by Pat Tracy
“Was my brother in accord with your decision to keep my name a secret?” Logan inquired softly.
In the process of taking another swallow of his drink, Martin was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. “What makes you think Burke knows anything about this?”
“I’ve never been a believer in coincidences. When you happened to show up in Trinity Falls within months after I arrived, I had to ask why a prosperous and successful businessman like yourself would leave Boston. I seemed to remember that you were well acquainted with my brother. In fact, you were business associates, as I recall.”
“Do you realize this is the first time you’ve brought his name up between us?”
Logan nodded gravely. He wasn’t sure what was driving him to discover Burke’s role in Victoria’s selection as Madison’s tutor. Perhaps it was simply that enough years had passed for some of Logan’s bitterness toward his brother to fade.
Martin cleared his throat. “I did write to Burke to see if he felt Miss Amory would be a suitable candidate.”
“To tutor Madison?” Logan prompted.
The older man shook his head. “Actually, our goal was to introduce a decent woman into your life, someone who might make you forget your unfortunate experience with Miss Stockard.”
“Did Burke marry Robeena?” Logan asked with a curious sense of detachment.
Again Martin shook his head. “No doubt that’s what Miss Stockard hoped for when she arranged for you to discover her in your brother’s bedchamber. But Burke was no more interested in making her his wife than he was in making her his paramour.”
His friend’s words seemed to hang in the hotel suite with a tantalizing promise of healing the long estrangement between Logan and Burke. It was possible, Logan admitted, that being young and hotheaded, he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about what he saw that night in his brother’s room. Had Robeena been responsible for the illicit tryst Logan had blundered into?
“Why did you come to Trinity Falls five years ago, Martin?”
“Burke knew that I’d been toying with the idea of coming west for a long time. He suggested Trinity Falls.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” Martin snapped with uncustomary asperity.
“He wanted you to keep an eye on me,” Logan guessed, remembering that, when they were growing up, his older brother had had an annoying tendency to be overprotective.
“I haven’t had an easy time of it, you know.” Martin finished the last swallow of his brandy. “When I showed up, you were living with the damned Indians, if you’ll remember. Lord, what a sight you were. You’d gone native, for God’s sake.”
“Reflecting back on it, I remember it was your suggestion that I consider establishing a bank in Trinity.”
“You come from a family of bankers, Logan. What could have been more natural than for you to draw on the funds you’d left in Boston and begin your own financial institution in the West?”
“Another one of Burke’s ideas, I suppose.”
“He…uh…might have made reference to approving such a venture.”
“Lord, is he the silent partner we bought out last year?”
“What do you think?” Martin asked, his normally guileless blue eyes shining with disconcerting shrewdness.
“I think I’ve had a damned watchdog looking after me ever since I left Boston!”
“He didn’t have an easy time of it when you volunteered for the military.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t conspire to have me discharged.”
“I’m sure he thought about it.”
A memory surfaced. During his war experience, Logan had had the dubious pleasure of becoming close friends with one Bartholomew Bridger. The burly man, a former Boston dockworker, had accompanied Logan into every battle. On several occasions, Bridger had gone out of his way to place himself between Logan and danger. When the war ended, the hearty stevedore had received a cash windfall and bought his own damned ship. It was more than likely that Bridger had been another of his brother’s guardian angels.
“Burke never lost track of you, Logan.”
“Well, hell.”
Martin raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Somehow I expected a greater display of anger if you ever discovered Burke was interfering in your life.”
“I guess enough time has gone by for my anger to cool.”
“Six years of silence between you and your brother is too long, Logan. You need to let go of the bitterness.”
Logan wondered whether the time had come for him to visit Boston and hear Burke’s side of the story.
“I have more news.”
“About my brother?” He was suddenly curious to hear what else Burke had been up to all these years.
“No, this is about someone a little closer to home.” Martin rose and set his empty glass on a silver tray. “When I was in the hotel lobby earlier, I saw Colonel Windham. I overheard him telling a concerned citizen that reinforcements have arrived, and he intends on riding against the Indians.”
Logan swore succinctly. “The man’s a menace to himself and everyone else. He’s incapable of admitting that the band of Indians who burned the fort are probably long gone from the area. The fool will end up attacking Night Wolf and his tribe.”
“I gather that the colonel doesn’t distinguish between different tribes. All Indians are the same to him.”
“I’ll have to warn Night Wolf.”
“If Windham catches you attempting to do so, he won’t waste time arresting you—he’ll stand you before a firing squad.”
“I’d like to see him try.”
“Logan, be reasonable. You’re not going to find a single ally in the territory who will support you if you side with the Indians.”
Logan thought about Victoria and her sympathetic attitude toward Night Wolf’s people. “Not all whites hate Indians.”
“Maybe not, but most are afraid of them. And most people are greedy. They want the Indians’ land, and their gold. Face it, Logan, you would be risking your life for a lost cause.”
“I have to warn Night Wolf,” Logan said stubbornly. “Is Madison still with Constance?”
Martin withdrew his pocket watch from his vest. “I would say that right about now Madison is in her room, putting the finishing touches on the dress she bought this morning to impress Miss Amory. We are to lunch with the ladies in the hotel dining room.”
A new thought struck Logan. “Was Constance involved in your plot to unite me and Victoria?”
“Good Lord, no.” A look of chagrin crossed the older man’s features. “As much as I love my wife, I’m forced to admit the woman couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.”
What Martin didn’t say but was probably true was that Constance, a stickler for proper behavior, would have objected to someone of his own jaded reputation associating with a blue-blooded innocent like Victoria.
“Did you have Victoria’s books delivered to her suite, as I instructed?”
“As you can imagine, there were any number of volunteers willing to cart the collection to her room. I’ve already sold her team and wagon.”
“You didn’t give her the money from the sale, did you?” Logan asked sharply.
“The proceeds from the transaction are in my coat pocket, though it’s not ethical for us to retain those funds.”
“Don’t worry about it, Martin. She’ll get the money. Eventually.”
After she’s married to me.
Logan got to his feet. “Shall we join the ladies for lunch?”
When Victoria heard the knock at her hotel room door, she was happily lost in the task of organizing her books into neat stacks. Straightening, she brushed the accumulated dust from her hands and wound her way through the marginally organized chaos.
On the other side of the large oak portal stood Martin Pritchert’s wife. She’d briefly made the older woman’s acquaintance the night before.
“Mrs. Pritchert…Hello.”
The friend
ly-faced matron smiled. “You were going to call me Constance, remember?”
Victoria returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you. Please come in. You’ll have to excuse the mess. You caught me in the midst of unpacking.”
“Goodness. It looks as if you plan on starting a library. Are all these volumes yours?”
Well used to peoples’ startled reaction to her book collection, Victoria didn’t take offense at the woman’s clearly astonished question. “Once I get them into bookcases, it won’t seem as if there are so many.”
“I suppose not,” Constance agreed. “Are you ready? We need to collect Madison and meet Martin and Logan downstairs.”
Victoria was eager to meet her student. “Just give me a minute to wash my hands and tidy up.”
Constance picked up a book that Victoria had left on a table. “Little Women. I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be very entertaining.”
Victoria poured some water from a gaily painted pitcher into a washbowl. “I haven’t gotten very far into it yet, but the characters are delightful.”
“It’s about four sisters, isn’t it?”
Victoria dried her hands on a towel. “I’m hoping it’s a story Madison might enjoy.”
“You’ll have to teach her to read first.”
“That’s right, Logan mentioned she hasn’t had any schooling.”
Realizing she shouldn’t have referred to Logan by his first name, Victoria winced. She hoped Mrs. Pritchert hadn’t noticed the slip, which indicated just how well acquainted Victoria was with her new employer.
Constance smiled ruefully, apparently oblivious of Victoria’s indiscreet use of Logan’s Christian name. “You should know, Madison has been raised like a barbarian.”
“A barbarian?”
The older woman nodded. “I suppose it’s not my place to tell you this, but I haven’t always admired the man with whom my husband works. Logan Youngblood has lived his life with no regard to the social niceties the rest of us adhere to. But, when he accepted the responsibility of seeing to Madison’s welfare, I was forced to revise my opinion of him.
“I can see by your expression that you don’t approve of my criticism,” Constance said, her manner strained. “But I feel it is my duty to warn you that your employer has a terrible reputation when it comes to his association with women.”
Victoria found it difficult to meet the woman’s genuinely concerned gaze. It would be too easy to betray by a blush that she knew firsthand that Logan didn’t always behave like a gentleman, and that she herself didn’t always act like a lady.
“They call him ‘Passion’s Pirate,’ you know.”
“What?” There was no way for Victoria to mask her amazement at the lurid turn of phrase.
“It’s a shocking but appropriate title,” Constance said. “He has certainly worked hard to earn it.”
How did one go about earning such a name? Victoria wondered, but dared not ask.
“He has made it a habit to consort with the town’s most notorious women,” Constance went on to elaborate, her eyebrows drawn together in clear disapproval. “He has escorted these. fancy women to public gatherings, treating them as if they were respectable, instead of females of easy virtue.”
Victoria refrained from criticizing Logan’s scandalous behavior. How could she, when she was clearly one of those women of “easy virtue” to whom Constance referred with such disdain?
“I see that I’ve shocked you with my direct manner of speaking, but I consider it my Christian duty to forewarn you about the character of your employer.” She glanced around the hotel suite, her countenance darkening even further. “You must be especially careful to maintain a demeanor of propriety, since you will be residing in such intimate proximity to him. Do you comprehend what I am saying, Victoria?”
“Uh…I think so.”
“Do not give Logan Youngblood an inch, or he shall surely take a mile,” the woman stated with clear conviction.
On the heels of that cliché, another drifted through Victoria’s thoughts, the one about closing the barn door after the cow had wandered off.
“I suppose his descent into moral depravity began the afternoon he abandoned poor Miss Stockard at the wedding altar,” Constance observed. “That sorry debacle demonstrated quite clearly Logan Youngblood’s contempt for the gentler sex. It’s no wonder he got himself into trouble with Colonel Windham.”
The sudden shift of subject distracted Victoria from her grim thoughts about the man who’d seduced her so completely during their brief time together. “Colonel Windham acted with despicable cruelty toward Logan!”
“Well, my dear, when a man confronts his wife’s lover, he’s bound to be a trifle miffed,” the woman said with a shrug. “I know my dear Martin would shoot the man who dared take liberties with me.”
The clock on the mantel chimed as Victoria mulled over Constance Pritchert’s disheartening revelations about Logan.
The woman started visibly, and her gaze went to the clock. “My goodness, we need to fetch Madison and be on our way.”
Victoria was still trying to come to terms with what she’d learned about Logan when she and Constance stopped in the hotel corridor before another room on the same floor.
Constance didn’t bother knocking, but instead walked directly into the suite. The tableau that greeted them momentarily pushed all thoughts of Logan from Victoria’s mind.
A slim young woman dressed in a bright pink dress with rows upon rows of white ruffles cascading from its neck, sleeves and bunched-up skirts sat on the floor, clutching a wad of paper bills in one hand while tossing two dice with the other. A gaunt older gentleman dressed in the hotel’s black livery knelt next to her.
“Well, Lordy, Miss Earley, you done rolled another seven,” he groaned in disappointment. “I swear you’ve cleaned me out.”
“Madison! What is the meaning of this?” Constance Pritchert bellowed with astonishing vigor.
The man in the hotel uniform jumped to his feet as if he’d been jerked to attention by unseen strings.
“Uh, I beg your pardon, ma’am. I was just.” He glanced around the suite frantically, as if trying to come up with an explanation that would soothe the enraged matron glaring holy fire at him. Evidently he realized the hopelessness of justifying his purpose for being in the room.
The girl, on the other hand, was amazingly composed as she uncurled from her position on the floor. Victoria noticed that she even had the forethought to fold the cash she held before tucking it unobtrusively into the pocket concealed amid the profusion of ruffles.
“Calm down, Herbie, or you’ll have another one of your seizures,” the girl admonished calmly.
“He’ll have more to worry about than some seizure,” Constance Pritchert threatened, her face mottled a shade of pink remarkably similar in hue to the incredibly fussy gown worn by the slender young woman. “I vow that you will be dismissed before the day’s end. When my husband and Mr. Youngblood inform the proprietor what you’ve been up to, you’ll be out on the street!”
Apparently untroubled by the older woman’s thunderous disapproval, the girl Victoria assumed was her new charge smiled reassuringly at the trembling, white-faced man. “Don’t worry, Herbie, I’ll explain that none of this was your fault. You won’t lose your job, I promise.”
Herbie looked as if he were going to break into tears. It made no sense under the circumstances, but Victoria felt sorry for the man. He didn’t appear to have the stamina to secure employment that required any degree of strength.
“You are in no position to make any promises, young lady!”
The girl smiled with an impish charm that Victoria realized would, in a few years, blossom into irresistible feminine beauty.
“Now, Mrs. Pritchert, there’s no call to be upset with poor Herbie. He was just showing me how to add up those numbers you keep telling me I need to learn.”
Which, of course, in no way explained the money that had been tucked out of sight,
Victoria reflected.
Constance didn’t look totally convinced by the farfetched explanation; however, her complexion was no longer an alarming shade of pink. “You are excused, sir,” she intoned with ominous gravity. The hapless man took his leave on stumbling feet, and the older woman turned to Victoria. “As you can see, Miss Amory, your services are in severe demand. Allow me to introduce your charge, Madison Earley.”
Aware of the girl’s close scrutiny, Victoria extended her hand. “How do you do, Madison?”
“I reckon I’ve done better.” Her vivid blue eyes narrowed speculatively as she accepted the proffered hand in a vigorous, pumping handshake. “So you’re the fancy woman Logan sent for to make a lady out of me?”
“Madison!” Mrs. Pritchert sputtered. “Miss Amory is most certainly not a fancy woman!”
Unrepentant amusement flickered in the girl’s direct gaze. Victoria found it impossible to take offense. Even though it was obvious that Madison Earley was a lively, free-spirited young woman who would prove a challenge to educate, Victoria knew intuitively that she would enjoy her association with the vixen. The girl’s eyes reflected a good-natured sparkle that was uncannily similar to her sister Annalee’s enthusiastic approach to life. Oh, yes, Madison was going to be a challenge, but she was also going to be a delight.
Chapter Twenty
Lunch in the hotel dining room with Logan, Madison, Martin and Constance proved an enlivening experience for Victoria. The conversation rarely lagged as the perfectly prepared food was expeditiously dispatched.
Victoria noticed, however, that Logan remained largely silent as the various courses were served and removed from their table. She, too, was content to let Madison and the Pritcherts assume control of the various topics of discussion.
Logan sat directly across from Victoria, and she was fiercely aware of his possessive gaze as it repeatedly fell upon her. Even though she appreciated the grandness of the repast laid before her, she scarcely tasted it.
For a significant portion of the meal, she found herself transfixed by Logan’s strong, tanned hands as he wielded his eating utensils with a casual efficiency that reminded her of how it felt to have those very hands upon her naked flesh. The searing memory of his bold caresses made her tremble. She shifted on her chair and wondered what the others at the table would think if they knew she’d fallen victim to such shocking thoughts. No doubt they would consider her as tarnished as the other women Logan had apparently escorted about town.