by Iris Kelly
“Of course you did. What a frightfully shocking thing to happen. It is hard to imagine.”
“No, I don’t guess most folks will ever have to live through anythin’ that awful. But Angel did. She lost her pa too, just when they was about to start a new life. She knows exactly how I felt.”
Abigail felt the sickest feeling in the pit of her stomach that almost became a convulsion. “Zachary Scott brought you here—to take care of you. Just as he did with Angel.”
“He sure did. If he hadn’t, I would have been stranded at that station, with no money and no place to go. I would have starved. And I wouldn’t even have been able to bury my pa. Mr. Scott paid for the burial—can you believe that?”
Of course I can believe it. It’s the least he could do after he killed your pa.
“And then he brought you here.”
“Yeah. Paid for my train ticket and food. I owe him everything.”
“I hope that one day, he will be duly rewarded for everything he has done,” Abigail said through gritted teeth. “Now, I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble. We should both be getting back to work.”
Lulu nodded gratefully and went back to join the other girls. Abigail tried to breathe slowly and calm herself. She was going to have to get through this evening without any signs of distress. She was going to have to be vivacious and talkative without any other apparent thoughts on her mind besides card playing and flirting.
She did rather well, under the circumstances. She managed to give Zachary a suitably enthusiastic greeting. Her act was more than convincing. Zachary saw someone who was a perfect fit with his world. And how could she help but be impressed with his own status—being the owner and big boss of this fine establishment? He’d give her another day or so and then pop the question again. How could she possibly say no?
When Abigail was finally able to leave, it was shortly after midnight. Once alone, she could only sink into her own dark thoughts. Those poor, poor girls. To lose their last relative in the whole world—their loving fathers—because they had pretty faces that Zachary Scott could put to use for his own profit.
No, there was no proof, but she didn’t have the slightest doubt. She had thought that his greed and immorality were simply of a low, tolerable level—nothing this unspeakably evil. The thought of going home was impossible. She felt the pain and grief of the girls newly awakened, as it surely must be, when the truth was known. To be alone at such a time felt unbearable. With more instinct than deliberation, she found herself in front of Sebastian’s house. The lights were off and he had clearly retired.
What right had she to rouse him from a sound sleep, simply because she was in need of comfort? It only took a split second to remind herself that she had the best possible right imaginable. She was his wife! And as Beatrice had led her to believe, his affection for her would tolerate and forgive any transgressions.
Sebastian was annoyed, but not surprised, to hear pounding at his front door. Something had obviously gone wrong at the paper—some mechanical problem. The timing couldn’t be worse, what with all the recent increase in sales. He threw a robe on and hurried to the door. He could not have been more shocked at the sight of a stricken Abigail, shaking and near tears, at his door. The look of concern on his face was enough to open the floodgates. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
As he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, Sebastian was alarmed to see Abigail so distressed, and at the same time, he almost didn’t care why. Was it wrong to be glad that some misfortune had brought about this welcome embrace? Her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, were so tantalizingly close. Knowing how she felt about him, wouldn’t it be cruel to withhold the kisses that would mean so much to her? In any case, he couldn’t help himself. Abigail felt herself covered with a warm flurry of kisses that were precisely the healing touch that she had come all this way for—even though she hadn’t dared voice the wish, even to herself.
“Please tell me what is wrong, Miss Norris. And I will do everything in my power to make it right.”
“You have already been very kind, Mr. Knight. I was feeling so hopeless. But you . . .” Abigail didn’t quite know how to express how much his affectionate touch meant to her.
“Sit down, Miss Norris. And tell me everything.”
So she did. The sad twin tales of these two beautiful young girls who had the misfortune to run into Zachary Scott while they were traveling alone with their fathers. And two innocent men who wound up dead because they stood in Zachary’s way of acquiring valuable assets. Abigail readily admitted that she had no tangible proof—just a feeling of absolute certainty about what happened.
Sebastian was inclined to agree. It certainly went right in line with what he suspected about Zachary Scott. And yet, at the moment, it was flimsy conjecture that would never hold up in a court of law.
“The problem is that there weren’t any witnesses. No judge would even allow this to come to trial. Unless . . .”
“Yes?” Abigail said hopefully.
“Does he still want to marry you?”
“Yes,” Abigail said, disgusted.
“That gives us a bit of leverage. We shall work something out, Miss Norris. That, I promise you. But you must rest tonight. It is late. I do have a spare bedroom, if that would be all right with you.”
“I came here tonight because I couldn’t bear to be alone. I want to sleep as we slept on our wedding night, under your father’s roof. Together, with your arms around me. Because we are legally wed, aren’t we? Would that be so terrible?”
Sebastian drew in a deep breath. So she had been awake! “If that is what you truly want, then it will be my pleasure to offer every comfort my arms can provide. Just the same as our wedding night, and . . . nothing more. For neither of us is in a rational state, I think. Would that suit you?”
“That is exactly what I was hoping for.”
Their second night together was as chaste as the first. But as far as their hearts were concerned, they were rapidly barreling down a path of no return.
*****
Abigail woke up to Sebastian’s warm gaze and warm embrace.
“How long have you been examining me, Mr. Knight?”
“Long enough to know that I should like to wake up to this view every day for the rest of my days.”
It was an early morning proposal that took Abigail’s breath away.
“Are you asking me to be your wife, Mr. Knight?”
“I am. Or more specifically, I am asking you not to divorce me.”
Despite the solemnity of the moment, this brought a chuckle from them both.
“I can’t imagine ever wanting to divorce you, Mr. Knight.”
“Sebastian.”
“Sebastian. But are we forgetting how ill-suited we both are for marriage?”
“I confess that I keep losing sight of it. I love you, Abigail. And I have neither the strength to battle my feelings nor the inclination to even try.”
“I have long been thinking along much the same lines.”
“I know. And I should have spoken much, much sooner. I should never have left you in any doubt about my feelings. Forgive my foolish hesitations.”
“Forgive? You? Nothing could be more unnecessary.”
Still, he looked so earnestly contrite that Abigail reached over to touch his cheek. He melted at the feel of her hand.
“Abigail, would this be an opportune moment to . . . to . . .”
“Exercise our conjugal privileges?” Abigail inquired.
Sebastian caught the teasing look in her eye. “I think I am going to love being married to you.”
The night had been chaste, but the morning was not. For as they giddily continued to remind one another, the lawfulness of their union, coupled with their newly acknowledged feelings, paved the way for a true marriage, in every sense of the word.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Zachary and Abigail typically parted ways close to one o’clock in the morning. She had tur
ned down his offer to walk her home on a number of occasions. It came as no surprise from a lady with such a powerful sense of independence and such a handy way with a gun. So he was enormously pleased when she requested his company on this particular occasion.
“We have many things to discuss, Mr. Scott. I have been giving very serious consideration to your flattering offer.”
“I cain’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. Are you sayin’ you’ve made up your mind?”
“Before I can arrive at a final decision, you and I must make sure that we share a similar vision of our life together. Have you, for example, given any thought to the possibility of children?”
“Oh, I got a soft spot in my heart for young’uns. Most folks would never figure on that about me. But I done had my fill of bachelor days, and I’m ready to settle down good and proper. A whole house full of young’uns would suit me just fine.”
“I’m not sure about a whole houseful—but that may depend somewhat on the size of the house. Surely, you did not intend to stow a bassinet behind the bar counter?”
“Oh, heck, no. I’ll get us the prettiest place you ever saw. It may not be on that mansion street, but who wants to live near those snobs? But it’ll be grand and respectable. We can have it built just the way we want it. I got quite a bit of money set by.”
“I admit that I am ready to upgrade my accommodations. Not that Miss Mabel hasn’t been hospitable.”
They had just arrived in front of the boardinghouse.
“Let’s have a seat in the parlor. Miss Mabel keeps the lamps on in there for me every night.”
“Don’t surprise me none. I bet you’re a lady who gets all kinds of special treatment wherever you go.”
They entered and settled down on the parlor sofa.
“There is one thing that troubles me, Zachary.”
“You tell me and I’ll fix it right quick.”
“Well, I know you that you’ve probably crossed the line of the law once or twice in your lifetime. And I’ve done the same. I just don’t know if the things that I’ve done would be so unacceptable to you that—that you would come to regret your association with me.”
“That’s not even possible—that is the last thing on earth you should be worried about. Nothin’ you’ve done is gonna cause me to lose any sleep.”
“Well, that’s easy to say before you know the full story. But I’d rather know your true response now, before marriage, so that you can go into this with eyes wide open and so that I’m not burdened with having to hide things from my own husband.”
“You go right ahead. But I’m tellin’ ya, ain’t gonna make no bit of difference.”
“All right. Everyone knows I’ve shot and killed a few cheaters at the card table.”
“Deserved it—every one of them.”
“But the last man I killed, I can’t say that I had what you would call good cause. He said some really vile, insulting things to me. Perhaps I’d had a little too much to drink that night. But I had my fill of his abuses and I wasn’t about to take any more from the likes of him. And I shot him dead. Can’t say I gave it a whole lot of thought. Sometimes you just see red, and before you know it, it’s all over. There weren’t any witnesses, though. And I made up a good story. Thought it best to leave town and keep a low profile, though. And here I am. So, that’s what you’ve got to think about. Whether my actions offend your moral character enough so that having me as your wife would pose difficulties for you.’
“Shoo. Don’t you be frettin’ over what my moral character can handle. I’ve heard worse, and I’ve done worse. So don’t you be thinkin’ I’m gonna be holdin’ that against you.”
“You’ve done worse than kill a man in cold blood because he was annoying you? I doubt it. No, I really can’t be sure if one day, it may prey on your mind and cause you to regret the marriage.”
“Well. I’ll tell you a little story. And then you’ll know that we’re two birds of a feather, and we don’t have to be livin’ by the same rules other folks do. You know Lulu and Angel, my two youngest girls?”
Abigail nodded innocently.
“I met both of them on the train with their pas—no other family. Both of them were as pretty as could be. I knew if I could get them workin’ at my saloon, they’d bring in a ton of cash to my business, both of them, for at least the next ten years, them bein’ so young. Their pas were both losers—gonna waste those girls on some dusty farm or ranch in the middle of nowhere. So I just took matters into my own hands. I put an end to their miserable lives—both of them. Just like you did. Bullets straight through the heart. They didn’t have all that much to live for, so I guess you could call ’em mercy killings. And then the girls was mine. I ain’t ever gonna lie to you about how I feel about money. I’ve done just about everythin’ under the sun for it. These two fellas wasn’t even the first. Shoo. Wait’ll I tell you about my bank robbin’ days.
But I hope at least I set your mind at ease. Ain’t nothin’ you’ve done that’s gonna trouble me. We both know how to look after our own best interests. Two peas in a pod, we are. Now what do you say to us settin’ a date and makin’ it official?”
The click of two guns being cocked stopped Zachary cold as Sheriff Johnson and Deputy Ajax Harper stepped out from behind thick brocade drapes. As Abigail quickly stepped away from Zachary, a third gun cocked from behind them, and he whirled around to see Sebastian, gun pointed at Zachary with one hand, the other hand beckoning Abigail to come by his side.
“Zachary Scott, you drop your gun to the floor right now, and you do it nice and slow, or we are gonna turn you into a piece of Swiss cheese. Now, you get movin’,” the Sheriff said.
“What . . . what’s this all about?” Zachary groused, but he complied with the orders.
“Kick it over here. Now put your hands behind your back.”
Ajax handcuffed Zachary.
“Zachary Scott, you are under arrest for the murders of two men—them pas you just bragged about killing. Confession heard by four different witnesses.”
It didn’t take Zachary but a split moment to realize that Abigail was one of those witnesses.
“Annie!” he said in disbelief.
“The name,” Abigail said, hooking her arm around Sebastian’s elbow, “is Mrs. Knight.”
Zachary’s jaw dropped in a way that all present would be happy to recall in future days. Justice had finally arrived at Zachary Scott’s door.
*****
Two days later, the story of Zachary Scott’s murder plots filled the pages of The Cheyenne Chronicle. Sebastian once again found himself unable to advance more than a few feet down Main Street. The people of Cheyenne were quickly starting to recognize the value of a fearless, uncompromising newspaper in maintaining the welfare of their town.
It was good news for most everyone to know that Zachary Scott would be spending the rest of his days in a federal prison. But it was cold comfort for Angel and Lulu. As Abigail had anticipated, they were revisited by a fresh, raw burst of grief over losing their fathers in such a brutal manner. Neither of them had the heart to continue in their former business.
Beatrice had long been raising funds at her women’s association for a home for wayward girls. Angel and Lulu were quickly transferred over to the boardinghouse under Miss Mabel’s watchful eye, and a tutor was hired for them to assist with the basic skills they would need for a transition to respectable employment. They also reclaimed their given names and became Betsy and Gretchen again.
The boardinghouse also acquired one more new resident—Sheriff Johnson. He was still a few years away from retirement, but looking ahead, he anticipated a lot of restlessness and way too much time on his hands. With these vulnerable girls residing there, the boardinghouse could use a well-armed presence to deter unscrupulous men thinking they could take advantage.
Besides, the Sheriff was tired of his own cooking and his own company. His long term days as a widower far outnumbered his early marital years. Miss Ma
bel’s cooking and talkativeness suited him just fine. They were a pair of old-timers who enjoyed recalling the early days of the frontier.
*****
At the Knight household, the newlyweds allowed themselves a few moments of rest after breaking the Zachary Scott murder story. Who knew that when they hatched their farfetched plan so many weeks earlier, not only would they have uncovered two major stories together, but they were destined to find real love as well. Snuggled close in the sitting room, Abigail examined her new home with wondrous disbelief.
“I cannot believe this is to be our home together. Nothing could have prepared me for such an outcome.”
“Nor I. Not even after I had been . . . informed of your feelings could I have imagined my life so transformed. I suppose Lewis and Avery will have a good, long laugh at how obstinately I resisted allowing myself to be so happy.”
This puzzling disclosure caused Abigail to draw back in confusion.
“Had been informed of my feelings? What are you referring to? And what had Lewis Carlyle and Avery Martin to do with it?”
“Ah, what a clumsy oaf I am turning out to be. We never really talked about how I became aware of your feelings. I suppose it felt unnecessary. But I am prepared to disclose all. I would never want any secrets between us. Lewis and Avery did come to me shortly after you and I began collaborating on the saloon assignment, and they told me that you had confided in your friend, Beatrice, that you were developing some rather tender feelings for me. Please do not be embarrassed, my dear. It was the first day of many that helped to open my eyes—and my heart—knowing how you felt.”
“How I felt!” Abigail sprang to her feet in dismay. “It was your feelings that erupted out of nowhere, and reached such a fever pitch of misery and heartbreak . . . or so Molly and Beatrice informed me—
“Informed you! That I was . . .?”
“In love with me. Oh, I cannot believe this. Are you saying that it was all a lie? That you never loved me?”
Sebastian was immediately aware that his choice of words had never been more important.