Radclyffe - Promising Hearts

  "It's almost always in the middle of the night," Vance warned, laughing softly.

  "That's all right. Do you want to come in for something hot to drink before you drive back to town? Or you could spend the night here."

  "No, thank you. I'll just wait until you're inside." Vance climbed back up into the buggy. It would take an hour or more to return to town, and unless there was another call waiting for her at the office, she would still be able to see Mae.

  "Be careful, then."

  "Yes." Vance nodded absently. "Good night, Kate."

  "Good night." Kate had not yet reached the front door when it opened and Jessie stepped out. Kate took her hand. "Have you been waiting up, darling?"

  "Couldn't sleep," Jessie said as she watched Vance's buggy turn from the yard. "She could have stayed here."

  "I asked," Kate said, slipping her arm around Jessie's waist. "Let me get warm. Then I have so much to tell you."

  "I've a fire going in the library. I can make some tea."

  Kate removed her bonnet and cloak as they walked down the hallway that formed the center of the house, ending at the kitchen in the rear. She shook out her hair with a sigh as she removed the pins that held it up. "No, I don't think I'll get to sleep as it is. I'm far too excited."

  Jessie said nothing as she followed Kate into the library, but walked to a heavy wooden sideboard against the far wall and poured a short shot of whiskey. "Spirits?"

  "Oh, I don't know. That might not make me sleepy, but it will certainly make me silly. And I mustn't forget anything about tonight."

  Kate stretched both hands out toward the fire and rubbed her palms together. "Oh, you can't imagine what it was like."

  Jessie came to join her by the fire and sipped the whiskey as she took in Kate's pleasure. She listened intently as Kate explained all she had experienced, enjoying her excitement. "It seems like you learned an awful lot from seeing one baby being born."

  "Vance is the most wonderful teacher." Kate gripped Jessie's arm. "It's amazing everything she's accomplished. Schooling, the war, traveling across the country. I can hardly imagine."

  "Women out here don't get the chance for a life like hers."

  Kate looked at Jessie curiously, hearing a note of melancholy in her voice that was totally unlike her. "What do you mean?"

  "Being a doctor." Jessie hunched her shoulders and moodily watched the fire. "Having the respect of other people because of how much you know and what you can do."

  "Jessie," Kate said gently, encircling Jessie's waist and resting her cheek against Jessie's shoulder. "That's exactly the way people regard you."

  "What?" Jessie laughed. "Why, Kate, there's nothing special about me. I'm just a rancher like half the other folks around here."

  "How many women own their own ranch, breed their own horses, are in charge of so many men?" Kate squeezed Jessie in playful annoyance. "Why, the first time I saw you I realized I'd never seen a woman like you before. Not just how beautiful you were." Kate turned Jessie's head toward her and kissed her lingeringly. "But how certain and sure you were."

  "There's plenty of women out here making their way alone. I'm lucky, I guess, because I had the ranch left to me. I could just as well have had nothing after my father died."

  "That may be, but you've kept it going and made it something even more over the years. That's what people respect." Kate tightened her hold and kissed Jessie's throat. "You're doing everything I had always hoped to do. Living the life you've chosen. I've always loved that about you."

  Jessie stroked Kate's back and nuzzled her hair. "You could be a doctor like Vance. You're every bit as smart."

  Kate leaned away and studied Jessie's face. "Is that what you think I want?"

  "I can see how happy it makes you doing for others. Working with Vance." Jessie kissed Kate's forehead. "You should be able to do anything you want to do."

  "And if I said I wanted to go back East to go to school?" Kate spoke quietly, her gaze locked with Jessie's.

  Jessie took a deep breath and fought not to tremble. "If that's what you want."

  "I've a mind to torture you, because sometimes you irritate me so," Kate said in exasperation. She curled her fingers around Jessie's belt and pressed hard against her body. "Jessie Forbes, I love you. I have no intention of doing anything that would take me away from you for more than a few hours at a time. I am certainly not going back East for any reason under the sun. What's gotten into you?"

  Jessie held Kate tightly. "I just see how excited you are to be working with Vance, and how much you think of her."

  "I love you." Kate kissed Jessie soundly, then started opening her belt buckle. "It's time that I remind you of that."

  "Maybe," Jessie laughed shakily as Kate tugged her shirt free from her pants, "I should work on irritating you more often."

  "I don't expect you're going to stop anytime soon," Kate said as she slipped her hands inside Jessie's shirt. "And I'm glad."

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  By the time Vance had stopped at the office to ensure that Caleb did not need her to see to any new emergencies, returned her buggy at the livery, and stopped at her room to change her soiled clothing, it was well after one. After stripping off the offending garments, she washed up with the lukewarm water in the pitcher on her dresser. She rummaged through her valise for her cleanest shirt, fresh drawers, and her least rumpled trousers. Once she'd donned her holster, she headed across the street to the saloon.

  The room was nearly empty. A cowboy slept with his head down and his hand around a bottle of whiskey at one end of the bar, a boy of twelve or so who looked half asleep swept dust around on the plank floor, and the piano player tapped out single notes with one finger as he stared into his beer. Frank had removed his apron and was wiping down the surface of the bar with methodical strokes. He looked up as Vance approached, his usual friendly smile absent.

  "Evening, Frank," Vance said, sliding a coin across the bar.

  "Whiskey, please."

  As he poured the drink, Vance looked over the room again and then up to the balcony where one or two of the girls could usually be seen watching the activities or, occasionally, servicing a customer.

  There was no one there now. Vance downed the drink quickly and signaled for another. This one she sipped slowly as she watched Frank, wondering at his silence.

  "Busy night?" Vance finally asked.

  "'Bout like always." Frank carefully folded his damp towel into a neat square and draped it over the edge of the bar. He regarded Vance impassively. "Mae said I was to tell you she was busy tonight. If I was to see you."

  Vance flushed, partly from the embarrassment of having Frank know why she had come and partly from sharp disappointment. She wasn't ashamed of her relationship with Mae, but she didn't want Frank to think that she was just another customer. That she would use Mae that way. Mostly, she was hurt to think that Mae was unavailable to her because someone else had a claim on her time, and her tenderness, and her body. It was hard to know which she resented more, because they all were precious to her. She quickly finished her drink.

  "Thanks. No need to tell her I was by." Vance waved her hand when Frank went to give her change. "Give it to one of the girls."

  Vance was halfway to the door when Frank spoke.

  "She ain't busy."

  Turning, Vance studied his face. What she had initially taken for indifference she now recognized as a concerted effort to control hot temper. His eyes burned with anger. A sick dread roiled in the pit of her stomach as she hastened toward the stairs. "Where is she?"

  "In her room, I imagine. Here!" Frank called.

  Vance turned and caught the bottle of whiskey he tossed to her solidly in her right hand. She tucked it under her left arm to keep her hand free in case she needed her gun. "Thanks."

  v Once upstairs, Vance checked the length of the hall before going to Mae's room. All the other doors were closed and the rooms quiet except for one, from whi
ch the sounds of labored coupling filtered through to her. Assured that no particular threat lurked to take her unawares, she tapped on Mae's door. When she got no response, she tried the knob and found it locked. She knocked louder.

  "Mae. It's Vance."

  She waited a full minute and contemplated kicking in the door.

  The only reason she hesitated was because she knew it would frighten Mae. Louder now, she called, "Mae!"

  The door opened an inch. "Hush. You'll raise everyone."

  Vance couldn't see Mae's face, but she felt a flood of relief just to hear her voice. "May I come in?"

  "Not tonight, sweetheart. I'll send a note for you when it's a good time to come by."

  As the door started to close, Vance braced her arm against it. "No. Not until I see you."

  "Vance, please."

  "I'll stand right here. I won't step into your room. Just let me see you."

  "There's nothing to trouble yourself over. It's just...not tonight."

  "I'm not leaving."

  Mae heard the iron in Vance's voice and knew that she would not win this battle. With a sigh, she stepped back and pulled the door open. The room was in shadow. A single candle burned on the dresser.

  Backing up as Vance walked toward her, Mae pulled her robe tightly across her breasts. "I'm sorry about tonight. You've got a right to be angry, but I--"

  "Quiet, now. It's all right," Vance said softly as she veered away from Mae, who obviously did not want her too close. She put the whiskey bottle on the dresser and fished in her vest pocket for a stick match. Finding one, she lifted the globe on the oil lamp and lit it. She turned back and went very still as she saw Mae clearly for the first time.

  The confusion and uncertainty in her belly turned to fury. Her rage made her voice even more gentle. "Who did this?"

  The right side of Mae's face was a massive purple bruise, her eyelid swollen shut. The corner of her mouth was split from what had obviously been a vicious blow. The thought that anyone would lay hands on her made Vance nearly insane. She swept the room as if the perpetrator might still be there and unconsciously slid out her revolver.

  "Where is he?"

  "Gone," Mae said wearily. It was harder for her to have Vance see her like this, a victim, than to have the entire town look down upon her for being a whore. At least that she could claim to have chosen of her own free will, but to have it be so apparent that she could not protect herself shamed her. She looked away. "Go on home, now, Vance. I've had worse, and this will heal."

  "You think I would leave you now?" Her barely restrained wrath made Vance tremble. She jammed the gun back into her holster. "Even if I had no feelings for you, I would want to see to you."

  Mae shuffled slowly to the bed and sat down on the edge. She felt sore all over from the pummeling, and her head throbbed mercilessly.

  "There's nothing you can do."

  "Motherless scum," Vance spat. "I'll kill him for this." She locked the door and shrugged out of her coat. Then she picked up the oil lamp and carried it into Mae's boudoir. She moved slowly, deliberately, tamping down her rage so as not to upset Mae further. She put the lamp on the dresser where the light would allow her to see Mae's face clearly.

  "How many times did he hit you?"

  "I don't know. I only remember the first time." Mae looked down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. "I didn't see it coming."

  "What happened?"

  "He was waiting when I came back today."

  "Who?" Vance asked, her tone lethally dark.

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It does ."

  Mae looked up. "Don't you realize that if you went after him, I would be the one to lose? He would kill you, and if he didn't, someone else would to revenge him." She caught Vance's hand and drew it to her uninjured cheek. She closed her eye and took comfort from the heat and strength of Vance's touch. "That would be worse than anything he's ever done or could do to me."

  Vance knelt in front of Mae and brought Mae's hand to her lips.

  She kissed each finger, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm.

  "You can't ask me to stand by when someone does this to you."

  "I do. I do ask it of you." Mae cupped Vance's chin and lifted her head until their eyes met. Vance's were as hard as ebony shards of glass.

  "Don't let them really hurt me by hurting you."

  "Oh, God," Vance groaned, closing her eyes. She'd gone to war believing that her skill and dedication would help right a terrible wrong, only to learn that she could do little more than add torment to agony.

  Her reward for her sacrifice had been further loss and suffering. A raging fire burned inside her now to answer this injustice with violence.

  Don't let them really hurt me by hurting you. Vance took a shuddering breath and leaned back on her heels. She opened her eyes and smiled faintly. "I want to have a look at you. I'll not add to your pain, I promise."

  "I don't fear your touch," Mae said gently. "But I fear your temper in this, Vance."

  "No, you needn't. I won't do anything that would hurt you. You have my word."

  Mae laughed softly. "You're a smart and clever woman. My head doesn't hurt so much I've forgotten that. Promise me you won't go after him."

  Vance's jaw tightened. "And you're a stubborn woman, Mae."

  "Never denied it."

  "I won't kill him with my own hands, which is what I want to do."

  Vance stood, her expression growing hard. "That's all I'll promise for now."

  "I know when I'll get no more." Mae smiled as much as she was able. "Thank you."

  "Lie down now and let me look at you." Vance reached for the covers and pulled them back as Mae slowly slipped beneath them.

  Once Mae was propped against the pillows, Vance sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what happened."

  Mae drew a breath and then, in a quiet, even tone, related the incident. As she spoke, Vance studied her face, keeping her own expression carefully blank. Mae had been hit hard enough to leave the imprint of knuckles on her cheekbone. Carefully, Vance palpated the thin rim of bone beneath the discolored and swollen eyelid, some of her tension easing when she felt no telltale grating that would have suggested fractures. She ran her fingers along the edge of Mae's jaw, searching for irregularities, and again, found none. With her thumb and index finger she delicately teased apart the eyelids that Mae could not open on her own. Blood streaked the white sclera, but the pupil was round and the cornea clear.

  "Can you see me?" Vance asked tenderly.

  "Yes, and you look mighty serious."

  "I am." Vance leaned forward and kissed Mae's forehead. "How long were you unconscious?"

  "I don't know for sure. Not long," Mae added hastily when she saw the muscles in Vance's jaw bunch. "It was still afternoon, so I don't think more than an hour."

  "Any dizziness, ringing in your ears, weakness in your arms or legs?" Just asking the question was so painful it took Vance's breath away. When Mae answered in the negative, she was almost afraid to believe it. "You're sure?"

  Mae stroked Vance's thigh. "Yes. I would tell you."

  Vance lifted the tie on Mae's robe. "I need to examine the rest of you."

  "He didn't get at the rest of me," Mae said tightly.

  "How do you know what he did when you were unconscious?"

  "I'd know."

  "If you're uncomfortable with me seeing you, I can put up a screen so that you won't--"

  "Lord, Vance," Mae said with a sigh. "It's not the way I want you to be looking at me, but I'm not delicate about it. I just don't want you to waste your ti--"

  "I've got all night, and there's nothing I'd rather be doing than seeing to you."

  "And you call me stubborn," Mae murmured, touched nevertheless.

  She helped Vance open her robe. "He handled me a bit rough, but that's the worst of it. If I hadn't bit him, he most likely wouldn't have hit me."

  "You should've shot the son of a bitch's
balls off," Vance seethed.

  "He left his goddamn fingerprints on your arms."

  "If I could have and not brought more trouble down on me and the girls, I would have," Mae said forcefully.

  "Who is this man?"

  "I told you I wasn't going to give you his name, because some night when you've had an extra shot or two, you're likely to go after him."

  "I promised you I wouldn't." Vance gently pressed Mae's abdomen.

  "Does this hurt?"

  "No. And I believe you. That you mean it, at least." Mae covered Vance's hand. "But sometimes we don't keep our promises because of well-meant intentions."

  "Does he own the Golden Nugget?"

  Mae sighed again. "Lord, you won't give up. I'm sure he doesn't."

  She pressed her fingers to Vance's mouth. "And before you ask, I don't know who does."

  "You must have some idea."

  "I don't think there's but three or four people in this town with enough money or brains to back this kind of operation, but whoever it is is very careful to keep it a secret."

  Vance nodded thoughtfully as she closed Mae's robe. Gently, she met Mae's eyes. "You're sure he didn't violate you."

  "Yes," Mae replied, her voice suddenly thick with tears. She hadn't expected so much tenderness. Even as a child, when she had led a life that many would have found enviable, especially for the child of a servant, she had not known such care. "The way you treat me makes me feel...special."

  "You are." Vance stood, released the leather tie that tethered her holster to her thigh, and unbuckled the belt. She set her holster on the bedstead and unbuttoned her trousers. Then she kicked off her boots and stepped out of her pants. She was aware of Mae watching her as she draped them over a chair. She kept her shirt and drawers on and walked to the side of the bed. "I'd like to stay the night."

  "I...why?"

  When Mae did not protest, Vance lifted the covers and settled beside her. She eased her right arm over Mae's shoulder, carefully settling Mae against her side. "Because I feel good when I hold you."

  Mae wrapped her arm around Vance's waist and rested her uninjured cheek against Vance's chest. "I told Frank to tell you not to come up."