For a little while longer I could feel safe.
XVII
I undressed and got into bed, expecting to lie awake. Instead I fell asleep almost at once, and slept for the rest of the afternoon.
When I opened my eyes to the sight of continuing rain at the windows, I thought of Domino being churned into mud, its crumbling timbers soggy-wet and gray, as they had lain disintegrating under countless rains and snows. And I thought of the mine tunnels, where outdoor sounds of storm would scarcely penetrate, where water might collect deep in the earth, but old, white bones would lie entombed, protected and dry. But they were only bones that belonged to history, and they needn’t make me afraid.
I turned my thoughts instead to rain drumming on the roof of Jon’s cabin, and after a moment I got out of bed and went barefoot to the window. The pathway to the ranch buildings shone wet and muddy, but I could barely see the shapes of the nearest mountains. Old Desolate had vanished. Closer in, the cabin stood with its outline blurred and brown, a light in one of the windows. Jon would have taken Red inside, I knew, and I could imagine them both stretched before a roaring fire. Jon would lie on the sofa, reading perhaps, while Red slept on the hearth with his head on his paws. I wanted to be with them.
Someone tapped on my door, and I threw on a robe and went to open it. Caleb looked worn, driven—and no more friendly than before.
“Do you want to come down to supper?” he asked. “It will be ready in a little while. Belle is still here, and she’ll join us.”
“I’ll come as soon as I can dress,” I said. “I’ve been sleeping.”
“I know.” His tone was dry. “Your friend Lange has phoned twice. I came to your door and you didn’t answer, so I thought it best to let you sleep.”
I thanked him and he went away. I wasn’t ready to face Hillary. I didn’t know how to make him understand the change in me when I didn’t understand it fully myself. Nor did I want to hurt him. Today at the Opera House he had pulled me back from terrible danger. There were some people in the world who believed that the acceptance of a favor acknowledged debt to the giver. Debt in proportion to the favor done. I didn’t want to owe Hillary my life, but the fact remained that I did.
I pulled on navy slacks and a white sweater, swirled my hair on top of my head and pinned it in place. My face in the mirror looked wan and hollow of eye, and I added lipstick, but left off eye shadow. My eyes were shadowed enough.
When I went downstairs, Belle and Caleb were going into the dining room. Belle took Gail’s place and gave me her cheerful grin.
“I’ve been fired,” she said. “I phoned Mark to tell him that Mrs. Morgan needs me, now that Gail has left, and he said I might as well stay on. I gather that Gail has offered to help out at the hotel for a while, without her uniform. Though I’m afraid all those costumes of mine aren’t likely to fit her.”
I met Belle’s look across the table and smiled, glad that she was here, with her good sense, her capability, and her wry, realistic outlook. I wondered what she would think of the debt of a life.
“Anyway, Mark wants me to keep an eye on things over here,” she went on casually. Caleb choked on a piece of bread and she smiled at him kindly. “Don’t worry. I’m not much good as either a spy or counterspy. I’m too much given to telling people what I think.”
“What have you told Ingram?” I asked.
“That he ought to pull out and leave your grandmother alone. Then your young man came on the phone and asked about you, Laurie. I’m afraid you’ve upset him badly.”
“I don’t think it will last,” I said, and knew that was probably true. Hillary’s real love was his profession.
Caleb said little through most of the meal, and I asked no questions. If he was working on the draft for Persis Morgan’s new will, that was for her to follow. Belle, at least, was talkative enough for the three of us.
Mostly my attention wandered. I was still haunted by an unsettled feeling, by something restless that drove me—though I could find no real direction in which I felt I must go. I ought to make plans, confer with Persis about the coming confrontation with Ingram, but I felt at sea, not knowing how to begin.
When we left the table, Caleb returned to his work and Belle said she would look in on my grandmother and then go over to the hotel for some of her things since the rain had about stopped.
I had paused uncertainly at the foot of the stairs, and when I looked out the front door I saw Hillary coming up the walk. He moved with his usual lively, eager step, and his face lighted when he saw me. It was disconcerting to realize how little I’d gotten through to him.
“We need to talk, Laurie,” he said as he ran up the steps.
I opened the door. “Yes, of course. We can go into the parlor if you like. There’s no one around right now.”
He made no attempt to kiss me, his manner matter-of-fact as he sat in one corner of the red plush sofa. I sat in the other, and he began to speak at once.
“You’d better know what. Mark is up to, Laurie. I don’t much like something he did this afternoon. It may mean real trouble for your grandmother.”
“Tell me.”
“Not even the storm stopped him. I heard all about it later. He put on a poncho, took two men with him, and rode up to the mine. They removed the door from its hinges and went in. Mark couldn’t go into the tunnels very well, with all that uncertain footing, but he directed the other two with their lanterns and flashlights. They found the passage old Dominoes dug—the one from which Jon rescued you—and they located those bones. I heard all about it when they got back.”
“So?” I said, thrusting away my memory of that passage. “What does it matter? The bones have been there a long time.”
“They knew what they were looking for, and they found it. The .41-caliber bullet that came from that deringer, Laurie. The bullet that killed Noah Armand.”
Somehow Ingram had inoculated Hillary with a rather dreadful excitement, and for him excitement was the essence of drama.
“I’m sorry to deflate Mr. Ingram’s balloon,” I said, “but Persis has already told me about the bones I found in the mine. They probably belong to a man my great-grandfather shot in the bad old days. The deringers were his. So of course a .41 bullet would be found.”
“And you believe her?”
“Of course I believe her. But I’m sure that Mark Ingram will make something of nothing if he can. It doesn’t matter. My grandmother can stand against him, and she’s not going to stand alone.”
“I don’t know, Laurie. Ingram is much too pleased about this. He was laughing when he showed me the bullet. I don’t like it that he’s coming to see your grandmother tomorrow.”
“She wants him to come. I’m sure that whatever is there in the mine can be identified in other ways.”
“Nevertheless, you’d better warn her. I wonder if she’s strong enough to endure what he may do.”
“If she’s not, I am.”
My words surprised me a little, and they surprised Hillary too. He was still watching me rather strangely, as though I had turned into someone he didn’t know, someone who didn’t entirely please him. Which was, perhaps, what had really happened.
He edged near me on the sofa and took my hand. “This isn’t the right moment for romantic speeches, but I meant what I said this afternoon, Laurie. I’d like us to be married. Then I can stand with you too.”
It was difficult to explain something I didn’t understand myself. Nevertheless, I had to try.
“Something has happened to me since I came to Jasper. I don’t seem to want the same things I used to want. Or perhaps I’ve just begun to find a way back to what is really me and to give it a chance to surface. I know I don’t want to be married right now. I can’t go on pretending that I still feel the way I did. It’s hard to say this, Hillary, but I must.”
For a moment or two he sat very still, studying me, his expression revealing nothing. Then to my dismay, he turned my hand and kissed the palm gentl
y.
“You’ve been badly shaken, and there are psychic wounds that need time to heal. You can’t be sure how you feel about anything right now. Isn’t that true?”
I drew my hand from his. “No, I don’t think it is, Hillary.”
I could sense the sudden tension in him, but he made an effort to control whatever he was feeling.
“Listen to me, Laurie. I’m going to stay on at the Timberline and start this work on the Opera House. Perhaps there may even be some compromise eventually between your grandmother and Mark Ingram. She doesn’t have to be driven out if she doesn’t want to go.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I said.
Now he was angry with me. “I’m going now,” he said stiffly. “I’ll see you later—when you’ve had time to think everything over.”
I went with him to the door and watched him go striding off toward the Timberline with the same swinging walk that used to thrill me. Now it seemed a shade too theatrical. Perhaps he was releasing his own annoyance with me into that swinging stride.
Feeling a little shaken, I went upstairs to take Belle’s place, freeing her to go to the Timberline for her things. My grandmother was out of bed again, sitting beside one of the long windows.
“Good!” she said, turning her head to stare at me. “You look a lot more rested. We’ll need our wits about us when Ingram comes to see me tomorrow.”
There was no use trying to hold anything back. It was better to have it come from me than from Ingram.
“Grandmother, Mark Ingram has gone to the mine and his men have found the bullet from the deringer. I think he means to make something of this if he can.”
She listened calmly. “Nothing is changed. No one can prove that was Noah Armand in the mine, no matter what Ingram would like to believe. The whole thing is ridiculous, and we can forget it.”
“But he may bring out—other things.”
“By now that doesn’t matter either. Oh, I realize there may be a three-ring circus for a while. Once I thought I could never face that. I know better now. It will all die down, as scandals always do when something juicier comes along. Will you mind terribly, Laurie? All they can do is stir things up. You were a child when it happened.”
She reached out to me, and I took her hand in both of mine. We’ll get through whatever comes together,” I said. “And nothing at all may happen. There’s nothing Ingram can fight us with but intimidation. And that can’t beat us down if we don’t let it.”
She nodded. “Will you telephone Jon for me, please? Ask him to come up here right away.”
I went to the extension in her room, and when Jon said he would come my spirits lifted. He was the knight of my childhood, riding a cow pony.
How foolish could I get?
In his worn Levi’s he didn’t look much like a knight when he came into the room, but my grandmother had confidence in him and so had I. He listened to what Hillary had just told me about the bullet being found in the mine tunnel, and he agreed that Ingram was bluffing and had no strong hand to play from.
“Except for his willingness to fight dirty,” Jon said. “We have to be on guard against that.”
I loved seeing these two together. Jon didn’t play the game of flirting with her, of playing up to her as Hillary did. He simply treated her as a woman whom he respected and listened to, talking with her easily. He made no concession to her age, and just the way he treated her made her grow a little stronger.
Why, I wondered, had she left so much of her wealth to Caleb Hawes in that earlier will when she might have made Jon her heir? But I knew the answer well enough. Caleb was the logical manager of her money affairs. Jon would have wanted none of that, and if she had ever broached the matter to him, I knew very well that he would have refused.
When he left, I went downstairs with him, and there was a moment when we stood on the porch together. A moment of sharp physical awareness, each of the other. He made no sudden move, but put a hand on my arm, drawing me to him. I went gladly, eagerly, but he held me lightly, kissed me, and let me go.
“This is crazy, Laurie. You know that,” he said, and went away from me before I could protest. I was left shaken and a little angry with the stubborn man he was. When he was out of sight, I went into the kitchen to heat milk for Persis, doing busy things to quiet my indignation and my longing.
I wanted to shout, “Why is it crazy? How can it be crazy when I love you?” But he had gone away too quickly, and I was left to nurse my own heavy disappointment.
As I was about to take Persis’ milk upstairs, I saw Belle coming along the walk. One of Ingram’s men had brought her over in a car, and he carried her bags up the steps and left them inside the door. Her grin was as cheerful as ever. If she had felt any pangs about parting from Mark Ingram, she didn’t show it.
“There’ll be a trunk coming tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll take care of these bags later. Want to give me that milk to take up to Mrs. Morgan, Laurie?”
I gave her the tray and went out on the porch again, looking out at the scattered lights of Jasper and the massive shadow of the peaks rising to block the sky. The Timberline was alight, as usual, and I saw nearer lights as well. Someone must be working inside the church tonight, and I wondered what was being done in there.
So far I’d not had time to look inside the little church that had been freshly painted and restored, and now I started toward it. I was too restless and distraught to go to my room, and I needed some purpose to use up my energy.
How quiet the town seemed at night. Except for someone singing a bit raucously down at the Timberline, a hush lay over the street. I knew my way by this time, and I didn’t mind the dark. Where there were lights, a sheen of wetness lay over everything, and I stepped carefully to avoid puddles. The night air was fresh and clean and briskly cold, and my courage began to return. We would work together against Mark Ingram, Persis and Jon and I. Between Jon and me the last word hadn’t been said yet. There was more to come. He had wanted to hold me.
The church was only a block away, and as I walked toward it I saw the light move in the windows. Whoever was inside carried a lantern and was moving about. The double doors stood open, and I went up the few newly painted steps and stood in the vestibule.
The entrance space was narrow and filled with shadows, the doors to the church proper opening across it. I went to stand where I could see in.
The interior had not yet been restored, and it was hardly a church anymore, except for the vaulted beams of the ceiling and the round window ahead, above what had once been an altar. The pews—perhaps they had been only benches—were gone, and the bare, shadowy space was unfurnished except for several straight chairs and a wooden table on which the storm lantern now rested.
One of the chairs was occupied by a woman who sat in a posture of utter grief, her head upon arms that had been flung across the table. Her shoulders moved as I stood watching, and if the woman had been anyone else, I would have gone silently away. But it was Gail Cullen who sat weeping in this deserted place, and perhaps it would be good to know why.
I moved toward her without trying to be quiet, and she heard me. Her head came up from her arms, and she stared at me, startled, her eyes swollen, her face wet with tears. I had never before seen her in a state of distress, with all the hospital starch gone out of her. It seemed a little unreal that she could weep like other women.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“Just go away!” she said. “I thought I could be alone here.” And she sat staring at me with an anger that must be all the stronger because it was I who had caught her in this weak moment.
I crossed the bare, splintery floor, where the church congregation had once sat in their rows, pulled another chair toward the table, and sat down.
“Perhaps this is a good time to talk,” I said, and remembered that I had said this to her once before.
She pulled a wad of tissue from a box on the table and dried her eyes, blew her nose, offering nothing.<
br />
I went on. “Perhaps this is as good a time as any to ask why you left that wreath on my door, with its cruel note about my father.”
Her tears had ceased to flow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s not play games,” I said. “Who else at Morgan House would retrieve one of Belle’s funeral wreaths and hang it on my doorknob? With a card which hinted that my father would never sleep in peace.”
She seemed to be considering this. “I should think it would be someone who wanted to frighten you away from Jasper and Morgan House.”
“I believe that too. You left it there, didn’t you? You disliked me from the moment that I arrived, though I don’t understand why. Why did you so want me to leave?”
“I didn’t want that!” She was emphatic. “Not in the beginning. I thought the old woman needed you.”
Her words were hard to believe. “Then why the wreath? Who else—”
“Perhaps that’s what someone wanted you to think. So I would be the one you’d blame.”
“You mean it wasn’t you?”
“Of course it wasn’t. Not that I might not think that sort of thing a good trick—if I wanted to start frightening you. But I never did. I never liked you, but I didn’t do that.”
She sounded as though she was telling the truth.
“But then who—” I began.
“Take your pick. You’ve got this whole enormous metropolis to choose from. Nobody around here ever locks a door at night, so whoever wanted to could walk into that house. Perhaps someone acting on instruction. Perhaps someone you don’t even know.”
I was trying to digest this. Her manner, her earnestness almost convinced me. Besides, I rather suspected that she would admit it easily enough if she had been guilty. I began to feel a new uneasiness. Being sure it was Gail had enabled me to dismiss the trick as something of no consequence—the act of a malicious woman. If someone else was behind it, there could be a more ominous implication.
“Maybe you can cry a little now,” she said. “I’ve got a whole box of tissues with me.”
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