She knew the instant Rowe’s foot landed on the step stone. She also knew he would be angry that she had come up to the cabin alone. He had told her repeatedly that she was to stay with Mary or Laura if he was unable to be with her in the evenings.

  A match flared, then went out. He knew she was here. She heard him drop the bar across the door, move across the room, remove his gunbelt and hang it on the peg beside the bed. She heard the chair creak when he sat down to remove his boots. When he lifted the cover to get into the bed, she moved a few inches closer to the wall.

  “Katy?” His hand cupped her shoulder to turn her toward him, but she shrugged it off. She expected him to chastise her for coming to the cabin alone, but a silence followed. Then, she felt his hand on her braid. “You didn’t undo your braid. You know it gives you a headache to sleep on it.” His voice came softly out of the darkness even as his fingers pulled the ribbon from the end of the long rope and began to pull the strands apart.

  “Leave my hair alone.” She tried to pull the braid over her shoulder, but he refused to let go.

  “No. I’ll not allow you to sleep on the braid because you’re peeved with me.” He continued to loosen her hair, then rubbed gently at the nape of her neck. “Come here to me, sweetheart—”

  “No. I’m not a chattel to be fondled when it pleases my lord.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” He grasped her shoulder to turn her toward him.

  Anger flared in Katy. She balled her fist and swung. The blow caught him on the upper arm.

  “Don’t paw me!”

  “Paw you!” A crude oath slipped from Rowe’s lips. “Now, goddammit, Katy, I’ve had enough!” In a lightning fast move he flipped her over facing him, wrapped his arms and legs around her, and clamped her to him. Her arms were imprisoned between them; her struggles were as nothing against his strength. He held her so tightly she couldn’t even butt him with her head. Anger and frustration caused her heart to pound like a hammer in her chest. She hissed and growled like an infuriated cat.

  “Let go of me, damn you!”

  “Now you know how that little girl felt when she couldn’t move and a man was trying to go inside her. He held her just like this and she couldn’t even cry out.”

  “What he did was no excuse for what you did.”

  “I did what was right. I didn’t think I’d have to justify my actions to my wife of all people.”

  “You can’t justify them. A public whipping is the ultimate humiliation.”

  “What that child suffered was the ultimate humiliation,” he ground out angrily. “What I did was to save the worthless bastard’s life.”

  “The court in Virginia City should have dealt with him.”

  “My God! You are naive. He’d not have lived to get out of town. Those men would have strung him up without a trial if not for Hank and me. Do you think I enjoyed doing what I had to do?” After a short silence, he gritted, “You do think that!”

  “Yes, I think that!”

  “It was harder for me to lay the whip on him than it would have been to shoot him. I could have put a bullet in his head without batting an eye. He’s a worthless piece of horseshit that his wife and kids have had to endure all these years. I didn’t dare let Ashland or one of the mule skinners whip him. They would have killed him with that whip. If we had hanged him it would have set a precedent and given Trinity the reputation of a vigilante town.”

  “That’s all you’re worried about—your precious town!”

  “That’s not fair and you know it. You’re hurt and sick because you think you’re married to a cruel man. Katy, Katy, you don’t know what cruelty is. That man’s back will heal. His neck would not have. In a few years when little Myrtle is a bride and her husband touches her here and here,”—he ran his hand caressingly over her breasts and down her belly to her soft mound—“don’t you think she’ll remember the first man who spilled his seed on her little body?”

  “I know that,” Katy began to cry. “He’s a beast! I just didn’t want you—it was just like I didn’t know you!”

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I could see the disappointment in your eyes. I did what I thought was just and fair, and I’d do it again. If you’re disappointed in me, I’ll just have to live with it and hope I’ll not disappoint you again.”

  “I’m . . . sorry—” she whispered against his chin as he attempted to kiss the tears from her eyes.

  “No. Don’t be sorry. We’re not always going to agree, but we’ll face what comes together. I love you, my Nightrose. You must always believe that, even when I disappoint you.” His lips sipped at the tears then moved to her mouth.

  “And I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

  In Virginia City, Anton stood with his back to the wall of the newspaper office and watched Justin Rowe leave the hotel and walk up the street toward the alley where he would take the path through the field to the Doll House. In the week and a half since he had called on Helga and had sent the telegrams to his brother and to the nursemaid, he had noticed a drastic change in Justin’s physical appearance. Rowe’s brother had lost a lot of weight. He walked hurriedly as if he had only one purpose in mind, always with his head down and unsteadily, even after a day of sleep. It was plain to Anton that Justin was on the road to destruction, like a runaway train going downgrade.

  It had taken longer than Anton had thought to get the answer back from his brother that the child was safe. He’d had to intercept a telegram sent to Justin by the child’s nurse. The greedy bitch wanted to make sure she was going to be compensated for the risk she was taking in hiding the child from his mother. Word had come today that little Ian Rowe was in George Hooker’s keeping, and Anton was anxious to tell Helga.

  Anton started for the hotel even before Justin turned the corner. A warm feeling engulfed him as he thought of the relief it could bring to Helga when she heard the news. He would help her to get her things together. Tonight she would move in with Nan Neal until he could make the arrangements to send her to his brother in Philadelphia.

  Anton paused on the walk to analyze his feelings about that. Hell! He’d become so embroiled in taking care of her he didn’t relish the idea of sending her to George. George just might be attracted to her and, worse than that, she to him. Holy shit! George was a good-looking man and had a lot more to offer a woman than he had. George would be ideal for Helga. With his connections, he’d be able to get her divorced from her husband; what’s more, he could be just as ruthless as Justin.

  “I’m getting the cart before the horse,” he mumbled as he turned into the lobby of the Anaconda. The clerk nodded. Gossip about Anton Hooker and Mrs. Rowe was running rampant among the hotel help. He had been here every night within ten minutes of her husband’s departure.

  Anton took the stairs two at a time, eager to tell Helga the news. The door at the end of the hall opened and she stood waiting for him. He followed her into the room and closed the door.

  “You’ve heard?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He pulled the telegram from his pocket and handed it to her.

  Helga opened it with trembling fingers. Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, Anton! Read it to me.”

  He shoved his handkerchief into her hands and cleared his throat.

  ANTON HOOKER

  VIRGINIA CITY, MONTANA TERRITORY

  BOY IS HERE stop JUNIE IS IN HEAVEN stop

  NURSE HEADED FOR CANADA stop IAN IS A

  FINE LAD stop WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU UP

  TO? stop

  GEORGE

  “It’s over, Helga,” Anton said putting the telegram back into his pocket. “Ian is safe. You can leave here tonight.”

  “I . . . can’t believe it. It’s happened so fast. Oh, Anton . . .” She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you! Oh, thank you, dear, dear . . . friend!” She kissed him square on the mouth, bringing a pleasure to the vicinity of his heart, along with a pain lower down.

  “I haven’t been thanked so nicely in a long time.” Anton’s voice was raspy. He liked her arms around him and his around her. She was soft and sweet-smelling, every inch a woman. The smile on her face was beautiful. She leaned back now and looked at him.

  “You’ll have to read it to me again. What was that about Junie? Who is . . . Junie?”

  “I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have Junie. She was our mother after Mamma died, our nurse, our housekeeper. She was boss of the house and we didn’t dare cross her. She’ll love Ian and he’ll love her. You just might never get him away from her,” he teased.

  “He’s safe? Really safe? Justin can’t find him?”

  “I’d bet my life on it.”

  “Oh, Anton. I’m going to have to kiss you again.”

  “I’ll certainly not complain about that.”

  They sat down on the edge of the bed. Anton opened the telegram so she could read it for herself now.

  “He is a fine lad, Anton,” she said proudly.

  “It won’t be long until you’ll be with him. Now what are you taking from here?”

  “Everything!” Helga went to the wardrobe, opened it, and took out a valise.

  “I don’t have any money, Anton,” she said hesitantly.

  “I know that, and I told you not to worry about it. Pack your things. You’ll not be coming back here.”

  Anton watched her fold her dresses neatly and put them in the case. She emptied the bureau drawers of her belongings, moving swiftly as if she couldn’t wait to leave this place. Anton spotted the carpetbag in which Helga had told him Justin had put the letter that had upset him when they first arrived.

  “Helga, I would like to see that letter you told me about. Do I have your permission to cut open that bag?”

  She turned and looked at him for a long while. “You have my permission to do anything you want to do. If you want the letter, by all means break open the bag.”

  Anton pulled up his pant leg and removed a thin-bladed knife from a holster that fit inside his boot. He grinned at her and she laughed.

  “Anton Hooker! I didn’t know you carried that . . . pig sticker!”

  “I never know when I’m going to have to stick a pig, Helgy.”

  “Helgy. No one’s called me that since my papa died.”

  Anton placed the carpetbag on the table and cut along the metal frame until the side lay open. He drew out a handful of papers, carefully sorted them, and tossed them aside. They were stock certificates, bankbooks, and various papers. He drew out a white envelope. It’s address read: Mr. Garrick Rowe, in care of Crescent Hotel, Virginia City, Montana Territory. The letter was from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents. He whistled, then read it again slowly.

  “What is it?” Helga came to stand beside him. He gave her the letter and watched her face as she read it.

  “Oh, my goodness! No wonder he was in such a state.” Suddenly she began to laugh. “All this time, he thought—” She giggled uncontrollably. “He thought—”

  Anton took the letter from her hand. “We don’t care what he thought. Hurry, so we can get out of here. He’s going to be madder than a turpentined cat when he finds this missing. He’ll know just where it will go.”

  “He’ll go after Rowe! Oh, Anton! What have we done?”

  “We’ll head for Trinity at dawn. It’ll take Justin a while to find someone to guide him there.” Anton put the letter in his pocket, shoved the rest of the papers back in the bag and set it back on the floor of the wardrobe. “Get your shawl and let’s go.”

  Helga went out the door without a backward look into the room where she had spent so many miserable days and nights. Anton carried her valise as they went down the hallway toward the stairs. They had just started down when the clerk came running up the stairs.

  “He’s coming back!”

  “Oh, no!” Helga gasped. “What’ll we do?”

  “In here,” the clerk leaped past them and unlocked the room at the top of the stairs. “Quick.”

  Anton shoved Helga inside and closed the door. They pressed their ears to it and could hear the clerk whistling as he went back down the stairs.

  “Oh, my! I should have known it was too easy.”

  “I’m going to have to give that clerk a bonus.” Anton grinned at her.

  “How can you be so calm?” she whispered and laid her head on his shoulder. She was trembling violently. He held her tightly, loving her dependency on him.

  Justin’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs and down the hallway. They heard him open the door and throw it back against the wall.

  “Helga!” Justin’s roar could be heard on the street below.

  Helga trembled violently. Anton had a fierce desire to kill Justin Rowe.

  It was the first time Justin had opened that door and his wife hadn’t been there. Where was the bitch? He would not have been back until morning except that he needed the gold coins he had put away in his valise. The Doll had refused to give him more than one of her potions until he paid her again. He had to have it! Women were greedy bitches—every damn one of them.

  He jerked opened the wardrobe, his vision so blurred that he failed to notice Helga’s clothes were missing. He reached down for the carpetbag. When he lifted it, the side fell open and the contents spilled out onto the floor.

  His roar of rage was inaudible. Then words spewed from his mouth in an angry torrent.

  “Bitch! Whore! I’ll kill you! I’ll beat your ass till it’s raw meat!” On his knees, Justin frantically searched for the letter from the Pinkerton Agency. When he failed to find it, he staggered to the door. “Helga! Damn you for a whore. If you take that letter to him, I’ll kill you!”

  He charged blindly out of the room and down the hall, roaring for Helga, bouncing from one side of the wall to the other. He passed the room where Helga cringed against Anton, then raced on down the hall. Anton pressed his ear to the door listening for his footsteps going down the stairs, but he didn’t hear them. Instead he heard a door slam.

  Helga raised her head. “Where did he go?” she whispered fearfully.

  “I don’t know, unless he went down the backstairs. I’ll go look. Lock yourself in here. You’ll be all right.”

  “Anton! Don’t go!”

  “You’ll be all right, honey.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to find out where he went. Stay here until I come back for you.”

  Anton let himself out and waited to hear Helga turn the key in the lock. He hurried down the stairs. The clerk and his helper were waiting.

  “God! He was like a madman!” the clerk whispered in an awed voice. “He was roaring like a bull. Where did he go?”

  “If he didn’t come down this way, he had to go into another room.”

  “All the rooms are locked.” The clerk scratched his head. “The door at the end of the hall wasn’t—”

  “Gawdamighty!” A skinny boy in overalls came running into the lobby. “Mister! Mister! Somebody come outta that top back door and went over the rail to the rocks. I betcha if he ain’t dead, he’s near it!”

  Anton and the clerk hurried to the back of the hotel where the floodwaters had undermined the building. Justin Rowe lay sprawled facedown on the rocks, his head smashed against a jagged stone.

  “Jesus!” The clerk bent over him. “He’s dead as a doornail. He must have come charging out of that door like a bull and fallen right through the rail.”

  Anton looked up as a piece of the broken railing fell to the ground. He looked back down at what had once been Justin Rowe and felt not an ounce of pity for the broken man who lay on the rocks.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-six

  A few days after Lee Longstreet had been whipped in the town square, the two drifters he had befriended, Cullen McCall and Sporty Howard, drew their pay and left town. As soon as he was able to ride, Lee left Trinity in the middle of the night and joined them in a cabin on the mountain above the town. But things were not going as Lee Longstreet had planned.

  “I’ll have no part in setting fire to that town,” Cullen McCall said angrily. “I told you I would help steal the coal oil, but that was all.”

  “Are you sure we can get into the shed where the freighter stored the stuff?”

  “I loosened the boards on the back side. All you have to do is lift them off. Any fool should be able to do that.”

  “That Ashland’s a mean son of a bitch.” Shorty threw his knife at a paper he had nailed on the wall and went to retrieve it.

  “He is that, and Rowe’s twice as mean if you get him riled, or mess with somethin’ that’s his. If he catches you burnin’ down his town, you’ll wish you were dead. He’ll beat the shit out of you, then hang you for the buzzards to pick out your eyes. I’ve seen his kind before. He’s one mean son of a bitch.”

  Cullen watched Longstreet carefully shuffle the playing cards. He had not said a word about what had happened in the town square, but Cullen knew he was eaten up with hate for the man who had whipped him.

  “Shee . . . it! You’re gettin’ soft, Cullen.” Sporty Howard flipped his knife into the wall again. “We get a chance to make some real money and you turn yellow-belly. Fifty dollars for a few hours’ work ain’t to be sneezed at. Hell! I been bustin’ my arse for two dollars a day.”

  “Sometimes I think that all you’ve got between your ears is shit, Sporty. I’m not stupid enough to do another man’s dirty work for a lousy fifty dollars and risk gettin’ my neck stretched. If you’re that stupid, go ahead and team up with Longstreet. I’m headin’ for Bannack. But first I want my five dollars for gettin’ in the shed and loosenin’ the boards.”

  Lee watched the anger rise in Sporty Howard. The sneer in Cullen’s voice, as well as his words, cut him deep. Lee took coins from his pocket.

  “It’s your decision, McCall. Stay or leave, it’s up to you.” He stacked the coins neatly on the table. “I’ll play you for them, double or nothing.”

 

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