Cinnamon and Roses

by Heidi Betts

  "I'm—” Caleb held his side and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. “I'm sorry."

  He chuckled again, which made her strongly doubt the sincerity of his apology.

  "I'm sorry. It's just that, well...” Another spasm of laughter. “You do sort of look as if your bellybutton blew a bubble."

  Her mouth dropped open at his rudeness.

  "No, no. Don't start to cry again. That's not a bad thing.” Caleb took her hand and drew her over to the bed, patting the mattress for her to lie down. He kicked off his half-gaiters and lay down beside her. He kept his trousers on, open at the waist.

  "Now,” he said, tucking her head against his shoulder. “What caused all this hysterical female behavior?"

  Rebecca stiffened and started to pull away.

  "Come back here.” He tugged her over and wrapped an arm under her breasts. “Tell me."

  "Well, you haven't come home for dinner in more than a week."

  "Yes. And?"

  "And I'm starting to get fat, so I could understand it if you wanted to spend your time with someone pretty. But everyone thinks we're so happy, and I couldn't bear it if they found out you didn't even want to share my bed anymore."

  "I take it that group of old biddies was here today."

  "They are not old biddies. They're my friends. And they keep a very close eye on things like this. I would just die if they found out you were paying some woman at the Dog Tick for something you should be getting at home."

  "Something I have been getting at home,” Caleb said, and he gave her breast a little squeeze.

  "Well, yes, but they wouldn't know that. They would see you coming out of the saloon and think you had to relieve yourself of some kind of primal male urges or whatnot."

  "Right about now, I have a very distinct male urge to throttle you."

  Rebecca raised her eyes and stared at him.

  "Well, there are a few other urges I'd like to take care of, but first things first. Number one, I was not relieving my male urges, or anything else. I had a drink or two and played a few hands of cards."

  "But—"

  Caleb put a finger to her lips. “And I only did that because I was hoping to hear something about the shooting. I thought a few swigs of whiskey might loosen some tongues. But it hasn't in the past week, so I won't bother to go back. I also admit I was keeping an eye out for your mother. But I didn't see her, either, so I trust she left town like she was supposed to.

  "Number two. You are not, and never have been, unattractive to me. Okay, so I thought you were a bit mousy the first time I saw you in your shop, but the minute you came charging into the Express office all hellfire and damnation, my body turned hot.” He leaned close to her ear. “I haven't cooled down since."

  A bolt of excitement ran down her spine. She snuggled closer to his warmth.

  "I love how round you're getting. I love falling asleep with my hand on your stomach, knowing our child is resting peacefully inside. So don't ever think you repulse me. Far from it. I can barely keep my hands to myself when you're around."

  "You'll come home for dinner from now on?"

  "I'll come home for dinner from now on,” he said with a nod. “Even if it's not quite cooked all the way through. Maybe you should hire someone to help Bessie."

  "I might just do that. And if you do have to stay out late for some reason, you'll tell me, won't you?"

  "I promise."

  "Good."

  "Good,” Caleb said, grinning. “Now that that's all settled, how about helping me to relieve some of my primal male urges?"

  "What kind of urges do you have?” she asked innocently.

  "Well, there's this one, where my wife...” His words trailed to a soft whisper in her ear.

  "Caleb!"

  Chapter Nineteen

  "I don't know about this."

  Sabrina shifted her feet on the last crooked step leading out of the back of the boarding house. “There's nothing to worry about, Dolores. No real harm will come of it, and no one will find out, I promise."

  "But Mrs. Adams is paying me good money. It just don't seem right to be foolin’ her this way."

  "Listen,” Sabrina said sharply. “I hired you first, and I'm giving you half again what they pay you a week. All you have to do is put a little of this in her tea."

  "But what if someone sees me? I ain't the only one they got working for them, you know."

  Sabrina took a breath to calm her growing irritation. “Yes, I know. But the other one's an idiot, isn't that right?"

  "Bessie ain't none too smart, I'll grant you that. Nice gal, she is, though. Loves them folks like they was her own."

  "Well, then, if she happens to see you putting this in Rebecca's tea, tell her it's to keep her healthy until the baby is born. She ought to believe you."

  "Yes'm. I suppose she would."

  "Good. Then there won't be a problem."

  "I still don't like it."

  "You don't have to like it,” Sabrina hissed. “You just have to do it. Now, listen carefully. You sprinkle a good amount of this in the bottom of Rebecca's cup before pouring her tea. Every time, do you hear? If you don't do it every time, it won't work."

  "Won't she taste it?"

  "I hope not. Make sure it isn't bitter before serving it to her."

  Dolores's eyes widened, and she took a step back. “I ain't gonna taste it."

  "Don't be silly,” Sabrina said. “Just a sip won't hurt you a bit. It has to be taken in large doses to have its desired effect. That's why you must put it in every cup, every day."

  The graying woman still didn't look convinced but nodded and took the palm-sized bottle of herbs. “What is it, ma'am? If you don't mind my asking."

  "Pennyroyal,” Sabrina answered.

  She knew the name would mean nothing to the old housekeeper. It had taken her a month to come up with the bud of an idea and even longer to put it into motion.

  Once she had decided to poison Rebecca, she'd had to find someone to supply her with the herbs. And the best she could do was an old whorehouse remedy for unwanted pregnancies. Pretending to be a woman in trouble, Sabrina had gone to the Dog Tick, crying and pleading with the madam for help. It hadn't been easy, but she'd finally gotten a bottle of pennyroyal out of the stingy bitch. She'd listened carefully to the madam's instructions on how to use the herbs safely, and then she'd come up with her own directions on how to use their full potential to poison Rebecca.

  "When you run out,” Sabrina told Dolores, “come back to the boarding house, and I'll give you more."

  Dolores grabbed the money Sabrina held out to her and disappeared into the night.

  Caleb and Holbrook arrived home from work looking for all the world like two little boys who'd just lost their puppy. Holbrook headed straight for his study, but Caleb remained in the hallway with Rebecca. When she inquired about their solemn mood, he handed her an ivory envelope, already torn open at the top.

  "This came in the afternoon mail."

  She unfolded the enclosed sheet of paper, reading the large, feminine script. The letter was from Caleb and Megan's mother and got straight to the point. She wanted Megan sent back. Now.

  "What are you going to do?” Rebecca asked.

  He took the letter. “I don't know. I don't think Dad knows, either."

  "What's going on?” Megan asked, skipping down the stairs, a bright smile on her face.

  Caleb cleared his throat, reluctant to tell Megan of her mother's message. But Rebecca knew they couldn't keep it a secret. She nudged him in the ribs, urging him to show his sister the letter.

  He scowled at her but turned over the letter nonetheless. “This came today,” he told Megan.

  Rebecca watched as the girl read her mother's missive. Her bright smile faded little by little, and her face fell. Until, at the very end, tears ran down her cheeks.

  She crumpled the paper in a tight fist. “I won't go back,” she said, shaking her head. “I won't.” With that, she threw the ba
lled-up letter to the floor and ran to her room.

  That was where Rebecca found her a few minutes later. She was lying on her side, clutching a pillow in her arms. The wet lines of tears streaked her cheeks. Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her fingers through the damp hair at Megan's temples.

  Her eyelashes fluttered a moment before opening. “I don't want to go back to New York, Rebecca."

  "I know you don't, sweetie.” She didn't know what else to say. She didn't want Megan to leave, either, but she could hardly do anything about it.

  "Please don't let them send me back,” Megan said, her eyes once again turning liquid with tears.

  The plea nearly broke Rebecca's heart. “I don't know what I can do to stop them, Megan."

  With a sudden surge of energy, Megan sat up. “You can talk to Papa. He likes you so very much. I'm sure he'd listen to you."

  "Megan—"

  "And Caleb. You can ask him to help convince Papa. Oh, please, Rebecca. Please help me. I don't want to go back there. I want to stay here with you so I can take care of the baby when it arrives."

  Rebecca considered it only a moment before hugging Megan close and promising to do the best she could.

  "What do you want me to do, Rebecca?"

  "I don't know.” She sat on a cushioned stool in front of the dressing mirror, running a brush through her hair. “But you should have seen her, Caleb. She's usually so strong and proud, but those sheets were soaked with tears. I've never seen her so unhappy. Do you really think she'll survive for long in New York?"

  "Survive?” he asked incredulously, coming to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed a few strands of her silken chestnut hair through his fingers. “She survived the long trip out here—by herself, I might add—without a lick of trouble. You expect me to believe she'll be worse off in a big city with a string of beaus and a gaggle of servants to fulfill her every whim?"

  Rebecca set the brush none too gently on the mahogany dresser top and turned to face him. “Oh, Caleb, you don't understand. She'll die there. If your mother insists she go back and live like a caged circus lion, she'll wither and die."

  "You're being melodramatic."

  "I'm not,” she said, going to the bed and tossing back the covers. “She may put on a happy face and prance around like the belle of the ball, but her anger and misery will eat at her from the inside."

  "So I'll ask again, what am I supposed to do?"

  "You could talk to your father."

  "Are you kidding?” Caleb asked with a harsh laugh. “If Dad tells her he wants Megan to stay, Mother will come here herself and drag Megan back bodily."

  "Well, I think that if you and your father sit down over a glass of brandy, you'll surely be able to come up with some sort of strategy to win over your mother."

  She climbed into bed and pulled the quilt over the mound of her stomach. Caleb soon followed.

  "Who could resist two utterly charming Adams men?” she added sweetly.

  Caleb propped himself on one elbow and stared down at his wife. “You'll be the death of me, do you know that?"

  "I hope not,” she said, grinning cheekily. “Then Megan and I would have to deal with our mothers all on our own. And I'm not sure I'd be up to that big a challenge."

  "Do you feel all right?"

  Rebecca brushed the back of her hand over her damp forehead, closing her eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness. She'd been having the spells for about a week now and wasn't sure what could be causing them. Most likely it was the heat of September rolling into the chill of October. That and the beginning of her sixth month of pregnancy.

  "You look a little pale."

  She looked up at Caleb. “I'm fine. It's just the heat."

  "It's really not that warm,” he said, a frown wrinkling his brow.

  She forced a smile and nodded in Holbrook's direction. “Have you talked to him yet?"

  "Not yet. But I will."

  Holbrook sat on the front seat of the surrey, reins gripped severely in his hands.

  "Why did you bring your sewing basket?” Megan asked from where she sat beside her father.

  Rebecca toed her basket with the tip of her shoe. “I need to buy a length of ribbon to match the fabric Mrs. Pickens brought me, and a bolt of fabric to match the ribbon Mrs. Wilkes brought."

  Caleb chuckled. “Sounds like a well-organized group you have there."

  "Not very,” Rebecca said and then clutched the seat as the surrey hit a deep rut. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

  Caleb grasped her arm and helped her right herself. “All right?"

  She nodded, though a flicker of doubt flared in her mind. When the morning sickness had passed after her third month, she hadn't expected it to come back. But from time to time she felt herself become dizzy, and her stomach seemed to roil without provocation.

  She had considered telling Caleb but decided against it, thinking the strange illness would go away on its own. Now she wasn't so sure.

  They spent a good hour at the mercantile, the men on one side of the store looking at saddles and carpentry tools, the women on the other, trying to decide about sewing supplies. Then they left their purchases in the surrey and walked to the Express office so Caleb could pick up some paperwork.

  When they arrived home, just before dusk, Caleb piled her purchases in the crook of one arm and followed her into the house.

  "I talked to my father,” he said as they entered the parlor.

  "When? While you were deciding which saddle soap to buy?"

  He nodded.

  "Well, what did he say?” she asked, hope rising in her breast.

  "He doesn't want Megan to leave, either. And when I told him how upset she was, that she cried herself to sleep after reading Mother's letter, he said he would take care of it."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I think he intends to write to Mother and tell her firmly that Megan is staying in Leavenworth a while."

  She winced. “Your mother won't like that."

  "Hardly,” he agreed with a chuckle. “But then, she hasn't liked anything about my father in quite a while. At the very least, this will buy Megan a little more time."

  "I hope it works."

  Caleb only nodded as he set her packages on the sofa.

  "Speaking of your father,” she said, “have you noticed that his cough seems to have all but disappeared?” She gave him a knowing glance.

  "Now that you mention it, yes. I don't think I've heard him cough in ... oh, a long time.” He looked back at her with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “You know, I never quite believed he needed me to come here because of his health. He tried awfully hard to convince me that he wanted me to learn the family business before he passed on."

  "So how is it that he's suddenly made a full recovery?"

  "Oh, I think it has something to do with the fact that I told him I'd be staying in Leavenworth. Indefinitely."

  "It's a good thing. He'll need all his strength to deal with your mother."

  He laughed. “I think you're right. I'll go unhitch the horses."

  As soon as Caleb had left the room, Rebecca's mind turned back to her original concern. Poor Megan, she thought. It really would kill her to go back to New York, as surely as a bout of consumption. She could only hope that Megan's mother wouldn't put up too much of a fuss in response to Holbrook's soon-to-be-sent letter.

  Rebecca settled on the sofa and reached for the wicker basket. If she started now, she could probably get a basic bodice basted together by dinner.

  She lifted the lid and reached in without looking, wrapping her hand around the nearest parcel. Her fingers came in contact with something wet and sticky. And then something ... fuzzy.

  She lowered her eyes and gave a high, piercing scream.

  Chapter Twenty

  She leapt to her feet and threw the basket as far as she could. It landed beneath one of the windows, and t
he contents toppled out. Material, ribbon, brown-paper-and-string wrapped packages—and a tiny, blood-spattered animal. Blood covered her fingertips, matted with something else. Small brown bits of fur or feathers.

  All of a sudden Caleb burst through the doorway. The rest of the household soon followed.

  "What's wrong?” Caleb asked, gasping for breath. He ran to her side and gripped her shoulders. “Are you all right?” His eyes darted to her belly. “Is it the baby?"

  She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She held her hand up.

  "What the hell...” He touched the blood on her fingers and smeared it between his own.

  "The basket,” she managed.

  He gave her one last once-over before releasing her and going to where her sewing basket lay dumped on the hardwood floor. He poked at the dead animal, rolling it to figure out just what it was.

  "Looks like a bird,” he said, finally finding the head with a small yellow blood-covered beak.

  "How did it get in your sewing basket?” Megan asked.

  "I ... I don't know.” Rebecca felt herself shaking and clamped her teeth together to curb the shivers running through her body.

  "Megan,” Caleb said, “would you please get a cloth to wash Rebecca's hand? And a cup of tea to calm her nerves."

  Megan and Bessie and Dolores all headed for the kitchen without further prodding.

  "Is there anything I can do?” Holbrook asked, shifting uncertainly.

  "Yes. Would you mind getting rid of that, please?” Caleb tilted his head toward the lifeless bird.

  Holbrook quickly stooped and swept everything back into the basket, carrying it out of the room.

  Caleb put an arm around Rebecca's waist and helped her to the sofa. He took her hands in his own, heedless of the sticky fluid there. Her face was as white as chalk, her lips tightly pressed together. He could feel the tremors racing through her body, and he pulled her against his chest.

  "Are you all right?” he asked. He felt her head move up and down but didn't believe her for a minute.