Christmas Candles, page 11
part #2 of Holiday Hearts Series
Liza jumped when an exuberant bellow sounded right under their window. “I hope Sheriff Taylor can handle them!”
“He seemed like a capable man.” Kane cocked his head, trying to decipher the conflicting voices. “My guess is that hands from two or three rival spreads are entertaining themselves by trying to rip each other’s heads off.”
She shivered and glanced at the door. “They wouldn’t break into the hotel looking for food or whiskey, would they?”
“Even if they do, we’ll be safe here. Besides the key lock, there’s a bar for the door. Whoever built this hotel was a cautious soul.” He got to his feet and went for the wooden bar leaning in a shadowed corner, only to be pulled up with a painful jerk when he reached the end of the chain.
He swore under his breath. In the pleasure of Liza’s company, he had forgotten his restraints. “I’m afraid that if you want the extra protection, you’ll have to do it yourself.”
She retrieved the heavy bar and dropped it in place with a solid thunk. “This will stop any drunken cowboys who might want to get too friendly.”
A burst of shots sounded from the direction of the saloon, followed by the tinkle of breaking glass. The sheriff would have his work cut out for him. Kane frowned. “Since Biff and Witless are acting deputies, Sheriff Taylor will probably enlist them to help him whip that lot into line. Might be hours before you get let out. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” She gracefully seated herself on a sack of flour. “It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe I’m apologizing because I’m not sorry you’re marooned here,” he said in a burst of candor. After days of having to maintain a stiff upper lip while surrounded by enemies, the need to have one last real, human conversation was overpowering. “Thanks for helping a dangerous, unworthy stranger, Liza. It... means a great deal to me.”
She tucked her feet under her, carefully covering her ankles with her skirt. “You don’t seem very dangerous. And I’m not being entirely unselfish. It’s ... been hard making it through the nights. Distraction is welcome.” Then, speaking quickly, as if she had said too much, she continued with deliberate lightness, “Are you a gambler, or do you just dress like one?”
Kane was still standing, for now that he was stronger he felt restless. Accompanied by a soft clinking of chain, he began to pace back and forth within the limits of his tether. “I was a gambler for years, but I’d given that up.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I wanted something different. Better.” He stopped in front of the small window and gazed out, seeing not the clear night sky but the long, winding road that had led him to this impromptu cell. “I come from a long line of English squires, respectable folk who wanted nothing more than to work their land, raise another generation of little Kanes, and be buried in English soil. If I’d been in line to inherit the estate, I expect I would have been exactly like all my ancestors. But by custom the land goes to the oldest son, and I was the younger.”
He turned and leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “I couldn’t have the estate and didn’t have the patience for the church, the army, or the law, which are the usual choices for younger sons. So I became a hellion instead. After being sent down from Oxford, I came to America, which suited me right down to the ground. For years, I lived in saloons, moved from one town to the next when I got bored, saw the world and lived high. I gambled with some of the best, and won more often than not.”
"Did you win honestly?" she asked, curious rather than condemning.
He smiled a little. “I always played straight in an honest game, but if I sat down with a bunch of crooks, I could cheat as well as any riverboat gambler. It was a point of pride.” His smile faded and deep weariness showed. “But after seven or eight years, I’d had enough. Too much time in dark, smoky, noisy saloons, living on bad coffee and hard liquor. Too many sore losers who’ll pull a gun rather than admit they'd played their cards badly. It got downright tedious.”
He looked down at his hands and fiddled absently with the metal cuff. “It’s ironic. I was the family rebel and black sheep. I traveled thousands of miles to the wild frontier, braving Red Indians and prairie buffalo and Lord knows what else. My mother says that my letters are a source of shocked fascination to the whole county of Wiltshire. But when my thirtieth birthday showed on the horizon, I learned that at heart, I’m exactly like all my respectable ancestors. What I really wanted was a piece of land to call my own.” He fell silent.
Liza waited patiently for him to continue. When he didn’t, she asked, “Have you been looking for a spread to buy?”
“I already found one. Bought it with the proceeds of a four-day poker game in Leadville.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s up in Colorado, in the foothills above Pueblo. A valley with plenty of water, mountains all around. The most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. And only a couple of hours from a railroad. I can be in Denver in less than a day when I feel a need for civilization.”
He sighed. “At least, I could have if I wanted to. I only lived at the Lazy K for six months. Not long enough to get bored. I made friends with the ranch hands and neighbors, gave money to the church fund, and even let myself be adopted by a dog named Jenny."
"There's nothing like a dog to make a house feel like home," Liza commented.
"The Lazy K felt like home from the day I moved in. I'd been looking forward to having a real English Christmas like when I was a child in Wiltshire. A decorated tree in the parlor and candles in all the windows from Christmas Eve until Epiphany.” His eyes were distant with memory. "Candles to welcome travelers, my mother always said. She always gave a grand holiday dinner for family and neighbors. Still does, actually."
"It sounds like you had lovely holiday celebrations," Liza said warmly.
His expression shuttered and he gave an indifferent shrug. "Long ago and far way. I was a damned fool to think of doing anything like that at the Lazy K."
"It's not foolish to create a home." Liza regarded him with wide, compassionate eyes. “You don’t look like a murderer to me. Were you falsely convicted?”
He laughed bitterly. “Oh, I killed a man right enough. Everyone in the Gilded Rooster that night agreed that it was self-defense, but the fellow I shot was a rich man’s son, so justice didn’t have a chance.”
Her eyes widened and the blood drained from her face until she was pale as a death mask. “What was the name of the man you killed?”
“Holden. Billie Holden.” He frowned. “Did you know him?”
Looking ill, she buried her face in shaking hands. “He was my husband,” she said dully.
Chapter 3
Dear God, this lovely girl couldn’t have been that brute’s wife! Kane thought with horror. Instinctively, he retreated as far from her as the chain would allow. He would have given everything he had ever possessed to be somewhere else, any place on earth where he wouldn’t be causing Billie Holden’s widow more pain. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “So damned sorry!”
She raised her head and regarded him with wide, stark eyes. “How did it happen?”
Hesitantly, he said, “It was quick. Your husband didn’t suffer any. Beyond that...” Kane shook his head miserably. “You don’t need to know more than that, Mrs. Holden.”
“Liza. My name is Liza.” She got to her feet and approached him, eyes dry and implacable. “And I do need to know. All his father said was that Billie had been gunned down in a saloon called the Gilded Rooster, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” When he still hesitated, she said tensely, “I must know, Drew!”
He released his breath with a sigh. “Very well. I’d come down into Texas to look over some fancy new stock I’d heard about, and was on my way home when it happened. I stopped for the night in Saline. After dinner, I sat down for a friendly game of poker at the Gilded Rooster with a couple of locals.
“I was about to call it a night when there was a row at the bar. A chap who’d had too much to drink— Holden—took a fancy to a girl. Not one of the regular sporting girls, who’d have been happy to accommodate him, but a little Chinese kitchen maid who’d brought out a tray of clean glasses. Mei-Lin couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Holden—”
He broke off. “Are you sure you want to hear this? Only a man who was dead drunk and crazy could even think of looking at another female when he had a wife like you waiting at home.”
Grimly she said, “Keep talking!"
Reluctantly Kane continued, "Holden wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he was scaring Mei-Lin half to death. The other men in the saloon didn’t like it, but none of them dared interfere. One of the bar girls, Red Sally, tried to break it up. Even though she looked almost as scared as Mei-Lin, she said she’d be happy to go upstairs with such a fine gent. Holden ignored her. Said he’d never had a Chink, so he was going to have this one. He grabbed Mei-Lin by the wrist and started to drag her away.
“When she began crying, I ambled over and suggested that it might be better to choose a lady of experience. Instead of answering, Holden hauled off and slugged me in the stomach. I went down hard, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at the business end of a Colt.
“As I rolled away, Holden put a bullet into the floor where my head had been. I had a derringer in my pocket, so I shot back before he could try again.” Kane fingered the scorched hole in his coat where he had fired through the fabric. “If there had been any warning, I’d have tried to wing him rather than shooting to kill, but it all happened so fast...” His voice trailed off.
“If it was self-defense, how come you were convicted?”
His glance was sardonic. “You probably know that your husband was visiting his uncle, Matt Sloan, who pretty much owns Saline. Sloan decided that his nephew had to be avenged, so he sent a posse of his hands after me the next day. I was easy to catch, since I thought I’d been cleared and wasn’t trying to hide. When they caught up, they took me back to Saline, where Sloan called a court in the bar of the Gilded Rooster. The saloon owner, who was a crony of Sloan’s, sat as judge.”
Kane’s mouth twisted. “No witnesses were called, and whenever I tried to talk myself, I was ruled out of order with a fist. I was tried, convicted, and condemned in ten minutes. Sloan sent word of what he’d done to Holden’s family.
"Your father-in-law requested that I be sent to Prairie City so the family could have the pleasure of seeing me hang. Biff and Witless are a couple of Sloan’s hands who were deputized to take me back. The hanging must have been organized after you left to bury your father. It should be quite an event.” His agonized gaze caught hers. “I wish I could change what happened, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She turned away and leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were freezing. After a long, painful silence, she said, “Don’t blame yourself. Billie was a walking calamity. If it hadn’t been you, sooner or later someone would have had to kill him.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “His parents spoiled him rotten all his life. He was always nice as pie to them, and they thought he could do no wrong.”
Knowing it was none of his business, Kane asked, “Why did you marry him?”
She smiled sadly, her mind in the past. “He could be charming, and of course he was handsome as sin. When he came to Willow Point three years ago, he seemed like every girl’s dream come true. My father wasn’t so sure, but I was so crazy in love that Papa was afraid I’d run off if he didn’t let us get married. He’d heard of the Holden family, so he knew that I’d be marrying a man who could support me.
“But things started going wrong as soon as Billie took me back to Prairie City. His parents were furious that he’d married a nobody. They’d had hopes of matching him up with the daughter of another big rancher. But since the deed was done, they had to accept me. They were civil on the surface, but except for his sister Janie, it was like living in an icebox. Worst of all, Billie changed. Sometimes it was like when we were courting, but more often ...” Her voice trailed off.
“What was he like then?”
Haltingly she said, “About six months after we married ...” She stopped, her face white, before finishing in a rush of words. “At a church social, Billie saw me laughing with a neighbor. He pulled me away, and as soon as we got home he went crazy. Claimed I’d betrayed him, then he beat me to within an inch of my life.”
She bent her head, tears glinting in her eyes. “I was laid up for a long time. There was no one I could talk to. When I tried to tell his mother what happened, she wouldn’t listen. Billie had said I’d fallen down the stairs, and that was that.”
Kane swore with suppressed violence. “Where was your husband when you were half-dead from what he’d done?”
“Billie was very apologetic,” she said in a brittle voice. “Got down on his knees and begged my forgiveness, swore he’d never hurt me again.”
“Did he keep his word?” Kane asked cynically, knowing the answer.
“He never got quite so crazy again, but whenever he drank, he’d knock me around,” she said painfully. “He started taking long trips, supposedly doing business for his father. And ... and he began seeing other women. He didn’t try to hide it from me.”
If Billie Holden had been present, Kane would have broken the polecat’s neck with his bare hands. “Did you consider leaving him?”
“I did, but... well, he was my husband, for better and for worse. Sometimes he wasn’t so bad, and I kept thinking that if I tried harder, was a better wife, he wouldn’t be the way he was.”
“No! Don’t blame yourself," Kane said sharply. "Any man who’d treat his wife like he treated you is crazy or evil.”
She looked down at her fretfully twisting fingers. “I expect you’re right. No matter what I did, it didn’t make a difference.” Silent tears began flowing down her face. “God help me,” she whispered, “when I heard he was dead, my first reaction was relief.”
Kane had never been able to stand seeing a lady cry. Without conscious thought, he reached out and stroked her bent head as if she were a hurt child. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had jerked away, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned into his arms with a muffled sob.
He held her close while she wept as if her heart was breaking. He wondered when she had last been able to cry. Living in a house where she was despised, with a brutal husband who didn’t appreciate the treasure he had married…. God, it was enough to convince a man there was no justice in the world.
When her sobs began to diminish, he said quietly, “In time the nightmare will be over, Liza. When you leave the Holden ranch, you’ll be able to build a new life. You'll find the love and happiness you deserve.”
She made a choked, hysterical sound. “It will never be over.” Her hand went to her abdomen. “I’m pregnant. His parents will never let me go because they want Billie’s child. I’ll be trapped in that house until I die.”
Kane was silent for a long time. Then he sat down against the wall, bringing her with him and arranging her across his lap so that her head was resting against his shoulder. She was soft, so soft.
“It’s a bad situation, Liza, but not hopeless,” he said as he circled his arms around her. “You don’t have to go back to the Holdens. There’s plenty of ways a hardworking woman can support herself. When you’re ready to marry again, there will be no shortage of decent men who will treat you right.”
“I’ve thought of all the possibilities,” she said bleakly. “I’ve thought of nothing else. If I didn’t go back, or tried to leave with the baby, they’d hunt me down no matter where I went. I’d never have a moment free of worrying when they’d find us. And with his money, sooner or later Mr. Holden would find us. He’d never stop until he did.”
Kane’s arms tightened around her. “You don’t have to stay after your confinement. Though it would be a hard, hard thing to do, you could leave and let the baby be raised by its grandparents. Or would they insist that you stay, too?”
“The Holdens wouldn’t mind if I left after the baby is born. I'm sure they’d be delighted to see the last of me. But how can I let them raise my child? Billie was probably born with a mean streak, but they made him worse.” She swallowed hard. “Though it’s a terrible thing to admit, I don’t even want this baby. I’ve had a feeling of doom ever since I found out. What if the child turns out like Billie? Even if I’m there, I might not be able to make a difference. Yet I can’t abandon my own child. I can't!"
“Life is harder for good people,” he said sadly, unsurprised at her answer.
Liza closed her eyes, her grief ebbing away. Shouting and occasional gunshots rattled in the distance. She hoped the trouble would last all night, because when the town quieted down, Biff Burns would surely return and she would have to leave. Strange that in the arms of her husband’s killer, she was finding peace. Strange, yet it felt utterly right. She couldn’t blame Andrew Kane for what had happened in the Gilded Rooster. He was a decent man who’d tried to help a terrified young girl, and he was going to pay for his decency with his life.
Thinking about it, she realized that she and Drew were both victims of Billie’s craziness. Maybe that was why she felt so much kinship with him.
No, it was more than that. Drew was special. She would have thought so under any circumstances. “Thank you for listening,” she murmured. “My problems aren’t much compared to yours. Your courage sets a good example for me.”
There was a harsh edge to his laughter. “You think I have courage? Believe me, it’s as fake as a wooden nickel. Though I’ve faced death before, it’s always been a sudden thing, with no time to think. That’s not so hard, but having to sit and wait to die ...” He inhaled, then said in a rush of words, “I’m scared, Liza. Not only of death, but of having to die in front of a crowd of strangers. I’m terrified that when they take me to the gallows, I’ll break down and bawl like a wounded steer, begging for my life like the yellow-bellied coward I am.” His voice broke.
