by Connie Mason
“Listen to me a minute, Casey, then tell me I’m wrong,” Belle argued. “The name of McAllister’s third partner in the gold mine was Arnold Jones. Harry Hopkins told me all about him. He refused to sell his share to McAllister because he believed they would hit pay dirt. He died in a cave-in shortly after refusing to sell out. Harry had already sold his share, and T.J. bought the remaining share from Jones’s widow after he told her the mine was worthless. Jones had a wife and son back East.
“It seems more than coincidental that Hank Jones should arrive in town at the time of McAllister’s murder,” Belle continued. “A man who would ruthlessly beat a helpless woman wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man in cold blood.”
Suddenly Casey began to listen to Belle, really listen. If what Belle said was true, she could be asking for a heap of trouble. Accusing a man like Jones of murder was certain to anger him. Voicing her suspicions to the sheriff placed her in danger, whether her accusations were true or not.
Yet he couldn’t help admiring Belle’s spunk and determination. “You’d make a damn good detective, Mrs. Walker.”
Belle’s face lit up. “You believe me? Oh, Casey, I …”
“Whoa, I didn’t say I believed you. I admit your story has merit, and I promise to check out Hopkins’ story and look into Jones’ background. But you have to promise me something in return.”
“If I can,” Belle said, intrigued by the concern she saw in Casey’s eyes.
“Stay away from the jailhouse and don’t go outside unless accompanied by either Mark or myself.”
“But I promised Harry …”
“I’ll take care of it, love. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I’d do.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed each wrist. But that wasn’t enough. He pulled her against him and felt her heart beating a wild tattoo against his chest.
She regarded him through misty eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.
“What is it, love? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I … I thought you were going to tell me something else when you said we needed to talk.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“That you were leaving. I’ve been waiting, you know, wondering how long it would be before you missed the excitement and danger of your previous work. And the women, of course.”
“Have I sought another woman since meeting you?” Casey asked, anger making his voice gruff. “How many times have I told you I’m not leaving? How many times will it take before you believe me?” Suddenly the anger building inside him could no longer be contained, and he confronted her with the words he’d wanted to say since learning Belle was pregnant with his child. “You’re carrying my child. Do you think I’d leave you now?”
Belle went still. He knows! How did he find out? When? Is that why he’d stayed this long? Was he remaining with her merely for the sake of their child? Please, God, she didn’t want him that way.
“How long were you going to keep it from me, Belle?” Casey blasted. “You must think I’m stupid not to notice the little changes taking place in your body. I sleep with you every night. I know your body as intimately as I know my own.
“Take your breasts, for instance.” He touched her right breast and stroked her nipple. She jerked in response. “Sensitive, aren’t they? That would have given me my first clue had I needed it. But I knew you were expecting my baby shortly after you did. I browbeat the doctor into telling me what was wrong with you. I was that worried.”
Belle sucked in a shallow breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I could ask you the same question. What did you hope to gain by keeping me in the dark? The child you carry is mine, for godsake! Did you think I wouldn’t want it?”
“I didn’t know. I wanted to make sure you were going to be around for awhile before I told you. Can you blame me? I don’t trust any man. Everyone I’ve ever loved left me. First my mother, then Father, then Tom.”
Casey’s expression softened. “Are you saying you love me?”
“Hell no! I’ll never allow myself to admit to loving a man again. If you’re going to leave, do it now.”
Casey grit his teeth in frustration. “I told you, I’d never leave a woman who’s carrying my child.”
“Am I supposed to thank you? Sorry, Casey, I want more than that. You only want me for our child’s sake.”
“Where in the hell did you get that idea? If that was the case, why would I come to your bed every night when there are plenty of other women willing to accommodate me? I swear, Belle, I’ve never known a more irritating female.”
He rose abruptly. “I’ve got work to do. Don’t leave the house. Someone has to think about our child if you won’t.” Sending her an exasperated look, he charged from the room before he said something he’d regret.
I did it again, Belle thought dimly. I made Casey angry when all I really wanted was to throw myself in his arms and stay there forever. Why did she continually aggravate him to the point of intense anger? Was she testing him? Why was she deliberately trying to drive him away, when all she wanted was his love?
At least she’d gotten through to him where Harry Hopkins was concerned, she thought with grim satisfaction. She had planted the seed of Hank Jones’s guilt and Casey could take it from there. Not that she intended to stay home while Casey did all the investigating. She hadn’t actually promised she’d remain home so she felt no obligation to do so. There were a few things she could do herself to help Harry. One was to bring him nourishing food during his last days. Another was to ease his loneliness.
Casey realized he had allowed fury to get the best of him again. But damn, he couldn’t help it. He’d waited with more patience than he thought possible for Belle to tell him about the baby, and when she’d calmly stated that she’d expected him to tell her he was leaving, he’d blurted out knowledge of their child. Then his temper had made him lash out at her.
One positive thing had come out of their confrontation. He no longer had to hide his knowledge of the baby. Belle had damn well better start taking care of herself or he’d know the reason why.
Casey arrived at the telegraph office a short time later. He composed a telegram to Allan Pinkerton requesting information on Hank Jones. If anyone was privy to information about known outlaws, it was Allan. While he waited for an answer there were other things he could do. He set off to talk to both Harry Hopkins and Hank Jones.
Finding Hopkins was easy. He wasn’t going anyplace except to the gallows. During the lengthy interview Casey became convinced that the old man hadn’t killed McAllister. It was obvious to Casey that Hopkins had confessed to save Belle, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner. Before taking his leave, he promised Hopkins that he’d do his best to try to find the real killer. But unfortunately time was running out.
Locating Jones proved more difficult. The man seemed to be avoiding all the popular watering holes and dives in town. Casey’s carefully worded inquiries got him exactly nowhere. All he received for his trouble were blank stares and silence.
That night Casey avoided Belle’s bed. He sat in the study tossing back snifter after snifter of McAllister’s choice brandy, brooding in stony silence. If it wasn’t for the baby, he’d pull up stakes and get the hell out of here. Belle didn’t want him. She had Tommy, she had money, she’d never want for anything. What in the hell could he give her that she didn’t already have?
Love? Hell! She didn’t want his love. Protection? She could buy that. She sure knew how to knock down a man’s ego. He wondered why she let him make love to her if she expected him to catch the next stage out of town? Probably because she needed what he could give her, he thought uncharitably.
“Do you mind company or would you rather drink alone?”
Casey raised his eyes to Mark, who was leaning negligently against the door frame.
“Come in, brother, if you can stand the company. I’m in a foul mood tonight.”
> Mark sauntered into the room and took a seat opposite Casey. “Are the lovebirds at it again?”
“I just can’t figure that woman, Mark. She manages to chew me up and spit me out without conscious effort. She angers and bewitches me at the same time. There are times I’d like to strangle her. But more often I just want to make love to her. She makes me crazy, Mark.”
“Thank God it’s you and not me,” Mark said with a grin.
“Enough of my problems. What about you, Mark? Are you sorry you came to San Francisco?”
“Not a bit. The making of wine is an intriguing process. I’m learning fast, you know.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve decided to place you in charge of the production end of the business. I certainly can’t handle everything myself. You’ll find the salary generous, enough for you to set up your own household if you wish. Not that I want you to leave. You’re welcome here as long as you like. I’m sure Belle feels the same as I do.”
“Thanks, Casey. Still taking care of your little brother, just like Pa wanted, aren’t you? That stint in prison made me grow up. Pa would be proud of me now.”
“He was always proud of you.”
“No, he worried about me. He was proud of you. I accept the job. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay on here for a while longer.”
“A blond-haired beauty wouldn’t have anything to do with your staying, would it?”
Mark flushed. “You’ve probably noticed I’m more than a little fond of Greta. She returns my regard but she thinks she’s not good enough for me. Hell, Casey, she’s not a whore. She earned a severe beating for refusing to bed a man for money. As for the other matter, any naive girl can be led astray by a fancy man spouting false promises.”
“If you really want Greta I have no objection. Hell, how can I tell you how to conduct your life when I can’t even handle my own wife?”
“Is it that bad?”
“Worse. Belle is aware that I know about the baby. She didn’t want to tell me because she still believes I am going to leave her and Tommy. Nothing I say or do will convince her that I’m here to stay. Especially now that I’m going to be a father.” His last sentence was spoken with consummate pride.
“You’ll be a good father, Casey. I’m sure Belle will realize it and come to her senses.”
“I hope I can hold out that long,” Casey muttered darkly.
“Good night, brother. I can’t sit around jawing with you all night. Some of us have to work for a living.”
“I reckon I should hit the sack, too. I’ve got some investigating to do tomorrow. Belle said some things tonight about Harry Hopkins and a man named Hank Jones that made sense. I wired Allan Pinkerton for information.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Not now. It’s late. Good night, Mark.”
Casey failed to follow his own advice. Instead of going to bed he stared into the dying fire for another hour. He was close to dozing off when he heard footsteps pass just outside the closed door and continue on up the stairs. They were furtive footsteps, but Casey’s keen hearing and trigger reflexes held him in good stead. He removed his boots and crept to the door, easing it open on silent hinges. He thanked God for the servants’ diligence in keeping them well oiled. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. A shadowy figure dressed in unrelieved black was creeping up the stairs, his footsteps all but silent on the carpeted treads. Casey turned back to the study for a loaded derringer he kept in the desk drawer and returned to the foyer. The man had reached the top landing now and turned unerringly toward the master bedroom. Casey saw him clearly. Light from the lamp left burning in the upstairs hallway cast his shadow against the wall.
Gun in hand, Casey crept up behind him. The intruder reached for the doorknob. Casey called out a challenge. The intruder turned and fired wildly at Casey. Casey returned the fire, but poor lighting and his constant movement made the intruder a difficult target. Casey heard Belle scream and warned her to remain in her room. He gave the same advice to Mark, Tommy, Greta, and Wan Yo.
Mark had no intention of obeying. The first exchange of gunfire brought him scrambling out of bed and reaching for his own weapon. He opened the door to his room and poked his head into the hallway. His eyes widened when he saw the intruder standing between him and Casey.
“We’ve got him trapped, Casey,” he called out. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Be careful, Mark.”
The intruder spat out a curse when he realized he was in trouble. He had expected everyone to be sleeping and had walked unsuspecting into a hornet’s nest. He cast about for an escape, saw the lamp, and acted instinctively. Grasping the lamp by its base, he dashed it to the floor. It sputtered a moment then burst into flame.
Mark and Casey started forward at the same time. A small section of the carpet caught fire, and if it wasn’t contained the entire upper floor would go up in flames. Obviously the intruder was desperate. Mark and Casey sprinted toward the fire with one thought in mind. The intruder reacted at the same time.
The intruder and Casey passed one another on the staircase, going in opposite directions. The man shoved past Casey, not stopping until he reached the front door. Casey glanced over his shoulder in time to see him rush out the unlocked door. Casey grunted in surprise. He was certain he’d locked that door before retiring to the study earlier that night. But there was no time for reflection now. Barefoot and wearing long johns, Mark was already fighting the blaze with a blanket he had pulled from his bed.
Belle could no longer stand the suspense of not knowing if Casey was all right. She had heard the gunshots, heard Casey shout for her to remain in her room, and her heart thumped wildly against her breast as she waited … and waited. She heard scuffling outside the door and smelled smoke. Fear for Casey overcame her panic and she threw open the door. She saw a dark figure rushing headlong down the stairs, and she saw flames licking down the hallway.
She released her breath in a shaky sigh when she saw Casey at the top of the staircase, apparently unharmed. He raced toward the fire, ducking into their room on the way. Words were unnecessary as he seized the water pitcher from the commode and ran back into the hall, where he dumped the entire contents onto the flames. The fire sputtered then died a natural death.
“Is everyone all right?” Casey called out.
Wan Yo hobbled into the hallway, followed by Tommy and Greta. The servants on the third floor had heard the commotion and were creeping down the stairs. Casey saw them and told them all was well and that they should return to their room.
“We’re all fine,” Greta said, searching Mark for signs of injury. “What was that all about?”
“I wish I knew,” Casey muttered. “Did anyone see his face?”
“It was too dark,” Mark said, “but he was big. How did he get in?”
“Through the front door,” Casey explained. “I know I locked it so he had to have a key. Get all the locks changed tomorrow, Mark. Wan Yo, see that all the locks on the windows are intact.” Both men nodded. “I’ll search the ground for clues first thing tomorrow. Everyone go to bed now, the danger is over.”
“I will stand guard tonight,” Wan Yo said as he moved down the stairs. “You and missy go to bed.”
“I’ll stay with Tommy,” Greta offered.
“Take Belle to bed, Casey,” Mark advised, “she looks done in.”
The hallway was empty now but for Belle and Casey. Belle had said little during the past ten minutes, and Casey wondered if she was in shock.
Belle was the first to speak, her eyes never leaving his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I’m fine. I was worried about you. I heard gunshots.”
“It was too dark to see clearly but I don’t think I hit him.” He guided her into her room and closed the door behind them. “Go to bed, love, you need your rest.”
“Who do you think it was?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know, but he seemed to know exactly where he was going. He had a key to the front door. Perhaps a former employee was looking to rob us.”
“I don’t think so,” Belle said slowly. “There’s more to it than that.”
“I’ll take care of it. Go to bed.” He turned to leave.
“Casey, don’t leave me! Stay with me tonight. I need you.”
She was trembling. Casey swept her into his arms and carried her to bed.
Chapter 17
“You want me to stay with you?” Casey asked, both surprised and pleased. Belle had never asked him to stay with her before. He placed her in the center of the bed, then stood back and searched her face for a glimmer of her thoughts.
“I was afraid for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Belle said on a quivering sigh.
“You were afraid for me?” A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”
Belle nodded, abruptly realizing how desperately she’d miss this man if he left her. And he might if she continued to treat him with suspicion instead of the love he deserved. “I need you tonight, Casey.
“If all it took was a shock to bring you to your senses, I would have created one a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry … I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Casey suffered a jolt of disappointment. He should have known better than to expect more. She was frightened. It wasn’t as if she wanted him. “Is that all?”
“Will you stay?” Belle asked, skirting his question.
Casey let his breath out slowly. “Of course.” Belle scooted to the far side of the bed as Casey began undressing. He slid beneath the covers nude, but he made no move toward Belle.
Belle couldn’t blame Casey for not wanting to touch her. She knew he expected her to express more than a need for his comfort but some perverse demon inside her resisted. What would happen if she told him she loved him? she wondered. Would he become frightened and leave? Or would he express his own love? Did she want to risk rejection? She knew he wasn’t going to leave her now that there was a baby. Why couldn’t she be satisfied with that? Because it wasn’t enough, she told herself.