Aurora wasn’t sure she got the connection. “Do you think the two things are related? Buying and selling intelligence and congressional money laundering?”

  “Beaumont’s murder, followed by Judge Teague’s, is the key.” Frowning, Zane tapped his fingertips together. “If Beaumont knew about it, there’s a good chance Teague did too. They were friends, despite having served on opposite sides in the war. Which makes me wonder if Maney had been trying to take out the judge as far back as our imprisonment in Cahaba. Sam Jones certainly did his best to do away with Teague on more than one occasion. And I have evidence that Jones was in the courthouse the day of your hearing, Frye.”

  “I’m not familiar with that name,” Frye said. “Who is Sam Jones?”

  Zane glanced at Aurora. “He’s the villain who served as second-in-command at Cahaba Prison, where I spent the last year of the war. Teague got there before I did and was released ahead of me. We hadn’t known each other prior to that experience, but a brotherhood of sorts can be established in circumstances like that. I saved his life—he saved mine—” Zane spread his hands. “In short, we watched out for each other, along with a handful of other men. We developed a policing and judicial mechanism to stop prisoners from attacking and robbing one another for small liberties and luxuries—food, utensils, tools, and the like. Anyway, back to Jones. He had his own pack of dogs that roamed the prison, stealing what they could and terrorizing the weak, mainly for the pure meanness of it. I saw him shoot men on the least pretext of stepping outside the deadline.” He paused, clearly reluctant to say more.

  Grieving all over again, Aurora now understood why he’d refused to talk about it before. Had she been wrong to push him to do so? “So you think Jones was Maney’s henchman?” she asked quietly.

  “Jones was in a Masonic order in New Orleans, where he was a bookkeeper for the slave market. He was very proud of his ring. And I know where the spur I found in the Tuscaloosa courtroom balcony came from. He took it from me at Cahaba. Mr. Frye, I know you couldn’t have seen him, since Riggins says he got you out right after the fight broke out, but Jones was there that day. If we can discover the name of the Union officer who sold out to Maney, we might have the connection we’re looking for.”

  She’d said talking about it would make him feel better. And it had until he’d been forced to talk about Sam Jones.

  Like a poisonous snakebite, it got worse from touching it. He didn’t know how to draw it out, how to rid himself of the venom. He hated Sam Jones with a depth that someone like Aurora Daughtry could never understand. Everyone in her life loved her and all eleven of her toes.

  Heck, he loved her. That was another thing that wasn’t going away this side of heaven.

  He rode the hired horse back to town, letting his mount pick his way along the dark, dusty rutted road. Probably most of the surrounding countryside belonged to the Daughtry Plantation. Fifty thousand acres, over a hundred square miles. That had to be a quarter of the county.

  Even if he came out of this trial alive and had the chance to woo Aurora as she deserved, he would look like a fortune hunter. He ground his teeth. No man with any pride or self-respect would come to the woman he loved with empty hands. Maybe she didn’t mind, but he did. He remembered her grandfather well—dry, upright old stick that he was, even five years ago—and there was no question of Dr. Belmont McGowan giving his beloved granddaughter to a penniless adventurer, no matter how much Mrs. Winnie might personally like him.

  He’d returned Aurora to the parlor just as the entertainment ended, watched her slip into her seat beside her grandmother and receive an approving pat on the knee. The men migrated to the back porch with cigars and port, leaving the women to do whatever it was women did when they were left alone. Probably jabber about babies.

  He could easily imagine Aurora with a little one or two. She would be a delightful mama and would never send a ten-year-old away from home to live with her grandparents. Well, maybe to protect her from invading armies she would.

  With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck. The actions people took under crisis probably shouldn’t be judged. He’d sure made his share of cringe-worthy decisions.

  In any case, he was glad Aurora would be staying home at Daughtry House tonight, her grandmother having vetoed her plan to return to Tupelo after dark. He’d told his superiors what he’d learned from the Fryes, and they’d formulated a plan to throw out a net for both Maney and Jones. It was going to take some time, but he thought it should work.

  Yes, it should work, but there was a major drawback.

  Aurora was at the center of it.

  “You and the deputy marshal were out of the room together for quite a long time,” Joelle said, turning so that Aurora could unfasten her dress.

  For reasons she couldn’t explain even to herself, Aurora had elected to share Joelle’s room tonight instead of ThomasAnne’s. She didn’t respond to Joelle’s remark until she’d twitched loose all twenty buttons marching down her sister’s long spine and loosened her corset strings as well. Watching Joelle shimmy out of the beautiful topaz-colored dress Charmion had made to replace the one that burned in the house fire, Aurora plopped down on the bed in her chemise and drawers and folded herself cross-legged. “Nothing happened,” she said, pouting.

  “Nothing?” Joelle raised a red-gold eyebrow in patent skepticism.

  “Well, we talked to Horatia and Bedelia and Rosie, then I introduced him to Shep, and we went up in the hayloft. But nothing interesting.” Aurora propped her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand in an inelegant posture she was certain would horrify Grandmama.

  Joelle planted her hands on her narrow hips. “The hayloft?”

  Aurora had to grin. “Not for, you know, canoodling. Mr. and Mrs. Frye chaperoned us.”

  “Oh. Don’t misunderstand, you shouldn’t be canoodling, but I’m a bit disappointed that he didn’t even try.” Joelle took off the corset, tossed it to the other side of the bed, and reached to untie her garters. “Schuyler had already kissed me by the time we were fourteen.”

  “Bragging is not becoming in a lady, Joelle.” Laughing, Aurora caught the garter Joelle threw at her. “Anyway,” she added casually, “Zane has kissed me.”

  “Ooh. Tell, tell.” Joelle jumped on the other end of the bed on her knees.

  “It was . . . Well, Grandmama seemed to think it was funny and immature, ThomasAnne said I was incautious.”

  Joelle scowled. “You told them before you told me?”

  “Don’t be mad. They just happened to be there right after. You know me, I can’t keep from blabbing to whoever is handy. Except . . . I didn’t really tell them all of it. I didn’t tell them that I love him and I want to marry him.”

  “I knew it! Aurora, you’ve known him less than a month!”

  “Not everyone gets to marry her childhood sweetheart, Jo.”

  “I know, but—this is very extreme, even for you.”

  “True.” She sighed.

  Joelle stared at her in obvious concern. “Aurora, exactly how far did you go?”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Annoyed, Aurora straightened. “It was a kiss, nothing more. I’ve got more common sense than people give me credit for. And don’t call me ‘Aurora’ in that admonishing tone. It makes me want to go do something truly rash.”

  Joelle straightened her legs and started rolling down her stockings. “If you want to do something rash, talk Grandmama into letting me and Schuyler get married this summer. I don’t want to wait until September.”

  “Sounds like somebody else is pretty fond of kissing and shouldn’t be casting stones.” Suddenly weary to the bone and frankly just a bit jealous of her sister’s blatant happiness, Aurora climbed under the covers without bothering to change into a nightgown. “Good night, Jo. I’ll see what I can do with Grandmama, if you’ll do your best to help Zane get this trial over with in an expeditious manner.”

  “Expeditious! Pete, what a top-drawer word. I’m proud of you, honey.” Joelle gave one of her husky chuckles and blew out the light.

  twenty

  Friday, June 17, 1870

  Dogwood Boarding House

  On Friday morning, as he woke up with the sun streaming through the open window, Zane stretched muscles sore from four days spent mainly on horseback. Responsible for delivering court summonses, subpoenas for deposition, and other writs as directed by Wells or Pierce, he’d taken statements which mainly ranged from “I ain’t tellin’ you nothing, you blankety-blank Yank,” to “Yeah, I was there, but I can’t remember what happened.”

  Frustrating, but not unexpected.

  The remainder of his days and evenings had been spent sitting in the attic with Jefcoat and Moore, while Mosley stretched his legs and got some fresh air. He could hear the sounds of hammering on the roof, workers tramping up and down the stairs with ladders and cans of paint, women hauling about mops and buckets of soapy water. Once or twice a day, Bedelia or Rosie would drop in to bring food or empty the chamber pots—a humiliating experience for sure—and exchange news. Apparently Aurora had convinced them both that they were needed in their old home and ready for the move back from Daughtry House.

  He managed to keep himself from asking what their “boss-lady,” as Bedelia called her, was up to. But occasionally, some hint would drop that she was hanging a new picture or ordering dishes or planting flowers along the walk. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he was going to allow himself.

  Last night, Zane had been particularly interested to hear that Schuyler had taken a train to Mobile. It was about time. Hopefully, he’d come back with those documents the Fryes claimed were in his father’s possession. The trial was set for next week, Judge Hill would arrive on Monday, and they would need every bit of evidence available to connect Maney to the murders of Ezekiel Beaumont and Judge Teague.

  Pushed by the urgency of today’s assignment, dreading the strain of holding the girl he loved at arm’s length, he rose and got about the business of shaving and dressing.

  Thirty minutes later he came down the stairs, bracing for the inevitable encounter with his landlady. Still, he couldn’t help looking forward to breakfast. One thing he’d say for Miss Aurora: she kept a spectacular table, and her kitchen staff functioned with the precision of a military chain of command. He found her setting a table for one near the front window, and she turned at the sound of his boots on the gleaming wood floor.

  Her dimples appeared. “Good morning, Deputy Marshal! Did you sleep well?”

  “I did, thank you.” He caught her before she whisked away to the kitchen. “No, don’t run off. I need to talk to you.”

  Her cheeks flushed in apparent surprise. “You’ve been avoiding me, so I thought—”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic week. But Riggins is meeting me here, and—”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, but we need your help and—Here he is.” To Zane’s relief, the front door had opened to admit Riggins, followed by Joelle. “I’ll let him explain.”

  “Levi!” Aurora ran to kiss his cheek and hug her sister. “Jo! I haven’t seen you all week. How is Selah?”

  “A little queasy in the mornings, but otherwise well,” Joelle said with a sigh. “Can’t keep her off her feet. She’s helping Horatia restock the kitchen and says we’ll be back in business in a week or two.”

  Riggins nodded at Zane. “Morning, Sager. Have you told Pete what we’ve got planned for her? You’ll like this,” he said to Aurora with a smile. “It involves shopping.”

  Zane intercepted Aurora’s questioning look. “I haven’t said anything yet. Just got down the stairs.”

  Riggins frowned, looking from Zane to Aurora. “You’ve been together here all week.”

  Zane shifted his feet. “I’ve been . . . tied up with Wells and Pierce.”

  “All right,” Riggins said with a philosophical shrug. “Then let’s sit down, and I’ll lay it out.”

  Aurora put a hand on his arm. “Have y’all eaten? Let me lay two more places.”

  “I’ll help,” Joelle offered.

  As the women bustled about dealing with dishes, silverware, and food, Riggins sat down and filled Zane in on a variety of matters pertaining to Judge Hill’s impending arrival. By the time Rosie brought in the tray of steaming grits, eggs, biscuits, and ham, Zane felt confident that the awkwardness between himself and Aurora would be ignored.

  After thanking Rosie, who backed out of the room with a smile and a bow, Aurora asked Riggins to return thanks.

  Once he’d briefly done so, the Pinkerton agent laid his napkin across his lap and leveled a puzzled and somewhat amused stare at Aurora. “All right, Little Bit, what’s the matter with you two?”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Lifting her coffee cup to her lips, she cut her eyes to Zane. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

  Gritting his teeth, Zane wondered how it was possible to want to kiss someone and strangle her at the same time. “Nothing is wrong with me. I have some documents I need to take to Judge Hill today, and I thought you and Joelle might like to go to Oxford with me. Wedding shopping, you know.” If that sounded awkward and forced, it was because Riggins had written the script.

  Aurora plunked down the cup. “And?”

  “What do you mean, ‘and’?”

  “Finish the sentence, Deputy Marshal.” Aurora stared at him, narrow-eyed. “Why are you offering to take two women you obviously don’t want to be anywhere near you on a two-hour shopping excursion?”

  Joelle patted her hand and scowled at Zane. “There’s no need for all this tippy-toeing around. They need us, Pete. We’re to go to the bridal shop and get Mrs. Clancy to introduce us to Mrs. Scully.”

  “Scully? The man Wyatt nearly electrocuted?”

  Joelle smiled, unfazed. “Yes, his wife. They think she might know something about this Maney character. Right, Levi?”

  Riggins nodded. “We’ve discovered that Maney is the attorney for these men we’re charging for the Tupelo crimes, and we need every bit of background on him we can dig up. During the war, your father and Scully served under Maney in Tennessee. It’s possible—we’re hoping—there may be letters to Scully from Maney that his wife will be willing to part with.”

  “Why don’t you talk to her yourself?” Aurora asked Riggins.

  She wasn’t looking at Zane, but he answered. “A lady like her is not going to talk to two Yankees—one a detective and the other a federal law officer. But she might talk to you. Look at me, Aurora.” When she reluctantly turned her big golden eyes his way, he braced himself for the impact. “You’ve got a way with people. I don’t know anybody else who could get this lady to talk. And we need her.”

  “Oh, so my jabbering might actually serve some useful purpose?”

  Zane couldn’t quite read her, until he saw a shadow of one of those dimples. He relaxed. “You jabber to your heart’s content. If you get her to give you anything on Maney, I’ll—I’ll pay you with three wishes,” he finished recklessly.

  Aurora tipped her head. “Three? Perhaps we should negotiate.”

  “Fine. Two then.”

  She laughed. “All right. Three wishes is a deal. What time does the train leave?”

  By the time their little party arrived at the Oxford station at noon, Aurora was hungry, stiff, and ready for a visit to the nearest privy. The long trip from Tupelo by rail had involved taking the SL&SF up to Holly Springs, then switching to a spur line for a short hop down to Oxford—a triangular, out-of-the-way pattern that made Schuyler’s scheme for a connector between the two east-west towns make a lot of sense. She was going to encourage him to push for it, next time she saw him.

  As it was, she hurried through the crowded station with Zane and Joelle toward a line of hired conveyances waiting to take weary travelers to nearby hotels and restaurants. Zane quickly made arrangements with the driver of a closed carriage, handed Aurora and Jo inside, and then jumped in himself.

  “We’re going to the Thompson House for lunch,” he said, “then I’ll deliver you ladies to the bridal shop while I meet with Judge Hill.”

  Aurora eyed him in surprise. “The Thompson House?” That would not be a cheap meal.

  “Marshal Pierce has offered to pay our expenses today. After that miserable ride, you earned a nice dinner.”

  Aurora wasn’t going to argue. The worst part of the trip had been Zane’s monosyllabic responses to any comment she made to him. She’d finally given up and directed her conversation at Joelle, who at least answered her in complete sentences. Maybe he was preoccupied by his official duties of the afternoon, but she suspected another reason, perhaps a little more personal, for the wall he’d erected between them.

  To her surprise, during the course of the meal he came out of his shell to a degree. He had beautiful manners, demonstrated in the courteous way he drew out chairs for her and Joelle and his ability to charm waiters. He was never going to be a silver-tongued beau like Schuyler, but Aurora found his quiet confidence restful. In fact, she enjoyed the meal so much that as they left the restaurant, she impulsively tucked her hand under Zane’s arm and smiled up at him. “Thank you so much! That was delightful.”

  He froze. “I—You’re welcome. The food was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mean just that.” Trying not to show her hurt, she pitched her voice low so that Joelle wouldn’t hear. “Zane, I’m sorry if I seem to push you where you don’t want to go. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Aurora, there’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, just as low. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” He stared at her. “Nothing, do you hear me? I’m the one who’s messed up. Just—please understand when I can’t show you how I feel. Not right now.”

  Her breath stolen away by the feel of his heart thumping hard against her hand pressed against his ribs, all she could do was nod.

  He gave her his slow half smile and helped her into the carriage.

  Within just a few minutes, she and Joelle were descending in front of the bridal shop they’d visited at the beginning of the month—the day she’d found out she was a saloon heiress.

 

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