Heaven in My Arms

by Colleen French

  "You were with Ace last night?" Fox asked.

  "Sure. Down to the saloon, like I told the sheriff." Addie hooked his thumb in Ace's direction. "The boy get into more trouble this morning?"

  Celeste lowered her hands to her hips in relief. "The woman who set up shop near the tracks was murdered last night. Our good sheriff brought Ace in for questioning."

  The deputy scrunched his nose. "How the hell is Ace gonna kill that hurdy-gurdy girl when he was with me all night? We slept together in a livery stable stall."

  Everyone's gaze was fixed on Tate.

  "Hell," the sheriff muttered under his breath. "You understand I got to bring people in for questioning." He glanced up meaningfully at Fox as he turned the lock on the cell door. "Anyone I might be suspicious of."

  "We understand that perfectly, sheriff," Celeste said as she stepped back to allow the door to swing open. "Carrington's just glad they've got a sheriff as fine and upstanding as yourself."

  A few minutes later out on the street, Fox, Celeste, Ace, Rosy, and Kate all stood in a tight knot. Joash had reprimanded Ace for his participation in fleshly sins, and then tottered off to see what arrangements he could make for the poor dead woman who no one knew except by the name Lacey.

  Celeste laid her hand on Ace's arm. "You all right?" she asked.

  He nodded and made a sign with his hand, thanking her.

  Celeste knew she had a soft spot for Ace and guessed it was because of her own dear Adam. She understood how frustrating it could be to try and communicate without the benefit of hearing.

  "Joash is right, though," she told Ace. "You should stay away from women like that. Stay away from bars. You belong at Kate's, not rippin' up the town with men like Addie. You understand me?"

  Ace nodded and hung his head.

  She patted his arm again. "Now go on home with you and let Kate or Rosy clean you up."

  "Thanks, Celeste." Kate took Ace by the arm. "Now don't be a stranger our way. Just because you're gonna be a rich woman, don't mean you don't have to call on old friends."

  "I'll be by." Celeste waved.

  Rosy stayed put as Kate and Ace walked away. She appeared dressed to travel in a becoming gray gown with a black overskirt and a black and gray hat. It was probably the most conservative gown Rosy owned.

  "Now that Ace's taken care of, Celeste, I gotta say goodbye."

  "Goodbye?" Celeste stood beside Fox and stared at Rosy in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I'm getting the hell out of here while I still got any life left in me. That's what I mean. And if you had any sense, you'd do the same."

  "You're leaving Carrington?" Celeste breathed.

  "Aye, and I'd guess Sally won't be far on my heels if that miner of hers is willing to take her away."

  "What miner?"

  "Didn't she tell you? Sally's found herself a live one. Proclaimed his love and wants to take her out of here once he makes his fortune."

  "Don't they all?"

  "No. I think Sally's right. This one's different. Anyway." Rosy took Celeste's gloved hand. "I wanted to say goodbye, but I didn't want to make no fuss."

  "Oh, Rosy. I'm going to miss you." Celeste released Rosy's hand and flung her arms around her friend's neck. They hugged and she stepped back. "Do you know where you're headed?"

  Rosy lifted one meaty shoulder adorned in gray ruffles and grinned. "Far as my change purse will take me, I reckon."

  Celeste smiled sadly. "I wish I had some money to give you, but I don't have any cash yet. It takes time to bring up the silver and have it processed."

  "I wouldn't take your money anyway."

  "Good luck and please let me know you're safe. Get someone to write a letter to me for you, will you? And if you get into money troubles, you send me a telegram. The telegraph office here in Carrington reopened last week."

  Rosy nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "If I need you, I'll let you know. Take care of yourself. Good luck with the silver mine."

  Celeste stood on the dusty sidewalk and watched Rosy walk away.

  "She's wise to go," Fox said. "Tate doesn't know who the murderer is. I'm afraid more women may die before the killer's caught."

  Celeste's eyes brimmed with tears as she watched Rosy fade from sight and from her life.

  Fox leaned down. "Ah, sweetheart, don't cry." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it awkwardly. "She'll be fine."

  Celeste didn't know why she felt emotional. "Oh, it's not just Rosy. I know she'll be all right," she sniffed.

  "Then what's wrong?" They started back toward Plum Street and home.

  It was still early enough that there were few people on the street. Stores were just beginning to open their doors. A man swept the sidewalk in front of his general store. A horse and wagon filled with barrels rolled down the street.

  Celeste dabbed at her eyes, hating to show her own weaknesses with tears. "It just seems like nothing is turning out the way I thought it would." She gripped the handkerchief. "I thought hitting silver would be the answer to all my troubles, but it isn't. Someone's killing my friends, we can't get the damned silver out of the ground, you—"

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I won't put up the money to finance the operation."

  She fluttered his handkerchief, damp with her tears. It wasn't just the silver, of course. It was Adam, too. Now that she would be financially secure, she didn't know what she would do with Adam. She had always thought that someday they would live together as mother and son, but now she was having second thoughts. No boy deserved a whore for a mother, even a retired whore. He would probably be better off at school with decent folk.

  "I understand about the money," Celeste said, once again tabling her worries over Adam.

  "You don't."

  They walked under the trees that lined Plum Street, past white picket fences. It was warm, but there was a breeze blowing out of the mountains that made the loose strands of hair that framed her face flutter. "I understand that you don't trust me with that kind of money."

  "Celeste—"

  She held up her gloved hand. "It only makes sense that a man like you wouldn't loan money to a woman like me. I understand completely. And you're right. You're absolutely—"

  "Celeste!"

  She halted on the front steps of her porch. "Yes?"

  "Will you listen to me for a minute?" He tugged at his earlobe. "I'm trying to tell you why I won't— why I can't loan you the money. Why I can't put any money into the operation myself."

  She met his gaze. "Yes?"

  "Celeste . . . " He glanced away as if he couldn't look her in the eyes. "Celeste, I can't finance the operation because I don't have any money."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "It's all right, really." She walked up the steps and slipped her key into the lock. "It only makes sense to have your money safely invested. I'm not so sure I would trust banks either." She pushed open the door, and Silver bounded out onto the porch and down the steps.

  Fox groaned. "Celeste, you're not listening to me." He closed the door behind them. "I have no money. None. Anywhere. About a dollar and a half in my pocket."

  As she lifted her fanchon bonnet from her head, she turned to face him, taken completely by surprise. What did he mean he had no money? Did he mean he really had no money? "I don't understand."

  He stared at the polished hardwood floor of the foyer. "Hell, I feel so bad about this." He took a deep breath as if struggling for air, and started again. "I mean I'm a poor man. I lied to you, or at least allowed you to believe what wasn't so. I have no cash, no investments, no property, but what you and I share."

  She lowered the bonnet to her side, trying to comprehend what Fox was saying. "No money?" she murmured. Fox wasn't the rich San Francisco businessman that John had said he was? "But what about all those successful business ventures John told me about? What about the homes in New York and San Francisco? What about the investment in the China shipping company?"

  "It
was all true." He swept his hair off his forehead, sounding defeated. "Once."

  "What happened?"

  "My partner stole from me, left me with bad debts." He scuffed his boot. "James Monroe was my partner . . . and Amber's brother. I was a fool." He raised his palms lamely. "I trusted him completely, and he was a liar and cheat. Her, too."

  "Oh, Fox." Celeste held her hat with both hands, the tulle ribbons dangling to the floor. She wanted to touch him, but she didn't want him to misconstrue her sorrow for him as pity. "Did John know?"

  He shook his head, studying a pattern of the wallpaper somewhere beyond her. "No. I didn't tell him. It only happened last year. James took off right after . . . after Amber died."

  She hung her hat on an oak hook. "So that's why you didn't come to Carrington before."

  "It was a mess. I was trying to keep creditors at bay until I could liquidate what little I had left and pay what James owed them. Because we were partners, his debts became my debts." Fox spoke faster than before, as if he needed to get the confession out while he had the nerve. "And John never said he was dying. He . . . he told me not to come, Celeste." His gaze met hers, his stormy eyes filled with tears. "In the last letter I received before he died, he said he was feeling under the weather but that an angel had come from heaven to care for him. I thought it was just more of his drunken, babbling nonsense. You know he always talked nonsense when he imbibed."

  "I'm so sorry." She took the two steps between them and wrapped her arms around him to hug him tightly. "So sorry."

  "Oh, it's all right," He spoke nonchalantly, though there was still a catch in his voice. "It was just money. After James and Amber did what they did, the money didn't really seem to matter anymore."

  "I mean about your father." She drew back to look into his eyes. She knew how difficult this must have been for him to share with her. "I'm sorry you weren't here with John. I'm sorry for him. For you both."

  "It would have killed him to know I failed him." There was that tremor in his voice again.

  She shook her head. "No."

  "It was all that ever mattered to him," he argued. "My success. My wealth. The clothes I could pay for, the kind of men and women I could entertain."

  "It's not true. He was proud of your success, but he loved you, Fox." She forced him to meet her gaze. "I know. I was here with him. I know the things he said."

  Fox brushed his lips against her cheek. "I wish I could believe that. My whole life he pushed me, demanded achievement."

  "Because he loved you. He said he always wanted more for you than he ever had."

  Fox stared at her through a forelock that dipped over his eyebrows. "Maybe. Guess I'll never know now."

  Men just didn't make sense to Celeste. Why was it so easy for them to believe they were unloved, and so hard to convince otherwise? "You need a haircut," she told him. Now she realized that he'd let it grow so long and shaggy because he didn't have the money to pay a barber to cut it. "Want me to do it?"

  He seemed relieved that she had changed the subject. A little color returned to his face. "Know what you're doing?"

  "I've done a hundred haircuts." She caught his hand and led him down the hallway to the kitchen.

  "I don't know if I trust you with a pair of shears in your hand. What if you go mad and stab me to death? I die, and you inherit all the claims and the silver rights."

  In the kitchen, she pushed him into one of the kitchen chairs. "Guess you'll have to trust me, won't you?"

  He laughed.

  "Be right back."

  A minute later Celeste returned with a pair of shears and a tortoiseshell comb. She could hardly believe that Fox had lost everything he owned and kept it a secret from her. But she wasn't angry with him. She understood why he did it. As difficult as it was for her to comprehend, he saw his misfortune as failure. Just like a man.

  She dropped a frilly, white apron over her dress and carried a small bowl of water to the table. The fact that he felt he could tell her the truth made her feel good inside. Maybe there was a chance for some sort of permanent relationship between them. But she didn't dare think about it. Hopes only led to heartbreak. She of all people knew that. "Ready?" She opened and closed the scissors rapidly.

  "I suppose." He drew his head back as she brought the shears dangerously close to the tip of his nose. "Just watch those things."

  She dipped the comb into the water and combed his hair down straight over his ears and forehead, completely covering his eyes. "Hmmm," she said as she made the first snips. "I wonder if this is how it's done?"

  "I thought you said you knew what you were doing?"

  Snip. Snip. "I lied," she told him cheerfully.

  "Fine. Another business partner who's a liar. I can really pick them, can't I?"

  Facing him, she bent over to see if she'd cut a straight line. "I'd never lie to you, or cheat you out of a copper penny," she told him seriously.

  "Mmmmm, this is nice." He encircled her waist with his hands and pulled her a little closer to nuzzle her breasts.

  She noted that he hadn't responded to her declaration of honesty, but she decided not to press the issue. He'd talked more about himself and his feelings in the last five minutes than he had since he arrived two months ago. She didn't want to push him.

  Celeste pushed his hand away as he tried to fondle one of her breasts. "Fox. Stop. Hold still, I'm almost done."

  Obediently, he released her, and she sat on his lap to comb his hair to one side. "Much better." She gave a nip here and there. "I can actually see your eyes again."

  He rested one hand possessively on her thigh. "Do you shave, too?"

  She looked down at him as she smoothed his silky dark hair with one hand. "You really are a trusting soul to put a razor in my hand."

  He laughed with her, but then his expression grew serious. "Ah, Celeste," was all he said, but his dark-eyed gaze was filled with emotion.

  Her heart swelled. He cared for her. He really did. Celeste knew he was fighting it, but he cared.

  She rested her hand on his shoulder and lowered her head to kiss his mouth. "Mmmmm," she sighed. "Best lips this side of the Rockies."

  "This side? Both sides," he teased as he licked her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Want to see how talented this tongue is as well? I'd have to take you upstairs to show you."

  As Celeste lowered her head to kiss him again, she caught a glimpse of a shadow at the back window. She stilled on Fox's lap, and stared at the window and back door. Someone was outside, watching them.

  Fox glanced in the same direction. "What is it?"

  "Someone looking in the window over the sink."

  "Where's Silver?" He slid her off his lap and rose from the chair.

  "I don't know." She followed him to the back door. "I think I left him outside."

  "He should have barked." Fox drew back the lacy yellow curtain that partially covered the door. "I don't see anyone."

  Celeste peered through the window as he drew back. "I could have sworn—" Celeste was startled by a face that appeared only inches from hers on the opposite side of the glass. She jumped back and gave a little squeak of surprise.

  Fox turned to her. "Is someone there?"

  Celeste touched her hand to her bodice where she could feel her pounding heart. Mrs. Tuttle staring in her window? "Just Mrs. Tuttle," she told Fox. Recovering, she opened the door. "Mrs. Tuttle, you startled me." Celeste couldn't figure for the life of her why the reverend's wife had come to the back door.

  "I knocked at the front, but there wasn't an answer." The prim woman with her tight blond curls stepped into the house and placed a cloth-wrapped basket on the worktable. She was dressed in a gray, old-fashioned gown with a square-cut bodice and a diagonal ruffle that emphasized her broad hips and thick waist. "I brought dried apple muffins," she said, keeping her eyes cast downward so as not to look at Fox. "The reverend is waiting for me in the wagon. I . . . I didn't mean to be a bother."

  "Oh, it's no bot
her. Thank you. Thank you so much."

  Silver bounded through the door. Celeste was surprised the dog hadn't barked a warning when Mrs. Tuttle walked around the house to the back, but maybe it was because the reverend's wife was no stranger to the dog.

  "Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?" Celeste brushed back a lock of red hair that had escaped from her loose chignon. Her cheeks grew warm as she wondered just how much Mrs. Tuttle had seen through the window. It was funny how a woman who had once made her living having sex with men could be embarrassed by the thought of having someone see her kiss a man.

  "Oh, no. No time for tea today." Mrs. Tuttle backed her way to the door, her gaze still downcast. The immense ruffles on her bonnet nearly obscured her face, save for the curls that protruded stiffly from each side like bag worms hanging from a tree branch. "Busy, busy, no time. The good reverend has another funeral to do."

  "That poor woman. I never met her, but I'm sad just the same." Celeste followed Mrs. Tuttle onto the porch, thinking of Adam. "Did she have any family?"

  Mrs. Tuttle lifted her gaze to meet Celeste's for the first time since her arrival. "I don't know," she said softly. "But considering the circumstances of her death, it would be kinder if they didn't know, don't you think?"

  Celeste smiled grimly and nodded. Mrs. Tuttle had a point. She would never want Adam to know what she had done to pay his tuition to the deaf school. "Well, thank you for the muffins. I'm sorry you can't stay for tea. Another time, perhaps."

  "I must go." Mrs. Tuttle bustled down the wooden walk that led around to the front of the house. "The reverend's waiting."

  Celeste waved, walked back into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.

  Fox grabbed her around the waist and spun her in his arms. "Is the Mrs. Rev. Creepy gone?"

  She laughed and pushed on his shoulders to make him put her down. "I don't know what got into her, staring in my window like that. Do you think she saw me sitting on your lap kissing you?"

  He pushed her gently against the floral wallpaper and kissed the pulse of her throat. "Serve her right if she saw worse." He kissed a particularly sensitive place on her neck. "She had to be standing in your flowers to look in that window over the dry sink, the old badger."