The Scoundrel's Bride (18 page)

“Fine bourbon you have here,” he said. “Guess I can see why a man would want to keep it to himself. I reckon a lot of things are like that, hmm?”

“Look, Burkett—”

“No,
you
look. I want you to know how she died, Marston. How the blood kept bubbling, the scent of it. She hurt. She hurt powerfully bad. Remember her eyes. Daddy? Remember those beautiful blue eyes? They showed how much she hurt.”

Joshua Marstons voice cracked. “That’s enough, Burkett. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t send those men.”

“Right. And Santa Anna was paying a welcome visit on the Alamo.” Something hit the wall near the door. Morality and Louise started even as they heard the sound of breaking glass. Zach must have thrown his drink, Morality thought.

His voice vibrated with hate. “You killed my mother. I know it; she knew it. I lied before. There was one time she spoke your name, and it was right before she died. Give me the diary, old man.”

“What diary?”

Zach’s laugh was ugly. “Don’t deny it. She told me you have it, and she asked me to get it. I promised her I would.” He waited a beat, and then, in a winter-wind voice, he said, “I always keep my promises.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about!”

Louise Marston laid a trembling hand on Morality’s arm. Her voice was only a whisper when she said, “Joshua is telling the truth. He doesn’t know about Sarah’s diary. I have it. I stole it from her years ago, before Joshua explained everything. Oh, Morality, what should I do?”

Ugly amusement colored Zach’s voice as he drawled, “You know, Daddy, I figured you’d say something like that. So guess what? I came to Cottonwood Creek prepared. You remember the loan Marston Shipping took out on your newest, fanciest steamer? Well, I own it. I’ll give you two days to ‘find’ my mother’s diary, and if it’s not in my hands by then, I’m calling the note.”

“But I don’t know about any diary. And we can’t raise that kind of money in two days!”

Zach’s chuckle sent a chill up Morality’s spine. “I’ve always wanted to own me a boat. Think I’ll call it
Marston Bastard II.
”

A scuffling noise came from the library.

“Well, this is ridiculous.” Eulalie flounced up behind them. “I couldn’t hear much, but I heard enough. Pure foolishness on that boy’s part, thinking Joshua had anything to do with Sarah Burkett’s death. I’m not about to sit around until poor Zachary beats up on Joshua.”

Eulalie Peabody brushed by Louise and Morality and pushed into the library. “Zach Burkett, you let go of that man. The sky is looking like snow, and I’d like to get my horses home and put away before it falls. You drove me here, and I want you to take me on home. Now.”

Zach had hold of Joshua’s lapels. “All right, Mrs. Peabody. I’m finished here anyway. This man’s too old to be throwing punches, and besides, I’m looking for a more entertaining way to hurt him than with my fist.” He shoved his father away, then got out a handkerchief and wiped his hands.

Morality’s breath caught at the sight of Zach’s eyes. It was a glimpse at the fires of hell.

“That’s enough, Zachary. Come along.” Eulalie pulled on Zach’s arm. “I’m ready to go. Now.”

Zach pivoted, his boot heel crunching the broken crystal.

Following Eulalie Peabody, he brushed by Morality without a glance.

“Mr. Burkett. Wait! Please!” Louise Marston cried, chasing after him.

He ignored her and left the house without another word, marching down the front steps toward the buggy parked on the street. Eulalie followed, waving at Louise. “Later, dear,” she called. “Give everyone a chance to cool down. It shouldn’t take long in this weather.”

Louise shut the door, and for a moment, the mood was similar to the aftermath of a storm when everyone checks to make sure they are still alive. Then she rushed into her husband’s embrace, her voice cracking. “Oh, Joshua.”

Morality stared at the floor and said, “I’m sorry for causing trouble. I needed help and—”

“No need to apologize, dear.” Over his wife’s head, Joshua’s shaken gaze met Morality’s. “This incident has been a long time in coming.”

“What will we do?” Louise’s shoulders shook as she began to cry softly.

Recognizing the Marstons’ need for privacy, Morality excused herself and fled upstairs, praying she’d not meet her uncle on the way. She simply wasn’t up to another confrontation.

Once safely inside her room, she crossed to the window and looked out. The Widow Peabody’s buggy was rolling down the street, Zach Burkett holding the reins. “Gracious,” she mumbled. “What a day this has been.”

The knock sounded on her door a few minutes later. Louise Marston stood, hanky in hand, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Oh, please, Morality. You must help me. It’s Joshua.”

“Mr. Marston? What’s happened?”

“It’s his chest. He sometimes has these pains when he gets this upset. I can’t leave him now, not like this. But I need to tell Zachary Burkett about the diary. I pray that once he knows the truth, he’ll give me the time I need to retrieve it.”

“Of course I’ll be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Marston, but I don’t understand. What is it you want me to do?”

Louise took Morality’s hand. “Would you follow him, please? He’s probably still at Eulalie’s. I tried to tell him before he left, but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t listen.”

“You want me to follow Mr. Burkett?” Morality repeated, her stomach sinking.

“Yes. I gave the diary to my sister for safekeeping. She lives in Austin. I’ll need rime to send for it or I’ll go for it myself if need be. Anything, as long as Zachary will wait to call that note. Please, Morality, will you do this for me?”

“Of course.” She glanced at the bedside clock. It was late afternoon, and if she missed him at the widow’s he could as easily go home as back to his office. She didn’t want to do this. Not at all. But she’d do it anyway. Even if she didn’t already owe the Marstons so much—for room and board and for bringing such trouble to their home—she’d still go after Mr. Burkett.

Reverend Uncle would tan her hide if she didn’t.

“I’d best hurry. I need to catch him at Mrs. Peabody’s.”

Morality removed her cloak from the wardrobe as Louise nodded and said, “I’ve instructed the stable boy to hitch up my sulky. Thank you for this, dear. Thank you so very much. God go with you.”

God go with me
, Morality silently repeated as she slipped down the back stairs and out the door. Cold nipped at her heels, and as she climbed into Louise Marstons buggy, she sighed. “Heavens, what a day.”

CHAPTER NINE

RAIN DRUMMING ON CEDAR shakes lent a mellow sense of sadness to the evening. Zach listened to the softly streaming melancholy beyond his cabin door and took a swill of whiskey straight from the bottle. Sometimes it just felt good to feel bad.

He dropped his head back, resting it against the hard rim of the bathtub filled with steaming water, and allowed the memories to course through his mind. Sarah Burkett planting fall tomatoes, her homespun skirt swirling around her ankles. The socks she knitted for him for Christmas. Her teasing laughter as she taught him to bait a trot line.

He tried to imagine his life had she not met her death along the Nacogdoches road. He probably wouldn’t be wealthy, as he was today. He certainly wouldn’t have traveled the country and seen the sights he’d seen. Had the Lovelace brothers’ bullets not struck Sarah Burkett down, he damn sure wouldn’t be in Cottonwood Creek hatching a plan to bring the Marstons to their knees.

Zach shut his eyes and sank deeper into the tub. He was tired. Confronting Joshua Marston had been a bitch, nothing at all like he had imagined. Instead of the blaze of righteous anger he’d expected, everything he’d felt had been so damn cold—cold hatred, cold bitterness, cold emptiness. Getting caught in the rain hadn’t helped the situation, so after tending the animals and grabbing a bit of supper, he’d decided to drag out the bathtub. He’d hoped that a soak in hot water would warm up his insides along with his feet.

He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever be warm again.

“Damn, Burkett,” he muttered, bringing the bottle to his lips once more. “You’re waxing a bit too philosophical for a sharper.”

As the water slowly cooled, Zach noted the changing sounds of the storm. The drum of rain hardened to the clatter of sleet, and even the wind sounded colder. He hated ice storms. Whereas a man could negotiate snow with a little effort, ice pretty well kept him homebound—not at all what he wanted on the heels of the afternoon’s confrontation.

Zach couldn’t wait to ruin Joshua Marston.

Climbing from the tub, he grabbed the towel he’d hung near the fire to warm and began to dry himself, his attention caught by the scuffling taking place in the wooden crate at the far end of the fireplace.

A pup tumbled from the bed he’d fixed for the dog and her offspring, and the resulting pitiful whimper made him smile. He padded over and scooped up the jet-colored ball of fluff, then did a little rearranging so that all five pups found a place to eat.

“Nothing like a warm bed and a teat to suckle when it’s cold outside, right, guys?” He rubbed the towel briskly over his body, then reached for his pants. “Why, I remember one time I was stuck in a snowstorm in Nevada, and there was a gal…” His voice trailed off as the image of a different woman fluttered through his mind.

Morality Brown. Mentally he replaced the drab colors she favored with a low-cut, emerald-green confection. Her hair hung loose, spilling a fiery veil down her back, and pouting lips and heavy-lidded eyes promised the fulfillment of all his fantasies. Shaking his head, Zach grinned at his own imagination as he stepped into his britches. Not even a sleet storm could take the heat out of that daydream.

He wished like hell she hadn’t been around to see the little drama that had played itself out at the Marstons’. He couldn’t forget he needed the Miracle Girl on his side. Although he’d probably furthered his cause by helping with Patrick, the tussle with dear old daddy most likely forfeited all his gains.

He snagged the whiskey bottle and took another draw. It didn’t matter. Whatever ground he’d lost he could easily regain. He needn’t worry about it tonight.

Whistling softly beneath his breath, he wrapped the towel around his neck and headed for his trunk and the clean clothing stored inside. He was pulling on a thick wool sock when he heard the faint knocking at the door.

The dog’s head came up, proving that Zach hadn’t imagined the noise.
Knock, knock, knock.
Louder this time. What gnat-brained fool would be out in weather like this? Before he could shrug into his shirt, a blast of cold air hit him.

At first he thought he was seeing things. Morality Brown slammed the door behind her, then walked past him toward the fire, brushing ice from the sleeves of her coat. “Hello, Mr. Burkett,” she said through blue-tinted lips. “Hasn’t this been a honey of a day?”

NOT ONLY had Morality reached the end of her rope, but she’d tied a noose in the end and slipped it over the neck of her good sense. She simply couldn’t take any more.

She pulled off her bonnet and dropped her cloak, leaving them both where they fell as she approached the hearth. “It’s not enough that I must live in fear that I’ve killed someone with my tonic and that the man I consider to be my father wants to marry me.”

She thrust her hands toward the heat. “I obviously needed more troubles because my only friend in the entire world gets attacked by a knife-wielding ruffian, and I have to ask a liar for help. Then, my uncle hurts me, my hostess sends me out in the cold, I get caught in a rainstorm that turns to ice, I run my buggy off the road, and I have to slip and slide my way to your cabin.”

She eyed the steam rising from the tub, then promptly bent over and unlaced her shoes. “Tell me, Mr. Burkett, do you think this day will ever end?”

“Morality Brown, what the hell is going on here?” Zach locked his gaze on her feet. Good Lord, the woman was taking off her shoes.

“I won’t even fuss at you for cursing—this time, anyway. I can’t, not in good conscience, considering I’m guilty of a similar offense.” She lifted her skirts and began to roll down her stockings.

Zach’s hands gripped the ends of his towel as she bared shapely calves and ankles to his eyes. “Woman, what are you doing?”

She hiked up her skirts and stepped into the tub. “Oh, that feels good. My feet were blocks of ice. I don’t suppose you’d leave so I could bathe completely?”

Zach tore his gaze from her legs. “I don’t suppose you’d bathe completely and let me watch?”

She gave him a look. “I’m not totally mad, Burkett, just on the edge.”

“What could I do to push you on over?”

She stepped from the tub and reached for the towel around his neck. Zach bit back a groan when her nails scraped his chest. Good Lord, she made him randy as a lonely goat. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “What’s all this nonsense you’re spouting?”

When she didn’t reply, he tried another question, something that had bothered him off and on all day. “And what the
hell
is this talk of marrying your uncle? And who did you say hurt you? Your uncle? How did he hurt you?”

She dried her feet and edged nearer to the fire. Drolly, she replied, “Anything else you want to know?”

Zach stared at her for a moment, then nodded and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Where were you going when you wrecked the buggy? And why were you going anywhere in this storm, anyway?”

“You left out when.”

“What!”

“No,
when
. Who, what,
when
, where, why, and how.”

Zach shut his eyes. “When did you lose your mind, Morality?”

“About an hour ago when Louise Marston s sulky slid off the road and into a bramble patch. I had an awful time unhitching the horse, and then the ungrateful wretch ran off back to town without me.”

She turned around, warming her back, and the panicked desperation Zach saw in her eyes gave his heart a catch. He softened his tone as he said, “Good Lord, woman, you might have been hurt.”