Authors: Connie Mason
Belle wanted to tell Casey about the baby and almost had on several occasions. But the words wouldn’t come. True, Casey seemed content with his life here, but for how long? How long before he yearned for the excitement and danger of his previous occupation? How long before he tired of making love to her and sought variety in the arms of other women? Perhaps he already had.
“I’ll go find Tommy,” Greta said in the uncomfortable silence that ensued during Belle’s mental musings.
“I’ll come with you,” Mark said, hurrying off after Greta.
Belle sighed. Had her morbid mood chased them off? She hoped not. Constantly wondering when Casey was going to announce his departure was extremely nerve-racking. Especially coming on the heels of Harry Hopkins’s death sentence.
As if she’d conjured up his image, Casey walked into the room. “There you are. I was hoping to find you alone. There is something we need to discuss and it won’t wait. Please sit down.”
Here it comes
, Belle thought with resignation.
He’s
going to tell me he’s leaving
. She perched on the sofa and stared at her hands.
“I understand you went to the jailhouse to see Harry Hopkins today.”
Belle’s head shot up in surprise. “Who told you?”
“The sheriff stopped me on the street a little while ago. He suggested that I keep you barefoot and pregnant so you won’t meddle where you don’t belong.” He searched her face for her reaction. She paled somewhat but said nothing in response to his remark.
“The sheriff is as pig-headed as you are. Why won’t anyone listen to me?”
“Are you referring to that garbage you’ve been spewing about Hank Jones? I know you’re angry at the man for hurting Greta, but murder? Come on, love, be serious. Jones is a vicious man and I don’t want you hurt.”
Belle gnawed the soft underside of her lip. This wasn’t at all what she’d expected Casey to say. Daily she’d waited for him to announce his departure. When he made love to her at night and looked at her strangely afterward, she expected him to tell her good-bye. Had she been wrong about Casey?
“Listen to me a minute, Casey, then tell me I’m wrong,” Belle argued. “The name of McAllister’s third partner in the gold mine was Arnold Jones. Harry Hopkins told me all about him. He refused to sell his share to McAllister because he believed they would hit pay dirt. He died in a cave-in shortly after refusing to sell out. Harry had already sold his share, and T.J. bought the remaining share from Jones’s widow after he told her the mine was worthless. Jones had a wife and son back East.
“It seems more than coincidental that Hank Jones
should arrive in town at the time of McAllister’s murder,” Belle continued. “A man who would ruthlessly beat a helpless woman wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man in cold blood.”
Suddenly Casey began to listen to Belle, really listen. If what Belle said was true, she could be asking for a heap of trouble. Accusing a man like Jones of murder was certain to anger him. Voicing her suspicions to the sheriff placed her in danger, whether her accusations were true or not.
Yet he couldn’t help admiring Belle’s spunk and determination. “You’d make a damn good detective, Mrs. Walker.”
Belle’s face lit up. “You believe me? Oh, Casey, I …”
“Whoa, I didn’t say I believed you. I admit your story has merit, and I promise to check out Hopkins’ story and look into Jones’ background. But you have to promise me something in return.”
“If I can,” Belle said, intrigued by the concern she saw in Casey’s eyes.
“Stay away from the jailhouse and don’t go outside unless accompanied by either Mark or myself.”
“But I promised Harry …”
“I’ll take care of it, love. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I’d do.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed each wrist. But that wasn’t enough. He pulled her against him and felt her heart beating a wild tattoo against his chest.
She regarded him through misty eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.
“What is it, love? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I … I thought you were going to tell me something else when you said we needed to talk.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“That you were leaving. I’ve been waiting, you know, wondering how long it would be before you missed the excitement and danger of your previous work. And the women, of course.”
“Have I sought another woman since meeting you?” Casey asked, anger making his voice gruff. “How many times have I told you I’m not leaving? How many times will it take before you believe me?” Suddenly the anger building inside him could no longer be contained, and he confronted her with the words he’d wanted to say since learning Belle was pregnant with his child. “You’re carrying my child. Do you think I’d leave you now?”
Belle went still.
He knows!
How did he find out? When? Is that why he’d stayed this long? Was he remaining with her merely for the sake of their child? Please, God, she didn’t want him that way.
“How long were you going to keep it from me, Belle?” Casey blasted. “You must think I’m stupid not to notice the little changes taking place in your body. I sleep with you every night. I know your body as intimately as I know my own.
“Take your breasts, for instance.” He touched her right breast and stroked her nipple. She jerked in response. “Sensitive, aren’t they? That would have given me my first clue had I needed it. But I knew you were expecting my baby shortly after you did. I browbeat the doctor into telling me what was wrong with you. I was that worried.”
Belle sucked in a shallow breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I could ask you the same question. What did you
hope to gain by keeping me in the dark? The child you carry is mine, for godsake! Did you think I wouldn’t want it?”
“I didn’t know. I wanted to make sure you were going to be around for awhile before I told you. Can you blame me? I don’t trust any man. Everyone I’ve ever loved left me. First my mother, then Father, then Tom.”
Casey’s expression softened. “Are you saying you love me?”
“Hell no! I’ll never allow myself to admit to loving a man again. If you’re going to leave, do it now.”
Casey grit his teeth in frustration. “I told you, I’d never leave a woman who’s carrying my child.”
“Am I supposed to thank you? Sorry, Casey, I want more than that. You only want me for our child’s sake.”
“Where in the hell did you get that idea? If that was the case, why would I come to your bed every night when there are plenty of other women willing to accommodate me? I swear, Belle, I’ve never known a more irritating female.”
He rose abruptly. “I’ve got work to do. Don’t leave the house. Someone has to think about our child if you won’t.” Sending her an exasperated look, he charged from the room before he said something he’d regret.
I did it again
, Belle thought dimly.
I made Casey angry when all I really wanted was to throw myself in his arms and stay there forever
. Why did she continually aggravate him to the point of intense anger? Was she testing him? Why was she deliberately trying to drive him away, when all she wanted was his love?
At least she’d gotten through to him where Harry Hopkins was concerned, she thought with grim
satisfaction. She had planted the seed of Hank Jones’s guilt and Casey could take it from there. Not that she intended to stay home while Casey did all the investigating. She hadn’t actually promised she’d remain home so she felt no obligation to do so. There were a few things she could do herself to help Harry. One was to bring him nourishing food during his last days. Another was to ease his loneliness.
Casey realized he had allowed fury to get the best of him again. But damn, he couldn’t help it. He’d waited with more patience than he thought possible for Belle to tell him about the baby, and when she’d calmly stated that she’d expected him to tell her he was leaving, he’d blurted out knowledge of their child. Then his temper had made him lash out at her.
One positive thing had come out of their confrontation. He no longer had to hide his knowledge of the baby. Belle had damn well better start taking care of herself or he’d know the reason why.
Casey arrived at the telegraph office a short time later. He composed a telegram to Allan Pinkerton requesting information on Hank Jones. If anyone was privy to information about known outlaws, it was Allan. While he waited for an answer there were other things he could do. He set off to talk to both Harry Hopkins and Hank Jones.
Finding Hopkins was easy. He wasn’t going anyplace except to the gallows. During the lengthy interview Casey became convinced that the old man hadn’t killed McAllister. It was obvious to Casey that Hopkins had confessed to save Belle, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner. Before
taking his leave, he promised Hopkins that he’d do his best to try to find the real killer. But unfortunately time was running out.
Locating Jones proved more difficult. The man seemed to be avoiding all the popular watering holes and dives in town. Casey’s carefully worded inquiries got him exactly nowhere. All he received for his trouble were blank stares and silence.
That night Casey avoided Belle’s bed. He sat in the study tossing back snifter after snifter of McAllister’s choice brandy, brooding in stony silence. If it wasn’t for the baby, he’d pull up stakes and get the hell out of here. Belle didn’t want him. She had Tommy, she had money, she’d never want for anything. What in the hell could he give her that she didn’t already have?
Love? Hell! She didn’t want his love. Protection? She could buy that. She sure knew how to knock down a man’s ego. He wondered why she let him make love to her if she expected him to catch the next stage out of town? Probably because she needed what he could give her, he thought uncharitably.
“Do you mind company or would you rather drink alone?”
Casey raised his eyes to Mark, who was leaning negligently against the door frame.
“Come in, brother, if you can stand the company. I’m in a foul mood tonight.”
Mark sauntered into the room and took a seat opposite Casey. “Are the lovebirds at it again?”
“I just can’t figure that woman, Mark. She manages to chew me up and spit me out without
conscious effort. She angers and bewitches me at the same time. There are times I’d like to strangle her. But more often I just want to make love to her. She makes me crazy, Mark.”
“Thank God it’s you and not me,” Mark said with a grin.
“Enough of my problems. What about you, Mark? Are you sorry you came to San Francisco?”
“Not a bit. The making of wine is an intriguing process. I’m learning fast, you know.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve decided to place you in charge of the production end of the business. I certainly can’t handle everything myself. You’ll find the salary generous, enough for you to set up your own household if you wish. Not that I want you to leave. You’re welcome here as long as you like. I’m sure Belle feels the same as I do.”
“Thanks, Casey. Still taking care of your little brother, just like Pa wanted, aren’t you? That stint in prison made me grow up. Pa would be proud of me now.”
“He was always proud of you.”
“No, he worried about me. He was proud of you. I accept the job. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay on here for a while longer.”
“A blond-haired beauty wouldn’t have anything to do with your staying, would it?”
Mark flushed. “You’ve probably noticed I’m more than a little fond of Greta. She returns my regard but she thinks she’s not good enough for me. Hell, Casey, she’s not a whore. She earned a severe beating for refusing to bed a man for money. As for the other matter, any naive girl can be led astray by a fancy man spouting false promises.”
“If you really want Greta I have no objection. Hell, how can I tell you how to conduct your life when I can’t even handle my own wife?”
“Is it that bad?”
“Worse. Belle is aware that I know about the baby. She didn’t want to tell me because she still believes I am going to leave her and Tommy. Nothing I say or do will convince her that I’m here to stay. Especially now that I’m going to be a father.” His last sentence was spoken with consummate pride.
“You’ll be a good father, Casey. I’m sure Belle will realize it and come to her senses.”
“I hope I can hold out that long,” Casey muttered darkly.
“Good night, brother. I can’t sit around jawing with you all night. Some of us have to work for a living.”
“I reckon I should hit the sack, too. I’ve got some investigating to do tomorrow. Belle said some things tonight about Harry Hopkins and a man named Hank Jones that made sense. I wired Allan Pinkerton for information.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Not now. It’s late. Good night, Mark.”
Casey failed to follow his own advice. Instead of going to bed he stared into the dying fire for another hour. He was close to dozing off when he heard footsteps pass just outside the closed door and continue on up the stairs. They were furtive footsteps, but Casey’s keen hearing and trigger reflexes held him in good stead. He removed his boots and crept to the door, easing it open on silent hinges. He thanked God for the servants’ diligence in keeping them well oiled. What he saw froze the blood in his
veins. A shadowy figure dressed in unrelieved black was creeping up the stairs, his footsteps all but silent on the carpeted treads. Casey turned back to the study for a loaded derringer he kept in the desk drawer and returned to the foyer. The man had reached the top landing now and turned unerringly toward the master bedroom. Casey saw him clearly. Light from the lamp left burning in the upstairs hallway cast his shadow against the wall.
Gun in hand, Casey crept up behind him. The intruder reached for the doorknob. Casey called out a challenge. The intruder turned and fired wildly at Casey. Casey returned the fire, but poor lighting and his constant movement made the intruder a difficult target. Casey heard Belle scream and warned her to remain in her room. He gave the same advice to Mark, Tommy, Greta, and Wan Yo.
Mark had no intention of obeying. The first exchange of gunfire brought him scrambling out of bed and reaching for his own weapon. He opened the door to his room and poked his head into the hallway. His eyes widened when he saw the intruder standing between him and Casey.