Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (8 page)

His mouth covered hers, and she yielded to his kiss, moaning softly. He maneuvered her until she was lying down, and then began sliding her gown away from her shoulders until her breasts were free. Her back arched, and she pressed herself closer to him as her eager fingertips danced down his body, fondling his hard desire.

“One day,” she whispered huskily, “we won’t have to hide our love, Gavin. One day, we can shout it to the world.”

He laughed softly, pulling her skirt up and kissing her bare thighs. “You know I’ve never thought of you as my adoptive aunt, Alaina…only as my lover.”

Fiercely, Gavin accepted her love, which she had been offering him freely since he was fourteen years old.

Chapter Five

“How could you? Dear God in heaven, child, how could you do such a thing?”

Juliette Bowden twisted a tear-soaked handkerchief in cold, trembling hands. Her body shook convulsively as she stared down at her daughter. Charlene was huddled miserably on the parlor divan. “Answer me!” Tense with the need to understand the agony being inflicted on her, Juliette demanded harshly, “Tell me what possessed you to throw away your pride, your…your
decency.
How could you have shamed your family so?”

Charlene could only shake her head in utter misery. Her head throbbed. Her eyes were swollen almost shut from the tears that would not cease. She’d been crying for hours. What could she say to her mother? It was done, and nothing would undo it.

Pain stabbed her as she recalled the nightmare scene of that morning. People were gathered on the front lawn. Her mother was in hysterics, screaming, and her father was demanding that the sheriff hurry and organize a posse. Then Charlene rode up, unharmed, guilt on her pale, frightened face, and in that moment…everyone knew. Without a word spoken,
they knew.

She dismounted quickly and pushed through the people to make her way, sobbing, into the house. Her parents were right behind her, shouting questions, as she fled to her room. Was she hurt? Who was the villain? How had she escaped her abductor?

The sheriff burst into her room then, and old Dr. Perry, who wanted to examine her injuries. Amidst the babbling of excited voices, Charlene finally pressed her hands against her throbbing head and screamed, “Leave me alone! All of you! I’m not hurt and I wasn’t kidnapped. Just leave me alone!”

Carleton Bowden’s eyes narrowed as he understood. In a rage, he pushed everyone from the room except Charlene and her mother. Once the door was closed, he towered over Charlene, eyes bulging, face red with fury, demanding, “Tell me the truth, God damn it! Where’d you go last night, Charlene? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll beat you till you can’t walk!”

Juliette, terrified, gathered Charlene in her arms, begging her husband to calm down. Their beloved daughter could do no wrong, she told him. But he waved her to silence and ordered Charlene to talk, and talk fast.

In a choked whisper, barely audible, Charlene met his fiery gaze, her eyes pleading for understanding as she proclaimed, “I was with Colt, Daddy. I love him.”

Carleton Bowden had begun to tremble from the tips of his toes to the top of his balding head. He tried to speak, but couldn’t force the words past the constricting knot of anger in his throat.

Juliette cried, “We’ll announce your engagement. We’ll say that’s what you were doing last night, planning your wedding. We’ll say you were chaperoned, that servants were there the whole time. There will be talk, of course, but then, after your wedding, things will die down. A few months from now, no one will remember—”

“No.” Charlene shook her head, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. “No. No wedding. Colt doesn’t want to marry me.”

In the stunned silence that followed, no one was able to look at anyone else. Then Carleton exploded. “He’ll marry you, by God, or he’ll be pushing up daisies on Boot Hill! No man shames my daughter and gets away with it. I’ll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands. I’m going to see him right now and get this thing settled.” He whirled around and stomped toward the door. Charlene ran to clutch his arm, begging, “No, Daddy, don’t, please. I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant to hurt you or Momma. I just love Colt so much. But he doesn’t love me, and I don’t want him to be forced into marrying me if he doesn’t want to.”

Carleton looked, from her desperate, tear-streaked face to his wife. He shook his head. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked of no one in particular. “My daughter spends the night with a man, and he doesn’t want to make a decent woman of her. Half the town is in my front yard speculating about all this, and—just what in hell am I supposed to do?”

Juliette, regaining some of her composure, led him from the room, saying they would talk later, that it was time for him to open the bank. Charlene was distraught and needed to calm down. Later, they would discuss what was to be done about the scandal.

An hour later, Juliette had summoned Charlene to the parlor, making an attempt once again to understand what had possessed her daughter.

“Why, Charlene?” she cried.
“You
were raised in a decent home. How could you behave like—like a
whore?”

Wearily, utterly defeated, Charlene whispered feebly, “I’m not a whore, Momma. I love Colt. I did not mean to stay out there all night. I never meant for you and Daddy to find out. I was going to be home before the two of you got back, but I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was too late.”

“You think that would have made it all right?” Juliette gasped. “Just so we didn’t find out? How long has this been going on? How long have you been coupling with him like…like an animal? How do you know you aren’t in the family way? What then? Who does he think he is? You’re no saloon girl. You come from a good family and he can’t treat you like this.

“I wish Kitty Coltrane were in town,” she went on, wringing her hands. “I can’t believe she’d allow her son to get by with this. She’d see to it that he did the honorable thing.”

Charlene shook her head. “I don’t want to marry him if he doesn’t want me. What kind of life would I have?”

“What kind of life will you have now?” Juliette asked, incredulous. “If Colt doesn’t marry you, this will be gossiped about the rest of your life. You won’t be able to look anyone in this town in the eye. No decent man will have you. You’ll die alone, a shameful spinster. Think about it.”

At that moment Charlene just wanted to be left alone. She felt sick with an emptiness too miserable to have any end. When her father came home from the bank, he would start all over again.
Damn you, John Travis Coltrane,
she silently cursed him,
why do you have to be so stubborn?

“Just before your father left, he said he thought it would be best if we sent you to Philadelphia to stay with your Aunt Portia for a while. I agree. It might even be best if you went there to live. No one there will know about any of this, and you’d have a chance to meet someone, get married.”

“No!” Charlene sat upright, every nerve in her body tense with rebellion. “I don’t want to go to Philadelphia. And I certainly don’t want to live with prune-faced Aunt Portia. I’d sooner die. I won’t do it.”

Juliette Bowden froze. How dared her daughter refuse anything at this point? “You will do as we say, Charlene, and the more I think about it, the more it seems like a good solution. Start packing now, and we’ll have you on tomorrow’s train. It will be difficult for your father and me, trying to hold our heads up amidst all the gossip there’ll be here, but we’ll manage.”

Charlene stood. Quietly, firmly, she said, “I am not going to Philadelphia, Mother.”

“Your father and I say you are.”

“I won’t go.”

Juliette lifted her chin. “He’ll put you on that train by force, if need be. I suggest you get off that high horse of yours before he forgets you’re grown and gives you the sound thrashing you deserve.”

In that moment, Charlene knew there would be no peace for her until she made it clear, once and for all, that she was not going to be made to feel worthless forever for what she had done. Looking down at her wrinkled dress, she thought about changing, then decided it made no difference. People would be staring and whispering no matter how she looked.

She started for the front door.

Her mother blocked her way. “Just where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave the house today.”

Charlene stepped around her and opened the door. “I have to, Mother. I’m going to the bank to talk to Daddy. I want to try to make him understand this isn’t the end of the world. We’ll all come out of this.”

“Talking won’t do any good. You’ve broken his heart. My heart. You’ve ruined our good name and you’ve—”

Charlene ran out the door and slammed it behind her. She hurried across the porch and down the front steps, to the boardwalk that led to town.

As she passed the house next door, Mrs. Wilkins deliberately turned her back. Charlene had seen the look of contempt on her face, and a lump rose in her throat.

Farther on, she came face-to-face with two women she had known her whole life, Mrs. Martha Gibson and Mrs. Ellie Morbane, pillars of the church and respected by all. They looked through her as if she were a ghost. Charlene could feel the chill of condemnation all the way to the marrow of her bones.

Could she live like this, she asked herself? Her mother was right. No man would want her now. Could she live the rest of her life in this town, shunned? Forevermore, she would be “that Bowden woman”.

What had she done to her parents, she thought miserably, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she hurried along. They did not deserve this. Perhaps they were right in wanting her to leave town. The furor would die down if she was not around to remind everyone. But…live with Aunt Portia? Could she bear that grim an existence? Aunt Portia’s house was big and dark and gloomy, a haunted abode for souls in purgatory. Aunt Portia never smiled, never talked about anything but the evils of the world.

Charlene stepped off the boardwalk into the street, heedless of the ever-present mud puddles. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even feel the cold slime as it oozed inside her shoes.

Absently, she rubbed her eyes. She thought of Colt but felt no bitterness. He wasn’t really to blame. He’d never lied, not even in the beginning. That was not Colt’s way. He had told her he was very fond of her but not ready to fall in love or marry. Freedom, he had said, was what he craved above everything else. Many years would pass before he was ready to marry.

She smiled a sad smile. John Travis Coltrane was just like his father. He would, in fact, never settle down. Everyone in Silver Butte knew of Travis Coltrane’s adventures and exploits. And everyone admired his wife for accepting him as he was.

Once, Charlene had confided to Kitty Coltrane her admiration for Kitty’s ability to cope with a man like Travis. She would never forget the surprised look on Mrs. Coltrane’s beautiful face as she responded softly, “That takes no special talent, Charlene. All it takes is love…and accepting the man you love for what he is.”

Charlene knew now, now that it was too late, that she might have accepted Colt for what he was, too. She herself had ruined everything by being so stubborn. Given enough time, given enough love, perhaps one day she could have been the woman he wanted to marry. Now he probably hated her, for he would have to endure a lot of embarrassment over this scandal. Oh, it wouldn’t be as terrible for him, a man. People didn’t shun a man for sowing his wild oats. The woman was condemned when she yielded to her desires. But still, he’d be gossiped about.

There was no way to make amends, she thought wearily, no way to undo what had been done.

She stumbled, catching herself just in time to keep from sprawling into the mud.

Daddy was hurt—but Daddy would help her because he loved her. She would talk to him, and make him understand that she was truly, truly sorry, and would do
any
thing to try to make up for all the grief she had caused. But he just couldn’t send her to live with Aunt Portia, anything but that.

Maybe she should talk to Colt, too. If she explained to everyone that it was all her fault, that he hadn’t invited her to his house, and in fact had tried to make her leave, then maybe he wouldn’t be so angry. Charlene knew she couldn’t bear it if he despised her, if he had only bitter memories of her.

Her head was down as she made her way slowly to the bank. If she was aware of anything besides her misery, it was only the treacherous mud at her feet, for spring thaws and heavy rains had turned the streets of Silver Butte into a soupy bog.

Lost in painful reverie, she was oblivious to everything else around her. She did not see the gunmen backing out of her father’s bank, kerchiefs hiding the lower parts of their faces, their guns drawn.

She did not see the sheriff and two of his deputies take up positions behind the watering troughs, flat on their bellies, shotguns cocked.

Gunfire exploded in the stillness, followed by shouting and screaming. Someone shouted a warning, a warning Charlene didn’t heed.

She felt but one sharp, burning sting as a bullet exploded inside her head. And then all the pain and love that possessed her were cast into eternal oblivion.

Colt held his horse to a slow gait as he headed into Silver Butte. Why hurry? Why hasten an ugly scene?

The sun was bright in a cloudless blue sky, and warm, mid-morning winds teased the sagebrush into an undulating dance. High above, an eagle soared, then twisted downward into a spiral before drifting out of sight. A covey of quails sprang suddenly from a clump of mesquite, noisily taking flight.