Last Chance

by Jill Marie Landis

  "You could say I'm just curious and leave it at that."

  She tried to ignore the feel of his gaze as she tipped back her head to take a long drink. "There's nothing to tell, really. Chase and Eva have made a good life for themselves. They have two wonderful children and a beautiful home—"

  "So he's doing pretty well for a rancher?" Lane tried to appear nonchalant. He rested against the corner of the table and swung his booted foot back and forth.

  "Well, that, and Eva inherited some money."

  Lane's boot hit the floor as he stood up. "Family money? I thought she came from a troupe of actors. It's my understanding they don't make much."

  Rachel was watching him closely now, too closely, he thought. Her next comment confirmed the direction of her thoughts.

  "Is that why you're back? Because you somehow learned they had come into money?"

  He tried not to let her conclusion anger him. With the careful way he had nourished his tarnished reputation, what else was she to believe? He wished he could tell her why he wanted to know the details of his uncle's life, but for now he was forced to keep his own counsel. Still, he wanted to clear the air.

  "I haven't been back for ten years, Rachel. I can't just expect to ride up to Chase's door without knowing what to expect, can I?"

  "But surely—"

  Before she could continue, there was a quick, demanding knock at the front door. Down the hall, Delphie's footsteps echoed as she hurried to answer it.

  "Sounds like you have callers," he said.

  He crossed the room and picked up the black hat he had hung on the back of a chair. It was trimmed with a narrow snakeskin band which shimmered with emerald iridescence. Rachel glanced up at Lane. He held her gaze.

  "Are you leaving town or will you stay until they return?"

  "I think I'll head out to the Trail's End, see if I can bunk there until Chase, gets back."

  She could hear Delphie coming back down the hall, accompanied by the sound of Ty's chatter and two other voices that, unfortunately, she recognized far too well.

  "Last night you said you had some business to take care of in town." Rachel glanced down the hall, dreading the next few minutes.

  Lane watched her carefully, and she could see he sensed her panic. If he saw it, she realized, her guests surely would. She had no intention of giving them that advantage. Rachel forced herself to calm down. This was her house and she would entertain as she saw fit.

  He watched her closely. "You want me to step out the back door?"

  "Absolutely not." She wasn't about to let her unexpected guests make her feel guilty, not in her own home. Nor was she going to let them force Lane to sneak off like a criminal. She drew herself up, reached for the button at the collar of her dress and slipped it closed. Then, as defiant as a suicidal soldier facing an army of foes, she stood ready.

  Ty burst through the door, followed close on his heels by Delphie. There was undisguised apprehension on the housekeeper's face.

  "Grandma and Grandpa McKenna are here," the little boy announced proudly as he raced over to stand beside Lane.

  Delphie rolled her eyes heavenward as she walked past Eva and mumbled, "I'll pour more lemonade."

  Rachel watched with trepidation as her mother-in-law, Loretta McKenna, resplendent in a black bombazine mourning gown, onyx beads and earbobs and a matching hat adorned by a wide, sweeping ostrich feather, and with a frilly black pongee parasol dangling from her wrist, led the way. She abruptly halted in the doorway.

  Behind Loretta, her husband, Stuart McKenna Senior, paused to gape over her shoulder. Still a tall, well-built man with a full head of Ted hair gone silver and a ruddy complexion, the elder McKenna presented a formidable figure who possessed the wealth to back up the power he so enjoyed wielding. His deep brown eyes darted around the room, taking in Delphie, the boy and then Rachel, instantly dismissing them one by one. When he spotted Lane, his jowls began to quiver. McKenna opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He turned beet red from collar to hairline.

  Rachel had never seen either of her in-laws at a loss for words. Usually quite adept at doling out unwanted advice, Loretta let her gaze snap around the room while her mouth remained tensed in a firm line. Rachel waited for what seemed like an hour, but what was in reality only seconds.

  Finally, Loretta McKenna imperiously raised her chin, looked down her nose at Lane and then turned a hard, accusing stare on Rachel.

  "Who is this man and what are you doing out of mourning?"

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  Lane tried, for Rachel's sake, not to let his feelings show as he watched the older couple in the doorway, but he had little success. The woman was eyeing him with a mixture of fear and disdain, the man with a cool, foreboding stare.

  "This is a former student of mine, Lane Cassidy," Rachel said by way of introduction.

  She turned to him with a silent appeal not to make a scene. "Lane, this is my mother- and father-in-law, Loretta and Stuart McKenna."

  "My grandmama and grandpa," Ty clarified. Then, to the McKennas, "Lane wears a gun. He even sleeps with it on. He told me so. He was gonna let me—"

  "Ty." Rachel stopped him before the child could disclose more. "Why don't you walk Mr. Cassidy out to his horse and then hurry right back." She turned to the McKennas, forcing a polite smile. "I'm sure Grandmama and Grandpa want to visit with you."

  Lane shoved on his hat, touched the brim with two fingers and nodded to the McKennas, then Delphie.

  When Ty took his hand again, he didn't look down at the boy, but at Rachel.

  "I'll be at the ranch if you need me."

  He knew he had said too much when she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a brief second.

  "Thank you, Lane, for stopping by."

  With Ty's hand in his, he let the child lead the way through the door and out to the hitching post beyond the picket fence in front. A matched pair of thoroughbreds hitched to a fancy rig was tied up near Shield.

  "When are you comin' back, Lane?" Ty asked him, his expression one of longing as he reached up to rub Shield's soft muzzle.

  "I don't rightly know, Sprout."

  "Will you come back and take me ridin'? Mama said my pa used to do that, but she's afraid to try it. Says I might fall down and break my neck or somethin'. I'll bet you could hold me on right and tight." He turned his open, trusting face hopefully up to Lane. "I'd sit real still. That'd be some pumpkins."

  Memory flashed in Lane's mind's eye. His uncle Chase used to carry him in front of his saddle. The boy was asking little enough, but Lane wasn't in the habit of making promises to anyone, especially promises he might not be able to keep.

  "I don't know about that, Ty. We'll see."

  Disappointment weighed down the boy's tone. "When Ma says that it usually means no."

  "When I say it, it means we'll see." He let go of Ty's hand and went to stand beside his horse.

  Easily appeased, Ty smiled up at him again. "Good. I'll be waitin' until you decide."

  "I had a feeling you would be." Lane lifted the stirrup, checked the cinch and then dropped the stirrup back in place. He mounted in one swift motion and settled into the saddle.

  "You best go back inside," he reminded Ty.

  "Watch how fast I can go." Feet pumping in his lace-up, ankle-high shoes, Rachel's boy turned and raced back toward the house. Lane waited until he saw the child wave and then disappear safely inside before he turned his horse in the direction of the Trail's End.

  Nice work, Cassidy, he thought as he rode out of town. Not even the sight of the wide-open reaches or the mountains that rimmed the basin could lighten his mood. As a rule he hated towns and was happy to put them behind him, but it wasn't as easy as he had thought it would be to ride off and leave Rachel to face the music with her in-laws.

  Rachel Albright had a reputation to uphold. She was not the sort to let down her guard and fall into the arms of a man believed to be a drifter with an uns
avory reputation. Besides, he reminded himself, he definitely wasn't the type to settle down, let alone with a woman of Rachel Albright's quality. Loving a woman like her would put too many demands on a man.

  Lane kicked his horse into a gallop and felt the hot dry air close in around him. It would be cooler up at the ranch—not much, but enough to take the stifling edge off of the blasted heat. Maybe a change in temperature would cool his blood and clear his head. Mindful of overtiring Shield, Lane eased off and slowed the big horse to a trot. If memory served, the ranch was at least a good hour's ride from town.

  "Good God, Rachel, what are you thinking?"

  Loretta McKenna barged into the kitchen, towing Stuart Senior in her wake. She paused to watch with distaste as Delphie poured a glass of lemonade, and then she announced, "If that's for me, I don't want it."

  Rachel said, "Why don't we go into the parlor." The kitchen was the smallest room in the house. She didn't relish trying to calm her in-laws in the overly heated, cramped quarters.

  "Why don't you tell me what that outlaw was doing in your kitchen," Stuart McKenna said, pinning Rachel with an icy stare that reminded her overmuch of her late husband's.

  "He is an old friend, and as I said, a former student. As far as I know, he isn't wanted for anything."

  "He has a reputation worse than his uncle's," Stuart said.

  "Oh, my God," Loretta groaned. She began fanning herself with her hand, her flushed cheeks lending the only color to her faded pallor. "What will people think? And why are you out of deep mourning? Did you go anyplace in that gown yet? Have you lost your mind?"

  With a death-grip on the back of the chair closest to her, Loretta turned to ask Delphie, "Was she out in the sun too long yesterday? Has she been ill?"

  Before Delphie could respond, Rachel stepped up to her mother-in-law and took her by the elbow. "I'm feeling fine. In fact, I'm actually feeling better than I have in quite some time. Now, Mother McKenna, we are going into the parlor where we can discuss this calmly." As she deftly ushered the woman along she called out, "Give us a few moments and then bring us some lemonade, Delphie, and a pitcher of ice water."

  Rachel felt a moment of relief when she heard Ty enter the kitchen and begin chattering at Delphie. She gently urged Loretta McKenna down the hall.

  Behind them, Stuart Senior began to harangue her. "If you would just move out to the ranch we wouldn't have to worry about this sort of thing happening. Ty should be learning to rope and ride, seeing as how he's going to inherit Stuart's share of the place someday."

  It was an old argument, one that began the day her husband had been laid to rest. Until now Rachel had been gentle in declining their efforts to move her and Ty out to the ranch. Although the McKennas owned the largest spread in the state and lived in a house that would be classified a mansion, with more than enough room for all of them, she continued to refuse.

  She had a perfectly good home that was hers and hers alone. She had lived here alone before she became Mrs. Stuart McKenna and she didn't intend to give it up now that he was gone. She loved the place, not only because it had been her parents', but because it was the lifeline to her independence.

  The parlor was well appointed without being ostentatious. Rachel had made few changes when she inherited the house, content with what her mother had chosen, each piece defining a dignified, quiet respectability. Loretta had had other ideas, but Rachel had held firm. There was not an abundance of furniture in the room, but the pieces were well made and tasteful. A center table displayed Rachel's books and a family Bible along with a vase of fresh flowers from the garden.

  Loretta headed toward the plush settee and sank onto it as if her strength had failed her. Still a trim, healthy woman, Loretta was rarely ill. Rachel knew that any show of physical weakness she demonstrated just now was of a dramatic nature.

  Poised near the door, Rachel watched Stuart and Loretta exchange a quick, telling glance. She braced herself, certain she was in for another barrage of unwanted advice.

  Loretta leaned on the handle of her umbrella and began, her tone patronizing. "Rachel, dear, I don't mean to interfere, I'm simply worried about your reputation. I don't think you understand that one must constantly be vigilant in order to keep up appearances. The death of a husband demands full mourning for at least two years—"

  "One year is certainly permissible these days," Rachel reminded her. She glanced over and watched Stuart stride across the room. He paused beside the center table, which was draped with a fringed shawl. The photographs and daguerreotypes on display were of her parents, grandparents and Ty. His pacing made her nervous, and she tried to concentrate on what Loretta was saying.

  "But to go into colors so soon after Stuart's death…"

  "Lilac and gray are considered half-mourning colors, Loretta," Rachel said, dropping the familial Mother McKenna. "So is white, trimmed in black." She held out her skirt. "I think this lavender passes as lilac. It's certainly very subdued."

  Loretta shook her head. "I just don't know what this is teaching Ty. After all, his father—"

  At the mention of her husband, Rachel's temper finally snapped. "Ty's father died above the saloon in bed with a whore. What do you think he'll learn from that lesson when he's old enough to understand it?"

  Loretta gasped. Her hand flew to her heart. "I'm not as strong as I used to be—"

  "You're as strong as an ox and you know it," Stuart barked from across the room. Then he turned his ire on Rachel. "Forget all this about wearing black and what my son did or didn't do. All that's beside the point. I'm thinking of Ty, which is something you obviously failed to do when you invited that gunslinger here."

  "I didn't know he was coming by."

  "You danced with him last night in front of God and everyone else in this town," Stuart announced.

  Loretta looked appalled. "What?"

  "I didn't tell you, my dear, but that's the gossip at the bank this morning. Knowing Rachel, I was sure there was nothing to it." He stared hard at his daughter-in-law, as if searching for some quality he had not seen in her before. "Now I'm not so sure."

  "There is absolutely no harm in dancing with Lane Cassidy. You know I would never do anything to hurt Ty—"

  "People are judged by the company they keep. You've known for years that we never approved of your friendship with Chase Cassidy's wife and yet you have continued to encourage it."

  "Eva Cassidy is one of the kindest, most sincere, most upstanding women I've ever met," Rachel argued.

  Loretta shook her head. "I'll never know why a lady like that married a felon."

  "I'm not here to argue about the Cassidys or their notorious nephew," Stuart said. He took a deep breath and tugged on the ends of his vest, a habit when he was about to make an announcement. "We came by to tell you that Robert will be home soon. We're planning a celebratory dinner and we want you and Ty to be there."

  Still upset, Rachel found it hard to concentrate on the news that her brother-in-law was coming home. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

  "He wasn't certain, but sometime within the next week or two. His business in New Orleans is slow right now, so he's taking the opportunity to get away for a visit."

  She was tempted to refuse the invitation to dinner, but Robert was Ty's uncle, after all, and had always been the one member of the family who had been kind to her. She would endure dinner at the McKennas' because of her brother-in-law's company, and would be genuinely glad to see him again.

  Robert was the only one who had agreed with her when she'd protested having to give up teaching once she became Stuart's wife, but even their combined forces had not been enough to overcome the opinions of Stuart Senior, Loretta and her husband.

  Rachel had let them convince her that it was not socially acceptable to continue to teach once she became the wife of the local sheriff, especially when he also happened to be an heir to one of the biggest ranches in all of Montana. But she'd regretted giving up the work she loved.

  "
Of course Ty and I will be there," Rachel promised. "What is Mary Margaret doing?" she asked, referring to Loretta's spinster sister, who lived with the McKennas. Rachel had hoped the question would ease the tension in the room. It didn't.

  "Being just as foolish as always." Loretta sniffed. "She's taken it into her head to give a poetry recital in honor of Robert's return."

  "I think that's quite an admirable idea," Rachel said. "It might help build her confidence if she presents some entertainment for us the night of the dinner."

  "What would build her confidence is getting her head out of the clouds and shedding about seventy pounds so that she could walk down the street without looking like the side of a barn," Stuart groused.

  Loretta leaned forward, finally setting her folded parasol aside. "Now, dear, don't say such things about poor Mary Margaret. You know how hard she tries."

  "I know how hard she tries to clean out the pantry every other day," Stuart grumbled.

  Rachel fought to urge to reach up and rub her throbbing temples. She wished they would leave. Looking for any excuse to get away from their overpowering presence without being downright rude, she glanced toward the hall. "I wonder what's keeping Delphie."

  "You don't know the first thing about keeping servants in line, Rachel. You're far too familiar. I've told you that from the beginning. If you would just consent to move out to the ranch and live with us for a while—just a few years—until Ty is older, you would learn all you need to know about the proper way to run a house."

  Loretta indicated the cozy room around her with a wave of her hand. "I could teach you the fine points of decorating. You don't seem to have even the remotest knowledge about how to keep up appearances… One of the obvious ways is in the presentation of your home. That's where the social standing of the family becomes apparent to the world. One quick glance and a visitor forms an instant opinion of you and your family. You must be ever-vigilant, ever on a constant quest for respectability."