Kissing Comfort

by Jo Goodman

  Comfort simply shook her head. She’d never understand the way their minds worked. She set the tin down beside the dou lì and let Thistle paw at it. “Tell me about the bank. What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”

  Comfort was enjoying a hot bath when Bode arrived. She heard Newt and Tuck greeting him like the prodigal son and wondered if they were contemplating killing the fatted calf for dinner. She thought Bode would come straightaway to her room, but the voices receded, and she realized her uncles were stealing him away. If she didn’t join them soon and carefully pour their drinks, they would all be three sheets to the wind.

  Suey Tsin helped her dress and fixed her hair. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the luxury of this attention, and judging from Suey Tsin’s expression, her maid had missed it as well. “We’ll work something out,” she said. “I promise. I won’t leave you again, not if you want to stay with me.”

  Suey Tsin’s fingers stilled in Comfort’s hair. “Mista Bode say okay?”

  “He will. I let him have Mr. Travers. He can’t deny me you.” She saw that Suey Tsin didn’t understand, and she didn’t try to explain. She reached over her shoulder and found Suey Tsin’s small hand. She squeezed it gently. For now, it was enough.

  Comfort expected to find them gathered in the study. When she didn’t, she stopped one of the maids and was directed to the conservatory. She heard their low, distinctly male voices the moment she opened the door. They weren’t immediately in sight. She followed the familiar path through the palms and ferns to the clearing at the center of the room. Each man was seated on his own bench, a drink in hand. They stood as one when she came upon them.

  Comfort waved them back. Bode invited her to sit beside him, but she shook her head and took a seat on the last empty bench in the six o’clock position. Newt was directly opposite her at twelve, Tuck on her right at three, and Bode on her left at nine. She had the sense that they had only been passing time until she arrived. Now they were ready to talk.

  “It’s hard to know what to make of anything that Bram says,” Bode told them. “The laudanum doesn’t help. In the short time I’ve been gone, I can see what a difference the use of it’s made. Alexandra wasn’t at home, and I didn’t want to wait for her, so I’ll go back and see her later. I wanted you to know what Bram told me.”

  He set his drink aside while he ticked off the important points on his fingers, most of which Comfort already knew. Newt and Tuck listened without comment or question as Bode outlined his brother’s betrayal. “He says he’s taken care of the debt, but that only means he’s pushed it onto someone else. I didn’t think he’d admit it, and I suppose that’s where the drug worked in my favor. He either couldn’t control his tongue or his conceit, but he told me where the men he owes would be looking for their pound of flesh.”

  Newt’s fingertips whitened on his glass. “Not Comfort. Not again.”

  “No. Not this time. I’m the one they’re after.”

  Tuck pointed at Bode’s chest. “You?”

  Comfort’s stomach turned over. The marble bench under her fingers suddenly felt warmer than she did. “What does that mean, Bode?”

  “It means they’re going to call in Black Crowne’s debt, take over the business, and sell off assets to recover what Bram owes.”

  “Bram told you that?”

  Bode didn’t look at her. He stared at his folded hands and recalled how the crank turned slowly under his palm. Bram’s arrogance was short-lived, but he hadn’t caved as quickly as Bode hoped. His ability to tolerate the pain spoke more to his fear of the man sent to collect the debt than it did to the laudanum still dulling his senses. “Eventually,” he said, making a steeple of his fingers. “He told me eventually.”

  “Oh, Bode,” Comfort whispered. “What can we do?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going to visit Mr. Bancroft at Croft Federal to see if I can stop him from calling in all the loans.”

  Comfort saw Newt and Tuck share a glance, but neither spoke. Bode had picked up his glass and was studying it as he rolled it between his palms. He missed the exchange. Comfort didn’t ask them what they were thinking.

  “Did Bram tell you how much he owes?”

  “It’s a little more than I thought.” Newton whistled softly when Bode told him the amount. Tuck was more stoic, showing no reaction. “He said he was trying to win enough money to contribute something toward Black Crowne’s debt. That’s not true, but he’s always at his most sincere when he’s lying through his teeth.”

  “You didn’t knock them out, did you?” asked Comfort.

  “You knocked them out, didn’t you?” asked Newt.

  Bode heard the questions posed simultaneously. The answer to both was the same. He shook his head. “Tempted, but no.”

  “Do you think Bram’s said anything about this to Alexandra?” asked Tuck.

  “No. I told Comfort that I think it’s likely she knows that Bram’s in trouble, but the depth and details of it are only what she’s been able to imagine. Bram didn’t want to tell me any of it. He’s that afraid of Crocker. I’m fairly confident that it’s still a secret from my mother.”

  There was so much silence around him that Bode looked up. They were all staring at him, nearly identical frowns pulling at their mouths. “What is it?”

  They all spoke at once. “Crocker?”

  Bode didn’t realize he’d said it aloud. He hadn’t meant to, but the name was a low, persistent drumbeat at the back of his mind. It was inevitable that it would roll forward like thunder. He took a swallow of his drink. “James R. Crocker,” he said. “You all recall the name?”

  Comfort certainly did. She saw her uncles were also nodding. “That’s the gentleman from the opera house. The one who dropped the glove.” She sighed. “The tin. What does he have to do with Bram?”

  “He’s the collector. When Bram stopped paying toward his gambling debt, the men he owed hired Crocker to get their money. I’m certain Bram wouldn’t have given me Crocker’s name if I hadn’t already been suspicious of him.”

  “So it’s this Crocker fellow who is responsible for Comfort’s abduction,” said Tuck.

  Bode couldn’t let his brother off so easily. “With some help from Bram.”

  “Bram knew what would happen to me if he didn’t pay?” asked Comfort.

  The set of Bode’s mouth was grim. “He’d been threatened, yes. Not with the details of what they would do, not then. He says he thought he could hold them off. I don’t believe that. I’d told him about our meeting, remember? He let Crocker know exactly where you’d be. He thought you’d be held for ransom, Newt and Tuck would pay, and you’d be safely returned. Crocker’s plans were different. He wanted to make a point.”

  The pressure on Comfort’s chest was enormous as she considered the breadth of Bram’s betrayal. She could only draw a shallow breath.

  Newt knocked back what remained of his drink. “Good thing you left his teeth, Bode, because it’ll be a pleasure for me to take them out.”

  Tuck put out a restraining hand even though he was too far away to reach Newt. “Give it a chance to sit awhile,” he said calmly. “There’s no reason to jump at the first thing that crosses your mind.” He watched Newt’s puffed-out chest slowly deflate. When Tuck was confident that his friend wasn’t going to storm out of the house and take his fight to a cripple’s bed, he withdrew his hand and returned his attention to Bode. “You understand that it’s hard to sit here and not want to do something. He’s your brother, so you have to weigh that, but Newt and I don’t have to give it much thought. We like you just fine, Bode, and we don’t hold what Bram’s done against you, but this won’t be over for us until we’ve settled with him. There’s money debt and then there’s the other kind. Bram owes us the other kind.”

  “Please,” Comfort said, shaking her head. “Please don’t say that.”

  Bode cocked an eyebrow at her. “You wanted revenge. It’s what you said back on the Demeter.”

  �
�I know, but I was talking about the Rangers. Uncle Tuck’s talking about your brother.”

  “And not saying anything I haven’t been thinking. It’s only complicated by the fact that I believe it’s my responsibility, not their privilege.”

  Newt leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He looked intently at Comfort. “You could have been killed. It doesn’t matter what Bram thought would or wouldn’t happen. He made sure the Rangers could find you. He might as well have planned the attack.”

  Comfort could see that Newt meant to give no quarter, and then she saw it was the same for Tuck. She turned to Bode, and her heart broke for him. His beautiful blue-violet eyes were bleak with anger, sorrow, and hurt that cut bone deep. It was all she could do not to look away, but it was in that moment she forgave her friend Bram DeLong for what he had done to her and came to understand that she would never forgive him for what he had done to Bode.

  “Tell me about Mr. Crocker,” she said. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on what Bram had done. What James R. Crocker was setting in motion lay before them. “He’s not above the law. Surely there’s something we can do about him.”

  “Above the law,” Bode said, cynicism edging his tone. “I’m not so sure. It seems Mr. Crocker is a Pinkerton man.”

  “No,” Newt said, shaking his head fiercely. “No, that can’t be right.”

  Tucker ignored Newt’s outburst. “What makes you think Crocker’s one of them?”

  “As luck, coincidence, or careful planning would have it, Alexandra hired the Pinkerton Agency to find me, and—”

  Newt’s eyes practically bulged. “Are you going to tell me that Crocker is the one who showed up at her door?”

  A very slim smile touched Bode’s lips. “Not now that you’ve said it for me.”

  Newt apologized to Comfort in advance of letting loose a string of inventive curses. He didn’t so much wind down as sputter to a halt.

  Tuck looked at him sideways. “You done now?”

  Newt merely grunted.

  Tuck set his attention on Bode again. “Just because the man says he’s from Pinkerton doesn’t make it so.”

  “Bram didn’t dispute it when I brought up Crocker’s association with the agency. It makes sense that the men Bram owes would hire a Pinkerton man to collect the debt. My experience with the Pinks is that they’re better enforcers and bodyguards than they are detectives. I didn’t anticipate my mother would be so frantic about my absence that she’d make use of their services. My father and some of the other shipowners would hire Pinkerton agents when word got around that the men working the wharf were organizing.”

  “Organizing what?” asked Comfort.

  “Themselves. Mostly they got together to talk about wages, and that never set well with the owners. Pinkertons were good for getting into the meetings and turning the talk around. If they couldn’t make it work from the inside, there were more direct means.”

  “Broken hands,” Newt said.

  “Broken heads,” Tuck said.

  Comfort put out a hand. “I understand.” The troubled smile she turned on Bode was also a bit rueful. “They prefer to use clear examples.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Comfort set her hands firmly in her lap. “So what’s to be done about Mr. Crocker? Can we appeal to the men that hired him? Tell them to rein him in? Tuck and Newt have some influence.”

  “That’s a risk since we don’t know yet who hired Crocker. Bram didn’t get into trouble here. Six months ago I asked him to go to Sacramento for me on business. It was Alexandra’s idea, one of the few that I could agree to without reservation. Whether Bram was successful or not wasn’t a large concern. I didn’t think past the business to how he might conduct it. He had meetings with the governor, a couple of legislators, and some railroad men. The temptation to join them for cards or at the races would have been enormous.”

  Tucker struck a thoughtful pose. “Pretty fast company.”

  “Powerful, too,” said Newt.

  Bode agreed. “That’s what I’m thinking. There’s no safe harbor there. Any or all of them could be involved. The governor’s used Pinkerton men for protection. The Pinks also kept peace among the Chinese immigrants for the railroads. If there’s going to be any justice where Crocker’s concerned, it’ll be because we mete it out.”

  “I’m prepared to do that,” Newt said. “You, Tuck?”

  “The same.”

  Comfort had heard enough. She felt as if she might be sick. “You’re all talking as if this is what we do every day. I’m not aware that any of you have the experience to confront someone like Crocker.”

  Newt was offended. “I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. “But your Uncle Tuck and I confronted Santa Anna at Buena Vista.”

  “You, Uncle Tuck, and a few thousand other soldiers, including Old Rough and Ready.”

  “Yes, well, Santa Anna had thousands more and we sent him back to Mexico City.”

  Comfort looked to Bode for help and saw immediately she’d get none. “I suppose you have a similar story.”

  Bode didn’t draw on his war experience. He reminded her of what was relevant. “We’ve already gotten the best of Crocker once, Comfort, and we didn’t know who we were fighting then. The lottery was certainly his idea. If he’d been in the saloon that night, he would have recognized John Farwell. It’s fortunate for us that he wasn’t. He likes to manage things from a distance.”

  “The Rangers will never confirm that he hired them,” she said.

  “They might,” said Tuck. “If they knew Crocker was a Pink. I think it’s safe to suppose he kept that from them. The Rangers have no use for the Pinks.”

  Comfort could see Bode was considering that, wondering if there was an advantage to turning the Rangers against Crocker. “You can’t control the Rangers,” she reminded all of them. “You can set them on a course, but believing that you’re in command after that is foolish.”

  Newt looked from Tuck to Bode. “She’s right.”

  Comfort thought that would be the end of it, but then she glimpsed a look passing among them, guarded and restrained, and she realized that they were thinking about what she’d said but differently than how she meant it. “I was trying to caution the three of you.”

  “So you have,” said Tuck. “And we’re grateful.”

  Comfort fell silent, waiting. When none of them spoke, she tilted her head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m to be excluded, then. Very well.” She stood and addressed Bode. “Should I assume that we will be staying here for the present?”

  “I think that’s for the best, don’t you? Newt and Tuck say we’re welcome.”

  “Then I’m sure we are. Excuse me. I want to speak to Mrs. Hilliard about dinner.” She turned, skirted the bench, and quickly put herself on the path to exit the conservatory. As swift as her retreat was, she was still within hearing distance when Newt said, “She’s got her hackles up, gentlemen. Could be we’ll need to hire a taster for the soup course.”

  Standing outside Comfort’s bedroom, Bode wondered what he could expect from her when he entered. She was polite at dinner, deliberately so. Newt and Tuck didn’t comment, but he didn’t believe that they’d failed to notice. All of them had survived the soup, so it seemed that if she meant to kill them, it would be done with kindness. He’d had to leave immediately afterward in order to speak to Alexandra. Comfort hadn’t asked to join him, and he hadn’t invited her. It was a strained parting, and it left him feeling unsettled and wanting to make amends even though from his perspective he’d done nothing wrong.

  He wasn’t convinced it was safe for Comfort to leave her uncles’ home, but that was only part of the reason he didn’t want her with him. Being fairly certain how his mother would react to what he had to say concerned him almost as much. Alexandra’s habit of rushing to protect Bram meant that she would look for and find someone to blame. Comfort was the likeliest scapegoat whether or not she was in Alexandra’
s sights. Better that she was not.

  Comfort was sitting cross-legged on the bed when Bode eased into the room. “You don’t have to tiptoe,” she said, not looking up. “I’m awake.” She examined her fingers where she’d been pushing at the cuticles with an orange stick. Satisfied with her effort, she set the stick between her tin and the oil lamp on the nightstand and picked up a glass of water. Trying to judge his mood, she watched him as she sipped.

  Bode removed his jacket and laid it over a chair. “I stopped by my place and asked Sam to come back with me. Your uncles said it would be all right. We brought your trunk and my bags. It’s all downstairs. Sam didn’t have much except for what John gave him. Your butler . . . Mr. Barker?”

  “Barkin.”

  “Yes. Barkin. He’s showing Sam where he can stay. I told Sam I wouldn’t need him this evening.”

  “Good.” She emptied the glass and put it back beside the carafe. “The dressing room’s through the door on your left. I didn’t know that you’d bring anything from your apartment. Tuck gave me some nightclothes for you. It’s all in there. Suey Tsin brought fresh towels.”

  “Thank you.” Bode didn’t try to engage her in conversation. He went straight to the dressing room, pausing on the threshold when he saw the ball-and-claw-footed tub had been filled with water. Slim fingers of steam rose from the glassy surface. A nightshirt draped the back of a chair, and neatly folded linens rested on the seat. He glanced over his shoulder and found Comfort watching him. “For me?”

  She nodded. A slightly crooked smile edged her lips, and for the first time since leaving the conservatory, the smile wasn’t forced. It touched her eyes as she waved him on. “Go. The water will get cold.”

  Bode didn’t require more encouragement. He quickly stripped off, sank halfway up to his chest in the fresh, hot water, and immediately closed his eyes. His arms rested on either side of the smoothly curved rims of the tub. Except to raise two fingers in greeting, he didn’t trouble himself to stir when Comfort approached. Her hand brushed the back of his, and then she moved the towels from the chair to the floor and sat.