Читать книгу Cade's Justice - Pat Tracy - Страница 12

Emma sat beside Gideon Cade in his covered coach as it navigated Denver’s predawn mist. She cast a sideways glance at Courtney’s uncle. His profile didn’t reveal his thoughts. It was hard to believe this stranger had carried her in his arms, run his fingers over her bare foot and looked at her naked leg. It staggered her that, in the space of a few hours, she’d experienced so many intimacies at his hand. They’d exchanged the most barbed of insults.

Incredible… She was a woman who’d grown accustomed to being isolated. Yet a single encounter with the brash Mr. Cade had cracked the social barriers she’d erected to survive in a world that accepted her only on its terms. From a very young age, she’d taken those terms to heart. Be competent, be silent unless spoken to, and hold all personal emotions deeply within yourself.

One of Gideon Cade’s remarks returned—that the evening’s events would be quickly forgotten. Not by her. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to erase this strange interlude with a man who’d managed to shatter the reserve that had become the bedrock of her character.

The carriage proceeded at a snail’s crawl toward the academy. Emma decided her companion was too big to share such cramped quarters with another person. His broad shoulders took up entirely too much room. There was no getting used to his thigh rubbing intimately against the side of her leg.

Nor could she relax with his arm draped across the back of their seat. His jacket’s sleeve brushed her hair. The subtle friction was enough to keep her off balance. In her present mood, she deemed his booted feet overly large and encroaching. He was probably taking up more than his fair portion of air, too. Though she had to admit that the faint whiff of hair tonic emanating from him was preferable to the smell of wet dog.

She hazarded a quick glance around him. He had plenty of room on his other side. Instead of scrunching her between himself and the carriage’s inner wall, he could have easily slid half a foot to his right. Contrary man.

“What can you tell me about the financial trouble facing the academy?”

The unexpected question made Emma start. She should have known he wouldn’t allow their ride to pass in silence. “Only what Miss Loutitia confided to me.” “Out with it, Miss Step. Don’t keep me in suspense.” Emma resented the hint of boredom that laced his inquiry. A matter of grave consequence to her was only mildly noteworthy to him. She wondered how he would like it if his world were suddenly turned upside down. Realistically, however, it was impossible to imagine anything of sufficient magnitude to threaten a man of Gideon Cade’s abundant resources.

“She told me there isn’t enough capital to keep the school operating for more than another ten days.”

“She must be an extremely negligent businesswoman.” “How can you say that? You’ve never met her.” “When you consider the girls attending her school belong to some of the wealthiest families in the West, it stands to reason only an incompetent could run the business into bankruptcy.”

“I won’t sit here and listen to you insult Loutitia.” “Even as short as you are, Miss Step, I think you would have trouble standing in my carriage.”

“I’m not short!”

“You’re not?” he drawled with maddening humor.

He was staring at her with those damnably assessing eyes of his. She stared right back at him. It was best that they got this business about her height cleared up.

“I am merely less tall than some.”

“Less tall?”

If he wasn’t careful, he might actually smile. While the thought of the implacable Mr. Cade actually doing something as human as smiling wasn’t totally disagreeable, she didn’t want the smile to come at her expense.

“You’ll probably think it a matter of semantics, but I happen to detest the word short. Nor is it accurate in my case.”

“It isn’t?”

“Certainly not. Tempers grow short, young men’s pants are short, and so are fall days.”

“I stand corrected,” he said softly.

Unprepared for his surrender, Emma blinked. The lamp that hung in the carriage was turned to sufficient brightness for her to notice the subtle easing of the harsh lines marking his face. The shadow of an evening beard darkened his jaw.

“I have an entire list of things that are short,” she ventured, in case he wasn’t convinced.

“It won’t be necessary to go through it. Why are you so protective toward Miss Loutitia?”

“Her offer of employment gave me the opportunity to begin a new life in the West.” At the reminder that she was about to become unemployed, fear squeezed Emma’s stomach.

“How did that come about?”

The man was full of questions. Answering them lessened the silent tension. “There was an advertisement in the Phil’ adelphia Sentinel announcing teaching positions west of the Missouri.”

“What were you doing before you responded to the advertisement?”

“Teaching.” She saw no need to elaborate. The school where she’d previously taught was run by a small religious sect. Everyone had been kind, but she wasn’t of their faith and had felt an outsider.

“So you came to Denver to begin a new life?”

“Yes.”

“No doubt you were looking for excitement and adventure.”

If tonight was any indication, she’d certainly found it. “Everything I’d read about Denver suggested there would be more excitement here than in Philadelphia.”

“The thought of cattle rustlers, claim jumpers and train robbers didn’t alarm you?”

“Denver has its own band of protectors looking out for its citizenry.” One of the lures that made the western town so fascinating had been the legendary group of men who’d banded together to combat the area’s lawless element. The eastern newspapers had made much of their noble exploits.

He regarded her in open amusement. “You’re referring to the ‘Guardsmen,’ I assume.”

She bristled at his disparaging tone. “I am.”

“I’m surprised you put so much stock in what newspapers print. There’s no proof the Guardsmen actually exist.”

“Of course there is. Almost every time someone tries to rob a stagecoach, they’re caught and turned over to the authorities.”

“That’s not proof there’s an underground group of vigilantes at work.”

At his mention of the word vigilante, Emma realized they had strayed to a dangerous subject. She abhorred vigilante justice. No man or group of men had the right to take the law into their own hands and administer their justice, especially at the end of a rope. Rumors were rife that Gideon Cade was such a man, that he ran his freighting empire with an iron fist and anyone who challenged him wound up dead.

During their extraordinary encounter, she’d forgotten with whom she was dealing. Emma shivered. “The Guardsmen are different.”

“Not that I’m admitting the group exists, but why?”

“Because, they don’t perform their own…er…executions.” Uttering the last word was a bit like reminding the devil of his agenda for wreaking havoc.

“And, of course, that’s what the newspapers imply I’m guilty of.”

She hadn’t expected him to openly refer to the charges that had been made against him.

“Getting back to the Guardsmen,” she said, wanting to avoid an argument that was bound to put them on opposing sides. “You have to admit their methods are ingenious.”

“Some might say farcical.”

“They would be wrong,” Emma replied, warming to her defense of the anonymous group. “Remember last week, when they left those trussed-up cattle rustlers at the church in the middle of the night?”

“Who can forget?”

She didn’t appreciate his levity. “Along with a list of their misdeeds, the names of two wranglers who’d witnessed the crime were provided. Had the Guardsmen not appeared on the scene to save those witnesses, they would have been killed. Now they can testify.”

“And that wouldn’t have happened without your masked band of do-gooders?”

“Of course not.” Really, the man could be quite dense. “Even if the wranglers hadn’t been killed, they would have been too intimidated to testify in court. Part of the Guardsmen’s success is based on the protection they offer people. I’m sure Sheriff Beckman and his deputies are extremely grateful for the extra help they’ve been receiving.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “Of course. After all, it must be extremely disheartening for an officer of the law to have so much crime going on under his nose. I imagine he wishes he knew their identities so he could thank them personally.”

“Interesting idea.”

“Well, there’s one thing for certain.”

“What’s that?”

“Whomever they are, I’ll wager they’re some of the brayest and most intelligent men our country boasts. They deserve to be recognized for their courage and selfless devotion.”

Instead of commenting, Mr. Cade stretched. Somehow, in the process, his arm lowered, and the back of her head became cradled against him. She was about to extricate herself when he spoke again.

“I suppose you agree with the editorials that condemn me for operating a toll road to the mines.”

“Now that you mention it, it does seem a tad…er…excessive to charge men to travel to and from their own gold claims.”

Even though it was her custom to employ tact when dealing with others, Emma resented being wishy-washy with this man.

“Are you aware there wasn’t a passable road until I had one surveyed, dynamited and laid through the mountains?”

“Well, no, but—”

“And that I happen to own the land through which the road passes?”

“No, but—”

“And prior to my freighting teams, complete with drivers and men riding shotgun, miners were unable to get their gold to Denver?”

“But—”

“And without the rail spurs that took two years to build, it would take more than a century to transport the ore from the mountains?”

“Still—”

“Unlike your Miss Loutitia, I know how to run a business.”

His rigid tone discouraged rebuttal.

“She isn’t my Loutitia,” Emma pointed out. “But she’s successfully run the school for the past few years, and has a reputation for kindness.”

“Being known for one’s kindness hardly qualifies someone to run a business,” came his scoffing rejoinder.

“That’s just what one would expect from a coldhearted businessman.”

The words slipped out despite Emma’s best intentions to avoid a quarrel. The disagreeably arrogant man had a knack for provoking her. If there had been a way to call back the barb, she would have done it.

“I assure you my heart is no colder than any other part of me.”

What exactly did that mean?

“I spoke out of turn.” She was amazed she didn’t choke on the apology. “I merely meant that as a…businessman, you’re inclined to look at the facts as they’re written on sheets of paper. The rest of the world tends to look at things differently.”

“As you’ve separated me from the rest of the human race, explain how so-called normal people will view Loutitia Hempshire’s business failure.”

The command was brusquely issued. Had her observation wounded him? Immediately she chastised herself for being so foolish as to think she could hurt Gideon Cade’s feelings.

“Instead of condemning her, most people will sympathize.”

“An utterly pointless exercise.”

The man specialized in cold pronouncements.

“What do you plan on doing when the academy closes, Miss Step?”

The last thing she wanted to discuss was her uncertain future.

“I’m looking into several possibilities,” she said vaguely.

If only the academy could have kept its doors open for another year. By then, she would have saved enough money to invest in the new institution Jayne Stoneworthy was beginning. Both Jayne and she had been recruited by Miss Loutitia to come to Denver. Jayne, however, had decided she had enough funds to establish the fledgling school.

“That’s what people say when they don’t know what they’re doing.”

She shivered at the accuracy of his observation, aware suddenly of her clammy clothes, the chill in the air and her throbbing toes.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m f-fine.”

It was ridiculous. She wasn’t any colder than she’d been a moment before. There was no reason for her teeth to start chattering.

“Sure you are.”

Before she knew what he intended, he had vanquished the infinitesimal distance between them and was drawing her into his embrace. Stunned by his sudden boldness, she let precious seconds flit by without protesting. The now familiar sensation of powerful arms closing around her rocked her equilibrium. When the dust settled, she was seated upon his lap.

“You should have worn a heavier cloak.”

“If I had one, I would have,” she snapped, for once not trying to conceal her impoverished state. Futilely she attempted to dislodge herself from on top of him.

“Settle down, I’m just warming you up.”

She continued to try to wrestle free. “Ha! You can’t fool me.”

“I can’t?”

His voice was a husky murmur that flowed directly into her ear and seemed in danger of thundering out of her palpitating heart

“You’re the kind of libertine who takes every opportunity to get his hands upon a woman.” Every squirming movement seemed to deliver her more tightly into his embrace.

“You have to admit, you’ve given me plenty of opportunities.”

The carriage took an unexpected turn. Had he not held her so firmly, she would have been tossed to the floor.

“I haven’t given you anything!” She looked up at him in frustration. “You’re just acting true to form.”

He pressed a wide palm to her back. “What form is that?”

Because of the close way he held her, she was forced to notice his warmth. She refused to enjoy it. “That of a robber baron, of course.”

“Of course,” he conceded lightly, sliding a hand around her waist and securing her sideways on his lap.

She was effectively captured, her resistance limited to the hand she’d wedged between their snugly pressed chests.

“Stop shivering as if you were a kitten left on the step in January.”

His words were more accurate than he knew.

“I’ll stop shivering when you release me!” That didn’t sound right.

He rubbed his hands over her back and arms. “Hush now. There’s nothing wrong with sharing our warmth.”

His deep voice washed over her in heavy, shattering waves. Gideon Cade surrounded her. His thighs cradled her. His musky scent, at once alien and strangely enticing, teased her senses. Freeing herself from his bold trespass became of paramount importance.

She tried wiggling.

“Miss Step…Oh, hell, I refuse to say, ‘Miss Step’ one more time. Your first name is Emma, right?”

“Yes,” she answered absently. She was beginning to feel light-headed from her exertions. Nor was her corset helping matters. “But I haven’t given you leave to address me by my first name.”

“You’re a thorny little thing, aren’t you?”

Her thoughts turned to the practical logistics of gaining her freedom. There was no help for it. She was going to have to push against his chest. Before this contest was over, she intended to demonstrate he couldn’t put his hands on her every time he felt like it.

“You do realize there’s no point in trying to break free, don’t you?”

She detested his almost whimsical tone. “I realize you are indeed the bully I called you earlier.”

Her efforts to push free accomplished nothing. Desperation joined her growing sense of frustration. Being caught in his embrace against her will was too much a model of her life’s present disarray. Getting free represented gaining control over that which overwhelmed her.

“If you don’t release me this instant, I shall blacken your eye.”

His husky chuckle tickled her ear. “Better men than you have tried and failed to do so.”

She doubled up her fist.

“I’m giving you fair warning—”

The carriage stopped abruptly.

“Oof!” The involuntarily sound accompanied the air whooshing from her lungs. He took the opportunity to squeeze her more intimately against his unyielding chest.

“You all right, honey?”

His ill-mannered familiarity and his hands brushing fleetingly across her writhing person sparked a strange response from Emma. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, it wasn’t one of loathing. No, a series of alarmingly thrilling tingles now competed for her attention.

Both furious and frightened by the powerful tremors skating through her, she felt the last layer of her control disintegrate.

Without any warning—either to herself or to the thug holding her against her will—her clenched fist smacked him in the jaw. One second she was his prisoner, and the next she was…Well, she was still his prisoner, but now he held her with one arm wrapped around her, instead of two. Her fist throbbed as painfully as her toes. Good grief, by the time full daylight struck, she was going to be confined to a bed.

“I’ll give you that blow, Emma.”

Slowly he allowed her to slide from his lap and reclaim her space on the seat next to him. He might concede that she’d had every right to hit him, but Emma was horrified by her unrestrained behavior. She rubbed her aching fingers and wondered if she had been around Miss Loutitia too long and was in danger of becoming one of those females prone to hysteria.

Her only question was how this vigilante robber baron would choose to retaliate. After all, it was rumored he hunted down those who crossed him. She swallowed. From the way her fingers stung, she’d clearly struck him a vicious blow. No doubt his head was still ringing from the pain, and that was why he was staring at her as if she were a new species of mammal.

A mysterious source of light permeated the carriage’s interior. Mr. Cade’s features were cast in a reddish glow that created the sinister illusion that she was gazing into Lucifer’s harsh features, lit by the fires of never-ending perdition.

A fierce pounding assaulted the coach’s door. “The school is on fire!”

The driver’s announcement brought with it the blistering sensation of heat. The horses whinnied their distress, and the vehicle lurched forward.

“See to the team, Hennesy,” came Mr. Cade’s curt command. “Wait here, Emma, while I find out what’s going on.”

He stepped from the carriage, closing the door behind him. Sound exploded around her. A coarse litany of shouts shredded the cocoon of silence that had engulfed her and Courtney’s uncle. She looked through a small window. Clusters of men lined up in bucket brigades.

Dismissing Mr. Cade’s order that she remain inside the coach, Emma swung open the door and jumped from the carriage. The flash of pain in her foot barely registered.

Towering columns of flames held her rapt attention.

Had it not been for the recent rain, she suspected, the entire block would have been lost. She jerked herself free from the conflagration’s hypnotic spell. The sudden need to make sure everyone had escaped safely swept through her.

“Emma! Emma!”

The sound of her name being frantically screamed above the blaze’s crackling roar had her looking in all directions. Through the wild din of confusion, Jayne Stoneworthy rushed toward her.

“Thank God, you’re alive!” Jayne cried when she reached her. The fellow instructor’s smoke-blackened robe was torn. Tears and a layer of soot streaked her face. “We thought we had lost you….”

Emma accepted her friend’s tearful embrace. “I’m fine.”

Jayne straightened and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. “We haven’t been able to find Courtney.”

At her fellow teacher’s stricken features, Emma’s heart twisted. “Courtney’s safe, too.”

“I don’t understand. Where were you, and where’s—”

“Miss Step!”

Loutitia Hempshire’s shrill shout cut Jayne off. Emma had no difficulty making out the headmistress’s plump form as she waddled purposefully toward her through the melee of men, wagons and bystanders. Loutitia’s nephew, Lyman Thornton, was having difficulty keeping up with his aunt. The leanly fit gentleman trailed a full three feet behind the redfaced, panting woman.

With her flowing nightgown and billowing robe sailing out behind her, she resembled a ship being pushed by a full gale. “Miss Step, here you are at last. We’ve been looking all over for you.” Loutitia barely stopped before running into Emma. “Where on earth were you?”

“I was—”

“Oh, never mind!” the woman shrieked. “It’s gone. It’s all gone!” She dabbed at her eyes with a grimy handkerchief. “The dreadful fire has destroyed everything. Oh, what will become of me?”

“Since you were already planning on closing the school, its loss can’t be that painful.”

The callous remark came from Loutitia’s nephew. Unlike the people milling about, Lyman Thornton was dressed in something other than sleeping apparel. His coat, shirt and trousers showed no evidence of soot or water stains. Evidently, the owner of Denver’s largest hotel hadn’t seen the necessity of assisting the water brigade.

“But I intended on taking my furnishings,” she wailed. “Oh, my beautiful French bed, my lamps, my armoire—” Her voice broke on that last treasured possession. “My armoire is ashes.”

The older woman sobbed into her handkerchief, as heartbroken as if listing the names of her own children who had perished in the fire.

Her nephew remained coolly unaffected. “Come now, Loutitia, the insurance will cover our losses. And, as the French haven’t stopped making furniture, I’ll see you get another ostentatious bed to take to when a fit of the vapors strikes.”

Miss Loutitia raised her damp face from the hankie. “And a new armoire, too? Do you promise?”

“Whatever you want,” he said negligently. Emma noticed that his wavy brown hair was neatly combed. The only indication that he’d dressed in haste was his open shirt collar.

Loutitia blew her nose. “Oh, I don’t know how you can be so inhumanly calm.”

“Practice, dear Aunt, practice.”

“That and the fact you didn’t lose anything in the blaze,” she sniffed. “Goodness, you planned on tearing down the building to make room for that new hotel you’ve been talking about ever since you informed me Hempshire Academy could no longer remain in business.” Loutitia took a hiccupy breath as she turned her attention to Emma. “We were afraid you didn’t make it out alive. I guess I shouldn’t chide Lyman for always being so calm. He certainly wasn’t, my dear, when it appeared you’d been trapped inside.”

Emma was aware of Lyman Thornton’s regard. During the few weeks she worked for his aunt, she’d wondered what she’d done to spark his curiosity. Much to her consternation, he’d developed the unsettling habit of standing in the background and observing her. Rarely did he take the opportunity to engage her in conversation. He seemed content just to watch her. She didn’t know what to make of him. Because he was wealthy, smoothly handsome and a pillar of the community, she knew his interest wasn’t of a personal nature.

“As you can see, I’m fine.” Emma looked toward the fire. It amazed her that in a matter of minutes it could recede from an inferno to the smoldering hiss of dying flames. The morning sun came out, banishing the fog. As the smoke settled, a blackened ruin stood in place of the academy. “Did everyone make it out safely?”

It was a question she should have asked sooner. She visualized the faces of her students and co-workers, realizing she’d delayed voicing it because she didn’t know if she could bear the answer.

A look of despair welled up in Loutitia’s puffy eyes. “I’m afraid we lost the Cade girl….”

“Courtney’s all right,” Emma said quickly, wanting to spare Loutitia an extra moment of grief. “She’s at her uncle’s house.”

“Thank God!” More tears streamed from the headmistress. “Of all the students to have lost…I was terrified when Mr. Cade found out, he would…Well, there’s no telling what a man like that might do.”

It was at that juncture that Emma saw Gideon Cade standing behind the older woman. Flames every bit as deadly as those that had lapped at the academy smoldered in his angry gaze.

“It was horrible to be awakened by the shouting and screaming,” Loutitia continued. “Smoke was everywhere. I thought I was going to die. It was…” She dissolved into more sobs.

“Come, it’s time I take you home,” Thornton said.

“My home’s burned to the ground!” she cried pitifully.

“You were planning on living with me after the academy closed,” her nephew reminded her.

She sighed. “I know, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Just a moment, Miss Hempshire.”

Emma watched Jayne Stoneworthy, Loutitia and Lyman Thornton turn in unison toward Gideon Cade. That he towered above the women, and even Loutitia’s nephew, was probably something Cade took for granted.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Cade?” Loutitia inquired timidly.

“Are you certain everyone is accounted for?”

She nodded. “Yes, Miss Stoneworthy and I tallied the number of teachers and students before they left for the various hotels that agreed to take them in for the night. Everyone made it out safely.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

Her plump hands fluttered uselessly. “I have no idea.”

“We’ll probably never find out,” Lyman Thornton interjected. “A candle could have been set too close to the draperies, a log in one of the fireplaces could have shot a spark that caught, a lamp could have tipped over—any number of things could have happened.”

“I’m just grateful no lives were lost.” Loutitia wiped her eyes with the twisted handkerchief. “It’s bad enough my armoire was destroyed.”

“Yes, Aunt, tonight has been a terrible ordeal for you.”

“I’m really not sure I’m going to be able to recover.” Loutitia looked helplessly at her nephew.

“I’ll take you home now.” He glanced at Emma. “Naturally, you’ll be joining us.”

Until that very moment, Emma had given no thought about where she would sleep. Nevertheless, his assumption startled her. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I imagine I’ll stay with the other teachers at one of the hotels.”

It was only as she spoke that the dire nature of her plight struck Emma. She had no money, no clothes, and nowhere to go. A trunk being dropped on her head couldn’t have struck with greater impact.

At the age of twenty-four, she was stranded in a strange city where she’d lived a few weeks, out of work and destitute.