“I’m sorry if she felt being invited to the same dinner table constitutes pestering.” He bristled in affront and regret. “You may assure her that whatever worries I gave her that made her feel she had to send her big brother to issue threats were completely unfounded. I’m not such a total boor that a simple “Leave me the hell alone” wouldn’t have sufficed. If that’s all that’s brought you to break illegally into a government institution….”
Tyler smiled, a slow silken gesture of deadly intention. “I jus’ wanted to make sure we understood each other.”
“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Fairfax, I’ve had a clear picture of you from the very first. If you’ll just lock up behind you when you’re finished with that cigar, I’d appreciate it.”
Tyler regarded him with a perplexed half smile. “I don’t know if you’ve got balls the size of mortar shells or you’re just plain stupid.”
His back sore and his expectations strained, Dodge’s reply crackled. “I’ve been accused of both. But I guess you’ll have to make up your own mind as to which is the truth. Good night, Mr. Fairfax. And my apologies to your sister if I’ve in any way offended her.”
Dodge maneuvered his way out of the room and shut the door, knowing the gesture of unconcern would knock the other man off guard. He knew Tyler Fairfax wasn’t a thief. But he didn’t kid himself about what Fairfax was: a very deadly adversary who was as unpredictable as a wet powder charge.
He waited until he heard the outer door quietly close before he returned to the room to check the locks. Scrape marks around the latch plate told how Fairfax had gained entry. Dodge smiled wryly to himself as he settled the crossbar in place so his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed a second time.
And as he eased himself down in bed once more, shifting uncomfortably to find a spot where the pain was bearable, he wondered if Starla had sent her brother to warn him away or if the idea was Tyler’s own.
He found himself hoping it was the latter.
It took Starla only a moment to realize the danger of walking the streets of Pride alone.
She’d thought nothing of accepting Reeve’s offer of a ride into town so she could do some shopping while he took care of business. The peaceful surroundings at the Glade felt more like a prison after several days spent mostly in her own company. Not that her hosts ignored her, but the air of urgent intimacy sparking whenever the two of them shared the same room excluded Starla and made her chafe with restlessness and reminders of her own failures, of the way a true marriage was meant to be. Her friends would never say they’d prefer to be alone. It wasn’t necessary.
Starla kept to herself to give them their privacy, and in her solitude she had ample time to think: about what she’d do, about her argument with her brother, about other fears that had yet to surface beyond uneasy suspicion. Fears that would change everything. The silence and space began to mock her state of indecision, echoing the magnitude of the uncertainties ahead. Finally she knew it was
either escape her perpetual brooding or go quite mad.
So a trip to Pride seemed a godsend. Its streets were in an exciting flux of growth, new businesses springing up on the ashes of old. Strangers filled the crowded walks and it was easy to blend within that anonymous bustling stream. So many blue uniforms. Though she was used to seeing them after living in an occupied city, they looked glaringly out of place in Pride, where Southern sympathies had always held sway. She had no fondness for the loud, rude Yankees who pushed past her without so much as a glance of apology, but today she held no malice. Today she was enjoying her independence.
An independence that became an illusion as two burly figures blocked her path.
“Why, Miz Fairfax. I thought that was you!”
She stared up at the two workers from her father’s distillery in a moment of abject panic. She recognized them both, not by name but by their reputation as harsh taskmasters eager to do whatever was necessary to earn her father’s favor. And right now, she was afraid to find out what that might be.
The larger of the two grinned wide, displaying tobacco-stained teeth. “We heard you was back and was wondering why you didn’t come home, instead of staying out there with that turncoat trash. Your daddy was just saying to Benson and me that we should keep an eye out for you, and should we see you, we was to bring you home for a visit.”
Terror gathered cold and heavy in the pit of
Starla’s belly, but she scrambled to gather her wits. The three of them were standing on a busy walkway; what could happen?
“Why, how nice to see you boys again.” Her smile was spun sugar, coating the bitter taste of fear. “You can tell my daddy that I’ll be over to see him just as soon as I can. I’ve got myself an appointment with the dressmaker in just a few minutes, and you know how prickly they get if you make them wait.”
The one called Benson returned her smile. It was more sneer than amicable gesture. “She’ll just have to wait, missy. Our orders was to bring you direct.” And he put one huge hand on her arm, his fingers banding about her elbow like the hoops around a cask of Fairfax’s finest.
Starla fought to keep any tremor from her voice. “Take your hand off me, sir. I will not be pawed in public.” When he didn’t relent, she made her tone icier. “My father will have you horsewhipped.”
“Your daddy’11 be givin’ us a right nice bonus for seeing his little girl home again and that’s what me an’ Milton mean to do.”
The brown-toothed Milton gripped her other arm in a painful clamp. “Don’t go makin’ no trouble for us, missy. We won’t get rough ‘lessen you make us.”
Trapped between the two behemoths, Starla reeled with panic and indecision. She could either scream for help or be towed back to her father’s house like a truculent mule that had slipped its lead and run away. Four years ago, she’d sworn she’d
never return there. She thought of what waited in those closed-off rooms that reeked of stale mash and forbidden secrets. Her palms dampened. Her lungs expanded, readying to force a shriek for help from the pinch of her vocal cords. She wouldn’t go back, not even if it meant causing an unforgivable scene in the center of town. She’d rather die of shame than suffer under her father’s rule again.
Abruptly their path was barred by the cross brace of one of Hamilton Dodge’s crutches. Starla’s gaze flew to meet the single question in the lieutenant’s dark eyes.
Do you want my help?
She could have asked for a more preferable rescuer, but having no choice in the matter, she signaled a frantic
Yes!
“Excuse me, gents. Don’t be hurrying Miss Fairfax off so quick. The lady promised to join me for breakfast, and I hate to drink my coffee alone when I can enjoy it in such lovely company.”
Starla flashed him a dazzling smile. “Why, Mr. Dodge, how could I have forgotten you? Please forgive my rudeness.” To the men who still retained her arms, she said with frosty clarity, “As I said, gentlemen, we’ll make it another time.”
But they didn’t release her. They paid her no mind at all.
“Stay out of it, Yank,” growled Benton. He gave Starla a jerk toward the street to circumvent the barrier of Dodge’s crutch.
“I can’t do that,” came Dodge’s quiet reply. For all its lack of volume, his statement carried an unavoidable challenge. The two men paused to reassess
him. They smirked between themselves.
Her look of entreaty never left the stocky banker’s face. Starla knew she was asking him to take her part against insurmountable odds. Her father’s men were brutal creatures, weighted down with more muscle than brain. Next to them, the upstart Yankee appeared small and insignificant, offering about as much opposition as a crippled bug beneath an upraised boot sole. She should have felt guilty about encouraging him to take an inevitable beating while she escaped, but she hadn’t called to him to interfere. And he didn’t look as though he had the least intention of backing down.
In case they misinterpreted him the first time, Dodge said, again with bulldog tenacity, “Let the lady go.”
Milton gave a gruff laugh and shook his head. “And just what the hell are you going to do if we say no?”
He didn’t have long to wait for an answer.
Dodge’s crutch swung downward in a fierce arc, smashing into the side of Milton’s knee with enough force nearly to turn it inside out. The giant staggered back, only his hold on Starla keeping him on his feet. Immediately Dodge jabbed the crutch like a lance into the instep of Benton’s foot, causing him to howl in pain and surprise. When Benton took a lumbering swing at the banker, the crutch flashed up into the man’s groin. Benton froze, his features purpling as he dropped to his knees.
Freed of Milton’s grasp as he bent down to assist his friend, Starla skirted them both with an anxious two-step to slip behind her surprisingly effective
rescuer. Dodge could hear her rapid breathing at his back, detailing her fright, and it made him angry enough to think about finishing off the two bastards. But it was more important to get her away from the increasing curiosity of those around them than to exact a justifiable revenge.
He glanced around to where Starla stood in a quiver of delayed shock. His slow smile was meant to calm her.
“They won’t be bothering you again for a while, ma’am.”
Starla wet her lips. “Thank you, Lieutenant Dodge.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I meant what I said about that coffee.”
Her stare had all the expression of green bottle glass.
Very gently he placed his palm at the small of her back. He felt tremors racing along her spine in frantic ripples and knew her composure wouldn’t last more than another moment or two.
“C’mon, Miss Starla. Sit down with me for a while.”
He thought she’d continue to balk when abruptly she gave before the persuasion of his guiding touch and preceded him to his destination of Sadie’s boardinghouse. She made no objection when they were shown to a back table in the dining room. There she sat posed for flight on the edge of the chair, her eyes huge and gem-bright in a face pale enough to alarm him. He ordered his usual breakfast without taking his eyes from his strangely inanimate companion, then asked, “Coffee, Miss Fairfax?” No response. “She’ll have a cup, too,”
he concluded with a warm smile for the timid girl who took their order.
Silence settled when they were left alone. Dodge guessed Starla’s rigid corset frame was all that kept her upright. She stared straight through him with those expressionless eyes, and he wondered what went on behind them.
The confrontation on the walk had obviously upset her, but instead of becoming vaporish or even angry, she withdrew behind an eerie stillness that had him on edge. He’d seen the look on the faces of men in his unit when they were traumatized beyond their ability to cope. Something had scared the brash Starla Fairfax to the point of blankness, and it was more than just the manhandling of a couple of bullies.
“I wasn’t sure you’d welcome my intrusion after you sicced your brother on me.”
She blinked slowly. A furrow of confusion marred her brow. It was a response, anyway.
“He paid me a visit the other night and warned me to steer clear. I was afraid my stepping in out there might be interpreted as another nuisance.”
“Tyler spoke to you?” Vague puzzlement reached through her daze.
“I understood it was at your request. I hadn’t realized I’d made that big an impact on you. Folks don’t usually dislike me until after they’ve met me more than once. If you’d told me yourself to go to hell, I’d have gotten the idea right off. You didn’t have to send someone to give me that message.”
“Lieutenant, if I wanted you to drop off the edge
of the earth, I’d have said so. I wouldn’t send Tyler.”
He grinned. “That’s the impression I got, ma’am. Just checking. Does that mean you don’t want me to fall off the face of the earth?”
A faint curve touched her lips. “I’m reserving judgment, sir.”
Dodge relaxed back in his chair, now that he was certain she didn’t plan to bolt from the table. She was looking better, the color edging up into her parchment-pale cheeks, the glassiness in her stare becoming a gradual awareness. Her fragile defenselessness had him knotted up with the need both to protect and to comfort her. The first she’d allowed. The second he approached more cautiously. When their coffee arrived, he watched her unsteady hands curl about the cup as if desperate for the heat. An unsettling fierceness threaded about that want to see her safe. A desire to punish those who’d shaken her from her confidence.
“Did those boys hurt you? Maybe you should talk to—”
“Maybe you should mind your own business, Lieutenant Dodge.”
The steel in her tone cut rapier sharp. Apparently her recovery was progressing quickly.
“That wasn’t the impression you gave me earlier.”
His reminder brought a flash of temperament to her gaze. He liked the fire better than the chill.
“I appreciate your help, sir, but don’t think my gratitude extends to an obligation to bare my soul.”
“Consider my presumptions duly corrected.”
She glanced about as if aware of her surroundings for the first time—and of whom she was with. She studied him for a long moment, her look more suspicious than flattering. He could see her asking herself what his motive might be, so he figured it was time to relieve her mind.
“I can’t abide bullying. You don’t owe me any thanks. Any ‘gentleman’ would have come to your rescue.”
But not any “gentleman” had. Starla frowned slightly. The only one to step in on her behalf was this brash Yankee who now felt entitled to intrude into her life. She couldn’t allow that.
“I have to go.”
His hand covered hers in a staying gesture. There was no pressure, no clutching fingers, just that firm, warm covering. An unexpected spark of response caused her breath to catch. That spark Patrice had foretold. She didn’t pull her hand away.
“You haven’t finished your coffee,” he pointed out agreeably.
“I really don’t—”
“—Have a choice. You don’t want to risk bumping into those fellows.”
Her features adopted that still mask again, but fear glittered in her eyes. He was right, she realized. She needed to be careful.