He stepped out onto the street. His hands were wet with blood and shaking. He looked down. His cloak was covered with blood. He couldn't go to Tate looking like this! The man would hang him without a trial. But he had to find the sheriff before the killer got too far.
Fox walked back up Peach Street as casually as he could, and stopped at the first rain barrel. He glanced up and down the street to be sure no one was about, and then broke the ice on the top of the barrel. He sank his hands into the frigid water.
His hands clean, he pulled off his cloak and balled it up. In the alley beside Simon's Boardinghouse was a trash barrel. It reeked of rotten vegetables. Fox dug with a stick under some of the refuse, threw in his cloak, and then covered it. He felt guilty for cleaning up like this, but he'd be damned if he'd let Tate get him lynched for a crime he didn't commit.
Back on the street, as chilled by the sight of the dead girl as his fear that it had been Celeste, Fox stood for a moment to get his bearings. He was only a little surprised to discover that his hands were still shaking. He stuffed them into his pocket and stood in indecision. Should he go to the sheriff's office where Tate slept in an upstairs room, or did he try looking for him in Sal's first? It was only midnight, and early for Tate.
Turning grimly on his heels, he decided to check Sal's first.
It was nearly three in the morning by the time the woman's body was carried off by the undertaker, and Sheriff Tate had released Fox on his own recognizance.
After an hour of questioning that sounded more like badgering, Fox was relieved he'd washed his hands and disposed of his bloody cloak. Sheriff Tate was so hell-bent on finding a killer, that Fox had no doubt the man would have locked him up, had there been one smear of blood on his person. Tate was so obsessed with nailing someone for the crimes that Fox feared it was more important to the sheriff that he pin the murders on someone, than it was to actually catch the real killer.
It was close to three when Fox stepped out onto the icy street. But instead of heading for his boardinghouse and his warm bed, he found himself wandering down, first Peach Street, then Plum. The woman's name had been Sarah Mae. She'd been sixteen.
Fox wiped his mouth with the back of his cold hand, but he couldn't wipe away the evil taste in his mouth. There was no way he could sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he knew he would see that poor, butchered girl. Every time he closed his eyes, he knew he would be afraid. Not for himself, but for Celeste.
The killer had changed his method. Young Sarah Mae was not a whore, but a maid in one of the new saloons. She had lived with her brother in a shack out on the miner's claim. The killer had either made a mistake, or had broadened his circle of victims to include women of merely shady reputations. And the killing hadn't taken place in a whorehouse, but on the street. The girl had been headed home after washing whiskey glasses for Mr. Gloakem, the saloon owner.
Fox glanced up and found himself in front of 27 Plum Street. The house was still dark, and quiet. He stared up at Celeste's window. He considered banging on the door, or going back to the boardinghouse for the key to the front door. He had an overwhelming desire to see her, just to be certain that she was safe. But Fox knew he was being overly apprehensive. The killer had never struck more than once on a single night. Celeste wasn't even really a target. She'd not slept with a man for payment in close to a year.
Would that matter to the killer?
Fox sat on the upper step of the porch, shivering. He thrust his hands into his pockets for warmth. It would be dawn in a few hours and then Celeste would be safe. He'd just wait it out.
Celeste woke early, then tossed and turned in bed, hoping she could go back to sleep. Though she'd gone to bed before ten, she didn't feel rested. Several times during the night she knew she'd reached for Fox in her sleep, only to find he wasn't there.
After lying in bed for another ten minutes, she gave up and rose to add coal to the fire. She missed having Fox here to warm the house before she got up in the morning. She missed waking up to the whistle of her teakettle, too.
She missed Fox.
Throwing on her flannel wrapper and wool mules, she shuffled to the coal stove to stoke it. She wouldn't add coal because she wouldn't be upstairs the rest of the day, but even a little warmth from the turned coals would be welcome.
Celeste stirred the dying coals wearily. She was beginning to have second thoughts about Fox. Maybe he was right; maybe she was asking too much. Maybe to have him care about her, to have him make her happy, should be enough.
She leaned the poker against the stove and closed the door. She knew one thing. She was certainly miserable without Fox. Could living with him without love make her any more unhappy than she already was?
Wrapping her arms around her waist for comfort as well as warmth, she walked to the window and peered out. Dawn was just beginning to light the winter day and radiate its heat. Absently, Celeste tugged on the curtain and drew a heart on the frosty window. She added her name and Fox's inside it.
If only Fox had argued with her that morning. If only he'd begged her to go with him to California. If only he'd come back later and tried to compromise. If only he'd shown some sign that there was a possibility he could come to love her someday . . .
With a sigh, Celeste wiped the cold window with the heel of her hand to smear their names, and turned away, letting the curtain fall.
Fox waited patiently on Celeste's step until the first streak of dawn peeked over the snowy mountain tops. Then, he rose off the step, cold and stiff, walked down her sidewalk, and turned onto the street. He dared only one glance back at the house. Was that Celeste's bedroom curtain he saw move? He watched for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pretty, sleepy face in the window glass. After a moment, he gave up, turned away, and headed back to his lonely boardinghouse room for a couple hours of restless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-four
Celeste lifted her skirt to allow the warm air to drift under her woolen knit petticoat. At her insistence, Petey had added coal twice to the stove this morning, but she was still cold. It seemed as if she hadn't been able to get warm in weeks—not since Fox left.
Celeste reread the list of equipment and supplies that needed to be ordered and shipped from Denver. She'd checked the list twice already, but couldn't concentrate enough to know if it was correct. With the coming of winter, the trains weren't running as regularly, and it was imperative that the necessary supplies be available to keep the mine operating.
Instead of checking the list, though, Celeste idly sketched a grape leaf and wondered what Adam would think of the idea of moving to California to live in a vineyard.
But, who was she fooling? The offer had come and gone. Fox had said nothing more of going with him to California since he moved out of her house three weeks ago. He seemed perfectly content with the new arrangement. He'd not once tried to see her, except here at the mine. Then he was all business—charming, but cool.
Celeste heard Fox's rich-timbered voice and dipped her pen into the inkwell and added something to the list. His voice grew louder as, talking to a miner, he entered the equipment room. They finished their business and Fox walked over to her desk, Silver trailing him.
"Did you add that extra order of timber to the list?"
"Mm hm." She didn't look up. To talk to him without seeing that twinkle in his eyes that had once been for her was agonizing, so she tried to avoid eye contact.
At his silence she glanced up from the desk. He apparently had something else to say, or he would have left by now.
"Yes?" she finally asked. "Something else to be ordered?"
He massaged the back of his neck with one broad hand, and she felt her own neck tense. What she wouldn't give to have him touch her like that right now . . .
"Um . . . no. I—" he said awkwardly. "I was thinking I would set up a meeting with Trevor next week to um . . . talk about selling my share of the mine. I thought you should be there."
"Fine." She pretended to conc
entrate on the list again, but suddenly felt light-headed. All she could think about was that Fox was definitely planning to leave Carrington. He was leaving her. She'd known it would happen. So why did it still hurt so much? "I'd like to meet with him," she heard herself say as if they were speaking of the weather. "I might be interested in selling as well."
"Oh. All right." He stood silent again. "Going to Sally's party tonight?" he asked after a minute.
"Wouldn't miss it." She glanced up and smiled as she would have smiled at any of the miners who'd come to ask a question. "Say, I meant to ask you, could you take Silver for a few days? I have to go somewhere."
She could have sworn he glowered, but then he flashed that boyish grin of his. "Want me to take him tonight?"
"If you would."
"Not a problem."
"Thank you." This was the most personal conversation they'd had in weeks. Dismayed, Celeste lowered her gaze.
Fox stood a moment longer in front of the desk, as if he wanted to say something, but then he walked off briskly, leaving Celeste alone with the supply list and a heavy heart.
Filth. Nothing but filth, those who think they're reformed. They are falsely led to believe that forgiveness is so easy to come by. They think they are forgiven simply because they ask for forgiveness.
But how can they truly be exonerated for such a sin?
There is only one way. Death. Blood. Only the blood poured out for Him can wash the soul clean. Only in death can forgiveness come.
She must die.
Celeste stood outside Kate's Dance Hall, listening to the raucous music that filtered through the walls and into the street. Tonight was Sally's farewell party, and tomorrow she and Noah would take a train to Denver and then on to St. Louis, where they intended to be married by his uncle.
Celeste tried to gather her wits before she walked into the dance hall. She was so happy for Sally, and yet at the same time she felt a deep sadness for herself and what she now knew she would never have.
Celeste knew Fox might attend the party, so she had dressed carefully in an emerald green watered silk gown with a white muslin camisole trimmed with Valenciennes lace. She'd spent an hour in front of the mirror, taking a hot curling rod to her freshly washed hair. Then she'd added a hint of color to her lips and cheeks, too subtle to be recognized as paint, but attractive to the eye.
Celeste intended to go into Kate's and have a wonderful time. She wouldn't let Fox know how much he had hurt her, how much she had allowed herself to be hurt. She would laugh and chat with her friends, share in a good luck toast to the happy couple, and she would pick up the valise she'd left at the train station and take the midnight train to Denver.
Adam wasn't expecting her until Christmas, but she felt the need to be with him. Seeing Adam would remind her that in losing Fox, she'd not lost everything. She still had her son, who she loved dearly. As long as she had Adam, she could make a life for herself.
With that determined thought, Celeste pasted on her prettiest, most beguiling smile, and walked into the dance hall.
Kate's was alive with music and laughter and bright with glittering lantern light. Kate had surprised everyone in Carrington, including herself, by closing for the evening in Sally's honor. Only friends of the bride and groom had been invited, and other would-be patrons were sent down the street to Sal's.
The moment Celeste entered the dance hall, her cloak was swept away and someone passed her a glass of wine. As she sipped the dry vintage and nodded greetings, she spotted Sally.
Sally was dressed in her wedding gown of white satin, its skirt trimmed in white tulle, with a square-cut bodice and elbow sleeves with ruffles. Her hair was pulled back with a pink ribbon in a mass of curls; and without face paint, she appeared as virginal as any cloistered bride on her wedding day.
"You look beautiful," Celeste said as Sally approached in a swish of white skirts.
Sally laughed girlishly and held out her arms to hug Celeste. "I feel beautiful. And oh!" Her eyes shone. "You have to finally meet my Noah." She looped her arms through Celeste's and led her across the dance hall's main room past the painted mural of naked dancing women. They wove around two men doing a jig.
"I swear, I didn't think I'd get him off that claim," Sally told Celeste. "But here he is. Noah, honey."
A giant of a man turned to Celeste and Sally.
Noah was over six feet tall and nearly as wide. He had a great scraggly red beard, wild red hair, and the merriest blue eyes Celeste had ever seen.
"There you are. I thought you'd gotten away without me." Noah grabbed Sally in his arms and pulled her against him. "And this must be the Miss Kennedy I've heard so much about."
Celeste curtsied and then offered her gloved hand. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you."
The apples of Noah's cheeks reddened as he accepted Celeste's hand and bowed cordially. "It is indeed my pleasure, Miss Kennedy." The man was as paradoxical as Sally, with his scruffy beard and impeccable manners.
Sally giggled behind her fingers and then smoothed the sleeve of Noah's new black wedding waistcoat. "I think Noah's more nervous about getting hitched than I am. First he kept checkin' the train schedule, fearing we'd not make St. Louis in time. Now he's got it in his head that I shouldn't sleep here tonight. He wants me to come back to his place. He says he's worried about the murderer,"—she cupped her hand around her mouth—"but I think he just wants a piece."
Sally and Celeste laughed.
Noah blushed, his apple red cheeks turning crimson. "That's not true, and you know it. I'm just worried about you, sweetie pie. If something happened to you, they might as well bury me in one of those worthless mines out there."
"I think it's nice that Noah is concerned about your safety, Sally." Celeste smoothed the lace on one of Sally's sleeves. "Perhaps you should go with him and give him peace of mind."
"Aw, no. I've held out this long. If I go back to his place, one sweet word, and I'll spread my legs wide."
"Sally!" Noah admonished playfully. "You're embarrassing the hell out of me."
Sally laughed and rose on her tiptoes. Noah leaned over to accept her kiss.
Celeste sipped her wine, beginning to relax. She hadn't caught sight of Fox. Maybe he hadn't come after all. "Well, if it would make Noah feel any better, you could stay at my place tonight."
"With you?" Sally hung on to Noah's arm. "That might be fun."
"Actually, I intend to take the midnight train to Denver, but you could stay in my house anyway. I could give you my key."
Sally glanced up at her bearded fiancé, who towered over her. "What you think, sweetie pie? Would that make you sleep any better?"
He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. "I'd sleep better with you in my arms, but I reckon that will do."
"All right. Celeste's place it is." She struck his chest with the palm of her hand. "But you'd best come for me in the morning, you big bear."
He squeezed her tightly against him. "Don't you worry, this man will be there. I've been waiting my whole life for you, Sally Ann. A stampede of runaway ore wagons couldn't keep me away." He kissed the top of her head.
Celeste glanced down at her wine and took a long sip. She was jealous of Sally and embarrassed to admit it, even to herself. She wondered if Sally realized how lucky she was to have a man like Noah love her.
As Celeste took another sip, she heard a painfully familiar male voice near the door.
Fox.
She wished she could hide behind Noah's broad back, or slip out the back door.
Fox stood just inside the doorway, dressed in the pinstriped suit she'd had made for him. He looked so damned roguishly handsome. He'd brought Silver with him, which didn't really surprise her. John had taken the dog everywhere he went, too.
Celeste averted her gaze before Fox caught her staring at him. She thought she was prepared to see him tonight, but just the sound of his voice made her knees weak. God, she loved him. She loved him with every ounce of her being.
"You all right?" Sally whispered. She released Noah's arm and took Celeste's.
"I'm all right. Just stay with me, will you?" Celeste lowered her head. "I don't want to make a fool of myself and beg him to take me back or anything ridiculous like that."
Sally held Celeste's sweaty hand in her cool one. "Let's get you another glass of wine and a dance partner."
The next couple hours passed in a blur for Celeste. She drank champagne, but was careful not to overindulge. She danced. She talked. She laughed with her friends and exchanged stories about Sally. When Kate raised a glass in toast to the new couple, Celeste joined in, truly happy for them.
As Kate spoke, Celeste glanced around the room. She knew she was fortunate to have such good friends; Kate, Titus, Petey, Sheriff Tate. Even Joash had shown up for the going-away party. And no matter how far from Carrington Celeste went, she knew the people in this dance hall would always be her friends and always care for her.
Everyone in the room toasted Sally and Noah and drank up. Then one of Noah's friends stepped in and began another toast. Celeste slipped behind Sally and wrapped her arm around her waist. "I have to go. Here's the key. Leave it under the loose brick on the front walk."
Sally kissed her cheek. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Have a good life. Let me know where you settle."
"You too." A tear slipped down Sally's cheek as the two women embraced.
Celeste stood on her tiptoes and gave Noah a kiss on the cheek. "You take care of her, will you?"
Noah squeezed Sally around the waist. "Will do."
"Goodbye," Celeste whispered. Quietly she retrieved her cloak and hat and went out the front door, unnoticed, in the midst of another toast. All she could think about was Adam. Once she saw Adam again, she'd know she was doing the right thing letting Fox go. She was sure of it.
Fox watched Celeste say goodbye to Sally across the room and then leave. He kept a whiskey in his hand and pretended to laugh with the others as another toast was made, but his thoughts were on her.
She was going to Denver. He was certain of that.
Heaven in My Arms Page 25