Velvet Lightning (27 page)

“And you agreed.”

“At the time it seemed the only solution.”

“But Morgan got the gold,” Jesse repeated. “I delivered it to him.”

“The gold never left The Raven, Jesse,” Tyrone said quietly.

“The chests!”

“Yes, you delivered the chests. Filled with bricks. They were heavy enough so that you wouldn’t suspect anything.”

Jesse was frowning. “Wait. Morgan gave me some of the coins. He opened one of the chests—and there were gold coins.”

Tyrone looked at Falcon. “When Morgan and I talked, I told him about the three-dollar gold pieces. Of all the coins they were the only ones that could have been traced. Morgan said he’d take that chest, empty it out later, and bury the coins apart from the other chests. He probably never thought twice about giving Jesse a bag of the coins.”

“All these years,” Falcon said, “and that puzzled me most of all, that so few of those specially minted coins ever turned up. But it makes sense now. It was only the one bag that Talbot stole from Jesse.”

“I left some with Tory,” Jesse said, “before Talbot jumped me.”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, he said he’d gone back to Regret later and found the bag where I’d hidden it.”

Tyrone looked at her curiously. “You spoke to him?” She returned his look, smiled faintly. “I’m the one who killed him.”

“Revenge?” he asked after a moment.

“Justice.”

Tyrone nodded, then sighed. “Morgan and I both believed we’d covered our tracks. None of those men knew anything at all about him, where he was from. He said since I was right out in the open, the trail couldn’t lead toward me. So we faked the delivery, and Morgan vanished out west.”

Victoria looked at her husband. “Illusion. Sleight- of-hand. Being led to believe something that wasn’t so. You were very close.”

Tyrone spoke before Falcon could respond. “Was he? I rather thought he might be.”

“Is that why you left the ledger for me to find?” Falcon asked him.

“One of the reasons, I suppose. I had begun to realize you wouldn’t give up, as I said. But it was more than that.” Tyrone looked weary for the first time. He moved to Catherine’s chair and sat down on the arm, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Things were happening,” he said slowly. “People were crossing paths suddenly after all these years, people who knew parts of the story. Of both stories.”

He looked at Falcon. “I saw Victoria at that ball, and thought she might have been Jesse's sister, whom he believed had been killed years before. I had no thought of the gold then, not until she introduced herself as Victoria Fontaine. Still, that was possible, given Morgan’s nature; he could have taken care of her, thinking Jesse was dead. But you were with her, and I had good reason to know the gold was rarely out of your mind.”

“It was that night,” Falcon murmured, remembering.

Tyrone smiled but went on. “You had come to my office a few days before that, and from the things you so casually let slip, I realized you were beginning to piece it together.” He shrugged. “There isn’t much more to tell. When I received Jesse’s wire, I decided to come back here. I was reasonably sure you’d find the ledger, but even if you didn’t, with Morgan dead the trail of the gold could lead only to me.” He looked at Victoria. “I am sorry he was killed.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. I knew Morgan very well, and I know he would have preferred the trail to lead to him if it had to lead anywhere.”

Then Jesse said, “What now?” He was looking at Falcon as he spoke.

Catherine, who had sat in silence listening, spoke, her gaze also on Falcon. “Port Elizabeth is under English jurisdiction; you have no authority here.”

“He knows that,” Tyrone said quietly.

And they both knew something else. Gray eyes met green, the knowledge clear in both. They each knew that Tyrone had a fleet of ships, including the fast clipper
Robyn
now in the harbor. They both knew he could sail away in that ship, and that Falcon would find it very nearly impossible to catch him.

They both knew the chase could continue for years.

They both knew it wouldn’t, that it would end at that moment.

“Dammit, Falcon,” Jesse exploded, “say something!”

Slowly Falcon said, “A country should be obligated to care for its commander in chief. I'd say that gold was justly used.”

Tyrone wasn’t really surprised. He smiled faintly. “Is that what you’ll report to your superiors?”

“You forget.” Falcon smiled as well. “My superior is Leon Hamilton. I believe he’ll be quite happy to accept any report I give him.”

“Particularly when the dead remained buried?”

“Exactly.” Falcon hesitated, then said, “Ironic, isn’t it? They went to all that trouble—and the man they had so carefully picked to replace the president was assassinated two years later anyway.”

Jesse asked about
The Raven
, and Tyrone explained briefly. Falcon told Tyrone the details of what had happened in New Mexico and Texas, filling in the rest of the story.

With a touch of rueful amusement Tyrone invited them to remain a few days. He thought it odd that after so many years of him and Falcon warily circling each other, they should at last have reached a point that appeared to be the cautious beginning of friendship. He was pleased when they accepted the invitation to stay in his house.

Later, as they were all cleaning up before lunch, Tyrone and Catherine had their first moment alone since the confrontation out on the cliff.

In the bedroom they shared, Catherine said fiercely, “You were going to throw yourself at Sheridan, weren’t you?’’

“It wasn’t,” Tyrone said in a wry tone, “an option I was entirely happy with.”

“But you would have done it?”

He eyed her somewhat warily. After all she had gone through these last days, Catherine had been far more subdued than he was accustomed to seeing her; it seemed, however, that she was now rapidly regaining her more normal stubborn, sharp-tongued assurance.

She stood facing him squarely, slender hands on her hips, blue eyes gleaming. Her dark hair fell about her shoulders like a silky curtain, and the simple white blouse and dark skirt she wore made her look delicate and feminine.

He thought she was beautiful.

“Marc—”

Tyrone cleared his throat. “It didn’t come to that, after all.”

She stepped toward him and lifted her chin high. “If I had wanted a lapdog,” she said, her voice losing

none of its fierceness for being soft, “I certainly wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. However—”

“However?” he asked.

“You promised to grow old with me.”

He smiled slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“And I’m going to hold you to that promise. So I expect you to stop being so infernally reckless.”

“I’m never reckless.”

“Marc . . .”

Chuckling, he pulled her into his arms. “I told you before, darling. A man with as much to live for as I have isn’t an easy man to kill.”

She melted against him. “You just make sure of that, dammit,” she said.'! intend to wed only once.”

“I’ll make very sure of that,” he promised, and kissed her.

Victoria watched as Falcon found his journal in the bags they had brought from the ship. “An end to the story?” she asked.

He carried the leather-bound journal to the small secretary in their bedroom and sat down, looking at it thoughtfully. Then his gaze lifted to his wife. “It’s a private journal,” he said slowly. “And all the damaging information is in my own code. The chances of anyone else understanding or even reading what I’ve written in it are slim.”

She smiled. “And it isn’t really ended until you write it all down?”

“And old habit,” he had apologized.

“What will you do with the journal?”

He shrugged. “Take it back to Killara, I expect. There are a few journals from various members of the family stored there. Mine will join them.” He smiled crookedly. “To molder away into dust through the years.”

On impulse, Victoria gave him the assurance he was looking for. “Then make the entry. You won't be really content until the entire story is there, questions answered. The search for the gold was a large part of your life—and mine. It’s too important not to finish in every way.”

Falcon nodded and picked up a pen.

Later that afternoon Tyrone asked Jesse about another of his ships. “Is
The Ladyhawke
back in New York yet?”

Jesse shook his head. “Probably on the return journey from San Francisco by now. Why? You want me to send her down here?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Tyrone said in a polite tone. “I hesitate to ask after your explosion—”

Jesse made a rude noise. “The ships don’t bother me. It’s the damned paperwork I hate. So you’ll be staying on here for a few months?”

“Yes, I think so. Whether we spend most of our time here or in New York is up to Catherine, so—”

“What’s up to me?” Catherine asked, coming into the room.

“The decision about where we’ll live,” he told her.

Calmly she said, “No, it’s up to you.”

He eyed her.”Why?”

“You have a shipping business to think of.”

“I may hire that manager Jesse recommended,” Tyrone said thoughtfully. “I’d like to show you the world.”

“Will you show me that house in Spain?”

He started laughing. “No!”

“They wouldn’t let me in?” she asked curiously.

“They wouldn’t let you
ou
t, more likely.”

Jesse was bewildered. “What house in Spain?”

“Never mind,” both Catherine and Tyrone said repressively, and Jesse retired, crushed, to wonder about houses in Spain.

Late that afternoon, as the sun was setting, they buried Abraham Lincoln on a bluff overlooking the sea. The grave was unmarked and in time would become a part of the wild landscape behind Tyrone's big stone house. The blue sky would become a head-stone, and ivy would grow a protective layer over the ground. The sound of the ocean was steady and constant there, the eternal rhythm of the earth’s heartbeat.

No words were said over the grave.

When Reuben, Sarah, and Mrs. Tully had gone back to the house, the others stood in silence for a while.

Of all those involved, they were the five whose lives had been most intertwined with a stolen shipment of Union gold and a deception the world would never know about. They had each played a vital role in history that clearly had also enormously altered their own lives.

Catherine thought of what her life would have been if Tyrone had not built his secret home on Port Elizabeth, thought of the emptiness she would have suffered without him. Of tbem all, she had been least hurt by the secrets.

She became aware, gradually, that Falcon, Victoria, and Jesse had quietly gone, leaving her and Tyrone alone. She looked up at him as they stood close together, and asked the final question.

“It’s over?”

He looked at her, and his lips curved in the smile that had changed her life forever. “It’s over, Catherine. The past is buried for good now.”

Then he put his arm around her, and walked with her back to the house.

Epilogue

T
he final entry in Falcon Delaney’s journal was dated less than a year later. It was brief, uncoded, and occupied a single page alone.

Under the date of August 1872 were the words:

Born to Marcus and Catherine Tyrone this month, a son.

Named Abraham.

Wednesday Evening

Fairweather Farm     

Kentucky                     

My Dear Maureen,

I know it’s been several months since you’ve heard from me, but as you can see from the heading of this letter, I've been traveling again. I’m writing you from Mr. Shane Marston’s Thoroughbred farm here in Kentucky; you should remember he’s the husband of Miss Addie Delaney of the Australian branch of our family. Miss Addie was the only one of the three girls who decided to live here in America, and I must say I’m glad to have at least one of them “nearby.”

If you’re wondering why I’m here, it’s because none of my dear boys would hear of me going off to Australia just now, especially since Miss Cara is due within the month. Mr. Burke said firmly he’d have me for his firstborn, just like his brothers did. Isn’t that nice!

Anyway, since I had a hankering to see Miss Addie’s little girl, Mr. Burke sent me out here for a couple of weeks, but made me promise I’d come home the instant he called—as if there was any doubt of that!

Oh, Maureen, you should see Miss Addie’s little girl! She’s a toddler now—Katie they call her—and she’s a love. A tiny redhead, with big dark eyes like her mother and the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. Already, she has everyone around scrambling to please her, and it’s fair magic the way that child has with animals. Why, Miss Addie’s koala, that Sebastian, just follows her around like a puppy—even though I’d swear that creature was asleep most of the time.

Miss Addie’s the same as Katie, with that soft voice and sweet smile. You can see that the people around here, friends and employees, just dote on her. As for her husband, why Mr. Shane looks at her with such a glow in his eyes it brings tears to your own. And that little Katie can wrap her father around her tiny finger any time she pleases. It’s a good thing that child is so sweet-natured; she’d be spoiled rotten other-wise! Mr. Shane swears they're both enchanted, and I think he’s right. My Delaney family is special—I’ve always said so.