time for honesty.”

  “From both of us.”

  Reluctantly he nodded. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The kitchen was deserted when Adam opened the door and helped Gypsy in. She looked at the knife rack. The empty slot was an accusation, but the knife her attacker had used was not the missing one. It had been one of the hunting knives the jacks wore on their belts.

  Awkwardly she undid her coat. Adam lifted it off her shoulders, and she moaned. The pain centered around her right elbow. With every motion of her arm, she ached from her wrist to her shoulder.

  As she held her ripped blouse closed, Adam cursed. “I’m sorry I didn’t teach that son of—”

  “Adam, don’t.”

  He frowned. “You’ve heard me say worse.”

  “You can call him whatever you want, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to forget.”

  “You can’t.” His voice became more gentle as he brushed a shred of her sleeve back over her shoulder. “Why don’t you change? If the others saw you like this, I’m not sure I could keep them from getting together a lynching mob.”

  “And lynch who?” she whispered as she hurried to her door.

  “I’ll load the stove,” he called after her.

  Wobbling across her bedroom, Gypsy pulled off her ragged blouse. Tears clung to her eyelashes. She pushed them away and tossed the ruined blouse onto the floor. She wanted to throw it into the cast-iron stove. She had burned the notes there, but she had not succeeded in fleeing from the truth. Now she had dragged Adam into the horror.

  Her fingers were clumsy with fear as she tried to button the high collar of her nightgown. Slipping her arms into her bulky wrapper, she grimaced as the collar slapped her face. She looked into her small mirror and saw a bruise on her left cheek. Her elbow pulsed with pain.

  Footsteps sounded beyond the door. She whirled at a knock. “Who is it?”

  “Adam.”

  “Go away!” Somehow she had to keep him safe. She had no idea how, other than forcing him out of her life.

  The door burst open and slammed against the wall. His face could have been carved from stone.

  “Adam!”

  “No more games, Gypsy.” He closed the door. In the dim light from the lantern, the bandage he had put over the bloody spot on his forehead glistened obscenely. “At least you showed sense in getting your nightgown on. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  He scooped her up into his arms before she could protest. Gently, he placed her on her bed. He drew the blankets over her thick wrapper and placed her pillow against the headboard.

  “You sit here.” He leaned on the footboard. “I’ll sit here, and we can talk without everyone hearing.”

  Gypsy entwined her fingers and fought to keep her tears from falling. Here, where she should think only of the ecstasy she found in Adam’s touch, evil had invaded. She yearned for Adam to put his arms around her and tease the fear from her, but that could not be.

  She must convince him to leave. If the only way she could do that was by being honest, she must reveal the truth. She prayed it would not destroy him.

  “Tell me what happened,” he ordered when she remained silent.

  “When?”

  His brows rose, but he said only, “Start with today.”

  “I got a message to meet Farley at his house.” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Farley has never been interested in work after he closes the office for the day. I thought it might be different … now.”

  He laughed shortly. “Exactly what your charming friend wanted you to think. You walked right into his trap.”

  “How was I supposed to know?” she countered with sudden heat. “Who here would want to harm me? After all, the men depend on me to feed them. That inspires a certain loyalty.”

  “In all but one man.” He put his hand on hers. “Forgive this question, but it must be asked. Is there a jack who believed you’d be interested in an assignation? I’ve seen how they look at you, Gypsy.”

  “Do you think I’d arrange a tryst when—” It was the wrong time to speak of how she had fallen in love with him. Pointing to her bruised cheek, she asked, “Do you think I’d arrange a tryst with a man who’d treat me like this?”

  “Perhaps he was disappointed when I interrupted. I would have been.”

  “Adam!”

  He smiled an apology. “I’m only asking the questions others will. A woman alone on a deserted road just before dark meets a man. When the rendezvous is intruded upon, the scene becomes ugly, for her would-be lover assumes she’s invited this other man, as well.”

  “Except that he planned to kill me. Lust for sex is different than lust for murder.”

  Adam released her hand and rested his shoulder against the footboard. Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but his voice was somber. “I won’t ask how you know that.” He sighed. “You must be extra cautious of anything unusual—like those notes you’ve been getting from Saginaw.” He added, without contrition, “I read one while you were sick.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Does it matter? It tipped me off to the fact that you’re in more trouble than you want anyone to know.” He tipped her face up so she had to meet the apprehension in his eyes. “Don’t run off by yourself again. Take someone with you.”

  “Who? That man could have been anyone.”

  He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips. “You can trust me, honey. I’m going to have the scars to prove it.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I should have said that before.”

  When he offered her a gallant bow, he clenched his head and swore. “He would have killed me if my head weren’t so hard.” He sat next to her and sandwiched her hands between his. “Gypsy, when I think about him touching you, I want to castrate him.”

  “Touching me would have been the least of his crimes.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s the most heinous one to me.”

  Gypsy found it easier to smile than she had expected when she ran her fingers along Adam’s whisker-roughened cheek. “I never guessed you’d be a jealous lover.”

  His arm swept around her waist and pulled her to him. “I’m jealous of any man who looks at you. I want to hoard away all your smiles for myself. I want every glow in your green eyes to be just for me.”

  She curved her fingers along his nape and steered his lips over hers. Hungrily he pushed her back into the mattress as his mouth brought her delight. She forgot the twinge of pain along her jaw as he warmed her face with kisses while his fingers cares
sed her. When he bent to sample the length of her throat, he pulled back. She opened her eyes to see his frown before he tilted her head away to look at the red marks there.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t slit your throat,” he snarled.

  She shivered. “Don’t say that, Adam. Please, for the love of heaven, don’t say that.”

  “Gypsy, what’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” she gasped. “What do you think is wrong? That man nearly kills me, and you make it into a joke!”

  He caught her face between his thumb and forefinger. “I find nothing amusing about this.”

  She brushed her aching elbow against the mattress and moaned.

  Adam pushed up her sleeve to discover the swelling along her upper forearm. Cautiously he probed the colorful bruise to make sure no bones were broken. Looking into her eyes, which were jeweled with unshed tears, he swore. “He plays rough. I’ll have to give him some lessons on how to treat a lady the next time we meet.”

  “I was ready to play rough, too.”

  “You?”

  “He used the stick he hit you with to knock his knife out of my hand.” She held her pillow to her chest like a shield. “I would have stabbed him if he hadn’t. He was going to kill you.”

  Adam wiped away a tear sliding down her cold cheek. That she had defended him with the fervor of a she-bear protecting her cub did not astound him. That she would attempt to kill a man to save him did. The man would come back for her, and Adam could not wait to repay him for destroying her gentle spirit.

  “It’s time for the truth, Gypsy, about what you’re afraid of.”

  “You haven’t figured out what I’m frightened of?”

  He put his arm around her quivering shoulders and looked into her hooded eyes. “Gypsy, the truth. Not about the attack today, but what happened before. What’s frightening you so much that you’re hiding here?”

  “How—” Swallowing roughly, she whispered, “Is it that obvious?”

  He smiled swiftly, but his dark brows lowered. “It is to me. After this, it’s going to be obvious to everyone.”

  “They told me I was overreacting, that it was just sad coincidence.”

  “They? Who?”

  “My family.” She bit her lip, then whispered, “Before they died.”

  “How?”

  Gypsy flexed her right hand to be sure she would be able to use it when she started preparing breakfast. “It all started after the siege—”

  “Which one?”

  Pain coursed up her arm as she adjusted it to rest on her lap. “Petersburg.”

  “In Virginia?”

  “Yes.” She put her hand on his arm. “Forgive me for not trusting you, Adam, but I’ve been fleeing for so long I don’t dare to trust anyone. Until you came here, no one questioned that I wasn’t from Mississippi. Most of the men here are from New England or Canada. To them, one Southern accent sounds like any other.”

  He waved aside her apology. “The siege was over in ’65.”

  She closed her eyes. “At first, I wanted to believe it was coincidence. That’s what everyone told me it was. My brother was slain after being mustered out of his unit. He was killed only a few miles from Petersburg. Of course, none of the authorities cared about the fate of a Johnny Reb. My mother died before winter that year.”

  “How?”

  Her hand went to the red line on her neck. “Her throat was slit.”

  “And they called that a coincidence?”

  She shuddered and sagged against the pillows. Opening her mouth, she whispered, “You have to understand what it was like in the months after the war. No one knew who was in charge of anything. The carpetbaggers came to steal everything. They didn’t want the law around. It was easier for them to ignore it. I don’t know how they could. I don’t understand …”

  Adam swore silently. From the horror in her voice, he guessed she had been the one to find her mother’s corpse. That explained the incapacitating terror in her jade eyes. Quietly, he asked, “Was that the end of it?”

  “It was just the beginning.”

  “Who else?”

  “Everyone who was left.”

  In disbelief, he choked, “Everyone in your family?”

  Tears flooded her cheeks. Years of trying to hide her mourning made the agony even more intense. “All of them. My brother, my parents, my grandmother, one uncle. Only my sister and I survive.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, but does it matter? My parents didn’t deserve to be killed! None of my family did!” She clenched her unhurt hand by her side. “I couldn’t stay and be murdered, too! Without telling anyone, I slipped out in the middle of the night. I walked north until I could get to a train. I rode it until I reached the end of that line. Then I got on another and another until I reached Lansing. Finally I came here.”

  “So you never knew if the murderer had been caught?”

  Gypsy shook her head. The pain in her arm was climbing through her body to dull every nerve. “To try to find that out might reveal where I was. But it’s all been for naught, because he’s found me. I think I’m beginning to understand what his scheme is.”

  “He wanted you to see the others die horribly before you.”

  “He’s succeeded.”

  He stood. “Staying here would be insane.”

  “Wherever I go, he’ll find me.”

  “But—”

  “Nothing!” She edged off the mattress and went to where he was standing before the stove. She smiled sadly. “Adam, I didn’t want to involve you in this mess.”

  “That’s why you kept pushing me away?” He smiled as his arm encircled her waist. “Gypsy, we’re in this together now.”

  She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. While I’m here, I might as well help you at the same time I’m helping Glenmark.”

  “And what are you doing for him?”

  He kissed her lightly and grinned. “I think we could use a cup of swamp water. How about it?”

  “Adam!”

  As he held out his hand to her, he said, “We can talk over that cup.”

  Her hand rose to her bruised cheek when she saw the flunkeys gathered in the kitchen. Glancing at Adam, she realized he was not surprised. Renewed tears stung in her eyes. He must have heard the men and knew inviting her out into the kitchen was the best way to dodge her questions.

  Gypsy sighed. Adam was her ally, but she was not his. He still refused to reveal what he was doing here. Slipping her fingers into his, she wondered what would happen when his work was finished. There might be no place in his life for her, and that frightened her more than the madman stalking her.

  Bert called, “Gypsy, what ’appened to you?” He dropped a partially peeled onion and glared at Adam. “If ’e ’it you, Gypsy, say the word, and me and the boys’ll make ’im pay.”

  “That’s right!” Oscar wiped his hands on his stained apron. “We’ll take him apart.”

  She tried not to smile at the unexpected chivalry. “This isn’t Adam’s fault.” She pointed to the bandage on his hair. “He saved me.”

  The men swarmed over them, demanding to know what had happened. None of them noticed Adam answered all the questions. When she heard him deflect some with ease, she feared he had been lying to her from the beginning.

  Slowly she sank to the bench. As her gaze met his across the room, her breath caught. The desire burning in his eyes could not be faked. Could it?

  “’Ere, Gypsy.”

  “Thank you, Bert,” she whispered without looking up. His accent was instantly recognizable, along with the reek of the onions he had been cutting. More slowly than usual, she noted, as he opened and closed his fingers that must be cramped from the work. She could not scold him when all the flunkeys were more interested in talking than in finishing their chores. She took the cup of cocoa.

  “’Ow are you doing?”

  “Honestly?”

  Sitting across from her, Bert f
rowned when she winced as she opened her mouth to sip the cocoa. “You don’t know ’oo did this?”

  “No.” She sighed, meeting the compassion in his dark eyes. “But I fear it’s the same person who attacked Lolly Yerkes and Rose Quinlan.”

  “Murdered ’em, you mean.” When a shiver sliced across her shoulders, he added, “’Scuse me, Gypsy. I shouldn’t ’ave said that.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. I’m lucky Adam happened along to save me.”

  “’Appened along? ’Ow is it that ’e was there?”

  She glanced toward Adam, who was speaking with the other flunkeys. That was a question she should have asked. She had been so grateful for his arrival that she had not been curious about what brought him there exactly when she needed him.

  Folding her hands on the table, she said, “I don’t know, and, to be honest, I didn’t care. Just having him there to save me was enough.”

  But it’s not enough now, she added silently.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “You’ve got to fire her.” Adam leaned his fists on Farley’s desk.

  Daniel Glenmark sat behind the cluttered desk. Smiling, he folded his hands, which emerged from the perfectly pressed sleeves of his gray suit. They were as rough and broad as the hands of any man in the woods. Glenmark had made his money on his own labor as well as what he hired to cut the trees on the lands he leased and bought, but he had never lost the authority he had gained while fighting in the last war.

  “Fire Gypsy?” He shook his head. “That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Not as ludicrous as having her dead.”

  Glenmark stood, frowning. “What’s wrong? If I were talking to any other man, I’d say he was panicking, but you don’t panic. At least, you didn’t used to.”

  “I’m not panicking, just looking at the facts.”

  “I’ve seen the facts.” He glanced at the bandage on Adam’s head. “I don’t like this, not after what happened to Farley’s harlot.”

  “So you will fire her?”

  “No.”

  Adam pounded one hand on the desk and swore. “How can you be so shortsighted, sir?” His eyes narrowed as Glenmark toyed with a piece of paper on Farley’s desk. “You sent me up here to do a job and—”