Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) (38 page)

      
Thinking of his father enabled him to tamp down his desire for Roxanna. He would act immediately on the information Jubal had given him about Powell. He could be in San Francisco to face down the old man in less than a week if he rode hard. The expression on that haughty patrician face when he realized his empire was crashing down around his ears brought a grim smile to the face of his bastard son. Cain had waited twenty years for this day.

      
Why delay it a moment longer? Especially considering they didn't want to give Powell any chance to cover his tracks. The old man's carelessness still nagged at Cain. Not that Andrew Powell or any of the other railroad magnates were above stealing from their own companies. They had not been dubbed “robber barons” in the press without reason. But this had almost seemed too easy. He worried the thought like a tongue returning to a sore tooth.

      
Before he realized it, he was opening the door to his suite. The moment he stepped inside, Cain knew something was amiss. Roxanna was not there. When had he become so attuned to her presence, her very scent, that he could feel her absence? Then he saw the note on the table. A premonition of dread touched him. He plucked the envelope from the center of the lace tablecloth and opened it. The heavy gold wedding band tumbled out into his hand. He squeezed it in his fist until the metal cut his palm as he read Roxanna’ s delicate feminine script. Her words left him numb with disbelief. Cursing, he read again.

Cain,

      
Perhaps I should address you as Damon Powell. I overheard your boast to your brother Larry. You accused me of using you. Now I have learned you are far more guilty of using me. You have what you want, the position, the power, the means to destroy your father. I wish you joy in your vengeance. Before it is over, perhaps you will come to realize that you and Andrew Powell are just alike.

      
In any case, I will no longer be a party to the deal that you and Jubal made. Tell him what you will about my disappearance.

Roxanna Fallon

      
I made a deal with Jubal...
His words echoed in his mind. Roxanna had been there, heard him fling his insults at Larry. God, how calculated and mercenary, how utterly cold-blooded he must have sounded. Just like his father. He had become the very thing he hated most. He unclenched his fist and stared with burning eyes at the small circlet of gold.

      
Cursing savagely, he crumpled the note as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Reading between the terse bitter lines, he could sense her desolation, the outrage and the betrayal. Where could she go? He quickly searched the bedroom. She had taken almost nothing, not even her jewelry. Without funds, how could she hope to leave the city? What if Isobel Darby found her? The madwoman had tried twice to kill Roxanna.

      
“I have to find her,” he muttered, with a string of angry oaths. She was his wife, dammit! And he wanted her back. He would get her back!

* * * *

      
The angry pounding on Jubal's door did not relent. Checking his timepiece, the old Scot grimaced, then swore. One in the morning! “Do na' break the sash in,” he yelled as he belted his dressing robe and padded barefoot across the carpet. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he opened the door, took one look at Cain and said, “his had better be good, laddie.”

      
Cain stared past him into the sitting room, almost a duplicate of the one he shared with Roxanna, right down to the maroon and blue carpet. With a pang he remembered how they'd undressed each other on that carpet only a night ago. “My wife's left me. I mean to get her back, but first there are some things I have to tell you,” Cain began without preamble.

      
Jubal poured two stiff tumblers of bourbon and thrust one at his young protégé before Cain could gather his thoughts. “That yer wife isna' Alexa?...or that yer really old Powell's bastard son?” He had the satisfaction of watching Cain's normally shuttered expression turn to pole axed incredulity.

      
Cain took a long pull on the bourbon and let it burn a trail down his throat straight to his knotted guts before he replied, “How long have you known?”

      
“About you? From the first. When you saved my hide in North Platte I had my agent investigate yer past. If I hire a man with a gun to watch my back, I want to know he willna' put a bullet in it.”

      
“Learning I was Powell's bastard should have convinced you not to trust me.”

      
“Do na' be daft, lad. It was all the more reason for me to keep you on. Powell never acknowledged you. He was a fool, ashamed of yer Injun blood, and you hated him for it. You were eaten alive with ambition. The desire to beat him burned inside you even fiercer than it did in me.”

      
“And so I became the Scot's Injun.” It made sense in a perverse manipulative way that Cain could understand. “But what about Roxy?”

      
“Roxanna Fallon,” Jubal said softly, taking another sip of his whiskey. A faraway look haunted his wintry gray eyes for a moment, then passed. “I wasna' certain for a while...until the reports came back from my investigators.” He chuckled softly. “Yer father tried to blackmail me with her past—and yers. He was livid that I already knew the truth and dinna' care.”

      
‘‘Was that why you let me have her?”

      
MacKenzie could hear the ice crack in Cain's voice.
Like your pride
, the old man thought. “Laddie, I grow a wee bit weary of that stiff neck of yers. No. I dinna' find out about Roxanna's identity until after yer marriage, but her being Alexa would have made no difference. She has a good heart, Cain, and courage to match yer own. There's more to her past. I'll leave the telling of it to her...if she chooses to share it with you.”

      
The implication was clear to Cain. “I won't lose her, Jubal. She's my wife.”

      
“She loves you, Cain. I asked you once if you loved her and you only replied you'd treat her kindly.” He snorted in disgust. “I can see how well you've kept yer word on that, laddie.”

      
Cain blanched. The barb struck home. How often had she wanted to tell him she loved him? And how often had he been afraid to return her love? “She overheard my conversation with Larry. I said some things...things I didn't mean...or didn't want her to hear so baldly,” he amended. “She blames you too, for the deal we made.” He handed Jubal the crumpled note.

      
Now it was the old man who blanched. “I played God with yer lives and I had no right,” he said wearily, rubbing his eyes as he took a seat in a balloon-backed chair.

      
“Did your agents find out about Isobel Darby?” At MacKenzie’s perplexed look, Cain said, “She's the one who hired those men to kill Roxanna. I don't know much, only that Roxanna was involved with the woman's husband.”

      
Jubal blinked as the cogs shifted in his mind. “Aye, that'd be Captain Nathaniel Darby.” A great deal was coming clear to him now.

      
“What the hell was it all about?” Cain asked. Roxanna’s life as a Federal spy must have been as dangerous as his had been hiring out his gun.

      
“As I said, it's for her to tell you that, not me,” Jubal replied almost gently. The same was true of the child she carried. He would not tell Cain he was to be a father. Best if he found his wife before he knew. Then she could be certain he'd come after her because he loved her, not for the sake of duty.

      
“I learned that Isobel Darby went to San Francisco several months ago. I'd bet she beat a path straight to Powell's door.”

      
MacKenzie stroked his beard worriedly. “Aye, that would make sense. That would explain how he found out Roxanna was an impostor. But do you think after all these years the Darby woman's trying to kill Roxanna?”

      
“Who else hates my wife enough to want her dead? Roxanna is convinced it's Isobel and I'm inclined to agree. It's dangerous for her to be alone without protection, Jubal. I've sent three of our men to make inquiries at the stage stations, telegraph office and livery stables. Wherever she's gone, I'll go straight after her, but I could use your help.”

      
“You know you have it, lad,” MacKenzie answered as Cain took an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to the old man.

      
“Everything I've been able to find out about Isobel Darby is there. She may be here in Denver...or she may have sent those killers from San Francisco. Hell, I don't know.”

      
MacKenzie watched as Cain raked his fingers through his hair and finished off the bourbon.
He really is in love with her, even if the young fool does na know it yet.
“I'll deal with the Darby female. You just attend to yer wife.”

      
With a terse nod, Cain jammed his hat back on his head and walked to the door. “I won't be back until I find her.”

* * * *

      
Roxanna had vacillated too long making her decision. Now she stood despondently in the telegraph office as the sleepy clerk waited with leering curiosity for the wife of a Union Pacific bigwig to compose her wire to the son of a Central Pacific director. Lawrence had left Denver by the time she arrived at his hotel. Not wanting to attract attention, she had bribed a bellboy to deliver a message to his room, only to learn he had checked out earlier that afternoon. She found he had purchased several good horses at a stable and rode northwest into Mormon land, ostensibly to check the Central Pacific crews working on grading.

      
There was nothing to do now but wire the address on the card he had given her and pray the message would be relayed to him. Whether or not he would help her was conjectural. If he refused, Roxanna had one half-formed fall-back plan. The only thing she was certain of was that she would not go crawling back to Cain and Jubal. She handed the boy the message, then left the office.

      
She had no choice but to take the mare Jubal had given her. The animal waited at the livery with the rest of the mounts brought to Denver by the Union Pacific entourage. She was not dressed for riding, but there had been neither time nor a place to change. Going to Sarah Grady for help had occurred to her, but Sarah's stern husband was a lifelong friend of Jubal's. She could not place the woman in the position of having to choose between them.

      
“How could I have been so wrong about Cain? Or about Jubal?” she asked herself as she retraced her steps to the livery. Roxanna had prided herself on her hard-earned ability to judge people. In her past life as a spy and then an actress, she had observed more than her share of the good and bad in human nature. Cynic that she had always believed herself to be, Roxanna thought it ironic she should fall so easily for the duplicity of these two ruthless men.

      
Well, she could be ruthless too. If Cain pursued her, she had arranged to send him on a merry chase in the wrong direction. She had purchased a ticket on the afternoon stage to Cheyenne. He would believe she was going to make connections from the Union Pacific railhead. By the time he caught up to the coach and found she was not aboard, she would have enough of a lead to leave a cold trail. Jubal would want his great-grandchild even if Cain did not want his wife. For that reason alone she was certain her husband would pursue her.

      
By the time dawn streaked the horizon in the east, Roxanna was hours away from Denver. With a small bit of luck, and pressing her mare, she might catch up to Lawrence in a hard day's ride. If she could not find him, or he would not help her, then she would continue on to Salt Lake. Perhaps the Mormons, themselves persecuted for so many years, would aid her in reaching San Francisco. In a large city she hoped there would be work for an experienced actress. She would have several months in which to save some money before her pregnancy showed. After that...well, she'd have to deal with it when the time came.

      
As for Isobel Darby, Roxanna refused to worry any longer. The worst had already happened. It was highly unlikely any of the widow's minions would be able to follow her into the wilderness. She had eluded Isobel for a year living with Alexa in St. Louis. She would outsmart her enemy again. She simply had to, for the sake of her child.

* * * *

      
Cain almost fell for Roxanna's ruse. When Pat Finny came back from the stage depot saying she had purchased a ticket to Cheyenne, Cain was ready to burn leather north. Luckily, when he reached the station, one of the off-duty drivers remembered the late afternoon coach's passengers—all males. Then Ham Benning caught up to him with a copy of the wire she had sent to Lawrence Powell in San Francisco. If her letter to him had been a blow, the terse missive to his brother was almost as devastating.

Dear Larry. STOP. You offered help if I needed it. STOP. I do. STOP. Am on my way. STOP. Gratefully. STOP. Alexa Cain

      
She had turned to the man she had come west to marry in the first place. The irony of the situation did not escape him. He wondered if Larry appreciated it, but doubted he did. “You had your chance, brother. Now it's too late. She's mine,” he whispered savagely, crumpling the copy of the wire. She had hours of head start on him, but he could ride her down—if he could pick up her trail.

      
No one had seen her since she left the stable. He would have to gamble on her taking the road to Salt Lake. If she was lucky enough to pick up a coach along the way, he might not catch up to her until she was in San Francisco. Would his father take her in? He doubted it, but since it presented an opportunity to thwart his bastard son, the old man might just enjoy “protecting” Roxanna.