Cinnamon and Roses (25 page)

"I don't know, sir. She was a stranger, and I—"

"There's going to be a trial,” Caleb said matter-of-factly. “You'll be charged with trying to murder Rebecca."

"But it weren't my idea, Mr. Adams! Honest to God, it weren't. She said she'd pay me good money if I could get a job at your place. Then she made me give that stuff to your wife. I worried at what it might do, but she said
nothin
’ serious, and she paid me so good.
Enough to go back to Lansing and take care of my sister.
She's real sick, she is, sir."

Caleb showed no sign that her words affected him. “I hope the woman paid you extremely well, and I hope you sent the money to your sister, because you won't be getting out of prison any time soon.
Unless they hang you, of course."

"Oh, no, sir,” she said, wringing her hands. “You can't let them do that to me. It weren't my idea. I only did what I was told."

"You'll forgive me if your story doesn't tug at my heartstrings, but my wife and child nearly died. It certainly doesn't matter to me what they do to you."

"Get me out of this, sir, and I'll do anything to make it up to you and your family.
Anything at all."

Caleb shared a glance with Marshal Thompson and shrugged his shoulders in an uncaring gesture. “Since it was my family you tried to
murder
"—he stressed the word—"I suppose the judge would listen to me. He might even go easy on you ... if I gave him good reason."

Dolores's eyes pleaded with him, but she made no sound.

"You would have to tell me quite a bit, though, to make it worth my while."

"Oh, yes, sir. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Good.” Caleb turned from uninterested bystander to a man intent on getting answers. “Let's start with who gave you the herb to hide in my wife's tea."

"Don't know her name, Mr. Adams, and that's the God's honest truth. I
never seen
her before she hired me. But she had the blackest hair I ever seen. Black as the bottom of my shoe, it was.” She lifted her foot and showed him the sole. “Cold woman, she was, too.
Perty
, I guess, for a woman
gettin
’ on a bit in years. She covered it real good with all that face paint and such.
Dressed nice, too.
Real fancy-like."

"What else?"

Her eyes darted from Caleb to the marshal. “You're
gonna
get me off, right?"

"I'll do my best,” he said. And he would, if she gave him the information he needed.

"Don't know if she's still there, but she always had me come to the
boardin
’ house. After dark, o’ course,
so's
no one would see us
talkin
'. Sometimes she
come
out back, but other times I went to her room."

"Where is it?"

"Very back corner of the first floor. It's right easy to sneak in and out without being seen."

Caleb turned without another word and left the building. His boot heels echoed on the planks of the boardwalk as he made his way down the street to
Alwilda
Herring's boarding house.

Caleb and the marshal sneaked around the side of the boarding house, not wanting the woman they were after alerted to their presence. Though the sun had set, the curtains at the window of the corner room hadn't been drawn yet, and they could see lamplight glowing within.

A shapely figure crossed in front of the window, and both men crouched lower. The woman seemed agitated, quickly pacing back the way she had come. Caleb tried to get a look at the woman's face, but the angle of his view only allowed him to see a torso wrapped snugly in bright yellow material.

He waved a hand, signaling Marshal Thompson to follow him to the back of the building, where a door would gain them entrance. When he saw the crooked, rickety steps up to the door, he cautioned the marshal to move stealthily. Any sound might scare off their prey.

Thompson insisted on going in first, gun drawn. Caleb wanted to barrel past the older man; he believed his fury would be much more deadly than even a gun.

Thompson moved forward, and Caleb winced when the floorboards gave a loud creak. An instant later they heard a door open and close.

"
Dammit
!” Caleb yelled. “She heard us coming!"

He ran out of the building and around to the front in time to see a flutter of yellow disappear down the street. He raced after it but found only darkness. A lone horse tethered nearby snorted at being awakened from his nap.
If only the animal could tell him where the woman had gone.

Caleb cursed as the marshal caught up to him.

"I lost her,” he said, smacking his fist against his thigh. “
Dammit
! She probably saw us, knows we're on to her. She'll never come back here now."

"Let's go back and search the room. Maybe we'll find something that will tell us who she is and where else she might hide."

Caleb nodded and followed Thompson. He felt like a failure. The person he was after was a woman, for God's sake. How hard could it be to catch her? Then he remembered his sister—and his wife—and their single-minded determination, and he admitted that if a woman wanted to hide badly enough, she damn well might not be found until the turn of the millennium.

This time they knocked on the front door of the boarding house.
Alwilda
Herring took a long while to answer. She opened the door only a crack and squinted through her spectacles at Marshal Thompson, taking her time to confirm his identity. Finally she let him in, only grudgingly allowing Caleb to follow at the lawman's behest.

Thompson explained, without giving away any
details, that
they needed to speak with the woman who occupied the first-floor corner room. Both men feigned disappointment when no one answered
Alwilda's
knocks. Thompson smiled and said he'd need to take a look around the room.

The elderly
Alwilda
stood in the doorway while they searched, her hands propped on her hips as she tapped her foot impatiently. “
That girl better not have
taken off for good. She still owes me a month's rent. I never should have given her a room.
Didn't trust her from the very start.
Too bloody secretive, she was, insisting on her privacy.
Hmph
! Up to no good, I tell you. And she didn't think I knew about her late-night visitors. Caught her once, I did. Was about to throw her out, too, till I saw it was a woman. I won't have any lascivious business going on under my roof.
No, sir."

Caleb clenched his jaw to help him endure
Alwilda's
long list of complaints against the black-haired woman, wishing she had something useful to offer. But
Alwilda
wasn't even sure of her mysterious boarder's name.

Thompson was rooting through the dresser drawers, so Caleb went to the closet and absently flipped through the dresses there.

He was about to turn away and look elsewhere when a fluff of scarlet fabric caught his attention. He pushed aside the other dresses and moved in for a better look, lifting the gown and bringing it out into the light of the room.

The material and style seemed familiar. He had seen this dress before.
But where?
What kind of woman would wear a gown this shade of red?
With this outrageous cut?
And then he remembered.

"Christ!” he swore aloud.

The marshal turned around and gave Caleb a look. “What is it, son? Did you find something?"

Caleb threw the dress onto the bed and ran out of the room.

Thompson followed close on his heels.

"It's Sabrina,” he called back. “She's the one trying to hurt Rebecca. She's probably on her way to the house right now."

Rebecca set her stitching on the cushion beside her and gave a little stretch. The baby quilt was coming along nicely.

"Would you like some tea?” Megan asked, hopping up from her seat on the settee, where she was happily reviewing some of the paperwork she did for Caleb and the Express office. “I'd be happy to make some for you, since Bessie has already gone to bed."

"I'd love some tea,” Rebecca answered. “As long as you promise not to put anything but tea leaves and a cinnamon stick in. No strange herbs, mind you."

Megan looked shocked that Rebecca could joke about such a thing.

"I'm fine now,” Rebecca pointed out. “In fact, I think I'll help."

"I don't think that's a good idea.” Her sister-in-law chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. “Caleb would be furious if he knew I even let you come downstairs. You're still supposed to be in bed."

"I told you, I feel fine. I couldn't stand being cooped up in that room another minute. I'll sit perfectly still and watch you do all the work.
All right?"

"All right,” Megan agreed. “But you can't tell Caleb. He'll come after me with a switch if he ever finds out."

"It will be our secret. I promise."

Megan went ahead, letting Rebecca follow at her own, much slower pace.

In truth, Rebecca felt marvelous. All signs of the pennyroyal poisoning had long since disappeared, and she was back to her usual self. She smiled. Knowing Caleb loved her had something to do with her quick recovery, she was sure.

She sat at the kitchen table and watched as Megan put on the water to boil and began to set the serving tray. She was about to ask Megan to run upstairs for her shawl when shouts sounded outside, followed by several loud animal screams. Megan dropped the rag in her hand and ran toward the parlor.

She flew back into the room before Rebecca, heavy with child, could even struggle from her chair. “The
barn's
on fire!” she panted. “Frank and Papa are trying to put it out."

"Dear Lord!"

"You stay here. I'll go help."

Rebecca had never felt so helpless in all her life. She comforted herself with the thought that, even if she hadn't recently recovered from a brush with death, her present condition still wouldn't have allowed her to do much. Her huge girth would have been more of a hindrance than a help. But she couldn't just sit there. She had to know what was going on.

It took her a long minute to lever herself up from the chair. Then she took the tea kettle off its burner before leaving the kitchen. She walked through the dining room and hallway and into the parlor, where she would be able to see the barn from the side window.

She pulled back the draperies and stared at the orange flames licking at the corner of the barn. Holbrook and Megan were busy throwing buckets of water on the Maze, as well as slapping at it with horse blankets. Rebecca began to wonder where Frank was, until she saw the horses charge out of the barn. He soon followed and took up fighting the fire.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She whirled around. In the doorway of the parlor stood a tall woman dressed in a gown the color of sunflowers. Rebecca noticed sprigs of hay hanging at its hem, as well as several dirty smudges and a tear just below the waist. She raised her eyes and stared at the woman's face. Loose tendrils of midnight-black hair hung around her cheeks from a lopsided arrangement of curls. Her expression was hard, her blue eyes cold.

"I wasn't sure what I would do to get you alone until I got here. The fire was a nice touch, I think. It ought to keep them occupied for a while."

Even if Rebecca hadn't found a single feature familiar, she would have recognized that hard, grating voice in a minute. “You look ... different, Sabrina,” she said.

Sabrina laughed. “Yes. I couldn't very well stay in town without changing my appearance. You'd be amazed at what coloring your hair can do. No one knew who I was.
No one."

Rebecca cleared her throat, unsure what to do. She wasn't even sure why Sabrina had come. “I didn't realize you'd stayed in Leavenworth."

"Of course not.
Everyone thought Caleb sent me away.” Her voice held a sharp edge. “But he couldn't get rid of me that easily. I will not be pushed aside for some homely, no-account seamstress. Caleb thought he could give me a little money and send me on my way, but he was wrong.
I
decide when to call it quits.
I
decide! Caleb should be with me. And if you hadn't tricked him into marrying you, he would have come back to me."

A chill ran down Rebecca's spine. For the first time since she had turned around to see Sabrina across the room, she felt a real shiver of fear.

"I didn't trick Caleb, Sabrina,” she tried to reason. “Truly, I didn't. I really didn't even want to marry him. In fact, you can have him."

Sabrina squinted, confused.

"Yes,” she hurried on. “Why, all we have to do is file for divorce. As soon as that's taken care of, he'll be all yours."

While Rebecca didn't mean a word of it, she decided to say whatever she must to mollify Sabrina. If only she could get Sabrina away from the door. It was her only means of escape.

Rebecca began to move away from the window. Little by little she rounded the room. She gave a sigh of relief when Sabrina took the bait and started to move also, keeping parallel to her.

"Caleb would never leave you now. Not with the brat.” She waved a shaky hand at Rebecca's stomach.

Rebecca settled a hand on the mound of her belly. “Caleb won't care about me once the baby is born. I didn't really want it anyway. I'd be happy to leave it here and go away."

Sabrina took a moment to digest that piece of information. Then she seemed to come out of her stupor. She shook her head and took several strides toward Rebecca.

Rebecca moved quickly aside until she stood at the opening of the parlor. Her breathing became shallow, her nerves taut.

"You would never do that. Caleb would never let you. No, I have to get you out of the picture—for good."

Hearing that, Rebecca turned and raced for the front door. She yanked it open just as Sabrina grabbed hold of her hair and jerked her backward.

"You're going to die, Rebecca,” Sabrina said in a singsong voice. “How would you like to go? I could take you out to the barn and burn you alive, but there might be witnesses.” She twisted her fist in Rebecca's hair and steered her into the dining room.

"No, I think I'll use a knife. You have a sharp knife in the kitchen, don't you, Rebecca?” She kicked open the door and pushed Rebecca into the room ahead of her. “Let's see, where would the longest, sharpest knife be? I planned to cut you all along, you know. Only things didn't go as perfectly as I'd planned. No matter, I'll fix it right now."

Rebecca turned her head slightly and found herself pressed against the counter. She spotted the tea kettle almost immediately and prayed for a chance to reach it.

Sabrina searched cupboards and drawers for the perfect murder weapon. She swung around, a helpless Rebecca in tow, and released a sigh of pleasure. “There's one,” she said happily.
“Right next to the cutting board.
Now, how could I have missed that?"

Rebecca saw the cutting board and the glittering silver blade. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If only she could turn a fraction of an inch...?

Sabrina loosened her hold as she moved toward the knife. Rebecca pulled away the necessary inch, ignoring the stinging at her scalp, and reached for the kettle. In a flash of movement, she dumped it over her shoulder, spilling the hot water onto Sabrina's arm.

Sabrina screamed and let go of her hair. Rebecca fell back against the stove, her shoulder burning where the water soaked through her clothes. But she was free.

When Sabrina righted herself, Rebecca threw the pot at her, remaining water and all. She didn't take her eyes off the woman as she began moving toward the back door. If she could get outside, where Holbrook and Megan and Frank were, she would be safe.

Sabrina raised her head. Her hair lay in wet tangles over her shoulders, the black coloring staining her face and clothes. Her eyes were ice-cold with fury. She let out a banshee-like howl and lunged forward.

Rebecca grabbed the heaviest object she could find and swung it with all her might at Sabrina. The woman's eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped to the floor in a heap of yellow taffeta. A spot of blood oozed from her temple and ran down her cheek.

Rebecca still clutched the large black skillet tightly. When the door behind her flew open, she pivoted and held her weapon at the ready. She sighed with relief when she saw that it was Caleb. The frying pan fell to the floor with a clang as she closed her eyes and slumped forward into his open, waiting arms.