The Outlaw's Return (10 page)

“I'm glad you like it.” He looked at Gertie and made a hook with his elbow. “Shall we show your sister the stage, Miss Larue?”

“Oh, yes!” Blushing, Gertie took his arm.

Mary didn't like her sister's reaction, but she couldn't find fault with Roy's manners. Mildly uncomfortable, she followed them through a set of doors that led into the main part the theater. A few steps behind them, she stifled the shock of seeing hundreds of seats waiting to be filled. She turned to the balcony and saw even more seating. She'd sung in front of large crowds but never in a building of this size. Overhead, chandeliers reflected sunlight pouring in through windows framed by open drapes. The high walls were covered in the newest flocked wallpaper, and the window frames were painted gold. The stage boasted even more grandeur. A red velvet curtain hung in secretive folds. Behind it lay music, a story. She'd always loved the moment just before the curtain opened, when she could feel herself sliding into being someone else, into a world of make-believe and adventure.

“Mary?” Roy's voice broke into her thoughts.

“Yes?” She couldn't take her eyes off the curtain.

“You seem impressed.”

“I am,” she admitted. From the time she could talk, she'd imagined herself in faraway places. Performing had brought those dreams to life a few hours at a time. Looking at the stage, she felt that call with a yearning she'd forgotten.

Gertie touched her arm. “It's even more amazing with an audience.”

“I'm sure it is,” she murmured.

“There's more,” Roy said. “Follow me.”

As he led them down the center aisle, she felt as if she were in a trance, caught between a brilliant dream and a drab reality. She knew where Roy was taking them. In a moment they'd walk past the stage. He'd lead them through a hidden door and they'd be in a hallway that led to the place of dreams and make-believe. Just as she expected, Roy opened a concealed door and they emerged into a backstage area full of scenery. Mary smelled paint for the backdrops, sawdust, powder and face paint.

Gertie scampered to a rack holding costumes in an array of colors. “They're beautiful!”

“They're for
Bohemian Girl.
” Roy lifted one and offered it to her. “This is for a peasant girl. I believe it's your size, Miss Larue.”

Holding the dress to her shoulders, Gertie spun to face a full-length mirror. “Mary, look!”

She blinked and saw herself ten years ago. “You look beautiful.”

Roy startled her with a polite hand on her back. “This way,” he said, turning her to the stage.

Mary let him guide her across the wooden platform. The curtain blocked her view of the seats, but she could imagine the music and the applause.

“Stay here,” he instructed. “And look straight ahead.”

He left her alone center-front on the stage. She heard the glide of ropes and the whoosh of velvet as the curtains parted. The air stirred, and she saw seats stretching into the darkness under the balcony, and then up in the balcony almost to the ceiling. She'd never seen any place so glorious.

Roy crossed the stage and stood slightly behind her. “Is it as wonderful as you imagined?”

She couldn't lie. “Yes.”

He motioned to Gertie. “Miss Larue, come and join your sister.”

Gertie set down the gown and came to stand next to Mary. Excitement rippled off the girl's skin as she took in the velvet seats and the beams of light from the windows.

Roy stayed behind them. “The role of Aline is yours, Mary. There's a role for Gertie, too.” He sounded sublime, even generous.

Her sister clutched her arm. “Say yes. It's the answer to everything.”

She yearned to accept Roy's offer, but the risk of reigniting the scandal was too great, especially with J.T. in Denver. In order to provide a good life for Gertie and Gus, she had to protect her reputation.

Roy spoke over her shoulder. “Shall we discuss the terms of the contract in my office?”

“Not today.” She'd made a promise to J.T., and she'd keep her word. “I'd like an evening to think things over.”

Gertie huffed. “But Mary—”

“Shhh.” She hated treating her sister like a child, but she was acting like one.

Roy smiled at Gertie like a father. “Your sister needs time, Miss Larue. It's perfectly understandable.”

Gertie calmed down instantly. “Yes. Of course.”

Mary appreciated Roy's intervention. “Thank you. You've been very understanding.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want, Mary. It's yours.”

What Mary wanted, Roy couldn't give. She wanted to be free of secrets and scandals. She wanted her brother to speak normally and for Gertie to be patient.

Her sister turned to Roy. “Excuse me, Mr. Desmond. But what time should we come tomorrow?”

“I'll come to the café. We can finalize the arrangements when you're done serving breakfast.”

Mary appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I'll give you my answer then.”

After exchanging goodbyes, the women left the theater. As they passed the church, Mary looked up at the scaffolding. J.T. must have been looking for her, because he stopped hammering as soon as she came into sight. He tipped his hat, then said something to Gus. Her brother set down the nail bucket and waved, smilingly so wide that his teeth glistened in the sun.

She'd never seen Gus so pleased. Neither had she seen J.T. so determined. Tonight they'd talk about Roy's offer, but Mary knew what she had to do. She couldn't say yes for herself, but she could make Gertie's dream come true. She acknowledged Gus and J.T. with a wave, then turned to her sister. “We might be able to work something out with Mr. Desmond.”

Gertie gasped. “Do you mean it?”

“I do, but Roy might not agree with what I have in mind.” She prayed silently that Gertie wouldn't press her for details. “I'm done performing. With the café and
Gus, I have no desire to go back to the stage. But you're younger. You're just getting started.”

Gertie nodded furiously. “That's right.”

“
If
Mr. Desmond agrees to give you a role without me as Arline, I think you should choose a stage name. Gertrude is old-fashioned.”

The girl grabbed Mary had hugged her. “I
hate
‘Gertrude'! And ‘Gertie' is for a little girl. I want to be Emmeline. That's my middle name…Emmeline Larue!”

Mary shook her head. “Larue confuses people. They'll think you speak French. How about Emmeline Duncan?” Duncan was their mother's maiden name.

Gertie thought for a minute. “I like it, and it would honor mama.”

Mary liked it, too. “Then it's settled. I'll speak with Roy tomorrow. If he agrees, you can take a
small
part.”

Gertie hugged her hard. “Thank you, Mary. You're the
best!
”

With her secret buried, though not as deeply as she would have liked, Mary walked arm in arm with Gertie to the apartment, where she'd bake a chocolate cake. She'd promised Gus, and she owed J.T. for his concern. She wouldn't let him sway her about Roy, but she'd do him the courtesy of listening.

S
eated in front of a nearly empty checkerboard, Gus raised his arms in triumph. “King me!”

J.T. had to hand it to the boy. They'd played five cutthroat games of checkers, and Gus had won four of them. With each win, the kid had signaled to Fancy Girl and she'd given a victory bark. J.T. had enjoyed every minute. Grinning, he offered a handshake. “Congratulations. You're good at this.”

Gus gripped his fingers hard. “Thanks.”

“He's the best,” Mary said proudly.

She was standing behind him, drying her hands on a towel that fanned the air with the lingering aroma of chocolate cake. Earlier she'd served fried chicken and potatoes, corn and biscuits as light as the clouds he'd watched all afternoon. High on the scaffolding, he'd enjoyed pounding nails with Gus. They hadn't spoken at all, not because Gus stammered but because they didn't need to talk.

J.T. had enjoyed the quiet, but he'd also liked the chatter at supper. After his run-in with Gertie, he'd expected her to give him a cold shoulder. Instead she'd been friendly. While he played checkers with Gus, Mary
and her sister had done the dishes, quietly conspiring in female tones he rarely heard and greatly enjoyed. He hoped the cheerfulness meant that Mary had no intention of arguing with him about Roy. With a little luck, she'd seen the man's true character for herself.

“All right,” she said to Gus. “It's bedtime.”

“B-but—”

J.T. stood. “Your sister's right, kid.”

Satisfied, Gus swept the checkers into a box, said good-night and went down the hall with Fancy at his heels. Gertie had excused herself earlier, leaving J.T. and Mary alone in the front room. When she sat on the divan, he positioned himself next to her but not too close. Once they were done talking about Roy, he hoped to stay awhile longer. While working with Gus, all sorts of thoughts had filled J.T.'s head. He'd had his fill of drifting and killing, and he'd started to wonder…. What would it be like to start a new life?

If anyone could understand, it was Mary. In Kansas she'd been as wild as he'd been, yet now she had a home and a business…and faith, he reminded himself. Of the three changes, the last one surprised him the most. Earlier today he'd considered the odds of a man like himself putting a roof on a church. A year ago, he'd have said they were a million to one. J.T. hadn't thought much about God except to dislike Him, but Mary felt otherwise, and he wanted to understand her.

He leaned back on the divan. “Thanks again for supper. I had a good time.”

“I did, too.”

He felt at home tonight, something he'd never experienced before, though he'd often visited her hotel suite in Abilene. There she'd had two rooms, a sitting area and her bedroom. The bed had been soft. The divan in
the sitting room had been short and stuffed to the point of being uncomfortable. He wasn't uncomfortable now. The divan felt as familiar as his saddle, and the room was pleasantly cluttered with Mary's treasures. He recognized a vase he'd given her in Abilene. She'd filled it with dried sunflowers like the ones they'd seen on that buggy ride to nowhere.

He wished now that the ride had gone somewhere, anywhere, as long as he'd gone there with Mary. He wanted to rekindle that closeness, but first he had to finish with Roy. He draped a boot over his knee. “How did it go this afternoon?”

“Good.”

When she took a breath, he got a bad feeling. “You took the role, didn't you?”

“No,” she said firmly. “My career's over, but there's a part for Gertie. I'm keeping my promise to hear what you have to say, but I'm inclined to let her give acting a try.”

“Mary, no.” The evening had been nice…too nice, he realized. Gertie had been on her best behavior, because she wanted something from her sister. Mary had kept the evening light, because she wanted him to accept her decision.

J.T. figured he had double the trouble. He still had to worry about Roy's interest in Mary, and now Roy was using Gertie to manipulate them all. Mentally he kicked himself for not telling her about Roy sooner, but she didn't trust him enough to take his word. He couldn't stand the thought of Mary dealing with Roy. He wanted to block the door with his body, keeping her in this land of checkers, fried chicken and sunflowers dried into a memory.

In a burst of clarity, one like the moment on the roof,
he realized he wanted to be locked in this room with her. The admission startled him in one breath and infuriated him in the next. What did a fool like him have to offer a woman like Mary? She was smart not to trust him, but he knew Roy's intent. He needed to convince her to keep Gertie away from the Newcastle, so he stood and offered his hand. “Let's take a walk.”

Her brows lifted. “A walk?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “But I don't want to have this talk with Gertie's ear pressed to the door.”

He'd caught Mary by surprise, and she laughed. “That's exactly where she is.”

He kept his hand steady, waiting and hoping, until she clasped his fingers and allowed him to guide her up and off the divan. The touch connected them, not in the past but in the present. J.T. put on his gun belt, then he led Mary to the door, lifted her shawl from a hook and draped it over her shoulders. Other nights came back in a rush of memory, the times he'd walked her to the hotel after the show and they'd kissed…the times he'd followed her upstairs to her suite of rooms.

He couldn't fix the past, but he could protect her from Roy Desmond. Maybe someday she'd trust him again…. Maybe someday she'd let him back into her life.

 

Mary followed J.T. down the outside stairs, saying nothing because she didn't know what to say. She'd expected a quarrel. Instead he'd swept her into the night for a walk. She needed the air to clear her head, and he'd been right about Gertie eavesdropping. Mary had no intention of going back on her word to Gertie. Roy might say no, but she'd try to get Gertie a role. If she
broke her promise to her sister now, the girl would ask too many questions. She loved Gertie and wanted her to be happy.

She doubted strongly that J.T. could say anything that would change her mind. She wasn't completely comfortable with Roy, but she trusted the theater manager more than she trusted J.T., though tonight he'd been wonderful with Gus. He'd boosted her brother's confidence in a dozen small ways.

You carved these animals? They're really good.

You've got a lot of books. You've read 'em all? I wish I'd done that.

By the end of the meal, Gus had been sitting tall and eating enough for two boys his size. J.T. had been just as respectful of Gertie, calling her Miss Larue as he showed Gus how to pull out his sister's chair. The old J.T. had been as approachable as barbed wire. The new one had grinned when a boy beat him at checkers. She wondered if he let Gus win, then decided he hadn't. Gus played a good game, and she'd seen the competitive glint in J.T.'s eyes. He had wanted to win, and he wanted to win now. What the prize was, she didn't know.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he pointed to the center of town. “Let's go this way.”

She didn't ask him where they were going. She doubted he knew, and she was content to listen to the matching rhythm of their steps. Her problems seemed insignificant beneath a sky full of stars. Unconsciously, she started to hum.

“Is that from Roy's show?” he asked.

“No, it's a hymn.”

As she tipped her face in his direction, his lips curled but not into a sneer. Neither was he smiling. He looked
befuddled. Turning slightly, he met her gaze. “I guess that's one I haven't heard.”

Come to church and I'll sing it for you.
The words danced on her tongue, but she bit them back. She didn't want J.T. to be a part of her life, yet how could she not invite him to church? Not only would the refusal be self-serving, but she'd be a hypocrite. Not that it mattered…. He'd surely refuse the invitation. Feeling safe, she looked up at him. “Come to church on Sunday, and I'll sing it for you.”

“Let's go right now.”

Mary laughed. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.” He reached for her hand. “I'll show you what Gus and I did today. Besides, the building's a good place to talk about Roy.”

His fingers felt warm on hers, strong and tender in the way she remembered. It was also dark, and the boardwalk had as many warped boards as it did flat ones. The silence between them felt gentle, the way it did between old friends who'd talked themselves out, but Mary felt nothing akin to friendship for this man. Her feelings—both sweet and painful—ran too deep. She'd vowed to never trust him again, but she hadn't expected to be having a conversation in a church. As they neared the unfinished building, moonlight turned the raw pine into silver beams. Behind the framework, she saw the stone wall of the Newcastle.

J.T. guided her through the opening left for the door, then indicated the table at the far end of the building. The two chairs had been tucked in place, and a lantern stood waiting to be lit. She didn't know what to think as they walked across the diagonal floor planks. God didn't need walls and a roof to be present, nor did He turn His nose up at men with bad habits and blood on their hands. Mary
felt that same compassion for J.T., but she couldn't trust his judgment. At the same time, she trusted God, and somehow He'd brought J.T. to Denver. For what purpose, she didn't know. Nervous, she walked with him through the bar-like shadows formed by the open rafters.

When they stepped beneath the solid portion of the roof—the portion J.T. had hammered into place—he pulled back a chair. “Have a seat.”

She dropped down on the chair, watching as he struck a match and lit the lantern. With the light casting his shadow against the wall, he pulled the second chair out from the table and sat facing her. “You're not going to like what I have to say about Roy, but you've got to believe me.”

“I said I'd listen.” She indicated the empty church. “Here we are.”

He sat straight with his hands on his knees, his spine rigid and his eyes as hard as gunmetal. “You know I saw Roy talking to Gertie. She's too young to read a man's signs, but I know what he was up to.”

Mary sighed. “I don't think—”

He dug his fingers into his knees. “I'm telling you, Mary, Roy ogled Gertie like a wolf stalking a lamb. If you let her take that role, Roy will pressure you both in all the wrong ways.”

Roy had always been polite to her. She knew him. “That's a bit extreme.”

“It's not.”

“I know you mean well.” She spoke quietly to calm him. “But why should I believe you? Roy's a customer—a good one. He's been a friend.” She didn't mention that he knew about the miscarriage and the murder trial and that he hadn't shared the information with anyone in Denver.

J.T. looked her in the eye. “I know what I saw. I also know what I heard.”

“What?”

“Do you mind if I speak plainly?”

J.T. never asked permission for anything. The respect startled her. “Go ahead.”

“After I left you on Sunday I ran into Roy.” He told her about going inside the theater and how Roy had asked him to influence her to take the role of Arline. She didn't like Roy's attempt to manipulate her, but she could understand his need to pay off his investors. Unlike J.T., she believed Roy to be a real businessman.

She interrupted him. “I haven't heard anything that makes me worry. He manages a theater. He wanted me to sing—”

“He wants more than that.” The words came out in a growl. “He said he
wants
you, and he didn't mean just for the stage.”

She'd stopped trusting J.T. two years ago. She saw no reason to start now, especially with such an unseemly observation. “I don't believe you.”

“You've
got
to.”

“Why should I?”

“Because he told me straight out.” He took both her hands in his and held them like he'd never let go. “He looked me in the eye and said, ‘If you're done with her, I'll take her for myself.'”

Sam O'Day had made a similar remark when he'd trapped her in the alley. In the days before she'd left Abilene, even men she knew to be honorable had given her disturbing looks. Roy knew the gossip about her, what she'd done. She wanted to deny J.T.'s claim, but she couldn't. How well did she really know Roy? Not as well as she knew J.T. He was suspicious by nature, smelling
smoke where there wasn't fire, but he was also a shrewd judge of character. Shaking inside, she pulled out of his grasp and paced to the side of the church closest to the theater. Looking up at the dark windows, she prayed.
Help me, Lord. Should I trust J.T. or not?

Her heart cried no.

Her common sense said otherwise. He had no reason to lie to her, and deep down she'd been troubled by Roy's attention to Gertie. If there was even a remote chance Roy would use Gertie for improper purposes, Mary couldn't allow it. But the cost… She stared up at the dark theater. If she went back on her word to Gertie, her sister would demand to know why. Just as threatening, Roy could destroy her good name with a single rumor. What would Gus do when other boys called his sister ugly names? A lump pressed into her throat.

“Mary?”

J.T.'s voice came over her shoulder. He was standing behind her, close enough that she could again smell the bay rum that had tickled her nose all evening. She needed to tell him what she'd decided, even thank him for protecting her, but she didn't trust her voice.

Stepping closer, he put his hand on her arm. “There's more.”

She shook her head. “I've heard enough.”

“Roy killed a saloon girl in Dodge.” His fingers tightened. “If he gets near you or Gertie, I'll—”