Beloved Counterfeit (30 page)

“Micah, really,” she said, “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Don’t you?” He held her at arm’s length, his grip firm but gentle. “How did you know you weren’t walking into a trap at the cottage? That man could’ve been one of them.”

She shook her head. “I was thinking of Carol.”

Micah lifted her chin so she would meet his gaze. “I promised I would keep you safe, Ruby, but you’re going to have to let me do it.”

“I will,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She paused. “Micah, about the man at Emilie’s home. I—”

“Don’t worry about him,” Micah said. “I’m satisfied he is who he says he is.”

“But that makes no sense.” Ruby walked to the window and looked out. From nowhere the horizon seemed to tilt, and she grasped the frame for support.

“You understand I cannot tell you anything more than that he’s provided sufficient proof.”

Ruby formed a protest then thought better of it. “Yes, of course,” she said softly.

He gestured to the back garden where Carol had joined the other two girls. “I’ve a sermon idea I’d like to run past you,” he said, “on honesty.”

Ruby gulped back the nausea. “Oh?” was all she could manage to say.

“ ‘Only fear the Lord, and serve him in truth with all your heart: for consider how great things he hath done for you,’ ” he quoted.
“Wise words from 1 Samuel that I hope you might help me reason through.”

She looked up and smiled as her fingers brushed the sand dollar in her pocket. “I would like that very much.”

He touched the tip of her nose. “Have you any idea how much I appreciate that you act as a helpmeet in this?”

Tess scrambled into sight, and Ruby watched the girl tumble beneath the laundry drying on the line. True to her word, Maggie followed a close distance behind with the book tucked under her arm.

“Ruby?”

“What?” She found his gaze once more. “I’m sorry. I was watching—”

“The horizon?” he asked with an unreadable expression.

“The girls, actually.” A wave of nausea hit her, and she fought to remain upright.

“Shall we go and have a discussion with our daughter, then?” Micah asked.

“Our daughter?” She smiled despite the churning in her gut. “I like the sound of that, Micah Tate.” Her smile went south. “Perhaps you should go ahead, though. I’ll be right there.”

Micah cupped her cheek with his palm. “Are you ill?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, though she barely managed to wait until Micah’s boots hit the stairs before she found the chamber pot.

When she looked up, she found Micah staring. “You are unwell.” A statement and not a question. He crossed the room to give her an odd look. “I figure this to be overwork,” he decided, “and thus you will rest today.” He lifted her easily and set her on the bed. “Hot tea will ease what ails you.”

Though she wished to scramble away, Ruby stayed put. “I’m fine, truly.”

A steady look, and then Micah shrugged. “Nonetheless, Carol will bring tea and toast. On my way back to the courthouse, I’ll stop in at the Carters’ and see if perhaps the reverend or his wife can offer some advice on hiring a cook to take over that part of your duties.”

“Truly, Micah, I enjoy the cooking. I’ve done it all my life, and I’d be lost if I didn’t have someone to cook for.” The truth.

One of few she’d spoken to him about her past.

“Fine,” he said after a moment. “Then someone to take on the other duties.” He paused. “What is it you do?” When she told him, he shook his head. “I’ll not try to figure how you manage it all, but I’ll see to it that you’ll not continue to do so.”

“Thank you,” was all she could manage as she watched her husband walk away.

A moment with her eyes closed, and the ill feeling passed.

“Are you sleeping?”

Carol. Ruby opened her eyes and saw Opal’s precious child standing in the doorway with a tray. “Come in, honey,” she said.

“Micah told me to bring you tea.” She remained in place only a moment before carefully crossing the room to set the tray on the table beside the bed.

The question of how the girl had managed to climb two flights of stairs holding the tray disappeared when she heard heavy footfalls heading back downstairs. Micah. Ruby smiled. “Thank you, Carol. Won’t you sit with me?”

Indecision crossed Carol’s face, though she quickly settled onto the settee. Ruby took a sip then set the cup aside.

“He’s disappointed in me.” Carol looked to Ruby as if asking her to disagree.

“As am I.”

She rose. “That’s because you’re married to him. You’ve always got to do what he says now. Just like my mama used to do.”

“Carol.” Ruby kept her voice low and even. “Sit down.” When the girl had complied, she continued. “Yes, Micah is my husband, and a wife has a duty to do as he asks. I don’t expect you to understand this at your age.”

“But. . .” She looked away.

Ruby scooted to the edge of the bed then eased over to sit beside Carol. “This time I agree with Micah, not only because he’s my husband, but because I am disappointed, too.”

“I thought you would understand,” Carol said. “You of all people should know why I had to lie.”

“You of all people.”

A stab in the gut, and this time not from nausea. “What do you mean?”

Wide eyes shimmered with tears. “You know,” she said in a low voice.

She did. She also knew it was the only way they’d survived thus far. But to explain this to a child?

Lately Ruby had trouble explaining it to herself, especially when each night she fell asleep beside a man who trusted her completely. A man who refused to let her tell him about her past.

She sighed. If only she could have the kind of faith Micah professed.
Fix that in me, Lord.

“That man could have meant you harm,” she said, intent on deflecting the topic.

“But he knows Miss Viola and Mr. Remy.” She shook her head. “And he wore a badge inside his jacket. And he only cut himself because I accidentally tripped him when he was carrying the plate I’d brought him.”

Ruby shook her head. “Carol,” she said slowly, “the fact remains that you and William have done something terribly wrong. There are always consequences to lying. Micah and I will decide what those consequences are for you.”

Carol swiped at her tears, her demeanor now defiant. “If there are always consequences to lying, then you better start worrying,
Mother
.”

Chapter 36

Viola took cautious steps up the back stairs to the clinic, all the while thinking of the times she’d boldly arrived via the front staircase. Now, however, she could barely force herself to step onto the property, much less face anyone who might see her there.

Had she not agreed to patch up some criminal, she would have happily gone on taking as little interest in the medical issues of the citizens as possible. Thankfully, there had been no wrecks on the reef since Daniel left—bad for the wreckers but good for the shipping commerce and for forgetting about the missing doctor.

“Wait until I get my hands on you, Daniel Hill,” she muttered as she slid the key into the lock and turned the knob. “Of all the times you promised you would marry me, we end up like this?”

“The man was a fool.”

She jumped, and the key clattered to the ground. Before she could pick it up, a distinctly male hand reached around her to grab it first. Viola turned to follow the length of arm and the breadth of shoulder, finally stalling at eyes the color of a stormy sea.

“Clay?”

Viola caught herself on the porch rail, though her knees still threatened to give way. She looked beyond the familiar face to find two men. Micah’s men. Despite her better judgment, she waved them away then watched as they settled themselves on the steps.

She opened the door, stepped aside, and let Clay press past. “Why are you here?” she managed to ask as she closed the door. “You’re not the prisoner Micah wanted me to see to, are you?”

“I reckon I am, though it took a good bit of talking to convince Tate I’m on his side of the law.” He held up his injured arm. “So, yes, he said you’d patch it up for me. Nice guy, that Tate, though he is a bit protective of his kin.” He paused. “Second reason might come as a surprise to you.”

“Oh?”

His nod was quick and barely noticeable. “I came to save your skin, Vivi.”

“Save my—” She glanced at his poorly wrapped hand. “What happened to you?”

He shrugged. “That’s what happens when you let a girl do a job a woman was meant to do.” At her outraged look, he held up his good hand. “I’m just teasing you,” he said. “I’m ashamed to admit this, but I ran into a little trouble while waiting out the right opportunity to make myself known to you. If it weren’t for the gal who found me, you might have been one more almost-husband short.”

“Clay, honestly,” she said. “That’s a joke I don’t find funny.”

“Last time I hid in plain sight over at the boardinghouse. Even told ’em my real name.” He held up his injured hand. “Probably should’ve done that again, but Tate nearly ruined my cover by asking too many questions. Had to tell him I was a fellow looking to find lost treasure. That, Vivi, wasn’t a complete lie.”

He moved toward her, so Viola slipped aside to put Dan’s examination table between them. Again she took note of his injury. His gaze met hers, and she saw the scar.

“You going to fix me up?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.

“Yes,” she said even as the memory of a brash soldier injured dueling for her hand plagued her thoughts.

His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

She cleared her throat and reached to move the stool near to the table as if this unexpected reunion hadn’t rattled her to the core. “Let’s see what you’ve done to yourself this time, Clay Drummond.”

Clay threw a long leg over the stool as he continued to watch her. Finally, he set his arm on the table then stretched out his fingers. “So where’s the doc?”

A pause while she touched his fingers to draw his hand within reach. “He’s away.”

“Temporarily, or is he gone for good?”

She looked up sharply from her work of unwinding the makeshift bandage. “He didn’t say. Why?”

Clay shrugged. “Worried about you.”

“Everything’s fine with me.”

Yet as she stood in the spot where Dan Hill should have been, things were anything but fine. Behind her was the door where Andre Gayarre had burst through, the floor where he’d fallen. And gone was the one man she thought she could live the rest of her life with, even after he’d watched her kill a man.

“Is that so?” His chuckle was slow, deep. “Then I guess no one’s told you about the suspicion of murder.”

“Murder?” Her heart thumped against her chest as she went back to work. “You’ve got the wrong woman.” She paused in her work to let her hands still their trembling. “This is about Andre Gayarre, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“You’re late on that one,” she said as casually as she could. “The shooting was ruled self-defense. Case closed.”

“Maybe in Florida, but you know things don’t operate the same way in Louisiana,” he said as he flexed his now-free fingers. “I did some damage to that, didn’t I?”

“At least it’s not your trigger hand.” Viola forced a calm breath. “Now tell me why a lawman from Texas would come all the way to Florida to drag out an already-closed case.”

“Ex-lawman, Vivi,” he said. “I hire out now.”

She refused to look up from the work of picking glass out of his hand. Memories of the brash fellow who’d tried to court her, only to find opposition from every male member of the Dumont family, were limited by her choice to remember. What Viola did recall was a man who was too smart, too handsome, and too good with a gun for his own good health.

She turned his hand over to see that his knuckles had suffered from the same treatment. “This looks like pieces of a whiskey bottle I’m picking out of here, so I’ll guess you’ve bought yourself a saloon.”

He didn’t smile. “Hardly,” he said. “That’s part of a dinner plate, by the way. Turns out I’m still as light on my feet as I used to be.”

This time his joke did hit the mark. Viola gave him only the briefest of smiles before her hand slipped and she dropped the instrument.
 

It clattered to the tabletop and not the floor. Easily retrieving it, she went back to work as if everything about the man she’d once entertained the thought of marrying hadn’t changed in a heartbeat.

“Did you hear me, Vivi? I’m working for people who need justice now. Can you feature it?”

“I heard you.” She set the instrument aside and looked up at him. “Believing you, now that’s another thing entirely.”

This time his smile was quick to unfold. “I’m sure that’s the truth. You’ll likely not believe me when I tell you that losing you put me on a course I never expected. See, I didn’t leave the Rangers; the Rangers left me.” He shrugged. “Actually, after one too many nights associating with the same fellows I was supposed to be rounding up, the captain told me they’d prefer I keep to that company instead of theirs.”

She set the instrument aside. Despite her refusal to comment, the thought of Clay Drummond playing any part but the brash soldier was hard to fathom. “So how did you end up changing careers? I figured once a soldier, always a soldier.”

“Did time,” he said as he once again flexed his fingers. “But it was good for me.”

“As in jail?” Another blow to the memory of Clay Drummond. Surely the questions she had would find expression, but for the present, it was all Viola could do not to knock Clay off the stool and seat herself. Only the Lord kept her knocking knees from giving way.

He reached over to rest his free hand atop hers. “I left jail a man who knew two things: the Lord and the law.” He noted her look of discomfort and removed his hand. “When I was released, the fellow who prosecuted me in San Antone was more than happy to teach me what he knew about lawyering. I ended up working for him until I got a better offer some months ago.”

“Is that so?” The dashing image returned, and with it her resolve not to think of it. “This might sting a bit.” She set the basin under his hand and washed his wounds. “Sorry,” she said when she was done.