Cadence (Langston Brothers Series)

by Blue, Melissa Lynne

  “Keep it together,” his brother murmured to his right.

  Looking straight into her eyes Curtis said, “I’m so sorry, Cadence.” Deftly he swung his pistol up and fired.

  The gunshot echoed deafeningly from the wooden surfaces of the shack.

  Cadence screamed, the sound muffled through her gag.

  “Goddamn! Good shot!” Craig exclaimed.

  Curtis didn’t hear a word as he lunged forward to grasp the trembling form of his wife as she crumpled to the floor. “Please forgive me,” he murmured over and again, clutching her to his chest.

  There lived a single moment of dead calm before all hell broke loose.

  “What happened?” A thunder of approaching feet sounded from the yard as Robert and David Langston stumbled through the yard into the rundown cottage followed by a variety of other search party members.

  “It’s over.” Craig stood from where he’d knelt beside the still form of Colonel Fielding. “He’s dead.” Turning to his sister-in-law he asked, “Are you alright Cadence? He didn’t hurt you did he?”

  Curtis began removing her bonds and as the gag fell away from her mouth she spit out the dirty rags. “I think I broke my hand,” she held her right hand—which throbbed in tandem with her frantic heart—toward her brother-in-law.

  “How did this happen?” Gently Craig took the injured extremity.

  “I punched Colonel Fielding.”

  A burst of laughter escaped Curtis’s mouth. His little spitfire was back. “That’s my girl.” He stepped behind her sliding both arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head.

  “You must have hit him pretty hard,” Craig raised a brow looking impressed. “This is the sort of injury I usually see after a good fight. Let’s head to the main house and I’ll splint it for you while we wait for Jake and the sheriff.”

  Davy let his breath out in a rush. “How did he get in here? When you told us Fielding was insane I never dreamed he’d go after her in a house full of her family. And why the hell did you think to look here for her? This has been abandoned for years.”

  Cutis shrugged resting his chin on top of her head. “I heard her yell once.”

  “Curtis,” she twisted slightly to look up at him, “I was gagged the entire time.” She shook her head. “I never yelled.”

  “But I heard you say my name. Otherwise I never would have searched here for you. Not right away at least.”

  “I was thinking your name, but I never said it out loud. I couldn’t. How very strange,” she murmured, leaning into him again. “Owe!” Quickly she pulled the broken hand into her chest.

  “Alright, let’s go to the house.” Positioning himself between Fielding’s body and Cadence Curtis led her toward the door.

  * * *

  An hour later the thunder of horse’s hooves flew up the plantation drive and Davy stepped to the front porch to hail the posse. “It’s all over,” he called. “We got him and everyone is fine.” The U.S. Marshal quickly showed the sheriff and his deputies the body still morbidly clutching the silver knife.

  Genie brought a silver tray and coffee service into the parlor. “I’m having another room prepared for the two of you tonight.”

  “Thank you,” Cadence shuddered. The thought of attempting to sleep in the room where Fielding had attacked her was unbearable.

  Robert came to stand beside Genie and gave Curtis a gruff clap on the shoulder. “Ye did me proud today, lad. Yer head was more level than mine would’ve proved if it was me own wife in trouble.” He wrapped an arm around Genie.

  Curtis nodded the gesture stiff but genuine. Cadence hoped this was a sign of better days to come between father and son.

  Another hour later the excitement was winding down, the lawman had taken leave and the family dispersed, leaving Cadence alone with Curtis in the parlor. “Apparently Kathleen Morris is going to make a full recovery,” Curtis said, pulling her to the sofa with him.

  “Do you think she’s learned her lesson?” Overwhelmingly tired Cadence laid her head into the crook of her husband’s shoulder.

  “Probably not,” he murmured, stroking her hair, “but my conscience is clear.”

  “Curtis,” her voice was just hesitant enough to sound questioning.

  “Yes?” his lips touched her hair as she snuggled into his side.

  “Are you happy?” The fingers of her uninjured hand traced his calloused palm. “I can’t help but worry that I pressured you into giving up sailing. It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to give up something so important in your life. If you want to back to sea I want you to know I understand and I won’t hold you back.”

  “Happy? Of course I’m happy.” Pulling her across his lap he tilted her face looking directly into her eyes. “Love, I don’t know how to describe it, but being with you makes me feel like a whole person again. Cadence,” he whispered leaning close, “you fixed me. I don’t know how, but you make me want to live and stop running. You are second to nothing in my life. You’re my angel.”

  “Why do you always call me that?” She closed her eyes laying her head against his chest listening to the rumble of his voice. “An angel.”

  “Haven’t I ever told you the story about the drifting angels fallen from heaven to rescue lost souls?”

  Epilogue

  “Hello, Billy.” Curtis sat on the brown blades of grass before the simple headstone. “It’s been a long time, I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I miss you,” he murmured softly. “I talked to my brother a few weeks back, and I’m starting to think Craig is a little smarter than we ever gave him credit for, but, uh, something he said bothered me.” He took a shuddering breath. “He said you blamed yourself when I went missing and— God, Bill, I can’t take that. I–”

  “Curtis?”

  A soft female voice sounded from behind him and slowly he turned to stand. “Mrs. Cole?”

  “Oh, Curtis,” she cried her hands flying to her mouth. “Curtis Langston! It is you.” In an instant she crossed the distance between them and took him into her arms. “I have missed you so much, my boy.”

  “Aunt Beth,” he choked, clinging to her much as he would his own mother. “I’m so sorry about Billy, Aunt Beth, if it could have been me—”

  “Hush, Curtis, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She pulled back, her soft gray eyes washing him with a steady, motherly love which had never failed. “I love you so much, and I am so proud of everything you’ve done.”

  He was quite beyond words as he buried his face upon her shoulder as he had so many times before as a little boy. For all intents and purposes Beth Cole had been as much a mother as he’d ever known. And for all that he’d seen and done as a soldier and sailor he’d never once cried, not even the day Billy had been shot, but today he sobbed. Right there on Billy’s grave he let five years of pent up anguish pour out. “I love you too, Aunt Beth, I should have come to see you so much sooner.”

  “I understand.” She smiled a bit and reached to squeeze his hand as he pulled away. Gazing into her eyes he truly sensed she understood his need for time.

  Curtis cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.” Running his thumb across the medal he held it out to her. “Billy should have this, he earned it.”

  “No, Curtis you earned this and you should keep it.” She curled his fingers around the small piece.

  “But I—

  “No arguments,” she scolded softly, a tear glistening at the corner of her eye. “Someday you may want to show this to your children, and then you can tell them how brave their Uncle Billy was. Alright?”

  Slowly he nodded squeezing his fist around the medal. “Aunt Beth,” he said on impulse, “about that, my wife and I have some news.”

  “News?” She grinned, eyes twinkling. “Dare I venture a guess?”

  “We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Oh, Curtis!” She clasped her hands in excitement. “I am so very happy for you! I’ll have to get started
sewing! Are you hoping for a boy or girl?”

  “Well, Cadence doesn’t care, but I want a girl.”

  “A girl,” she sighed, a twinkle in her eye. “Did you hear that Billy? I’m going to be a grandmother after all.”

  “Yes, you are,” Curtis grinned. “Yes, you are.” Looking into her wise gray eyes, Curtis felt a deep sense he’d not experienced for a long time descend upon him.

  Peace.

  END

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  11th Hour Rose

  One

  Charleston, South Carolina

  September, 1868

  Another murder?

  Lexie Hudson threaded through the crowd of roiling Charleston citizens, clamoring like the rest for a glimpse of the third crime scene in as many weeks.

  Twilight rolled through the skies, casting the city in a blanket of blue and purple, and adding to the aura of fear shivering through the air. Horse-drawn carts clattered on the hard packed streets while speculative shouts rose up over the din.

  “It’s one of them damn Yankee soldiers what done it!” One man called out.

  “Aye!” A variable chorus replied.

  “Them blue bellies need to hang. Every last one!”

  Lexie huddled deeper into her woven shawl both horrified and morbidly fascinated by the prospect of another slain woman. As the only daughter of the county sheriff she’d grown up around the law. Widowed in his early thirties, George Hudson had discussed near every detail of his cases with Lexie. At this point she was as well versed and educated in the law as any barrister. Not that the fact seemed to matter to anyone other than her papa. She’d been petitioning the South Carolina bar for a license to practice without success for three years now. Apparently women were viewed too fragile for law practice—hogwash!

  “It’s Marshal Langston!”

  All around her the collective body hushed and shifted inward. Lexie’s gaze instantly honed in on the commanding figure of U.S. Marshal David Langston. Standing more than a head taller than the bulk of the crowd his powerful shoulders and overall titan’s form made him impossible to miss. A brimmed hat slanted low—almost dangerously—over his face, concealing the irritable blue eyes Lexie knew all too well lay beneath.

  “Marshal, our wives and daughter’s aren’t safe in their beds!” An angry man Lexie didn’t readily recognize stepped into the lawman’s path. “What are you going to do about this serial murderer?”

  Expression hard, the marshal carved an unwavering route through the throng. “Let me pass.” His cool, booming tone resonated with authority, quieting even the most ardent bystanders clamoring for answers and atonement. Citizens slid from his path as though standing on sheets of ice.

  Lexie ducked her chin and continued sidling covertly forward. While her father may indulge her interest in criminal investigations and value her opinions, David Langston—a close colleague of her father’s—had little such patience. Best to keep out of his sight for as long as possible. Lexie turned sideways, easing through the crush. As the sea of heads and shoulders thinned she spied her father standing with a handful of deputies, and several of the Yankee officers stationed in Charleston to enforce marshal law. While not quite able to see the crime scene Lexie was close enough to hear the anguished murmurs emanating from the lawmen.

  Marshal Langston shoved through the last of the onlookers and joined the others. “Christ,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his jaw. “This is a bloodbath.” He swept the hat off his head and knelt, disappearing from sight. “Is this…” the rest of his words were inaudible from Lexie’s vantage point.

  “Yes, it is,” her father replied gravely. “A damn shame. She’s so young.”

  Lexie shivered, stalling as a wave of sadness washed through her. What waste to see such young lives cut short.

  “Sheriff,” the marshal reappeared, speaking directly to her father. “Get what you need—sketches, evidence, and then take her to my brother’s clinic.” He swept a reproachful glare across the crowd. “Lieutenant Cook,” he turned to one of the Yankees. “You and your soldiers get this crowd under control. This isn’t a circus freak show.”

  “Consider it done, Sir.” The lieutenant made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, please return to your homes. There is nothing left to see here.” He and the other bluecoats fanned into the pack and people began to dissipate.

  Lexie held her ground, waiting for the cluster of men standing directly in front of her to filter away. A flash of torn fabric skirt appeared behind the thinning forest of shifting legs. She stepped around a trio of men, surprised to see just how close she was to the crime scene. Her gaze fell to the young woman so still and motionless on the ground.

  She gasped, chills of horror racing down her spine. “Oh, my god.” She stumbled forward. “Susannah.” No. This couldn’t be. She’d been with Susie earlier that afternoon. They needed to make pies for the festival that weekend… Lexie swayed, struggling to maintain her balance. Her vision grew fuzzy and faraway as though watching a dream through someone else’s eyes. This wasn’t her first murder, far from it, but there was so much blood and Susie looked so…a wave of dizziness assailed her…she didn’t even look like Susannah. Everything was happening so fast.

  “Damn it, Lexie,” Marshal Langston’s angry voice pierced the haze surrounding her mind. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I-it’s Susie…” she stammered as the dizziness escalated to full blown spinning. “David.” She meant to reach for him, but her fingers did little more than flutter as her knees threatened to buckle. His arms slid around her. He was like steel, an anchor, and as her head fell against the solid wall of his chest she drew a ragged breath, balling his shirt into her fists.

  He pulled her closer. “Are you alright?” he murmured, his warm breath whispering through her hair.

  Lexie turned her face into his chest willing the macabre vision of Susannah’s lifeless yet pleading eyes from her mind. “I… don’t know.”

  “Come.” He linked a supportive arm about her waist, leading her behind a coach parked by the alley. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he tilted her face toward him. His pale blue eyes glowed an unnatural silver in the moonlight. “You shouldn’t have seen that,” he whispered. His calloused thumb grazed her cheek and genuine concern lined his handsome face. “No one should ever have to see that.”

  Nodding weakly she let the strength and heat of his arms surround her. “I’m so sorry, Davy. I didn’t know it was Susannah Jensen until I saw her.” Susie had been a good friend. During the war they’d spent hours together sewing uniforms and quilts. They’d poured over any news and letters that happened to come through. Susie’s husband had returned home… Lexie’s beau had not.

  “You shouldn’t have come out here.” His voice took on a bit of the irritated edge she was so used to. “Go home.”

  “Home? No.” The shock was ebbing and she pulled away growing incredulous. She was a grown woman of twenty-five, and a lawyer—almost. “I’m not leaving, Marshal Langston. Susannah Jenson was my friend, and I can help.”

  “Help? Good God, Lexie, how is it helpful when you’re swooning in my arms?”

  “I wasn’t swooning, David.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in challenge.

  “I would beg to differ.” He stepped around the conveyance. “Whitfield!” He hailed one of the deputies then turned back to Lexie. “I’m asking Deputy Whitfield to escort you home. I have enough to deal with without worrying what you’re up to.”

  She flushed at his chastising words. “But—”

  “No.” he barked. “You have no business here nosing around in other people’s lives, Lexie.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing? I have been assisting my father for years, and—”

  “Enough.” Steel sharp as any blade gilded his tone, warning her into immediate silence. Da
vid moved in on her, brow furrowed dangerously. “You want to help? Why don’t you ride on out to Susie’s farm and inform her husband that his wife has been murdered.” Acid sarcasm dripped from his voice. “That’s where I’m headed when I’m through here. Do you want that responsibility, Lexie?”

  Reflexively she moved backward as David stepped closer, but she was trapped against the coach. She could have told him that she’d done so many times. That her father believed heartbreaking news was best served with a woman’s touch, but instead she kept silent. Listening. This man radiated an air that was broken… wounded… with a bleeding heart acutely visible in his eyes.

  “Do you have any idea what it is to lose the one person in this world you’re supposed to watch sunsets and grow old with?” He closed the distance between them, leaning over her until their noses nearly touched. “Do you know what it is to lose your life?”

  For a long moment their eyes locked. Searching. “Are we talking about Frank Jensen, or you?” she asked quietly.

  He froze, blinking in surprise. The angry furrow melted from his brow and brought back the face of a younger man. Younger in all but his eyes… Lexie’s heart lurched just a little. She reached out and brushed the single blond lock from his forehead as though the simple act might sweep the pain from his gaze. “Davy…”