Kissing Comfort

by Jo Goodman

  “No one asked for ransom,” he said quickly. “The note only told me what was going to happen to her.”

  “I see. And what was that?”

  “The Rangers were going to put her on the block. Sell her off to the highest bidder.”

  “Why would they do that, Bram?” He rested his hand lightly on the crank and waited.

  “They wanted to prove they could.”

  It was a partial answer at best. “Most people would take a threat from the Rangers seriously the first time they heard it. You didn’t, though, did you?”

  “I did,” he insisted. “I did. But I thought I could hold them off.”

  “Because you were engaged to Comfort.”

  “That’s right. They knew I’d be good for what I owed them. They knew it.”

  “Apparently not. Apparently they didn’t trust you.”

  “I didn’t know. I thought they accepted the arrangement.” Bram pressed a hand to his forehead and massaged it. Sweat beaded on his brow. It was so damnably difficult to concentrate. “Can you at least take your hand off the crank?”

  “Take it off? I was considering giving it another turn. You gave her up, Bram. You told someone where she could be found. That’s how the Rangers were able to take her on the way to my office. You did that to her.”

  Bram groaned softly and closed his eyes. “God, Bode. No. It wasn’t like that. You have to believe me.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” He looked his brother over. Bram’s eyes were still closed, and he looked childlike, as if squeezing them shut made him invisible to others. Bode stepped away from the machine so he wouldn’t be tempted to turn the crank for no reason other than spite. He sat in the chair at Bram’s bedside and nudged the mattress with his foot so Bram would know he’d moved and open his eyes.

  Bram turned his head and looked at Bode. His eyes were damp. “I thought you could get her back. That’s why I sent for you. You always think of something. Nothing was supposed to happen to Comfort. It should have been a ransom. That’s all. I love her, Bode. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

  “Except make her your fiancée,” Bode said dryly. “And then dangle her like shark bait. Do you even know what happened to her?”

  “I know she got away.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve heard from her since that night. Her uncles wrote to me on her behalf.” He stared at the ceiling. “She ended our engagement. They said she doesn’t want anything to do with me. With any of us, really. None of the DeLongs.” Bram glanced at Bode again. “Where were you that night? Why didn’t you come?”

  Bode didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything he was going to tell Bram that he didn’t have to. “I spoke to John Farwell this afternoon. He had as many interesting things to tell me as Sam.”

  Bram rubbed his eyes until he saw color swirling behind his eyelids. He couldn’t think properly. He needed more laudanum to clear the fog from his brain. “I don’t care about Farwell. Where’s Sam been? He never came back.”

  “You told him not to, not without me.”

  “Did I? Maybe I did. I don’t remember.” He took his hand away from his eyes. His sigh was shaky. “So where was he?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He was finally able to deliver your message, and here I am.”

  “I don’t need you now.”

  “You don’t? Did you pay off your debt? That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it?”

  “I worked something out.”

  “I’d like to hear about that. How much do you owe?”

  “It’s been taken care of.”

  “You did that on your own? From your bed?”

  “Yes.”

  Bode couldn’t tell if Bram was tiring or needed the laudanum so badly that he couldn’t string two thoughts together. Perhaps it was both. His face was flushed and his forehead glistened. Bram’s hands rested on his chest. There was a slight tremor in his fingertips.

  “Look at me, Bram,” Bode said. “I need you to concentrate.”

  “Then give me back the laudanum.”

  Bode shook his head. “I want to know about the Pinkertons. Farwell told me a detective from the agency was asking after me. Did you hire them to find me?”

  “No. Mother did.”

  That lifted Bode’s eyebrows. After listening to what his clerk had to say, he’d been certain it was Bram who was connected to the detective. “John said Alexandra was there the day after I left and sent someone from the house to find me a few days after that.”

  “Why are you surprised? She was worried about you. Where did you go, Bode? You brought the Pinks down on your own head. You could have just told her what you were doing and where you went, and she would have left you alone.”

  “It was business. John told her that. It should have been enough. It satisfied the detective.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Bram said tiredly. “I tried to tell her that Farwell was acting at your direction, but she couldn’t let it be. I didn’t know about the Pinks until after she hired them.”

  “I’ll set that right with her.” He glanced toward the door. “I thought she’d be here by now. I told Hitchens to tell her I was here.”

  “She’s out. One of her charities.”

  Bode realized he hadn’t given the butler any time to explain that. “It’s probably just as well. It’ll be better if I speak to her alone.”

  Bram frowned. “What do you have to say to her that I can’t hear?”

  “I was thinking it was better for all of us if she didn’t see me turn the crank.”

  “You’re going to turn it again?”

  “I might, if you don’t tell me more about the Pinks.”

  “I told you. She hired them. I didn’t.”

  “Who came to talk to her? I want a name.”

  “God, Bode. I don’t remember. I only talked to him the once.”

  He watched Bram closely. The soporific effects of the laudanum made his features difficult to read. He decided to say the name John Farwell had given him and see if there was any reaction. “What about James R. Crocker?”

  Bram’s frown became more pronounced. “That might have been it.” He closed his eyes. “If you already knew, why did you need to hear it from me? You’re giving me a headache, Bode.”

  “Did Mr. Crocker tell you that I met him before, Bram? Twice. Once at the opera house and later on the Demeter Queen. I thought you might have had something to do with that.”

  “Is there anything you’re not going to lay at my door? Jesus, Bode. Go away.”

  Bode wasn’t moved by Bram’s weary whine. “It always struck me as odd that he came to the ship for the purpose of inquiring about Comfort’s welfare. He saw her faint at the opera. He didn’t identify himself as a Pinkerton agent when he introduced himself.”

  “So? It doesn’t sound as if he was there on agency business.”

  “He’s from Sacramento.”

  “And?” Bram rubbed his face hard, trying to stay alert.

  “A little over six months ago I sent you to Sacramento. You only had to talk to some people, but I’m thinking that’s when you got yourself in trouble.” When Bram didn’t say anything, Bode went on. “You don’t owe the Rangers, Bram. They wouldn’t let you get in as deep as I think you are. I think you owe men considerably more influential than thugs from the Barbary Coast. Men who could ruin us. If you’ve really paid off your debt, I need to know who you sacrificed this time.”

  Bram’s laughter was more a jerky heaving of his chest and shoulders than an actual sound. “Can’t you guess, Bode?” he said when he could speak. “You know everything else. I sacrificed you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Comfort sat on the sofa in her uncles’ study and turned the red-and-white tin over and over. Neither Newt nor Tucker asked her to stop. She hadn’t requested the tin, but Suey Tsin had shyly produced it almost at once, offering it in place of a welcoming embrace. Comfort had gravely accepted the tin as well as Suey Tsi
n’s apology for not packing it. At the conclusion of that small ceremony there was an exchange of brief, faintly watery smiles, this time between Newton and Tuck.

  Comfort still wore the tunic, trousers, and slippers that Sam had given her. The cat curled next to her on the sofa, the largest part of him hidden under the dou lì. Occasionally Thistle poked his nose out from under the hat and demanded some attention, but mostly he was content to have the heat and scent of his mistress close by.

  It hadn’t occurred to Comfort to change clothes. Not that either of her uncles would have let her out of their sight long enough for her to put on something else. They had so many questions on the ride back that a great deal of her story came out in fits and starts, disjointed by more questions and told in a manner that had no straightforward timeline.

  Once they were home and settled in the study, Comfort began again, this time at her own pace and with fewer interruptions. They ate very little of the luncheon that was served while she was still relating her story, but once she was done, Newt and Tuck indulged the appetite that had suddenly and fiercely returned to them.

  Now they sat leaning back in their chairs, legs stretched before them, their hands folded and resting on hard, slightly swollen bellies. They had the look of men exhausted by their good fortune. It made Comfort smile to see them replete and relaxed. With no conscious thought given to the activity, she stopped turning over the tin.

  “When will Bode get here?” asked Tuck.

  “He said it would be this evening. He had to talk to Mr. Farwell and then to Bram and his mother. There’re still things we don’t understand.”

  “I wonder what Bode thinks he’ll get from his brother,” Newt said. “Except lies. Seems like Bram’s good at that.” He lifted a finger and pointed to Tuck. “What were you thinking, lending that boy twenty thousand dollars?”

  Tucker shrugged. “He told me it was for an investment with Clinton Maddox’s railroad. He knew quite a bit about the business plan. I learned the rest for myself before I gave him the money. It was a sound investment with the possibility of a good return. I thought he deserved a chance.”

  Newt snorted. “He deserved a thrashing.”

  “He paid the loan back,” Tuck pointed out. “We didn’t lose a dime.”

  Comfort could tell that Newt wanted to needle Tucker a little bit longer. She stopped him by asking, “Did you know that the DeLongs have almost no money?”

  “Almost no money?” asked Newt. “Did Bode tell you that?”

  “Actually, he said they had none.”

  “Well, that’s all right, then. Better that you know the truth. There’s a creditor attached to every one of the family’s assets, and Croft Federal holds it all.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Branford told us,” Tuck said. “He came to us for money. Newt and I could see things were going badly for him. The one time Branford DeLong stood for anything, he stood with the side that couldn’t win. We saw how the war turned after Gettysburg. We couldn’t lend him anything. He was trying to rob Peter to pay Paul. He’d already lost a couple of ships. It didn’t look as if Black Crowne could survive the war.”

  Newt nodded and tapped his thumbs together. “When Branford was killed, we figured it was the end of Black Crowne.’Course we never thought that Bode might step into the breach, or that once he did, that he’d be able to keep his head above water. He knew about sailing and trade because he’d been around the business all his life. But there was college first, and then there was the war. Neither one of us thought he knew enough about Black Crowne to keep it afloat.” He winced. “Forgive the pun.”

  “But he has, hasn’t he? Kept it afloat, I mean.”

  “More or less,” Newt said. “Staying with the theme, he’s treading water. That’s a remarkable accomplishment in its own right. It taught me not to underestimate him.”

  Tuck knuckled his chin. “That drawing you saw, the one of the iron paddle steamer?”

  “Yes?” asked Comfort. “What about it?”

  “Newt and I thought it might just be what Bode needed to turn things around. We know a little about his situation from Bancroft. He gives his mother and brother money that he could be using to better manage the debt. I imagine he keeps a tight rein on them, but it’s still a strain. This ship of his could help him get out ahead. We thought we’d like to help him with that. It wouldn’t hurt us either.”

  “It’s not a paddle steamer any longer,” she said. “It will still have an iron hull, but he’s designing a three-bladed brass propeller to power her.”

  Tuck and Newt exchanged glances. It was Newt who spoke. “Better yet. That’s the future. He understands what it will take to compete.”

  “Then you’re still interested?”

  “Of course.” He frowned at Comfort’s less than relieved expression. “What is it? I thought that would please you.”

  “What?” She realized she was turning the tin again. “Oh. It does. It pleases me a great deal.”

  “But?” asked Tuck.

  She shrugged lightly. “I don’t know if Bode will take your money. He might have before, but now that we’re married, I don’t know. It seems to be important to him that I know he didn’t marry me because of my connection to the bank or the money I have in my own right.”

  “Well, that’s easy to fix,” Newt said. “We’ll fire you and then cut you off.”

  Comfort might have believed him if Newt had ever been able to keep a straight face. He always let her know he was teasing. Tucker liked to make her wonder for at least a few seconds longer. “Mm. There’s a solution I hadn’t thought of. It would be interesting to hear what Bode had to say about it.”

  “Better not tell him,” Tuck said. “If he’s confused about why you think he married you, he might just be fool enough to accept those terms. Lord, but I’ve been counting on him not being an idiot.”

  “He’s not that,” Comfort told him. “Never that. He loves me. Sam Travers seems to think Bode’s had feelings for me for a long time. Can you imagine?”

  “As a matter of fact, I can.” Newt’s cheeks puffed like two small balloons as he blew out a long breath. “I’d say it was the coming-out party that did him in.” He looked at Tuck for confirmation, and when his partner nodded, he went on. “Yep. The come-out. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Can’t say that he knew a damn thing about love back then, but he sure looked like he was interested in knockin’ on its door.”

  Comfort blushed. “That can’t be right. I was sixteen. He was . . . well, he was—”

  “He was a man,” Tuck said flatly. “A soldier facing nothing but uncertainty. I can’t say that I was sorry when he stayed on the other side of the room. It was probably the first and last time I was grateful to Bram DeLong for making an entrance.”

  “I knew he was there, but the rest . . .” She raised her hands a bit helplessly. “I didn’t know about the rest.”

  “A man’s entitled to keep a few things to himself, I reckon.”

  Agreeing, Newt grunted softly. He drew in his legs and sat forward in his chair. “Are you going to leave with him tonight?”

  “If he goes, yes. My home’s with him now.”

  “I don’t disagree, but that’s no place for you to live.”

  “Once you get past the entrance, it’s surprisingly welcoming.”

  “Black Crowne practically sits in the Barbary Coast.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, Uncle Newt. And don’t forget that you and Tuck thought it was safe enough to let me accompany you there.”

  Newton frowned deeply. “Are you arguing for or against living in that place? Because reminding Tuck and me about letting you come along that day isn’t the way to convince us that it’s safe.”

  “He’s my husband,” said Comfort. “I want to be where he is.”

  “Well, there’s no reason you both can’t settle here for a time. We’ve got so many rooms that if I don’t visit them once a month, I forget they’re there. You an
d Bode can have a whole suite to yourselves. Take your meals there, if you like. We won’t get underfoot.”

  Comfort’s fingers tightened on the tin. “Please don’t press me for an answer now. Let me talk to Bode. I think he might agree with you.”

  Tuck intervened when he saw Newt didn’t want to give up just yet. “Leave off, Newt. Bode will do right by her. He has already. She’s here now, isn’t she? That’s his doing, no one else’s.”

  Newt heaved himself back in his chair. He was quiet for a long moment, settling himself down. He finally nodded.

  Tuck directed his faint, knowing smile at Comfort. Newt just needed time. He glanced at the tin and then at her again. “Nightmares?”

  “Once. A day or so after we boarded the Demeter Queen. Not since.”

  “That’s good. I thought that maybe the way you were holding on to Dr. Kennedy’s lozenges meant there had been more.”

  She shook her head. “I think I had the nightmare because Bode and I argued about you.”

  Tuck pointed to himself. “Me?”

  “Both of you.” She saw Newt sit up straighter. “He was trying to understand why I was abducted. Looking at all the possibilities, you know.”

  “And our names came up?”

  “Yes.” She started to say that she was the one who mentioned them first, but she didn’t have the chance. Newt was laughing and reaching into his pocket at the same time. “You said it, Tuck. Damn me for not believing you.” He extended his hand and dangled a twenty out to his partner.

  Tuck took it, thanked him, and put it in his vest pocket.

  Comfort came close to throwing the tin. It was owing to the fact that she couldn’t decide who deserved it more that she kept it in her hand. “You are both ridiculous. Aren’t either of you insulted?”

  “I told Newt that Bode would have to eliminate us as suspects before he’d let you come back here. That was good thinking on his part. I figured when we saw you at the bank, he’d decided it wasn’t one of us.”

  “You didn’t suspect each other, did you?”

  “Now that would have just been plain foolish,” said Newt. “Bode doesn’t know us the way we know each other. Sounds like you tried to set him straight, so we appreciate that.”