Deborah Camp (3 page)

“No, please, don’t.” Regina gathered in a deep breath, realizing she’d spoken too loudly. “I mean … please, let’s just … please, Mr. Dane, won’t you be reasonable?”

He shrugged. “I represent the injured party. My best advice to you is to hire Mrs. Nation a good attorney.”

“I’ve already done that. Morton Potter will represent her.”

He coughed to disguise his laughter. “I said a
good
attorney, Miss Rose.”

“Morton Potter is a respected lawyer in Eureka Springs.”

“Well, if he’s the best this town has to offer …” His shrug said the rest. “I suppose you know that there will be a formal hearing today.”

“Yes, but I was in hopes that you might be a fair man and end this ridiculous assault on poor Mrs. Nation.”

“You could be using your time more wisely by helping your own attorney devise a defense for poor Mrs. Nation.”

“Some say that Mrs. Nation is fighting a losing battle by trying to close the saloons. Some say she’s crazy. Some say she’s a vain woman who only wants attention.”

“And what do you say, Miss Rose?”

“I say she’s the most courageous woman I’ve ever met, Mr. Dane.” She tipped her chin up proudly. “The women in her home look to her for strength and advice. If this must go to court, so be it, but why must she remain in jail? Isn’t there anything you can do about that, Mr. Dane?”

“How old are you? Twenty? Younger?”

“What does my age have to do with anything?” she asked, looking into his cobalt eyes.

“I’ve found that courting women younger than twenty is too much of a bother. They’re too green for my twenty-seven years.” His grin rattled her, forcing her to stare at her clasped hands.

“Talking to you about serious issues is impossible, I see. You’re the type of man who treats every woman like a vain featherbrain. Since I am neither, nor am I impressed with your charms, I bid you good morning.”

“Come now, Miss Rose. I’m only sporting with you. No need to get riled up.”

“I didn’t come here to be sported with, sir.” Her composure snapped like a dry twig. “I should have gone to speak to Mr. Wilson about this instead of wasting my time with a cocky bag of wind.” She whirled to make her exit, but was waylaid by his viselike grip on her elbow. “Let go!”

He brought her close; so close that she caught the scent of sandlewood soap rising from his skin. His eyes flashed warning signals, but then his expression changed from anger to something far more unnerving—attraction. Abruptly, he set her away from him.

“You’re as potent as a shot of whiskey, Regina Rose,” he said, brushing his hands down his shirt-front to rid himself of the curious vibrancy of her touch. “Good morning, madam. See you in court.”

Regina hurried out, anxious to escape his moody, masculine presence.

Theo released his breath slowly and shook his head. A chuckle tumbled from his lips.

“There goes trouble,” he whispered, then went to sit behind his desk and brood. The image of her widely spaced, thickly lashed gray eyes persisted. Her voice haunted him, its breathy, little-girl quality
a disconcerting contrast to the womanly swells of her body.

He’d heard that many of Carry Nation’s ardent supporters were women on the rampage against fun and frivolity, and Regina Rose certainly fit that description. But what had happened in her life to make her embrace a life of fist and finger shaking?

Eric stuck his head around the door. “What did you do to Miss Rose to make her fly out of here?”

“I flirted with her.” Theo placed a hand over his heart and feigned a swoon. “Cocky bag of wind that I am.”

“If it wears a skirt, you can’t resist flirting with it.” Eric sat in the chair across from Theo’s desk. “Miss O’Brady is waiting for you in my office. What did Miss Rose want?”

“She asked me to talk Tom into dismissing his complaint.” Catching Eric’s dubious glance, Theo chuckled. “You can guess my reply.”

Eric studied a torn cuticle. “They’re a spirited bunch, aren’t they?”

“Who?”

“Those women railing against saloons and the sale of liquor.” Eric laughed lightly. “From what Miss O’Brady said, Mrs. Nation had everyone in the Full Bucket Saloon trembling with fear. While she made matchsticks out of Tom’s bar, she preached quite a sermon. She must be quite a woman.”

“Those fussy, self-righteous women are a blight,” Theo complained.

“How can you say that when your own mother is up to her ears in the Women’s Christian Temperance Union?”

“Mother has had too much time on her hands since Father died. The W.C.T.U. is only a passing fancy. Next time I visit her she’ll be engrossed in
some other club. Gardening, probably. Or maybe one of those literary circles.”

“I wonder what Beatrice Dane would say if she knew that her son was a party to putting Carry Nation in jail?”

“Carry Nation put Carry Nation in jail,” Theo said, clearly irritated. “And what Mother doesn’t know is better left that way.” He sent a sharp glare at Eric as he stood to collect Emerald O’Brady. “Agreed, cousin?”

Eric grinned. “Agreed, cousin.”

T
heo was going over his hearing notes when Morton Potter ushered Carry Nation into the judge’s chambers. Regina rushed to embrace her and the two women exchanged warm words of greeting before Potter suggested they take their chairs.

All the men had risen respectfully at the woman’s entrance. Theo sat again in the chair next to Eric’s. Tom Wilson sat on his other side. He caught Potter’s nervous glance and nodded.

“G’morning, Morty. How’s the gout?”

Potter tucked his feet under his chair. “Better, thank you.”

Morton Potter was overweight and had pasty skin. His sparse cap of black hair looked painted on. His black-eyed gaze never rested on anything or anyone for longer than two or three seconds.

Theo extended his hand past Potter to Mrs. Nation. “I’m Theodore Dane, Mrs. Nation, and this is my cousin and law partner, Eric Carmichael. You already know Tom Wilson.”

Mrs. Nation shook Theo’s hand. “I hear around town that you’re a cheeky young man, Mr. Dane. I suppose you and Mr. Wilson are determined to ruin me.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Mrs. Nation. Mr. Wilson
merely wants compensation for the damage you’ve done to his business.”

“I’ll be only too pleased to oblige once he’s compensated the women and children who’ve lost their homes because their men spent all their money on Mr. Wilson’s liquor.”

“Mr. Wilson can’t be held responsible for the actions of grown men, Mrs. Nation.”

“He doesn’t have to make temptation so easy for them either,” she retorted. “If you know a man is suicidal, you’re a beast if you hand him a loaded gun.”

Theo chuckled and regarded the spirited woman with newfound respect. She was small, but commanding. Her hair was skinned back into a bun and her face reminded him of a bulldog’s—all clenched teeth, glinting eyes, and iron jaws. She was dressed completely in black. Her dark hair showed signs of graying and her pug-nosed visage bore wrinkles and loose skin. Shifting, she pinned Theo with those dark, damning eyes and he looked away quickly in a reaction that surprised him. He chuckled to himself. No wonder the men in Tom’s bar had given her a wide berth, he thought. One of those withering glares could blast the enamel off a man’s teeth!

He leaned back in the chair, enabling him to look behind Potter and his client to the appealing profile of Regina Rose. Ah, she’s a beauty, he thought, mentally smacking his lips. There wasn’t a woman in Eureka Springs who could hold a candle to her. Too bad she was in such a snit and on the wrong side of the judge’s desk. Her staunch faithfulness to Carry Nation would never allow her to socialize with him. Had she almost married a drunkard? Was that why she had thrown her lot in with Carry Nation and the other zealots? He shrugged, knowing he was jumping to conclusions.
His own mother marched with women like these and she had never loved a drunk to his knowledge.

Judge Langarten shuffled in, clad in his black robes. He mumbled a greeting and settled his ample girth behind his desk. Peering through half-moon glasses, he glanced over several documents before he surveyed the faces in front of him.

“I have before me some serious charges. Mrs. Carry A. Nation, you’ve been charged by Thomas G. Wilson with unlawful entry and destruction of property. What do you plead?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Morton Potter intoned.

“Guilty!” Carry Nation said in a clear, ringing voice.

Regina and Potter stared at the woman between them, both rendered speechless. Theo shot an amused glance at Tom and Eric. This was going to be easier than he’d thought.

“Well, which is it?” Judge Langarten demanded.

“I like Mrs. Nation’s plea,” Theo interjected with a grin. “That is, if I’m given a vote in this.”

“Cease, young man,” Judge Langarten said, but his eyes twinkled. “Well, Potter?”

“Not guilty,” Potter repeated, then turned urgently toward his client. “Mrs. Nation, please let me handle this.”

“I did it,” Mrs. Nation said. “I answered the Lord’s call. Why is that a crime? We should rejoice that we have one less evil in this town of ours.”

“Amen,” Regina whispered. She stared at the toes of her shoes, all the while feeling Theodore Dane’s intense gaze on her. Oh, why didn’t he look at someone else? She chanced a peek, but quickly fastened her gaze on her shoe tops again when she caught him still looking. Still staring at her, she thought miserably. And why was he grinning
like that? Was her bonnet askew? She touched it and checked the buttons on the front of her dress to make sure they were all secure.

Theo watched her check her appearance. Did she know she was beautiful? He found himself momentarily fascinated by her profile—her small, pert nose and full, pink lips. Wisps of her blond hair curled from beneath her blue bonnet and clung damply to her neck and temples. Unpinned, would her hair fall to her shoulders or to the middle of her back? She smiled at something Mrs. Nation whispered to her and a dimple sprang into the corner of her mouth. He caught the sound of her voice, so sweet and girlish. Suddenly, he wanted very badly to hear her say his name with that whispery, kittenish voice of hers. Staring at her, he felt a spark of familiarity. That voice … that hauntingly lovely voice … had he met her somewhere before?

“Eric?”

“Yes, what is it?” Eric leaned toward him.

“I think I might have met Miss Rose before, but I can’t put my finger on it. What about you?”

Eric looked at her. “Well, now that you mention it, it does seem that way. Her voice … the first time I heard her speak I thought I’d met her before.”

“Me, too. But where?”

Eric shrugged. “Hard to say. Why, is it important to this case?”

“No.” Theo frowned, realizing his thoughts had strayed and it wasn’t fair to Tom Wilson. “Never mind.”

“Counselor Dane, would your client consider reducing or dropping the charges?” Judge Langarten asked.

Theo saw the firm set of Wilson’s jaw and shook
his head. “No, Your Honor. The charges remain as stated.”

“Then I’ll set trial date for—”

“Judge, must we have a trial?” Regina interrupted. “It’s so terribly costly. Can’t we settle this here?” She spread out her hands. “We’re all reasonable people.”

“Miss Rose, the charges are before me and must be dealt with. Trial date will be …” He flipped through a desk calendar. “The nineteenth of July in this year of our Lord 1895. Bail is set at fifty dollars.”

“Fifty!” Regina said, her gray eyes wide with disbelief. “Judge, we can’t possibly pay that amount. Why … why, that’s twice more than we raised at our last flapjack supper! Mrs. Nation is trustworthy, sir. If she says she’ll appear in court, then she will. Her word is the only bond you’ll need. Ask anybody in town. Even those who oppose her won’t cast aspersions on her integrity.”

The judge studied her over his reading glasses. “I’m sorry, young lady, but that’s my decision. By the by, are you representing Mrs. Nation or is Mr. Potter?”

“Mr. Potter, sir,” she said, her voice and gaze dropping. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Potter’s the sorry one.” The judge tapped the gavel, drowning out Potter’s indignant sputters. “Dismissed, then.”

“Excuse me, Judge Langarten,” Mrs. Nation said. “If I have business out of town and my bail is paid and I’m released, may I be allowed to travel?”

“Yes, as long as you’re back in town for the trial.”

“You have my word.”

Judge Langarten issued a brief smile. “That and fifty dollars will garner your release, Mrs. Nation.”
He picked up a packet of papers and pushed himself up from the chair. “I’m late for court,” he said, his voice trailing behind him as he left his chambers.

“Don’t you worry, dear Regina,” Mrs. Nation said, patting the younger woman’s hand. “It will all work out. God is on our side.”

“Maybe He’ll pay your bail,” Tom Wilson shot back with a sneer.

“Tom, don’t throw kerosene on a fire,” Theo counseled in a whisper. “You want a lecture from this woman right here and now?” He was too late.

“In my right hand I hold truth,” Carry Nation said, waving her right fist. “And in my left hand I hold honor.” She shook her other fist. “And in my heart I hold sorrow for all the lives you and your ilk have showered on the poor women and children who have come to me—victims of drunkards who suck on bottles of whiskey at your saloon while their babies suck on empty bottles because there is no money for milk!”

Regina felt a sermon coming on, so she gripped Mrs. Nation’s arm to demand her attention. “I’ll try to raise the money for your bail, Mrs. Nation, but it’s going to take time. I hate to think of you in that horrible jail.” Tears burned her eyes. “All the women and children living in your home are praying for you. All of us.”

“Dear Regina, I leave everything in your hands. I know you’ll do all that is humanly possible. Until then, I shall read my Bible behind the cold bars of injustice.”

“Mrs. Nation, you’re so brave.”

Theo regarded the scene with a mixture of pity for Regina and amusement at Carry Nation’s melodramatic vernacular. He raised his hands and applauded slowly and loudly. Regina gasped. Potter scowled. Mrs. Nation, standing, set her hands at
her waist, leaned back, and let go a spate of laughter.