Wild Roses (21 page)

“Your family? But I thought . . .”

Harold gave his guard a sharp signal as he interrupted Harrigan. “I am sure you have a lot to do, Mr. Mahoney, and we are running a bit late.” Seeing that Margaret and his man had gotten Ella into the carriage, Harold started to climb in after them. “If you are here about your pay, I suggest you speak to your man George Morgan.”

As Harrigan watched the carriage disappear down the road, he heard a soft tsking to his right. He turned and nodded a restrained greeting to the Jensons, an aging couple who lived next door to Harold. Even as he started to turn and walk away from them, his curiosity got the better of him. They looked as if they were both concerned and filled with pity.

“Is there some trouble at the Carsons'?” he asked them.

“Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you,” said the plump Mrs. Jenson. “It's no secret. I fear the poor girl is suffering from some fever of the brain.”

“A what?” Harrigan whispered, shock stealing the strength from his voice.

“Aren't you the fellow that brought the girl back from that heathen land she had run away to?” asked Mr. Jenson, stroking his long, well-oiled moustache as he frowned at Harrigan.

“Yes,” Harrigan replied. “I noticed no fever of the brain in the girl.”

“These things can come on suddenly,” said Mrs. Jenson. “Maybe what troubles her was simply not clear to see while you were traveling together.”

“I should have seen something,” he muttered, struggling to continue the conversation even though his mind was feverishly trying to figure out what Harold could gain by spreading such a tale.

“Perhaps you just do not know enough about how young ladies should act to realize how oddly she was behaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she ran away from a very comfortable life to go live with her aunt in the Wild West. Who knows what sort of rough life that woman lives out there, yet Ella wanted to stay. No young, well-bred lady would wish to remain in such an uncivilized place, but little Ella fought every attempt to bring her home. Poor Harold was quite distraught.”

“I'm sure he was.” Harrigan realized his anger was evident in his voice, for Mrs. Jenson eyed him nervously. He forced himself to smile at the woman. “And what is Mr. Carson doing for the poor girl? Has there been any explanation of her illness?”

“Harold thinks she's just succumbed to grief. She lost her whole family, you know.”

“That was seven years ago.”

“True, but the child has always been a bit, well, odd. And he thinks madness might run in the family. After all, just look at how her aunt behaves.” The woman shuddered, and her husband patted her on the shoulder. “There are those who believe Louise Carson murdered Robin Abernathy. A brutal murder it was, too. And just look at who the woman travels with. I think Harold might be right. There certainly seems to be a weakness there, some wildness in the blood.”

Harrigan wondered idly what would happen if he slapped the silly woman. “Harold must believe the illness can be cured or he would have had her locked away.”

“He may yet have to do that. The doctor has been to see the girl, as has the minister, and neither sees much hope. They have no answers.”

It was an effort to do so, but Harrigan bid the couple a very courteous farewell and started back to his office. The uneasiness he had felt earlier had been transformed into a hard, cold fear. Harold had done a good job of spreading the tale that Ella was insane. Harrigan suddenly recalled a few odd remarks made by some of the people he had spoken to in the last few days, but he had mostly ignored them. Ella had always told him that people in Philadelphia thought she was odd. She could also be playing some game in the hope of gaining a chance to escape the man. Now he realized that Harold was the one spreading the tale and that the man had most of Philadelphia believing that Ella was completely mad.

What troubled him even more was that a part of him started to wonder if there was any truth to the tale. Ella had been acting strangely. He had put her through a lot as they had traveled across the country. It could have been too much for her. She was delicate, a tiny, well-bred woman, not some pioneer.

Those thoughts had barely finished going through his mind when he shook them away, cursing himself as a fool. Ella was indeed tiny and delicate of appearance, but she had a backbone of pure steel and a very sharp mind. She may have been acting oddly just now, but he refused to believe that she had gone mad. Harold wanted the world to believe she had, however. Harrigan knew he had to figure out why Harold would spread such a lie and what the man could gain from it. Instinct told him he had to find those answers soon, that there was very little time left for him to guess Harold's game and put a stop to it.

 

 

Ella forced her body to move, turning just enough to look out the back of the carriage as it pulled away from Harold's house. She watched Harrigan, not sure what she expected or wanted to see, but deciding it was better than looking at Harold and Margaret. Before they turned a corner and she lost sight of his tall, lean form, she saw him stop and begin to speak to the Jensons.

No sign of him having a revelation or rushing to her rescue, she mused as she slumped back down in her seat.
What did you expect? That he would suddenly pull a gleaming sword, leap on a white charger, and ride hard after you, screaming for Harold's head on a pike?
a voice sneered in her mind. She did think he could have showed some hint of concern. There was a very good chance that she would be dead in a short while, and it would have been nice to have seen some hint of feeling in him, some soft look that she could have recalled fondly in her last few minutes.

“I do not suppose we can stop by the jailhouse so that I might say goodbye to Louise and my friends?” Ella asked, thinking that her voice sounded a little stronger and praying that she was not deluding herself about the progress of her recovery.

“Very amusing, m'dear,” Harold said. “I will let Louise know that you were thinking of her in your last days when I go and tell her of your unfortunate demise.”

Margaret glared at Ella. “I noticed you were looking back at that Mahoney fool. Did you really think he would understand your babbling and rush to your rescue?”

“My babbling was obviously clear enough to make you nervous,” Ella said. “You practically threw me in the carriage to shut me up.”

“Listen to her, Papa. I'm telling you, she is far too clearheaded. The opium is leaving her body.”

Harold patted Margaret's clenched hand. “You worry too much, child. True, her mind and her mouth seem to be working again, if a little slowly, but it won't be a problem.” He smiled at Ella. “You still can't move much, can you, m'dear?”

“Enough to dance the jig on your grave,” Ella said, fighting to hide how sick with fear his cold smile made her feel.

“Oh, I don't think so. If you had any strength in your body or could get it to do what you wished it to, we wouldn't be sitting here having this pleasant conversation. I recall clearly how the opium affected a man I knew. He could, at times, carry on the most intelligent and rational conversation, yet he was so incapable of movement he would urinate where he sat, even as he kept on speaking. Much like some drunks.”

“You obviously have a high class of acquaintances.”

“You are very much like your father. When he realized what was happening and knew he could not save himself or his wife and child, he still cursed me with great skill. When you people get scared, you obviously turn nasty.”

“You watched my family die?”

“From a safe distance, of course. Actually, I believe you and Louise might be a little cleverer than he was, a little less trusting and naive. It has been much more difficult to deal with you as I must.”

“Tsk, such a pity.” Ella found herself praying that God would give her back her strength for just a minute or two, just long enough to kill Harold. “I find it a marvel that you think you can continue to escape any punishment for your crimes.”

“And who will make me pay? You? You can barely stand up. Louise? If she has any sense she will bury you and flee back to her pathetic little ranch. Louise lost all power and credibility in this city many years ago. Perhaps it is the opium that makes you so slow to see the truth. You have lost. I have neatly removed all allies from your side. You are alone, and alone you cannot beat me. I suggest you accept the fact and make your peace with God.”

“Oh, I am not so deluded that I think I can save myself, but I do believe that you will have to pay the penalty for all the evil you have done. Although I hate it, I even accept the fact that you might well live to a ripe old age without ever having to pay for the deaths and destruction you have caused. But even you know that you cannot live forever, Harold.”

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously you have been too busy destroying people to go to church. I refer to the punishment that comes after one has lived his life. Hell, Harold. I believe you've heard of it? We all pay for our sins in the end. Your comeuppance might take a lot longer than I like, but it will come. Yes, you are probably right to believe that no one will be able to save me.” She leaned back against the plush carriage seat and closed her eyes, finding a little pleasure in the fury and fear she had seen in Harold's eyes. “But guess what, dear Harold? No one will be able to save you either.”

“Sounds like they've given her some drug. Mayhap opium?”

Harrigan turned slowly from the window he had been staring out of to look at his friend and partner, unsettled by George's response to his tale of his brief meeting with Ella. It had been barely fifteen minutes since he had seen Ella, had the strange conversation with her and the Jensons, and returned to his office. Every one of those moments had been spent trying to deny what his heart and mind were telling him—that Ella was in great danger.

“Ella would never use that poison, George,” he finally said. “And she's too smart to let them give it to her.”

“Oh, she's smart, and she's a fighter, but she's also just a tiny woman.” George rose from the chair he had sprawled in and moved to the desk. “I need a drink,” he said as he opened the crystal decanter set there and poured himself a large whiskey. “You could probably use one too.”

“You think I need to stiffen my backbone or clear my head?” Harrigan asked as he helped himself to a drink.

“A little of both maybe.” George ignored Harrigan's scowl. “I feel sure they have drugged her. A girl doesn't fight tooth and nail against coming here as long as she has and then suddenly grow all sweet, quiet, and accepting. Whether you believe her relatives want her dead or not, you can't doubt that she believes it wholeheartedly. She was also spitting mad at you, yet, barely four days later, she smiles sweetly and says hello? Something is wrong.”

Harrigan swore and finished off his drink in a few swallows, then carefully poured himself another one. “I've been trying to ignore that truth.”

“I thought so, but damned if I can understand why.”

“Because it means I have to admit that I have been horribly and consistently wrong. And maybe, for Ella, fatally so.”

George grimaced, took a sip of his drink, and then, reluctantly, nodded. “You have been wrong, but that's not completely your fault.”

“No? I'm the one who refused to believe her and blithely handed her over to that swine Harold.”

“Well, I would not go so far as to say you did it blithely.” George ignored Harrigan's angry glance. “Your only real fault is how hard you fought to ignore the truth of what Ella was saying. I understand your anger and mistrust of her class. I even share it to some extent. The fact that the ones who caused your family's downfall are close friends of her family only added to all that hard feeling. I fully understand that too. But—”

“Ah, the great
but.
”

“But,” George doggedly continued, “I would have thought that those same feelings would have made you more inclined to believe her tale of treachery and murder.”

“Exactly.” Harrigan nodded as George's eyes slowly widened. “Right from the beginning I have mistrusted my own instincts concerning Ella and everything she said. I would look into those damn big green eyes and want to accept every word she said as pure gospel. The fact that she was telling me that her family and their friends were more corrupt than even I had imagined just made her words all the more tempting. I had to believe that she was a big, clever liar and as corrupt as her family. At least, that is what I kept telling myself.”

“And, yet, believing that, you made love to the girl?” George could not fully hide his shock.

“She could have put a knife to my throat and it probably would not have dimmed my passion for her. I was so hungry for her that I was past thinking straight. Hell, I don't think I've been in full possession of my wits since I first set eyes on her. And I do not recall telling you that I had made love to her.”

“You didn't have to tell me. It was obvious.”

Harrigan frowned. He was not sure he liked that, for it meant that his emotions were not as controlled as he thought. Briefly, all the fear he had suffered while he had been with Ella returned in force, but he easily pushed it aside. He would be willing to bare his soul to the world if it would buy her even one more minute of life.

“It could not have been that obvious or Louise would have shot me,” he said.

George flushed, and took a steadying drink before carefully setting his glass down on the dresser. “She wanted to, the very first time we caught up with you after she took me prisoner. I convinced her that Ella might not appreciate it. I thought that the girl might have some affection for you since she had become your lover. I fear the doubts I then held about Ella's morals and chastity weighted my words. Louise was distracted from her urge to kill you by the implied insult behind my words.”

It surprised Harrigan that he still had the ability to do so, but he laughed at the image of George trying to deal with an enraged Louise. “Poor George. This has not been an easy job for you.”

“No, and it's not yet over.”

“George, if you're implying that we should do something for Ella, I ought to remind you that we still work for Harold. We have no proof yet that he will kill Ella and, if we now act against him, we could destroy all chance for further employment. Hell, we could even face charges.” He raised one brow when George pulled a fat envelope from inside his coat and tossed it on the desk. “What is that?”

“Our pay. Harold finally coughed it up. I believe he grew weary of me squatting at his doorstep. After what you have just told me, I now think he was scared of what I might see or hear. We no longer work for the man.”

Harrigan briefly weighed the packet in his hand, then set it back down on the desk. “So, you suggest we now work against him? We may yet have to stay in this business, George. Going against Harold could well end our chances of working in this town, and probably a few others.” He smiled faintly when George looked at him with an even mixture of anger and disappointment. “I merely point out the possible consequences. After all, Ella is his legal ward and, despite all our efforts, we have no hard proof that he intends to do her any harm.”

“He's given her opium.”

“She is unruly, highly emotional.”

“He's locked her up.”

“She habitually runs away.”

George cursed softly and ran a hand through his hair. “You still don't believe she's in danger.”

“I do. I think I've always believed. As I said, I just didn't want to.”

“Then why are you hesitating? Why are you arguing this with me?”

“Because you're ready to ride off on your white horse, your sword of righteousness raised high, and rescue the damsel in distress. I just want you to realize, to completely understand, that you probably won't return from this grand adventure to be showered in rose petals and honors. Even if Ella is telling the truth and that bastard Harold is trying to kill her, such an action could still cripple our business. Our livelihood greatly depends upon people with fat purses and those people do not like to think that the men they hire might turn their dark little secrets against them. It will be seen that we have betrayed a confidence, acted on something we would never have known about if we had never worked for Harold Carson.”

“I think a young girl's life is worth the risk, don't you?”

“Yes. I just wanted to be sure that you did. There's one other thing. I hope you understand that Louise might still want nothing to do with you. Saving her niece may not be enough to make her forgive and forget.”

George winced. “I know. I won't say that there isn't a part of me that wants to try and win her favor, but my biggest concern is for Ella's safety.”

“So is mine, even if that hasn't been too obvious to everyone, especially Ella.”

“I just wish we had had more success in finding out about Harold's dealings. If we could prove him guilty of some crime, we could get help. We could at least get Louise and the boys out of jail so that they could help us.”

“Oh, I think we have enough for that,” Harrigan said as he donned his hat and headed out the door. “Thompson is not only nearly as stupid as Sheriff Smith, but he's a coward to the bone. All we need to do is convince him that we have enough to bring down Harold Carson. Thompson will be so scared that we'll bring him down with the man that he'll do whatever we want.”

 

 

“How did you do that?” Louise asked, wincing a little as they stepped out of the jail into the full light of a summer day.

“I just made Thompson think hard of all the things he's guilty of,” Harrigan replied as he led Louise and the four youths to the horses he had obtained for them, trying to hide his sense of urgency, but knowing he was failing by the intent way Louise was watching him. “I might not have found out enough to put Harold in jail, but I had enough to make Thompson think he was in danger. Those two have been working together for a long time. That much I'm sure of.”

“I could have told you that,” Louise snapped. “It was Thompson who helped to make me look like a murderer.”

“Thompson just repeated what Harold told him to.” Harrigan smiled faintly when Louise stopped and stared at him, but gently touched her arm and silently urged her to keep moving.

“Harold was behind my being accused of murder?”

“I can't believe you're as surprised as you sound.”

“Maybe not. I haven't let myself think of that incident too much. It was not only embarrassing and infuriating, but painful. Every time I thought about it I had to recall how so many of the people I thought of as friends turned their backs on me.”

“And made you decide to leave Philadelphia, to go as far away as you could,” he murmured as he mounted his horse, the others quickly doing the same.

“Exactly. It is because of him then that I was not here when my brother, his wife, and my poor little nephew drowned. I will never forgive him for that, or the ones who believed him.”

“Oh, I think if you consider the matter for a while, you will realize that there's an even bigger crime hidden there.”

“Who was the stronger one in your family, Miss Louise?” George asked quietly. “Who spoke out against Harold?”

“I did, of course,” Louise replied. “My brother said the man was not as evil as I thought, that he was family. I was the one who reminded him that Harold is only a Carson because of a strange twist of marriages and name changes that were so convoluted that I can't even recall all of them. I'd almost convinced him to change his will and name me the children's guardian, despite my youth.”

Harrigan watched Louise as she tensed the moment the words left her mouth. She stared at him as her eyes widened and she paled slightly. He knew she had finally figured out what he had begun to suspect more and more the deeper he had dug into Harold's affairs. Sadly, though, a growing suspicion was all he had, and he was increasingly sure that he would never find the proof to convict the man of those murders.

“He killed them,” she said in a voice so cold and hard it was barely recognizable.

“If he did, he did it in a very clever way.”

“You know he did or you would never have steered me toward the suspicion.”

“True, the suspicion. That's all I have. Ever since I returned to Philadelphia I've studied the man, gathered all the information I could. There is no proof, none that I have uncovered, leastwise.”

“So, now you begin to believe Ella.”

“Enough so that I believe we should stop talking and go find her.”

“We're supposed to ride with you? I'm still deciding whether I want to kill you or just maim you,” Louise said, even as she nudged her horse to follow his. She glared at George, who rode up next to her. “Both of you.”

Louise studied the two men as they rode through the city. She was not sure what to think. Both men were so tense that the feeling began to infect her. A small voice suggested that they might be working hand in fist with Harold and were leading her into a trap, but she easily silenced it. Harold would gain nothing with her death. She did not have enough money to rouse his interest and he knew no one would listen to anything she had to say. It just bothered her that the same men who brought Ella to Harold would now work to free the girl.

She struggled not to look at George, who smiled softly every time she glanced his way. Despite what she saw as his betrayal, she could not believe he would do anything to hurt her. Louise knew she had not been wrong about his increasing reluctance to do the job he had been hired to do.

“How do we know you ain't just leading us to Harold so he can get rid of us?” asked Joshua, putting Louise's own suspicions to voice. “Harold would probably like to see Louise dead too.”

“There's no probably about it,” said Harrigan. “I can only assure you that I am not helping Harold. The man gains nothing by killing Louise except to shut her mouth.” He winked at Louise. “I suspect there's a few people who might think that reason enough, but not Harold. He knows no one will listen to her and she doesn't have enough money to tempt him.” Harrigan looked at Louise, who was clearly still trying to make up her mind about trusting him. “I know you're not poor, that you have enough to live comfortably and survive several lean years at your ranch, but it's barely enough to keep Harold's three mistresses in dresses for a month.”

“Three mistresses?” asked Louise.

“Three. They're all very young and bear an uncanny resemblance to Margaret.”

Louise shook her head. “Well, that doesn't surprise me. I always thought those two doted on each other in an unnatural way. Still, it might mean that he hasn't committed the abomination I once accused him of. Margaret would never allow one of her lovers to have a mistress.”

“You have a true skill at endearing yourself to people, don't you?” Harrigan drawled, easily imagining how furious Harold must have been to be accused of incest.

“It's a gift.” Louise briefly exchanged a grin with a chuckling Joshua.

“So, do you trust me enough to work with me now?” Harrigan asked quietly.