Linda Castle

by The Return of Chase Cordell

  He stood up, practically dumping her on the floor in the process. “Go to bed, Linese.” His voice was even more harsh than it had been minutes before. “I’m going out for some air. Just—just go to bed.”

  He turned and stumbled out into the hot Texas night. He felt the burden of his own guilt and the sting of Linese’s eyes on his back with every limping step.

  Chase watched the big round-faced clock’s pendulum tick away the minutes toward noon. A fly persistently kept annoying him. He slapped it absently, wondering for the fifth time in as many minutes when, or if, Hezikiah went home for dinner. Surely the man had to eat—Lord knows it didn’t seem as if he ever slept.

  He glanced over at the printer in annoyance and saw him making no effort to cease his labors. Chase had been waiting for Hezikiah to leave him alone so he could experiment with the machinery, to see if he could figure it out.

  Chase was fairly sure he had the basics, but unless he tried it he would never know.

  Frustrated with Hezikiah’s lack of interest in the noon hour and leaving the Gazette, Chase rose from the desk and stretched out his leg.

  His hip wound grew better daily. He was able to move easier, with less stiffness. It pleased him that he was limping less and that he was rapidly regaining his physical strength. He wondered if Linese had noticed, then he chided himself for being so foolish that he wanted her to. He shook his head and the annoying buzz intensified with the movement.

  “Going to get some dinner, Major?” Hezikiah’s voice boomed over the steady creak and drone of the big newspaper press.

  Chase snapped his head around and looked at Hezikiah’s ink-stained visage. Evidently the man did work through the entire day and far into the night. He would find no opportunity to be alone today.

  “No—no,” Chase said in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll stroll around Mainfield a bit and reacquaint myself with the town.”

  “Good idea. There’ve been a passel of changes since you left. You’ll scarce recognize the town.”

  “I imagine you’re right about that,” Chase replied under his breath.

  Chase squinted against the bright noon sun when he stepped outside the newspaper office. In defense of the unrelenting rays, he pointed his face in the opposite direction and started walking. He had no particular destination in mind, and the annoying ringing in his ears kept him company.

  Several store owners spoke to Chase and remarked on the weather and the events of the war while they turned the signs on their front doors over to read Closed. Chase soon found himself nearly alone in the town at midday. It gave him a measure of freedom, walking through Mainfield while everyone was at home eating. He could stop and stare at sights that would normally cause others to look at him curiously. It was a constant worry, that he would make some foolish remark about something that he should have known since he had grown up in Mainfield. He was on guard every minute.

  While he walked, he studied each building, tree and house. He sifted through his brain for a memory, but none came. Since his return, he had remembered little besides the mayor’s face and his haunting words, but that dim recollection gave him hope that he might find more.

  Chase walked to the wide square and sat down on one of the benches under a large spreading oak among a sprinkling of spring’s first flowers. It was so hard to believe, sitting in the quiet square, that only weeks ago he had been on a bloody battlefield. He scanned the empty walks and tried to see the town through dispassionate eyes.

  It was a pretty place, with well laid out lots and plenty of trees for shade. But it meant nothing to him. No feeling of belonging or roots was in him while he looked at Mainfield.

  His eyes came to rest on the Gazette office. An invisible clock seemed to be ticking in his head. He was running out of time. The mayor and his friends had made it plain they wanted Hezikiah out as soon as possible. Chase had no idea what hold they had over him, but he had not missed the implied threat in their words. He had to hurry, even if he didn’t know what secret they kept. Just knowing they had one was an effective incentive to probe deeper into his faulty brain and try to grab hold of one solid piece of memory.

  If he could get Hezikiah out without arousing suspicion and if he could relearn the complicated machinery, and if he could bring himself to start writing editorials that condoned profit at any price…

  It was a lot of ifs. Still, what choice did he have? Wallace, Kerney and the rest of those coyotes were biding their time. He had to do what the men asked in order to keep his secret and protect Linese.

  For the first time, Chase realized that he did want to protect her, more than he wanted to save himself.

  The passion he had felt sweep over him last night left him aching with raw need. She had a way about her, an ability to make him forget his resolve and his caution. Bittersweet mixtures of emotion swirled through his chest while he recalled the moments he had spent with her in the library.

  He had forced her from their bed, yet last night he had kissed her and allowed himself to come dangerously close to doing more. Much, much more. If she had not spoken, Chase realized, he might have forgotten himself completely.

  She was a fine woman and she deserved better than to have Chase treat her warmly one minute, then coldly the next. She also deserved more than to give herself to a man who had returned as little more than a shadow of the person she had married.

  “What kind of man am I?” he asked. Chase was beginning to think the answer to that question was one he wouldn’t like.

  The strange association with Kerney, the pistol and gold Ira Goten gave him, even the account of how he proposed to Linese, all made him sound like a man who lived fast and loose. The image he was seeing of his past self was not a flattering one.

  Chase sighed and lolled his head back on the hard bench. The ringing in his ears seemed to have lessened a bit and he savored the minutes of peace.

  A flash in a store window across the street drew his attention. He moved his head a little to one side and watched the sun strike an object and ripple over it like the reflection of a mirror. Curiosity brought him from the bench and across the quiet dusty street. He approached the store window where he had seen the metallic rainbow, and looked inside.

  It was a cameo. Rich gold filigree and delicate pearls surrounded the exquisitely carved silhouette. The feminine cream-carved face rested against a soft rose-colored stone background. Fragile features and fine wisps of hair framed the classic profile of the woman captured in stone.

  He tilted his head and looked at the jewelry from another angle. “Linese,” Chase muttered. Yes, it did remind him of her. It was feminine and refined, beautiful and exquisite. Much like the woman who had the misfortune to be married to him.

  Suddenly Chase had the overwhelming urge to give it to her. He shoved his hand inside his pockets and touched the hated gold coins from his past. Some deep, forgotten knowledge told him it was blood money. He could not even bring himself to look closely at the coins. He kept them hidden in the darkness of his trouser pocket, much like the dark secret he kept hidden about himself. If he could get rid of them and do something for Linese in the process, he would consider it a double blessing.

  A man of small stature, with thick chin whiskers, paused and glanced curiously at Chase before he stepped around him to unlock the door to the jewelry shop. Chase closed his fist around the coins and entered right behind the little man.

  The carpet was threadbare in places, but the color was still vibrant and spoke of a more prosperous time before the war.

  “May I help you?” The little man looked up at him and smiled doubtfully.

  “Yes, I’d like to buy the cameo in the front window, please.”

  The man’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. He recovered quickly, but Chase could see by his initial unguarded reaction that business had been slow. The prospect of hard cash made the shop hum with the salesman’s anticipation.

  Chase watched him cross the store and open the back glass of the window.
The cameo had been there for a while, and he blew a thin layer of dust from its face when he thought Chase wasn’t watching.

  “It’s a fine piece. Italian. Hand-wrought gold. I had it brought in before the hostilities broke out,” he explained proudly.

  Chase ran his fingers over the row of tiny pearls at the medallion’s edge. It would look beautiful lying against Linese’s flawless skin. He glanced at the price tag. He was sure the gold coins would cover the cost, and the thought of being free of them filled him with an inner peace.

  “Could you wrap it?”

  The little jeweler blinked a couple of times. “Uh, I hope you won’t think me impolite, sir, but since the war, you know.” The little man turned his hands palm up, as if in apology for the hard times he had been forced to endure.

  Chase shoved his hand into his pocket and brought out the gold coins. He dropped them into the little man’s outstretched palm without looking and continued to examine the cameo, visualizing how it would look on Linese.

  The jeweler held one coin to the light and examined it more closely. Evidently satisfied, his face broke into a smile. “If you will wait, sir, I have a box in the back.”

  Chase told himself this impulsive act was more to free himself of the money, but deep down inside, he knew he wanted to give Linese a token of his growing feelings. It was the least he could do since he and the war had taken her life and smashed it to pieces. He would like to have given her a life filled with love and children, but he knew he would have to settle for giving her this small bit of gold and stone instead.

  Chapter Six

  Chase looked up at the tall, rambling structure of Cordellane, graying in the shadows of the setting sun. Lamplight cast pale fingers of muted illumination over a lawn that was in need of a good clipping. He had seen no other help around the place, except for the girl who helped Linese with dinner that first night. He wondered how his grandfather and Linese had managed alone.

  His eye skimmed over the peeling paint on the eaves of the house. A pang of guilt gripped him. They had been left to fend for themselves as best they could, while he rode off to war. Chase made a mental note to go in search of a scythe tomorrow morning, to begin to put Cordellane to rights. First, though, he wanted to see Linese.

  He climbed the staircase with confidence, but when he was at her door, he hesitated. Now that he was only a few feet from her, he regretted his impulsiveness and weakness. He turned away, ready to leave, to spare himself the embarrassment of showing her what he had done, when a soft voice coming from behind her closed bedroom door drew his attention. He realized it was Linese reading aloud.

  She had a lovely voice. The soft, gentle sound of the words flowed over him with the same hypnotic appeal they had in the library the night before. For a fleeting instant, everything around him seemed almost familiar. Faint images of her face, smiling and animated, filled his head. He remembered the way she felt and tasted, even through the brandy-induced, fogged memory of last night. When the vision faded away, he was left with a deep void so raw it was physically painful.

  He knocked on the door.

  It opened within seconds, then he found himself bitterly regretting his decision to see her in the very next instant, because what he saw took the breath from his body.

  Linese was wearing a voluminous white night rail. The lightweight fabric clung to her petite curves much like a lover’s hands, as he wanted his hands to mold to her body. Chase’s muscles grew taut and contracted around his bones until he was painfully aware of the lovely creature that was his wife in name alone..

  Chase ordered himself to ignore the newly scrubbed and fresh-as-morning-dew look of her skin. The aroma of honeysuckle blossoms threaded its way around his head and into his starved soul. He could sooner ignore his own beating heart than to deny the attraction he felt for this woman.

  “Chase?” Her voice brought his thoughts crashing to earth quicker than a pigeon with a broken wing.

  The painful void inside him cried out for comfort. Every part of him wanted to hold her, to recapture what they must have shared but what was lost in time to him alone.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow.” He choked on the words. He turned away and took one halting step. The soft weight of her fingers on his bare arm, below the rolled-up shirtsleeve, sent a hot frisson of sensation rippling though him.

  “Please stay,” she invited.

  His heart slammed against his ribs like mortar fire. Why did she have to be so sweet?

  “I didn’t mean to intrude.” he apologized awkwardly. “You are busy. It can wait….”

  “I was only reading.” Linese gestured to the lamp on the small writing table and the slender book lying facedown. “You are hardly intruding.”

  “Please, don’t let me interrupt.” He gulped down the hot lump that grew larger with each glance at her appealing form. “I can see you are preparing for bed.”

  He felt a hot wash of embarrassment in his cheeks at the mention of her obvious state of undress. She glanced down at her body and back to him as if only now becoming aware of her nightdress.

  Linese felt as if a curtain had been drawn back to reveal a bright new canvas beneath it. Each day this man showed her layers of character she had never known existed. The quick courtship and one honeymoon night had not allowed her to explore his personality. For the first time, she realized he was embarrassed to see her standing in her night rail. It occurred to her then that maybe he felt as ill at ease as she did, maybe he was unsure and afraid of failure after so long a separation. Last night had proven to her that Chase had feelings for her, or at least physical needs that involved her. If only she had the feminine skill to bring them together in flesh and spirit. She felt a flood of heat in her own cheeks at the thought.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you.” He took another faltering step toward the door in an effort to retreat from the tender warrior who stared at him with soft blue eyes.

  “’Does it pain you much?” Linese wondered if his wounds had anything to do with his reluctance to share her bed. Could it be his male vanity that forced him to deny her companionship?

  “What?” Chase frowned and looked at her blankly.

  “Your leg. Does it cause you much pain?”

  “Not much.” Chase self-consciously rubbed his palm over his scarred hip. He felt inept standing there with Linese staring up at him. Her skin was aglow in the uneven lamplight. He thought of how nice it would be to kiss her.

  “I hope you know how proud I was when I read the letter from your aide. He told me about the men whose lives you saved before you were wounded. It was a brave thing you did.”

  Chase swallowed hard. He had heard the account of his actions in the hospital. At the time he thought it sounded like foolish recklessness, not bravery. But now, when Linese said she was proud of him for the same reckless deed, it took on a new meaning for him.

  “I hope you know… that is, I mean to say, I am happy to be married to such an honorable man.”

  Chase groaned inwardly. She kept using words like brav ery and honor. If he was so damned honorable then why didn’t he get down on his knees and tell her the horrid truth? Why didn’t he have the courage to tell her what had happened to the man she had married, so she could free herself from him?

  Chase realized at that moment he would do just about anything to make this woman proud of him again. He hungered to find a way to make her admire him for the man he was now and not the legend he was in his forgotten past, and that hunger was liberally spiced with bitterness.

  “Did you wish to speak to me about something, Chase?” Her query brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt.

  “Linese, if you are free, would you accompany me to Mainfield tomorrow?” He swallowed hard and hoped she could not hear the clumsiness in his voice.

  Linese averted her eyes and tried to hide the rush of pleasure she got from his invitation. “I would be pleased, Chase.” This was the first indication Chase had shown that he wished to spend time in her comp
any.

  “Good, good.” He turned away, then stopped, frowning. “What time?”

  She smiled at him. It was an indulgent expression that made his belly clench with satisfaction. He wasn’t sure what he had done to bring the smile to her lips but he wished he could do it again—often.

  “Whatever time is good for you. I’ll be ready—and Chase?”

  “Yes, Linese?”

  “Thank you for asking me.”

  Chase turned away and opened the door. He found himself smiling at Linese’s unexpected compliment. For the first time since he had woken up in that hospital, he actually felt a sensation of well-being. He had a renewed sense of hope and it was all because of Linese Cordell, his forgotten wife.

  Linese was staring at the ceiling, wide-awake, and soon the sun would be rising. Funny, last night was the first night she had not heard Chase’s steady pacing behind the door that separated them. She had lain awake, listening for the jerky sound of his tread, but it hadn’t come. He had remained silent on his side of the closed door. It was ironic that she had tossed and turned all night, when he had found peaceful slumber for the first time since his return to Cordellane. She rose from her bed and lit the lamp on the small table. On impulse she threw back the curtains to allow the first faint streaks of mauve and gray to find their way into her room the moment they peeked over the treetops.

  She wondered what had changed for Chase. She wondered why he appeared to have found a sense of calm when she was sinking deeper and deeper into a confusing vortex. A tiny voice inside her head whispered that perhaps it was her, that perhaps in some way she was helping Chase work his way through the horror of war.

  She wanted to believe it might be true. She longed to believe this invitation was the first step on the long road back to each other. Linese tossed a pile of dresses onto her bed and, for the first time since Chase had come to her room, she felt a true moment of dread instead of giddy anticipation.

  The war had been difficult for everyone, including the Cordells. The family had managed to avoid financial ruin-so far. Unfortunately, she had not been able to find an extra dollar to make any new additions to her wardrobe. Each frock was what she had brought with her at the time of her marriage. They were all out-of-date and inappropriate as a day dress for a trip to Mainfield. Her sturdy gray dress was fine for secretly working at the Gazette, but for a day with Chase, she wanted to look special. She wanted him to think she was the most fetching woman he had ever seen, whether it was true or not.