Love at Any Cost (17 page)

She clutched her arms to her waist. “That sounds so harsh when you put it that way . . .”

He hiked a brow. “Oh, it is, Miss McClare, it is.” He gouged the back of his neck, finally facing her head on. “So, where does that leave us, then? You want me to convert, is that it?”

She shook her head, heart sinking. “No, Jamie,” she whispered, “not for me—for you.”

His laugh was bitter. “I've done just fine up until now, Cowgirl. I don't need him.”

A frail breath drifted from her lips. “No,” she said quietly, “but I do.” She rubbed her arms while she avoided his gaze. “And so does the man I hope to trust with my heart someday.” The cool sea air shivered through her. “It's chilly—we better go in.”

He halted her with a touch of his hand, a tinge of anger to his tone. “So, where are we, then, Cass? Two friends who want more but can't because God stands in the way?”

“No, just two friends.” Her smile was sad. “Unless you don't even want that.”

His mouth clamped tight. “No, I can handle it, Miss McClare. How 'bout you?”

She forced a smile, chin high. “If I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”

“After that lecture on trust?” Jamie hooked her elbow to steer her toward the door, lips flat and tone even worse. “To borrow a phrase that is spot on, Miss McClare—‘perish the thought.' ”

“You
told
him?” Alli paused in front of Cassie's vanity table, fingers paralyzed on black ringlets atop her head as her eyes flared wide in shock. Perched on the vanity bench in corset and chemise, she stared at Cassie in the mirror. “That you wouldn't court him? Sweet heavenly days,” she muttered, stabbing several hairpins in with a vengeance before whirling around. Long, black curls spiraled over the satin ribbon straps tied at her shoulders. “Was he hurt?”

Cassie sighed, the lasso in her hands failing to bring its usual comfort as she lay on her bed in a funk, long hair spilling over the pillow. “Devastated . . . before he got angry, that is,” she whispered, remembering the vulnerable look in his eyes when he'd told her he wanted “more” than friendship. She lovingly fingered the twisted hemp, its beloved smell of home unable to penetrate the gloom in her heart. “Said he was falling for me and wanted more.”

Alli abandoned her toilette to hurry over to where Cassie lay, easing down beside her. “Oh, Cass, that breaks my heart.”

“Mine too,” Cassie said with a mournful sigh. “I really care about him, Al, and I'd give anything if it could be different. But I promised myself and Aunt Cait that the man I'd marry would have a strong faith in God, and you and I both know that's not Jamie.”

Alli blinked, her affection for Jamie evident in the glaze of moisture in her eyes. “Well, you don't know,” she said quietly, “maybe it could be . . . someday.”

Cassie shivered, Alli's tears prompting her own. “I can't risk that, Al, falling in love with a man who may never have faith in God.”

Alli kneaded her shoulder. “But you're already halfway there, Cass, so maybe Jamie's worth the risk? Maybe he just needs time to come around, to show him an image of God that could woo his soul like you've wooed his heart.”

Fear coiled in her stomach like the lasso in her hands, and shaking her head, Cassie hurled a husk-stuffed leather cow with more force than intended, the one Daddy made for her to practice roping. Lips clamped, she rose up to swing the lariat in a circle overhead, launching it at the cow. “Sorry, Al—I'm still a little too raw from Mark to be a sitting duck for another man right now, even one I'm halfway in love with.” The lasso neatly cinched around the toy's neck, and Cassie jerked with a snap, landing the fat, little cow back on her bed.

Alli nabbed it, lips in a slant. “Somehow, I don't see
you
as the ‘sitting duck,' ” she said, bobbling the cow in her hand. “More like Jamie as a hapless steer about to be roped when you save him from himself.”

Snatching it from her cousin's hand, Cassie lobbed it across the room with a grunt. “Yeah, and who's gonna save me when the steer becomes a bull who tramples my heart?”

Her cousin paused. “Oh, I don't know . . . God?”

Cassie peered from the corner of her eye. “You sound more like your mother every day.”

Alli tipped her head, offering a teasing smile. “And that's a good thing, right?”

“Yes,” Cassie relented, venting with a noisy sigh. “Except Aunt Cait made me promise to save my heart for a man who loves God.”

“So, save it,” Alli said, “with a friendship that shows Jamie what he's missing—both with you and with God.”

Cassie grunted in the grand fashion of one of Daddy's cowhands. “Easier said than done.” She whirled the lariat in the air and chucked it at the cow, hooking its neck. “The man can put a lip-lock on me faster than I can rope a steer, and when he does, I'm the one who ends up hog-tied.” She wrenched it back to her lap, staring at its button eyes with a melancholy smile. “Just like he did on The Palace veranda.”

Alli spun to face her, jaw dangling like the rope in Cassie's hands. “Merciful Providence, Cassidy McClare, he kissed you again and you didn't tell me?” She snatched the poor cow and flung it away. “That was days ago, and we swore to tell each other everything!”

Sneaking a peek, Cassie tugged at her lip. “I know, and I'm sorry, but I was ashamed.”

“Because of one measly kiss?”

Cassie sucked air through a clenched smile, heat crawling her face. “Actually, it was three, and trust me, they were anything but ‘measly.' ” She gulped, the memory warming her skin as well as her cheeks. “I swear, Al, the man melts me into a puddle right on the floor.”

“
Well
. . . don't-let-him,” Alli said with a firm jack of her chin, enunciating each syllable. She leaned in, eyes sparking like jagged emeralds. “That's what got you into trouble with Mark, if you recall. Succumbing to his kisses till your heart was too far gone, and frankly, you and Jamie are too important to me for you to botch this up, Cass, so toughen up!”

Cassie's grin wobbled. “I don't remember you being so all-fired ‘tough' with Tom Alt.”

A blush bloodied Alli's cheeks as she folded her arms. “Yes, and that's exactly how I know. Mother warned me to keep a clear head, that a man's kisses can weaken a girl's resolve, but did I listen? No! And I was crushed when I found out he was a fraud after we'd announced our engagement, just like you when Mark broke it off before the wedding.”

“I know.” A sigh quivered from Cassie's lips.

“Look, Cass, when it comes to falling in love, neither of us have done too well, but together we can be strong.” She stuck out her hand. “Let's make a pact right now that we'll keep each
other accountable—with prayer and
no
secrets—so neither of us are charmed into heartbreak anymore, okay? You? By not letting Jamie MacKenna get within an inch of your lips till he turns over a new leaf, a man with faith in God courting you good and proper.”

“And you?” Cassie asked with a teasing grin.

Alli's lips veered into a crooked smile. “The same with Roger Luepke—if and when I should be lucky enough to see the man in Napa.”

“Deal!” Cassie grinned, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Adrenaline began to flow as she considered the very thing to divert their attention from two pretty boys who threatened to steal their hearts. She shimmied against the headboard with a contented sigh, hugging the lariat to her chest. “Oh, Al, I can hardly wait to teach at Aunt Cait's Hand of Hope School—to rechannel our energies into something more productive and worthwhile than just mooning over men. Has she said anything more about the building she's hoping to buy?”

The mention of her mother's dream was all it took to spark Alli's eyes as she shifted to sit cross-legged on Cassie's bed. “No, just that it's an old abandoned house on the edge of the Barbary Coast, but Mother says she submitted a petition to the Board of Supervisors docket for next month, so maybe soon. I haven't seen it, but I do know it was condemned by the fire marshal, which is why she needs board approval. Of course, it needs a lot of work, but Mother claims it's the perfect size and location and within easy access for so many young girls.” Alli released a wispy sigh. “We've already selected a curriculum and spoken to a number of teachers who are just as excited as we are. And Mother's friend Walter from the Vigilance Committee says the Board's sure to jump at the chance to rectify the blight of that old house.”

Cassie stared at the ceiling, her thoughts far beyond Jamie
MacKenna. “Honestly, Al, I think I could be happy as a spinster for the rest of my days just teaching young women the importance of education and fending for themselves.” Her throat thickened at the thought of Mark's rejection. “After what Mark did, I never want to be dependent on a man's love again as if it and it alone is responsible for any happiness I might have. No, siree—I have a mind and I hope to use it to empower young women to make choices in life other than just being subject to a man's attention.” She grasped Alli's hand, a fervor in her tone that swelled inside until she thought she might burst. “Oh, Al, just think! To continue the work of women like Susan B. Anthony and Julia Ward Howe, pioneers in the women's suffrage movement. To help pave the way for a world where women are free to be all that God intends us to be. Goodness, you and I have an opportunity to be a part of that, and what better place than the Barbary Coast where thousands of women are still enslaved in brothels and dance halls?”

“I know!” Alli said, tone breathless. “And we also get to use our talents in the process—you with math and singing, and me with English and drama.” She plopped back on her pillow and stretched out on the bed, ankles crossed and bare feet twitching. “Goodness, I don't think I've been this excited in a long, long while.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Cassie's chest. “At least not since you saw Roger Luepke,” she said with a tweak of Alli's shoulder.

Alli grinned. “You may be right . . .” She suddenly paused, head cocked. “Wait—do you hear something?”

Cassie listened, a pucker crinkling above her nose. “Sounds like somebody whimpering.” Holding her breath, she inclined her ear, then jumped up to peek in the hall, heart slamming at the sound of muffled weeping behind Meg's door. “Al,” she whispered, “I think Meg's crying.”

Alli jumped up to follow Cassie. “Meg?” Cassie said with a light tap on her cousin's door, “are you all right?”

The crying stopped, and Cassie knocked again. “Meg, can we come in? Please?”

At Meg's nasal response, Cassie opened the door . “Oh, honey,” she said, making a beeline to where Meg lay on the bed, curled in a ball.

Alli rushed to sit beside her sister, gently stroking her hair. “Meggie, what's wrong?”

Loose strands from Meg's reddish-blonde chignon fell across her face as she wept, her typically creamy complexion now blotchy and red. She looked up with shaky heave, white linen skirt rumpled and green eyes rimmed raw behind gold wire-rims. “D-devin C-caldwell m-made f-fun of m-me at Amanda Rice's b-birthday p-party . . .” Her voice lapsed into a sob.

Alli hugged her tightly, eyes on fire as she peered up at Cassie. “Oh, so help me, Cass, Devin Caldwell is one brat I'd love to see you string up with your lasso. That twerp has been tormenting Meg since the first grade.”

A hiccup popped from Meg's mouth as she blew her nose. “Unfortunately, he's not a ‘twerp' anymore, which is the whole problem. He's always been the smartest and most popular boy at St. Patrick's, but a real runt who made fun of me because I always beat him in the spelling bees between St. Vincent's and St. Patrick's.” She sniffed. “Now he's as tall as Blake and just as handsome and picks on me all the more whenever our schools have joint events.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Cassie said, crouching to tuck Meg's hair behind her ear with a gentle smile. “Sometimes boys will pick on a girl when they're smitten.”

A tiny grunt erupted from Meg's throat that almost made
Cassie smile except for the sudden glaze of tears. She shook her head, strawberry tresses quivering with the motion. “No, Devin's always been mean to me, so he's not smitten, not with the awful things he says.”

“Like what, honey?” Cassie plunked down beside her to cup Meg's hands in her own.

Meg sat up, tearstains dotting her glasses. “He calls me tubby and four eyes and wallflower among other things, but usually to my face, not in front of a whole crowd like he did today . . .” Her voice started to bubble again.

“Oh, Meg . . .” Alli embraced her while Cassie caressed her arm. “Then he's nothing but a pompous, arrogant toad, and if you want, Cass and I can go rough him up—she brought her lasso, you know.”