Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two

by Jane Bonander

Warmth from the stove laved over them as they stepped inside.

  “Well, Lord have mercy,” Ivy sputtered as she hurried toward them, wiping her hands on her apron. “What happened?”

  Rachel led June to the stove and gently pushed her into a chair. “She was being harassed by some of those horrid, drunken sheepherders,” she answered, resting the broken broom against the stove.

  Ivy picked up the short length of broom. “What happened to this?”

  Rachel felt herself blush. “I… I’m afraid I used it on the… ah… those men.”

  Ivy gazed down at the jagged edges of the handle and chuckled. “I’ll bet they were a mite surprised.” Still smiling, she put the broom handle back against the stove. Her good humor faded when she glanced back at June.

  Taking the woman’s hands and squeezing them between her own, she asked, “June, honey? What’re you doin’ in town?”

  June’s entire body shook as she stared at the stove.

  “Joshua brought her in. She said she wanted to see me. Obviously she thinks I’m someone else. And,” Rachel added, “from the sound of things, the trip wasn’t okayed by Mrs. Gaspard.”

  Ivy clucked. “Well, of course it wasn’t. June doesn’t come to town without one of the adults. That little Josh,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s a pistol, that one.”

  Rachel hurried into the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea, stirring a spoonful of honey into it. She brought it back and knelt beside June again.

  “Here,” she said, taking June’s hands and wrapping them around the warm cup. “Drink this, June.”

  June clasped the cup, brought it to her lips and took jerky sips. She blinked and sighed, still staring at the fire that flickered behind the glass.

  “Have you known June long, Ivy?” Rachel ventured.

  Ivy smoothed June’s hair away from her forehead. “She was already a young lady when I moved here, weren’t you, dear?”

  A tiny smile flitted about June’s mouth. “Ivy’s my friend,” she said, glancing at Rachel.

  Rachel fixed her gaze on June’s pretty, youthful face. The woman didn’t look any older than twenty. Except for the scar on her cheek, her face was unlined, smooth as silk. Her coloring was far different from any Rachel had ever seen before. While Jessie’s and Nancy’s complexions were a ruddy brown, June’s was almost pale and had a hint of orchid beneath it. She was exquisite.

  Jason hadn’t been willing to tell her what June had been through. She decided to test Ivy. “Ivy,” she began, “what happened to her?”

  A gust of air hit the trio as they huddled around the stove. Rachel glanced at the door and found her gaze pierced by a scowling Nicolas Gaspard and an equally angry Jason.

  They strode to the stove. “What in the hell happened here?” Jason’s father rumbled.

  Rachel shuddered. No preamble, no niceties.

  “Oh,” Ivy said, fussing with June’s hair, “them danged drunken sheepherders was pesterin’ June.”

  Giving them a lopsided smile, she grabbed the broken broom and held it toward the men. “Rachel broke my broom on ’em.”

  Rachel hadn’t found her voice, but she felt herself flush deeper when both men turned and gaped at her.

  Jason looked incredulous. “You hit the men with a broom?”

  She shrugged, giving him a beseeching look. “I… I couldn’t just let them maul her.”

  Nicolas Gaspard’s gaze moved over her, softening slightly at her comment. Then, with a gentleness that didn’t seem to fit him, he hunkered down in front of June. “Why did you come to town, June?”

  She looked up and smiled at him. “I wanted to talk to her.”

  He glanced up at Rachel, then away. “Joshua shouldn’t have brought you,” he answered.

  “But I wanted to tell her that—”

  “It’s all right, June,” he interrupted, helping her to her feet. “We’ll talk about it later. I have an errand to run, but Jason will take you home.”

  June allowed him to steer her toward the door. Once there, she stopped and turned. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

  Rachel’s insides fluttered. She glanced at Jason, whose features were unreadable. She had no idea what the woman was talking about. The message, although apparently meant to put her at ease, only alarmed her further.

  She watched them leave, wistfully eyeing Jason’s strong, wide shoulders. She glanced at Ivy’s closed expression.

  “What did she mean? What’s not my fault?”

  Ivy shook her head and went behind the counter. “Prob’ly thought you were someone else, dear.”

  Rachel frowned. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “That’s what I thought, too.” But she wasn’t convinced. Even though the message had made no sense, Rachel wasn’t convinced June had mistaken her for someone else.

  She looked at the clock. It was almost ten. With Jessie still out sick, Rachel had promised to help with the lunch crowd, but she had time to hurry over to Jason’s office and see that things were dusted and picked up.

  “I’ll be back before eleven, Ivy.” She went to pull on her cape, then remembered she’d loaned it to June. Glancing at the gray light that filtered in through the window, she knew it was still cold and wet outside. “I’m borrowing your cape,” she called as she pulled it off the coatrack and hurried outside.

  Rachel added another piece of wood to the stove, then warmed her hands over the heat. It hadn’t taken long to straighten things up, she thought, looking around the empty room. Obviously there hadn’t been much business. Her heart dipped, aching for Jason. Smiling ruefully, she realized that Jason didn’t mourn for his practice at all. He seemed to know that in time he’d be accepted for who he was and what he knew.

  As she turned to put away some fresh linen, she heard the bell tinkle over the office door. Silently hoping it was Jason, she smoothed down the front of her skirt and hurried into the other room. Her stomach dropped.

  “Captain,” she said, swallowing her disappointment. “What are you doing here?”

  August Weber shut the door behind him, his presence filling the room. Looking around with disdain, he answered, “I could ask you the same question.”

  Rachel swallowed hard. “I… I came in to straighten up, that’s all.”

  “You’re a scullery maid for the half-breed, as well?”

  She swallowed again, hating the fear this man instilled in her, and hating herself for weakening when he was around. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

  He tossed his cap on the desk, uttering a deep sigh. “I’m disappointed in you, Rachel.” He slapped his gloves against his palm, studying her carefully. “I know why you’re here.”

  Fresh fear careened through her. “You… you do?”

  He nodded, his expression full of distaste. “You’ve been working for the breed.”

  Rachel’s first instinct was to deny it. It must have shown on her face.

  “Don’t cross me, girl. I did some checking when I got into town. It’s inconceivable to me that you, of all people, would lower yourself to such depths. Have you forgotten everything from your past? Have you forgotten just what savages like this half-breed did to your family?”

  Rachel looked away. No, she hadn’t forgotten. But if she had, he would have happily reminded her of it—as he was doing now. Her uncle had done the same thing—reminded her how much she hated Indians, constantly reinforcing her hatred and her fear.

  “I demand that you quit. It’s disgusting,” her father-in-law added, his face a mask of disdain. “You will stop this nonsense right now.”

  She was suddenly grateful he had such an overbearing personality. His audacity was infuriating. She had no intentions of quitting just because he wanted her to. “No.” It came out strong, and she was proud of herself.

  “You will quit now.”

  Rachel clenched her fists. “No. I needed… I need the money.” Oh, God, she hoped she could stay strong.

 
“For what?” he roared.

  His arrogance continued to get to her. She felt strength from inside flow through her limbs. “To pay Jeremy’s debts.”

  His face didn’t change, but his eyes darkened imperceptibly. “What kind of debts?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and busied herself by straightening Jason’s desk. “I don’t think you want to know.”

  His expression was hooded. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  She felt her knees weaken, so she leaned against the desk. “Jeremy left gambling debts. He—”

  “What?” he roared again.

  His anger fed hers. “He left enormous debts all over town. He even took out a loan against his army pay, and gambled it all away at the saloon.”

  He swore. “What rubbish. Jeremy wouldn’t squander his money that way.”

  Rachel felt her anger grow. “Well, he did. And try as I might, I couldn’t get a job anywhere else in this town. The… the doctor is the only one who even offered me one. And I took it. I didn’t care where I worked,” she added, not bothering to tell him she hadn’t known Jason was an Indian when she’d taken the job, “as long as I got paid.”

  Weber’s narrow gaze was filled with scorn. “You voluntarily went to work for the same kind of person who murdered all of your loved ones?”

  She forced her gaze to his. She wouldn’t be cowed, not anymore. “Indians are different. They aren’t lumped into a group. They’re different, just like we are.”

  Weber spat into the spittoon. “You can’t believe that.”

  “But I do,” she argued, suddenly feeling calm.

  He gave her a look of pure disgust. “What’s happened to you?”

  I’ve grown. I’ve come to my senses. I’ve come to realize just how much I want you and the rest of Jeremy’s family out of my life. “I’ve… I’ve grown,” is all she said.

  He appeared to take stock of the room, but Rachel was sure he was calculating what to say next. She was right.

  “Where are these supposed debts, and how much are they?”

  She walked away, needing to keep a good distance between them. Once he heard, she wasn’t sure she’d be safe from his wrath. “He… I… the owner of the saloon, Mr. Justice, gave me Jeremy’s IOU.” She paused, wishing she didn’t have to continue. “It was for three thousand dollars.”

  “What? Impossible!”

  She clutched her fingers into her skirt, ignoring the fact that she was wrinkling the fabric. “I saw his signature.”

  Weber crossed to the window and stared outside. “And the other?”

  “The banker. He owed him a thousand dollars.” She didn’t add that Jeremy had stolen her brooch, but she wanted to.

  “There has to be some mistake. Jeremy wouldn’t have gambled away his money.”

  “There is no mistake. I’ve… I’ve come to learn many things—”

  “You’ve come to learn,” he snarled. “You are nothing but a thankless, heartless little nobody. What you’ve learned means less to me than cow dung.”

  Rachel stepped backward, almost feeling his hatred. She didn’t answer him; she wasn’t sure she could.

  He turned, giving her the full effect of his derision. “Have you any idea why Jeremy married you?”

  Her stomach caved in a little, but she refused to show her feelings. Again, she didn’t answer him. She’d learned too much about her late husband to be surprised at anything her father-in-law told her.

  “Do you?” he ground out.

  Finally, she shook her head.

  “He was blackmailed into it.”

  Her stomach caved in a little more. Her feelings must have been evident, for her father-in-law’s face broke into a sinister, snarling grin.

  “You surely didn’t think it was because he loved you, did you? You? A washed-out thing with the spirit of a limp dish-rag?”

  The sick feeling in her stomach spread, leaving her hurting and nauseous. Blackmailed? She’d never dreamed—

  “What… what do you mean, blackmailed?” She could barely hear her own voice and was surprised she could speak at all.

  Weber’s eyes glowed triumphantly. “Your precious uncle was so anxious to get rid of you,” he began, “he told Sada and me that if Jeremy didn’t marry you and take you off his hands, he’d tell the entire countryside that Jeremy had been responsible for Lulu Morrisey’s death.”

  A tiny laugh escaped Rachel’s mouth before she could stop it. “How could he possibly threaten you with something like that?”

  Weber didn’t answer, but continued to glare at her from beneath his tufty, faded eyebrows.

  Rachel stared, too. “Unless,” she said, continuing softly, “unless it was the truth.” He didn’t respond. That, in itself, was more of an answer than she’d have wished for.

  She thought back to Lulu’s death. Lulu, the beautiful daughter of a local merchant, had died in her family’s home shortly before Christmas one year, the victim of a mysterious accident. At least that’s what Rachel had been told. Her uncle had taken the body to his office. She’d had a closed casket. Everyone at the funeral had mourned poor, sweet Lulu.

  “What… what happened?”

  “How in the hell do I know what happened?” he roared.

  “But… but if it was a lie, why did you let my uncle get away with it?”

  “That’s hardly important now, is it?”

  She suddenly knew with utter clarity that somehow Jeremy had been involved in Lulu’s death. Staring off into space, she saw again the stilted, sullen face of her husband on their wedding day. She vividly remembered her puzzlement and shame when he didn’t come to the marriage bed, and every day after that she’d tried to pretend they were living together like any normal married couple… Even after he’d left for California, she followed the lead of other army wives, meeting to commiserate over their temporary “widowhood” and pretending her problems were the same as theirs.

  She couldn’t have dreamed up a situation like this one. It was too melodramatic, too contrived—too hurt-filled.

  “He must have been there when she died,” she finally said, unaware that she’d spoken aloud.

  “That isn’t the issue. I wanted in the worst way to punish your uncle for what he did to my family. Then the old goat died before I had a chance to do anything at all. But,” he added with a wistful sigh, “I knew he’d found something that implicated Jeremy. Unlike his mother, I knew he wasn’t perfect.” His voice was raspy with remembrance. “But we’d had such plans for him.” His voice turned bitter, resentful. “And they sure as hell didn’t involve you.”

  Rachel felt his hatred. She’d never had a real marriage, but his words hurt anyway, as he’d meant them to. No woman wanted to hear that her husband was forced into marriage, that she could never have hoped he would learn to love her.

  What a foolish, starry-eyed girl she’d been! She’d been used and abused by her aunt and uncle, by Jeremy’s parents, and by Jeremy himself, and she hadn’t had the sense to fight back.

  She nervously straightened Jason’s desk. “If you’re through with me, then let me finish my work.”

  Weber removed his cap from the desk, then caught her by surprise by grabbing her arm. She gasped, but hid her fear.

  “Don’t think this ends things between us, girl.” He stared at her, attempting to frighten her with his expression. Rachel stared back, no longer intimidated. But she sensed that it would not be wise to infuriate him further.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Captain. I just want to get on with my life.”

  His grip didn’t loosen. “If you don’t help me find my son’s murderer, you’re as guilty as the murderer himself.”

  Swallowing her fear, she looked him in the eye. “If I could remember anything else, I’d tell you.”

  He studied her. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “But why can’t you?”

  He continued to scrutinize her. “There
’s something in your behavior that makes me think you’re not telling me the entire truth, Rachel.”

  She shrugged out of his grip. “I want to find Jeremy’s killer as much as you do. Oh, God! I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember something that might trigger a memory. What happened that morning haunts me almost every night, and I wake up, wondering when it will stop. Trust me, Captain,” she added, her voice shaky with feeling, “I want an end to this as much as you do.”

  Heaving a great sigh, he pulled on his gloves and walked to the door. “I’m convinced,” he said, “at least for now. My investigation goes into full swing tomorrow. Don’t try to hide from me, Rachel. I may need your assistance.”

  After he’d left, Rachel sagged against the desk. She wished she could find some way to help him. It would send him on his way that much faster. There was no reason for her to be afraid of his digging into the crime. Jason had nothing to hide; she knew that. And if Jason wasn’t involved, an investigation shouldn’t bother her.

  The thing that worried her was that she knew how August Weber felt about Indians. If he ever found the one responsible for murdering his precious son, he wouldn’t just kill him. He’d make him suffer, long and hard, before he allowed the savage the blissful luxury of death.

  She went back to straightening the linen in the closet and had almost finished when the bell above the office door tinkled again. Her spirits sinking, she walked slowly back into the other room, fully expecting to see her father-in-law.

  Her pulse fluttered and warmth burst through her when she saw Jason leaning over his desk, going through the stack of files. He looked tired as he massaged his neck.

  Although she’d just seen him, they hadn’t talked since before her father-in-law had come to town. She’d left him, needing to be alone with her discovery of Karleen’s pregnancy. But it hadn’t taken long for her to realize that Karleen’s baby had nothing to do with her or the life she had now.

  Abruptly, as though just realizing she was there, he raised his head and looked at her. His expression was guarded before he turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She swallowed her disappointment. His greeting had not mirrored her own feelings. She guessed she couldn’t blame him. After all, she knew she’d hurt him when she left, telling him she needed some time alone.