Jane Bonander (25 page)

“That’s all right,” he said. “I’m afraid McCloud and I have been working on this behind your back. I hope you don’t mind “

She sat up straight, intrigued and surprised. “What have the two of you been doing?”

“McCloud has been gathering information for me.”

“About what?”

“About the Walker brothers and their unsavory activities.”

Hope surged through her. “Will it do any good?”

“It will if we can get the right kind of information.”

Again, she remembered what Louisa had told her when she first came to her cabin in Angel’s Valley. “Nathan, Louisa was going to take care of Harlan’s body that day. But . . . but when she returned with a friend to help her, the body was gone.”

He studied her for a long, quiet minute, then stood and went to the door. “Louisa! Come in here.”

Louisa stepped into the room, her expression cautious. “What’s wrong, Mister Nathan?”

He took her hands, and Susannah saw the surprise that registered in her eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened when you went back to get Harlan’s body and found it gone.”

She shrugged. “Ain’t much to tell. My friend Andrew and I had planned on burying the bastard, but he was gone.”

Nathan drew away and paced the room, nervously dragging his fingers through his hair. “What could have happened?” He said it as though he were trying to recreate the incident in his mind.

“Someone had to have come in and taken the body,” Susannah said, furnishing him with a possibility.

“Yes, but who would do this and not tell anyone?”

Susannah’s spirits rose a bit more. “Why, Sonny, of course.”

“And why wouldn’t he tell anyone?”

Susannah and Louisa exchanged glances. “I don’t know. Why?” Susannah asked.

Nathan continued to pace. “Because maybe,” he said, deep in thought, “because maybe Harlan wasn’t dead after all.”

“But he was! At least . . . at least I thought he was. He hadn’t moved, Nathan. And,” she added, turning to Louisa, “you thought he was dead, too, didn’t you?”

“I admit I did,” Louisa said, pondering the question. “But I took your word for it, Honeybelle. I didn’t get any closer to that bastard than I had to. Alive or dead, the man was snake piss.”

Susannah brought her hand to her mouth, her spirits inching upward. “Oh, Nathan. Is it possible? I mean, could I have . . . have just wounded him?”

“Of course it’s possible. It’s
more
than possible. In spite of what he wanted everyone to think, Sonny had little love for Harlan. I imagine he was damned angry that Harlan had a strongbox full of wealth that he wouldn’t touch. Not only that, he wouldn’t share it with anyone, either. Not even his half brother.

“Suppose,” Nathan continued, “suppose he happened by that morning and found Harlan on the floor, bleeding badly. And suppose that under the guise of taking his brother to a doctor, he actually took him to the woods and finished him off.” He swung around, pointing to Susannah.

“You’ve already convinced yourself that you killed Harlan. Louisa,” he said, shaking his finger at her, “is, in his mind, just a nigger. Excuse me, Louisa, I mean no disrespect.”

Louisa nodded regally. “None taken, Mister Nathan.”

“Even if she were to tell someone that Harlan’s body was gone, who’d listen?”

Susannah paced as well. “Oh, Nathan, this is all just speculation. We can’t prove anything.”

“Not yet, but with McCloud’s help, maybe we can. And we don’t necessarily need the truth to get the truth from him,” he added cryptically.

“Now, Louisa, you probably can’t be a formal witness, but would you agree to tell the sheriff everything you know?”

She pulled herself up and tossed him a haughty look. “’Course I will. I’d walk through hot coals for my Honeybelle.”

Nathan coaxed Susannah into his arms. “McCloud will be here for supper. We’ll get this settled, Susannah. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

Susannah nestled close, grateful he couldn’t see the worry that remained in her eyes. With every breath she took, she wanted to believe Nathan, but she knew Sonny Walker better than anyone. And she privately couldn’t believe he’d left anything to chance.

A
nother message for you, Mr. Walker.” The desk clerk slid it across the counter, then returned to his books.

Sonny could feel his heart race. Staring at the envelope, he slowly turned it over, hoping not to see the same printing as he’d seen on the one he’d received just after Susannah had left. Cursing sharply, he dropped it on the counter. The writing was the same.

With a tense feeling of dread, he picked it up and slid his finger through the opening, pulling out the piece of paper with the tips of his fingers. As he read it, he found himself swallowing convulsively.

I saw what you did.

He crumpled it and stuffed it into his pocket. The one he’d received earlier in the morning had said,
You weren’t alone at the river.

Frustration and anger made him shake, fear made him sweat. He couldn’t stand to sweat; it was for the weak.

Smoothing his hand over his hair, he nodded a quick thank you toward the busy desk clerk, then took the stairs, two at a time, to his room.

Once inside, he paced, remembering the day he’d discovered Harlan crawling toward him, blood oozing from a wound in his chest. He’d known immediately that Susannah had done it, for neither she nor the boy were anywhere in sight.

Harlan’s eyes had been nearly glazed over, but he’d reached for Sonny, hope on his stupid ugly face, thinking that maybe he wasn’t going to bleed to death after all.

Sonny had masked his glee, pretending to give a goddamn, and had helped Harlan into his buggy, shoving a towel against the wound to stem the flow of blood. On the premise of taking him to the doctor, he’d gone straight to the river and drowned him, putting an end to Harlan’s suffering before he buried him in the shallow grave beside the water. No one had been around. He’d been alone, damn it! He was sure of it. . . . Still, the contents of the notes now burned in his brain.

Afterward, he’d returned to the house and searched it. Had Susannah not taken the strongbox, the contents of which he’d coveted for years and felt he deserved, he might not have sent someone after her. Even now he wondered why he persisted. Probably because he would never be truly safe as long as she was alive. Even if he somehow forced her to come with him, he knew her unwillingness would one day mean the end of his freedom. She was a loose end he couldn’t afford. Despite it all, he was grateful to her, for she’d started the process that had allowed Sonny to finish his half brother off. Actually, he’d done him a favor by killing him. Put him out of his misery.

He went to the window, pulled aside the lacy curtain and stared down into the dirty street. He wanted—no, he
needed
—to get out of there, but he had to get the strongbox from Susannah first. And, he thought, his frown turning to an evil smile, he had to get Susannah, too, for although he didn’t want her, he had to get rid of her. Too bad, though. Perhaps he’d have her one last time before he disposed of her. His loins stirred at the thought.

Sonny’s gaze moved over the buildings across the street, to the alley between them. A man was there, casually leaning against the brick, staring up at him. A sick feeling permeated his chest and he pulled back, startled. But before he scrambled from the window, the man gave him a wide smile and saluted him.

His heart banging against his ribs, Sonny flung himself against the wall. He dug his fingers into his hair, raking them through it, carelessly ruining the perfect lines. Creeping to the window again, he peered across the street. The man was gone. But again, as before, the contents of the notes burned in his brain. Was he the author of the notes? Had he been the one to see him at the river?

He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, cursing his shaky fingers. The poker game started in ten minutes. Shoving the watch into his vest pocket, he crossed to the dressing table and poured himself a stiff shot of brandy. It went down quickly; he was forced to take another. The third shot finally took the ragged edges off his nerves.

He brushed his hair into place and left his room. As he hurried past the front desk, the clerk called his name. Sonny was tempted to ignore him, but the brandy had done its job, for he was no longer afraid.

The clerk handed him another envelope. On his way out the door, Sonny ripped it open and read the contents.

Harlan Walker does not Rest in Peace.

To learn how I know, meet me at the bridge at midnight.

He crushed the note and tossed it aside, the brandy numbing the fear he’d felt when he’d read the others. His false sense of euphoria began to crumble when he stepped into the saloon, for there, at the poker table, sat the man who had saluted him from the alley. The man he feared had seen him kill Harlan.

It was ten minutes to midnight when Sonny left the saloon. Two quick shots of whiskey perked him up, and he waited until he was well down the street before he allowed himself a wry chuckle. He reached into his breast pocket and lovingly patted his wallet, fattened with his winnings.

Fools
. All of them were fools. How worried he’d been to discover the man from the alley at the poker table! He needn’t have bothered to worry at all. He was a breed, and breeds were stupid and lazy and nearly always drunk. If he thought that by challenging Sonny to a game of poker he’d rattle him, the breed was mistaken. Poker was Sonny’s game. He was a master at it.

And the other drooling idiots posed no problem either. The toothless codger with the feedbag whiskers, the one with the big nose, others whose faces he couldn’t even remember. He’d cleaned them out. Of course, he’d cheated, but no one had guessed.

Continuing to feel invincible, he approached the bridge. Sonny knew who he expected to find. He smirked. The breed from the alley wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was. Trying to scare him with those childish notes! And he was a lousy card player as well.

He had a sudden case of the jitters. Shadows loomed out at him, reaching for him, and his heart sprinted in his chest. A thought exploded inside his head. What if, lurking in the darkness, the breed hid with his friends, intent on robbing him? Sonny pressed his hand to his pocket again, as if doing so would protect his winnings.

He slowed his steps and glanced furtively about him. He strained to hear; nothing reached his ears but the thundering of his own heartbeat.

Fear accelerated the effects of the whiskey, and he was immediately sober. “Breed!” He growled the name into the darkness, making certain the sound held no fear.

He continued forward, the outline of the bridge engraved in moonlight. Moving closer, he called out again.

A rustling noise sounded ahead of him, and suddenly someone stood before him.

Marginally relieved, Sonny moved ahead. “After the beating you took tonight, I’m surprised you’d show your face.” He smirked, confident again. The moon slipped behind a cloud as he stepped closer. He peered into the darkness. “Let’s get this over with, breed. Is it money you want? Hell, after tomorrow I’ll have more than enough for both of us.” He had no intentions of sharing.

“I don’t want none of your blood money, you pissant.”

A shock raced through him and he stepped closer. “You?” He felt such a careening sense of jubilation that he laughed out loud.

“I saw what you did, Sonny Walker.”

“You saw nothing, you nigger bitch,” he snarled, hoping to intimidate her.

She stepped back slightly, giving up ground. “I didn’t come to fight with you. All’s I want is for you to give my Honeybelle a little money to tide her over till she can fin’ a job. An’ I want you to leave her alone, y’hear?”

He snorted a laugh. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell the law what I saw.”

“Who’ll they believe, nigger bitch? You or me?”

“I’ll tell ’em, pissant, so help me God, I’ll tell the law.”

He wanted nothing more than to pitch the nigger off the bridge and watch her drown. “Listen to me, bitch. You tell that mistress of yours that I want her to meet me here with the strongbox at six o’clock tomorrow morning. If she doesn’t bring it, tell her I’ll find that kid of hers and drown him in the river, just like I finished off his pa.”

The woman gasped. “You mean you killed your own brother?” Her voice was shrill, high with fear.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I? Now get the hell out of here and deliver my message before I decide to do the same thing to you.”

She stood, unmoving and silent for a long, tense minute. Suddenly, she spoke. “You get that, Mister Nathan?”

“We got it, Louisa.”

Shocked to hear another voice, Sonny froze and was immediately grabbed from behind. A pair of handcuffs locked his wrists together. He was spun around, and found himself staring into the face of Nathan Wolfe.

Hate oozed from Sonny like venom. “You stupid fool,” he hissed. “It’s her word against mine. Who’s the law going to believe?”

Another man ambled up to him, one thumb tucked into his front pocket, the other producing a badge. “The law, Mr. Walker,” the man said, “believes Louisa Washington.”

Rage exploded in Sonny’s head and he lunged for Louisa, lost his balance and fell, face first, into the dirt. He was picked up by his jacket collar and put on his feet. Dirt and grass mixed with the bile that pooled in his mouth, around his tongue.

The woman stood nearby.

“You weren’t there,” Sonny rasped angrily, spitting out the glob of mud and grass. “
No
one was there to see what I did!”

“I guess you’ll never know for sure, Sonny,” Nate said, giving him a little shove.

Another man came out of the shadows, reached inside Sonny’s jacket and pulled out his fat wallet. It was the breed.

“Just so you know,” he said, “you’re not as good as you think you are. You’ve been duped, Mr. Walker. Duped but good.”

He opened the wallet and took out some bills. “This two hundred is mine. You didn’t win it, I virtually gave it to you. Suckered you into thinking I was too drunk to know what I was doing.

“And these,” he said, taking out a few more bills, “belong to my friend Nub. Nub’s got your typical poker face, doesn’t he? I’ll bet you thought he was just a toothless, ragged old man.
Tsk
. Never judge a man by the cut of his clothes, Mr. Walker.

“And,” he added, lifting out a few more bills, “I think Brownie gave you this much, and Hank lost at least two hundred.”

Sonny swallowed the angry bile and mud mixture that clung to the back of his tongue and watched the breed toss the empty wallet aside.

“You’re a cheat, Mr. Walker,” the breed said around a smile. “You cheat at life, and you cheated at cards. We let you win, of course. Personally, I think your technique could use some polishing. What do you say, Sheriff? Think he’ll learn a new technique in prison?”

The sheriff shoved Sonny toward the street. “Afraid he won’t have much time for card playing where he’s going, Mr. McCloud.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Don’t you think that’s a shame, Nate?”

“Nope,” Nathan Wolfe said from somewhere behind him, “it’s music to my ears.”

“A toast to the newlyweds!”

Susannah was tucked close to Nathan’s side, and she snaked her arm around his lean waist, giving him a squeeze. They touched champagne filled glasses and each took a sip, their gazes locked.

Nathan gave her a private grin. “I’ll give you eighty years to stop looking at me like that.”

Susannah’s heart overflowed with love. She couldn’t believe they were man and wife. It had been a month since Sonny’s arrest, and three weeks since she’d appeared before the judge to tell her own story. After reviewing all of the information, which clearly indicated that Susannah had fled the scene of a crime even though she wasn’t guilty of murder, the judge ruled in her favor. She was free.

She’d then insisted they finish the roof over the barn before they married, for it had finally begun to rain. It had rained every day since then, sometimes coming down in sheets, sometimes misting.

They stood before the roaring fire in the great room, their friends and family surrounding them.

Nathan’s gaze heated her again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she chastised. “This little celebration is bound to go on for hours.”

“Think anyone would miss us if we sneaked off to the bedroom?”

“You—” She gasped as he nuzzled her ear. “You’re making this very difficult, Nathan,” she scolded softly.

“That was the plan.” He kissed her cheek. “Your dress is beautiful,” he said, bending to take her lips. The kiss was hot, filled with promise.

When they parted, she said, “I’m glad you didn’t mind that I used the material you’d bought for Judith.”

He studied her face, his eyes warm. “She never wanted my gifts unless she picked them out herself.”

“Hey, Nate!” McCloud motioned to him, and Nathan pressed a kiss on Susannah’s cheek, promising to be right back.

“Come on now, everybody,” Louisa called from the kitchen. “Come eat this food before these young’uns devour it all.”

Susannah tried to stifle a smile as she watched Corey and Jackson fill their plates. They inched toward a small table that Nathan had made especially for them, scooted carefully onto the chairs and began shoveling food into their mouths. Max sat in front of them, his tail thumping the floor as he waited for their generous treats.

The house was so crowded, Susannah was certain over half the town was there.

She watched Kito step to his wife’s side, run his hand down over her buttock, then whisper something in her ear. To her surprise, Louisa giggled, then swatted Kito’s arm playfully. Susannah would have thought that a giggle from Louisa was about as possible as a giggle from the dog.

Grateful to have a moment alone, Susannah crossed to a quiet window and gazed out over the fir studded meadow. Everything was such a beautiful wet shade of green. A year ago, she would never have believed her life could take such a wonderful turn. She was happy. She was in love. And she wanted to give Nathan a child.

He came up behind her and pulled her close. She rested her head against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

Turning, she put her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I’m so happy, I could dance,” she answered passionately.