Tom's Angel

by Linda George

  Tom clamped her tighter against him, cursing himself for having shouted the truth and his deepest fears at her. William Kincannon ought to be the one facing Strickland's fists and knife. Not Rosalie. Not this woman.

  “Rosalie, I'm sorry! I won't let him hurt you, I promise! Rosalie, please.”

  Her eyes pleaded with him to say it wasn’t true. He pressed his mouth against hers, wanting to erase the pain he'd inflicted, wanting to ease her fear, wanting somehow to change everything. He wanted...her.

  Rosalie's panic dissolved when Tom kissed her. Fear gave way to desire. She clung to him, wanting to ignore reality, if only for one blissfully free moment. Feelings foreign and intoxicating streamed through her. She couldn't hold him tightly enough, kiss him hard enough. His fingers combed through her hair, and his hands pressed her against him until she could feel the shape of him.

  Abruptly, he pulled back, with his eyes tightly shut, his mouth still open, breathing hard.

  She waited for him to open his eyes. What did she see there? Tenderness. Fear. Regret.

  “Rosalie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

  She pressed one finger to his lips. Her whole life, she'd promised her mother she'd never do what Elizabeth had done. She'd die before she'd sell her body. But this was different.

  What had she felt just now? She had to know. There was only one way could she find out.

  She stood on tiptoes and gently, lightly, pressed her lips to his again.

  Startled beyond words or logic, Tom refused to question what she'd done. With gratitude that he hadn't alienated her, desire building in him again, he tasted her lips, felt her tremble, pulled her closer and found her willing and eager.

  Rosalie trembled with passion welling deep within her soul, newborn and fragile, helpless and starving. Tom met every need and filled her with warmth and comfort. No, what she felt wasn't comfort. What she felt couldn’t be named or explained, yet she desperately wanted to go on feeling it.

  When their lips parted, it was he who trembled.

  “I'll find a way...” he promised.

  Chapter 7

  Two days! Tom had sent the wire to his father two days ago, and no answer in all that time. You'd think he'd mailed him a letter, it was taking so long to get a reply. Finally, though, Josh had come running to tell him a wire had arrived for him.

  Tom went immediately and scanned the message before re-reading it carefully. Not what he'd hoped for. Exactly what he'd feared.

  <><><><>

  At the dance hall, Rosalie carefully bathed Lizzy's face with cool water. Her eyes, still swollen, seemed a little better. The black had turned to a musty yellow around the edges. The other eye seemed different, somehow. Rosalie had a bad feeling about that left eye.

  “My hand hurts something awful this morning, Rosie. I think the bandage is too tight. My fingers are throbbing 'til I can't think of nothing else.”

  She hadn't improved enough to hear the truth about that hand. Rosalie almost counted it a blessing the other arm had been cut. Bandaged all the way to her fingers, she couldn't explore with her good hand and discover nothing but a gnarled claw where her left hand used to be.

  “We'll give you more tea to help the pain. Isn't the tea helping?”

  “For a while. Then the pain comes back. He must have broken that hand. I guess I shouldn't have scratched him the way I did. But he was beating me in the face, Rosie! I had to do something or he would've killed me, sure.”

  Rosalie tried not to let the rage swelling within her show in her voice. Lizzy couldn't handle the truth yet. When she'd be able to, no one knew. And where she'd live in Denver still hadn't been settled, even though Tom had promised a place for her. The McCabes had been in Denver a long time and had many friends there. But friends willing to take a crippled bawd?

  She wouldn't think about it right now. Couldn't think about it without despairing. She'd have to depend on Tom to find a way. For both of them.

  “I can barely see you, Rosie, with only one eye. The other must still be swollen shut.”

  But it wasn't. She'd actually managed to get both eyes open. What Rosalie saw in that other eye made her stomach knot with nausea. The eyeball had been punctured. Crumpled like a wad of paper, it lay in the socket, black and festering.

  Dear God, he'd not only ruined her hand, he'd taken her eye, too.

  “What's wrong, Rosie? You're staring at me like something's bad wrong.” She raised her right hand toward her face.

  Rosalie gently pressed her arm back to the cot. “Don't worry. The doctor is coming by this afternoon to see you. We'll see what he thinks about that swollen eye.”

  “It's still swollen, then. That's why I can't see nothing out of it?”

  “I suspect that's the reason. You rest now. I'll be back in just a little while.”

  Out in the hallway, she slumped against the wall for a moment and closed her eyes, willing the truth away for only a few minutes. But it remained, cold and ruthless. Lizzy might be able to walk again, but not for a long time. Without the use of her left hand and blind in one eye, she had no future Rosalie could see. Not even the cribs for Lizzy. Rosalie had once believed the cribs were as low as a human could sink. But Lizzy had been taken to a level lower still.

  Tom came in the back door. “Let's go to your house. I hate this place.”

  In the Kincannon home, Rosalie mixed some citrus crystals with water and made lemonade. There wasn't any ice, so they had to drink it warm.

  “I heard from my father. He's going to talk to Richard Strickland, to see if something can be worked out.”

  A spark of hope kindled inside her. “Like what?”

  “Don't know. Richard is going to retire from the bank. He has two sons, Zane and Trey. Zane has the brains to be a banker, but never showed any interest in the bank. Trey has worked alongside Richard for the past five years, but he doesn't think Trey is ruthless enough to be President of the Bank.”

  “Interesting criteria.”

  “Richard thinks, by putting Zane in as President, it'll turn him into a decent man. He's hoping Trey will get to be more like Zane by working under him.”

  “Zane Strickland could never be decent.” Their silence stood as agreement. “Lizzy is blind in one eye, has a useless hand, and she won't ever walk normally again. It would've been kinder if he'd killed her.”

  “Don't say that, Rosalie. She's your sister. She has a right to live.”

  “Yes. A right to live. We all should have that right.”

  Nothing Tom could say would make things better. One thing he could do, though. He held his arms open for her.

  She came immediately, but without tears this time.

  Kincannon came in the back door. “What's going on here? I swear, I can't leave you two alone for a minute.” A lecherous grin stretched his cracked lips. “You got yourself a feller, ain't you, Rosie? I knew someday you'd find one.” His grin leveled out when he saw Tom's expression.

  “Mr. Kincannon, have you seen the condition your other daughter is in?”

  “Lizzy? She's beat up purty bad, but, far as I can tell, she's mending.”

  “She's blind in one eye, Paw. Strickland ruined her eyeball when he hit her. And you saw what he did to her hand. She scratched him, trying to defend herself, and he stomped her hand with the heel of his boot.”

  Kincannon gave no reaction to what he'd heard.

  Tom approached him slowly. “You've stood by and watched your daughter almost killed, and done nothing, felt nothing. You bet your other daughter in a card game with the man responsible, and you still seem to feel nothing. Can you honestly tell me you aren't worried about what Strickland is bound to do to Rosalie once she's in Denver, within constant reach?”

  Kincannon shrugged. “Ain't my problem anymore. She belongs to him now. I reckon he can do what he wants with her, since she's his property.”

  Tom's fist caught Kincannon squarely on the jaw before the words were hardly out of his mouth. He spat blood a
nd one tooth into his hand, and didn't offer to fight back.

  “You're worse than Strickland.” Tom took Rosalie's hand and led her outside.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I won't let you stay here. I'll get you a room at the El Paso. I don't want you anywhere near that sorry bastard.”

  “Tom, he's my father.”

  Tom whirled, grasped her arms and peered into her eyes. “He's willing to give you to a monster, without thinking twice about it. After you leave here, you'll probably never see him again. Can you tell me you still care for him, after what he's done to you?”

  She hesitated. Tom had no way of knowing about her mother. If he knew, he might understand better, but now wasn't the time to tell him the whole story. He'd just have to trust her.

  “He's my father. What I feel for him may not be love, but that doesn't change my being his daughter.”

  “Rosalie—”

  “Listen, Tom. I know what you're saying, and you're right. If I could change who or what my father is or what he's become, I would. But he's never going to change. All my life, I've tried to rise above what it means to be William Kincannon's daughter. I've tried to find something decent and proper—yes, proper—within the context of this vile place. Don't you see? Turning my back on my father would mean lowering myself to his level. It's something I must never—no, something I will never do. I will not abandon him as he has abandoned me.”

  Tom's grip on her had relaxed while she spoke until his hands lay warm and gentle on her arms.

  He touched her cheek, then slipped his fingers behind her neck, loving the way her hair, soft and shiny, caressed his hand. He'd never met a woman like her in all his life. Integrity. Honesty. Character. He felt guilty asking her to betray those principles.

  It startled him when she pressed her lips to his, but he recovered instantly and pulled her against him, loving the way their bodies fit against together.

  Rosalie knew she shouldn't kiss Tom without his initiating the kiss first, but he didn't protest or pull away. He held her closer, rubbing her back in big, lazy circles, gripping her neck, running his fingers through her hair until she tingled head to toe, all the time loving the intimacy of their mouths joined.

  She ended the kiss reluctantly. They were standing in the open, where anyone could see. For once in her life, being proper shouldn't matter. Yet, it did. It had to.

  “Tom, this isn't right.”

  “It felt awfully right to me.”

  “We're in plain sight of anyone who cares to look this way.”

  “You're worried about that?”

  “Of course. Remember where we are!”

  He understood. “You're still afraid they'll think you're one of the Yellow Rose girls, is that it?” Tom lifted her chin and kissed her lightly. “We'll be leaving the minute Lizzy can travel. It makes no difference what anyone thinks after that.”

  How could she tell him it meant everything to her, to be sure that she would be remembered “properly.” She smiled at the word.

  “What is it? What made you smile?”

  “You did. Kiss me again.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  It took a moment to realize Sadie was standing at the corner of the house, watching.

  “See?” Rosalie grinned at Tom, then turned to Sadie. “What is it? Lizzy?”

  “No, Rosie. It's that dandy again. We just heard from a cowboy that he's out of jail, yelling about how foul the place was, heading for The Rose.”

  “How did he get out this fast?”

  “Marshal fined him two hundred dollars. He wired his paw for the money, and now he's out and looking for you, Mr. McCabe, with revenge in his craw. Says you're gonna pay for him having to spend time in that filthy jail.”

  “The businesses within two blocks on every side complain constantly about the stench. I'm surprised he didn't feel right at home there.” Rosalie took Tom's hand and squeezed his fingers. “What are we going to do?”

  “Face him. If we were in Denver, he'd never try anything against the McCabes. Being away from home has loosened his tongue. I'll have to remind him how things are.”

  “Please, Tom, don't fight him.”

  Sadie shook her head vigorously at that. “He don't fight fair, that one. We've got the door to Lizzy's room barred from the inside.”

  “That's good.”

  Tom gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t follow me, please. I don't want to worry about you when I face Strickland.”

  She understood. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

  Tom headed for the dance hall. In only a few weeks, Zane Strickland would be their banker. In the wire, Amos had said, “Don't rile him.” Well, Zane was riled. No changing that. Maybe Tom could trick him into doing something the marshal would take more seriously. Accomplishing that without getting hurt, or losing his temper and doing something foolish, presented the biggest challenge.

  Tom found Zane at the bar, draining a glass of rot gut, pouring a refill.

  “Strickland, you aren't welcome here. I suggest you move on to one of the other halls.”

  Zane turned slowly. The scratches on his right cheek had festered. Even at this distance, he reeked of the jail. His eyes, bloodshot and half closed with drunkenness, focused on Tom, then glazed with hatred.

  “Just who are you to be telling me where I'm welcome?”

  “After what you've done here, I expected you to move on to new places, new victims.”

  “Did she die?”

  “Might as well have.”

  “Stupid bitch deserved what she got. You see what she did to me?” He turned his head to give Tom a better view at the oozing scratches.

  “Not a fraction of what you deserved.”

  Zane's lips pressed into a thin line, then eased. Unexpectedly, he laughed. “I do believe you've gotten to be a whore lover since I saw you last, McCabe. I knew you weren't as upstanding as your sorry paw leads everyone to believe. Why, I'll bet he introduced you to your first whore.”

  Tom seethed with hatred for this pile of horse manure, but held his ground, not wanting to be the one to initiate the fight. “If you don't want your nose broken, you'd better leave my father out of this. I intend to see you back in jail before the sun sets.”

  “Is that right? Who's gonna put me there? You? All by yourself? Forget it, McCabe. There's not a damn thing you can do to get me back in that slimy hole.”

  “To tell you the truth, I don't care where you go. Just so you don't come back here.” He decided to try a different approach. “What are you doing in Fort Worth to begin with? Isn't it time you were getting back to Denver?”

  “Not that it's any of your damn business, I came to escort my bride to Denver.”

  “Your bride? Here?”

  “Dallas. Paw arranged everything. Wanted to get two bankers connected through marriage to get their banks connected, too.”

  Sounded like something Richard Strickland would do. “So, where is she?”

  Zane turned back to the bar. “Changed her mind after we met. We were just getting to know each other better when she went running to her daddy and told him she wouldn't marry me.”

  Tom laughed. Being rejected probably enraged Zane to the point of murder, but it had to be the sweetest news Tom had heard since he'd gotten to this grubby little slice of hell.

  “Go ahead and laugh.” Zane's words slurred as he consumed another glass of rot gut. “You won't laugh when you've heard the rest.”

  Tom sobered. “The rest of what?”

  “Paw says I have to be married to take over the bank next month.”

  So, the decision had already been made. Richard Strickland just hadn't told his depositors. The last thing Tom wanted was more “polite” conversation with this weasel, but Zane seemed to be in a talkative mood. It might be possible to learn something useful. “What happens now?”

  “I have to have a wife. Otherwise, Trey gets the bank, even though Paw knows he doesn't have what it takes.”

/>   “From what I've heard, he's been doing a good job for a long time.”

  “He's too soft. Loans money to men who'll never pay back. Extends loans when they can't pay. You can't run a bank that way.”

  Compassion and understanding were concepts Richard and Zane Strickland would never embrace. All along, Amos had hoped Trey would be the one to take over when Richard stepped down.

  “So what are you going to do about finding a wife before next month?”

  Zane turned around, braced his elbows on the bar, his lips sliding back over his teeth in a thoroughly repulsive gesture.

  Seeing that malicious grin, a shiver traveled down Tom's spine.

  “I'm gonna get married right here in Fort Worth and take the little woman home to Paw. In fact, I'm gonna get married right here in this dance hall, since that's where we met.”

  “You're going to marry Lizzy?”

  Zane laughed until he almost lost his balance and fell. “You're as stupid as you are ugly, McCabe. Not that whore. You can throw her sorry carcass to the buzzards for all I care.”

  “Then who? One of the other girls?” Dread ate viciously at him.

  “Yep. The prettiest girl in this dance hall. The one I already own, body and soul.”

  <><><><>

  Rosalie crept in the back door of The Rose and down the hall a few minutes after Tom left, to check on Lizzy again, which was an excuse. She had to see what happened between Tom and Zane. When she passed the door to the main room, she saw them standing at the bar, talking, but couldn't make out their words. She went to Lizzy's room, knocked, identified herself, then heard the bar slide back. The door opened. Jocelyn.

  “How is she?” Rosalie whispered.

  “Not good. Her hand is showing all the signs of infection.”

  “Has Doc been by to see her today?”

  “Too busy to come. Poker game. Said he'd come by tomorrow and see all the girls for the month. He'll take a look at Lizzy then.”