Blind Trust (33 page)

“So,” she murmured, “I'm in love with a legend.”

Smiling, he leaned against the wall. “As am I, Darcy Snow,” he said softly. “Do you think your departure from New York didn't make you a public figure?”

“Perhaps a scandalous one,” she admitted. “I was the talk of the town, then?”

“Lemuel tried to keep the talk down,” he said. “But he couldn't. To hear the newspapers tell it, you are a cross between Belle Starr and Helen of Troy. They haven't had a scandal like that since … well, since James Gordon Bennett, Jr., came to call on Caroline May on New Year's Day.”

Darcy laughed softly. All of New York knew the story, though of course no polite person would allude to it. Naturally, Tavish would. The notorious Mr. Bennett, who inherited the
New York Herald
from his father, was rumored to be rather fond of the bottle—indeed, it was said he liked to ride a bicycle around and around his house in the middle of the night, pausing only for a nip at a brandy bottle held by his butler. He'd called on his sweetheart Miss May during the formal New Year's visits, an old Dutch custom practiced in New York. Darcy had heard the story in whispers from Adelle, how he'd arrived in the May parlor rather the worse for wear and then answered a call of nature in the May family piano—or the fireplace, Adelle wasn't quite sure which one. Her brother horsewhipped him on the steps of the Union Club, then fought him in a duel in Delaware. New York society was horrified and made it quite plain that Mr. Bennett was welcome no longer. He could ride up the steps of the Newport Reading Room on his horse, he could torment the young ladies from a nearby finishing school walking two by two past the Union Club, just for sport. But he had gone just a bit too far this time.

“Well, I'm glad I gave them something amusing to talk about,” she said lightly. “Now that Mr. Bennett has retired to Europe, New York has been rather free of scandal.”

“Good of you to divert them.” Tavish spoke in the same tone, but the newspaper stories had worried him. If Darcy ever had to go to trial, the whole town would turn against her. He wished she was more aware of her danger. But as he looked back at her, catching her unawares, he saw the worry in her gray eyes that she'd tried to hide from him. He pressed her hand silently. There was still a long road ahead.

The guests began to head off to bed. Tavish told Darcy to go on up; he would have a last cigar. Darcy nodded, relieved. He'd done it last night as well, somehow guessing her shyness. Their encounter in the house of assignation seemed to have occurred in another life, and Darcy still felt bashful about sharing her bed. She slipped under the covers and wondered how long he would be, if he would expect to make love to her. Last night she'd been crying, upset about Edward, and he'd merely held her. She felt thin and weak from her illness, and her heart was beating in nervous anticipation as she imagined his reaction should she refuse him that night. Still worrying, convinced she would be awake the night through with nerves, Darcy fell asleep.

She woke sometime near dawn. He was sleeping next to her, his back to her. Her heart felt full as she studied him. She placed her palm against his bare back and felt the warmth of his skin, the living presence of him, the miracle of him beside her in the hush before morning begins.

He stirred, then turned over and opened his eyes. They looked at each other for what seemed like ages in the dim shadows of the dawn. They kissed. She felt so slight underneath his hands, so tremulous. The birds were beginning their morning noises outside the window, but the house was not yet stirring. The gray light was gentle, and they made barely a sound. She felt something move in her chest, some last heavy hurt that dislodged and was gone. The cool air moved against her skin. She was free now, she belonged to him. No longer wife, no longer daughter, she had only herself to give. His face was above hers, intent and serious, and she kept it between her hands. Pink light stole around the edges of the curtains, and she was crying silently, kissing him now, holding the kiss, and sighing. She had come home.

When they were finally packed and ready to set off, Darcy was shocked to discover that Tavish expected her to return to New York while he went off in search of Anne Hinkle.

“I thought we were partners,” she said angrily. “I thought that we would stand together—”

“Yes, we will stand together,” he said grimly. “Symbolically, not in fact. You will return to your uncle. I will go on. I will not have you in danger. Not again.”

“I won't be in dan—”

“I will not lose you!” he broke in fiercely. “Of course you'll be in danger. Dargent knows exactly what you're about to do.”

“How can he? Julia told no one that Anne telegraphed her from Denver.”

Tavish shook his head. “Anne did not telegraph Julia.”

“She did, Julia told me she did. If you're trying to get me to retreat, Tavish, I must tell you that—”

“Anne couldn't have written to Julia. She's not in Denver. And the only people that know that are Artemis Hinkle and me. Dargent must have telegraphed Julia. He wants me to go to Denver—he expects me there. And if you had gone,” he said gently, “you would have walked into a trap.”

Darcy took this in. “I see. Well, then. Where are you going to look for her?”

“I don't have to look. I know where she is. And I will go and find her, and you will return to New York.”

“Tavish, I have a right to go with you. My father's life was ruined because of Dargent, and we know that man was behind Claude's machinations. Perhaps
I
can succeed with Anne Hinkle; I knew her as Annie O'Day, remember? I was fond of her, and she of me. I can talk her into coming back with us, uncovering Dargent's identity, and forcing his silence.”

“His silence? But we must have him arrested.”

Darcy fell silent. Before her eyes, a gulf opened up between them. She nodded slowly. “Of course he deserves to be in jail, but do we have the right to ask Annie to destroy the happiness of her new family for his punishment? What of Julia and Willie Archer, and Artemis Hinkle? What of Ned Van Cormandt, who is being blackmailed as well for a dalliance that occurred five years ago? If it were just a question of the Old Guard exposed for their part in the blind pool, I would accept it. But this would destroy a good man and his daughter, Tavish. And it would destroy a friend.”

“But Dargent committed murder. Two murders, maybe more. He killed my friend in a horrific way. Not to mention Claude, no matter if he deserved it. I will never forget it. And I will not rest,” Tavish said grimly, “until he pays for Jamie.”

“Revenge,” she said dully.

“Yes, revenge,” he said, taking her hand, “but not only that. He needs to be put where he will harm no one else. Do you think if we silence him that he will reform? I don't think so. This is a criminal mind, Darcy, and a cruel one, an amoral one. I'm sorry, but I cannot agree with you. I will try with all my power not to let Anne Hinkle's secret past come out. But I will not shirk my duty. It is too clear to me. Artemis will stand by Anne. He will deny the rumor. And Willie, if he is the man Julia thinks he is, will stand by her, too. And Ned—well, Ned will just have to fend for himself. His marriage is unhappy anyway, and Cora is not in a position to throw stones.”

She looked at his face, and she was swayed by his argument. He was right. She had wanted to pretend that no one would be hurt, that they could sweep the past away with nothing on their consciences. That they could go on with no regrets, no pain. But of course they could not.

She held his gaze steadily. “All right. But I want to share that duty. I want to help. Tavish, I
need
to help. Let us free ourselves of this together. Let me stand by you, not sit and wait in Lemuel's parlor in New York with my embroidery in my hands. How can you possibly ask me to leave you now? How can you bear it?”

His face was full of pain. He hated to do it; he'd die before he'd put her in danger again. But he loved her courage, and he knew she was right. He could not bear for her to leave him now. “Yes. We'll go together,” he said. His fingers linked through hers. “We'll stay together, from now on.”

At St. Louis, they both rushed off the train, Darcy to telegraph Lemuel, and Tavish to find some food. They had both been horrified at the fare served in railroad hotel dining rooms, Tavish calling them “a slow downward journey to the ninth circle of hell.” The steaks were gray meat dredged in flour and fried in an abundance of lard; the taste bore no resemblance to meat, but suggested the metallic tin flavor of the pan it had been cooked in. At one stop Tavish could have sworn they dined on prairie dog. He decided to keep this information from Darcy. Until they reached the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad, which was famed for its excellent food at Harvey Houses along the route, they would have to make the best of it.

Darcy rushed back onto the train with minutes to spare. Tavish passed her the sandwiches and pie he'd managed to buy for them. “Did you succeed as well in your mission?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, settling into her seat and unwrapping her sandwich. She peered between the two thick slices of bread. “What is this?”

“Don't ask,” Tavish answered cheerfully.

“I told Lemuel not to worry, we were on our way to Colorado Springs.”

Tavish swallowed with difficulty. “Oh.”

She eyed him over her sandwich. “Was that all right?”

“Well, I should have asked you not to tell him. It's better not to let people know our business. It's a habit of mine. What if someone asks him and he lets it slip? Or if he tells your aunt.”

“Don't worry, Tavish. Uncle Lemuel can keep a secret.”

“I hope so.” Tavish chewed energetically. “I don't know what this is, but it's terrible. I just hope I finish chewing by the time we reach Kansas.”

It was a slow journey, even after they had transferred onto the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, the line Tavish knew well since he'd worked along it. There were numerous delays due to the snow that was still piled high along the tracks, and the train was often cold, though at various points there would be an inexplicable burst of heat, and passengers would groan and remove their scarves and gloves. At least they both had a Pullman berth; Tavish had insisted on that. Darcy had been prepared to sit up for the journey, not having enough money for a sleeper after her doctor bills. But Tavish had pointed out that they both needed plenty of sleep for whatever might lay ahead, and he paid for both of them. Perhaps he'd borrowed some money from Columbine, for he told her he'd refused Lemuel's offer to pay his way.

Plenty of sleep was an optimistic view, Darcy had thought the first night she'd struggled in her berth. Perhaps the impossible effort of undressing and dressing lying down would exhaust her enough to be able to sleep in the narrow space. She'd been spoiled, of course, by her luxurious, large bed in New York. But it wasn't just a longing for space and comfort; she was terrified she would roll out through the curtains and land on some poor unsuspecting passenger's head. But she found that after the first few nights, she slept well, perhaps better that she had in her soft bed. She loved the clacking sound of the train wheels against the tracks. Closing her eyes, she imagined the astonishingly wide prairie outside, with its never-ending sea of softly waving grass.

Soon she was used to the dust that was engrained in every crease in her clothing. She was used to the smell of cattle, grass, and open air. She was even used to the scrambling with the other passengers to line up for the morning trip to the washroom, everyone blinking sleepily with towels in hand.

But she never got used to the land. After the berths were converted into plush seats for day traveling, Darcy settled next to Tavish for the best part of the trip: the scenery. She had never imagined such space and such beauty existed as on the long trip across the prairie. She could see for miles and miles across the grass, only glimpsing an occasional cowboy or a herd of cattle. She had never seen such skies. She had never felt so free.

They passed Dodge City and the Kansas border, and were now well into Colorado. Tavish was glowering and telling her about the massacre of the buffalo and the cruel effect on the Indians when it happened. Suddenly there was a loud explosion, and the brakes of the train squealed painfully in the straining effort to reach a quick stop. Realizing what was to come, Tavish tried to throw his arm across Darcy, but he couldn't prevent her from flying out into the aisle as the train jolted and swung crazily. She landed on top of someone else and hung onto the side of her seat for dear life. Screaming and shouting mingled with the shrieking of metal, and after a series of heart-stopping jerks, the train bumped to a halt.

A train wreck. But Darcy could see, even as she pulled herself up to a sitting position, that everyone in this car appeared relatively unhurt. There were bumps and cuts and crying children and bellowing men, but it hadn't been as bad as it could have been.

“We might have jumped the track. I can't tell whether the explosion was on the train or on the track,” Tavish said, peering out the window.

People were beginning to move now, some still panicked. Some people worried aloud about the train blowing up, others muttered about train robbers. Passengers were pushing one another to get near the exits.

“Just keep your heads,” Tavish shouted. “We're all fine.”

But they all continued to push, and soon all the passengers were spilling from the train to walk alongside the tracks. Some stumbled onto the grass and sat, holding their heads. A doctor moved along the wounded, binding their scrapes. Tavish and Darcy jumped off and moved down the track with the rest. There was no sign of robbers, at least. Just the wide-open prairie and an empty sky.

And then the murmur was passed down the line. Sabotage. The train workers had confirmed it; there was an explosion in the engine room. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the train.