A Season Beyond a Kiss (58 page)

“Whoa!” Jeff cried, and gave a brief laugh. “Let me enjoy siring a few more before marrying off this one, Rhys. I’m not that old yet.”

“No, I guess you’re not, considering you’re two years younger than I am. Mary has her heart set on having a large family, but she’ll either be having one every year for the next eight years, or I’ll still be siring them into my fifties. But then, Mary will always be young, at least in my eyes.”

“Let’s get back to the man who attacked us the other night,” Jeff urged. “I’m wondering what you may have learned about him since then and why you think he may have murdered Nell?”

“Olney said the man who chased him out of the stables was very fast, and it caused me to recall my own amazement over how quickly your assailant left me behind. Of course, I can’t rightly say for sure if there’s
any
connection between the two incidents, but it seems mighty peculiar the way Olney and I were both awed by the swiftness of the men with whom we had each come in contact, the murderer whom Olney saw, and the man who attacked you the other night. Now, I know you’re no slowpoke, Jeff. I remember the races we used to run as boys, and you won your fair share of them, but you never impressed me as being
overly
fast, I mean, to the point that you’d leave people agog. I can only think . . . and hope . . . that the man who murdered Nell is the same one who attacked you. If it is, that would definitely make my job a lot easier. Then I’d only be searching for one man instead of two.”

“But as yet, neither you nor Olney have a clue what he looks like,” Jeff pointed out. “Olney was under the misguided idea that it was me, but that assumption might have come about because the murderer brought Nell out after she had gone into my bedroom supposedly to have a talk with me. Olney said the man was tall, dark-haired and dressed in evening garb, which at the time fit my description. How are you going to find a man like that among all the people living here in Charleston when I can’t even tell you which of my guests matched that report that night?”

Rhys pursed his lips and blew out a long breath as he pondered that question. “That, Jeffrey me dearie, as our friend, Farrell, would say, is a matter that would snarl any cat’s tail.”

A knock on the door prompted Rhys to lift a hand to urge Raelynn back into her seat. “No doubt that’ll be Charlie wanting to tell me those folks out there are getting a little anxious to see me do my duty.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he moved from his chair and went into the front hall where he opened the door. “Yeah, Charlie?”

“Sheriff, Olney is gettin’ those folks out there riled up. Ye want me ta gag him or somethin’?”

Rhys muttered a curse beneath his breath and, in an impatient tone, bade, “Tell ’em to hold on to their shirttails, Charlie. Mr. Birmingham and I are coming out shortly.”

Returning to stand beside his chair, he faced Jeff directly. “We’d better be going now or Olney will have that crowd out there storming this place.”

“Why in the devil did you bring that scamp along with you, Rhys?” Jeff asked in vexation. “You should’ve known he’d make trouble.”

“Well, as usual, Charlie took his own sweet time about repairing a few things around the office. This time it just happened to be the new cell doors that were supposed to be put on several days ago. He’ll have to get that chore done as soon as we get back so we won’t have Olney disappearing on us again. As long and as hard as I’ve been chasing after that rascal, I don’t want him slipping through my fingers again.”

Leaving the settee, Jeff approached the sheriff and reluctantly stretched forth his wrists. “Those people out there will expect to see me in shackles, Rhys. You’d better do your duty.”

The lawman snorted. “I’ve got news for ’em, Jeffrey me boy. They’re not going to see it, at least not while I’m sheriff.”

“I’ll get my wrap,” Raelynn choked, struggling hard not to break down as she moved around the table.

Jeff faced her and shook his head, causing his wife to look at him in stunned disbelief. “I don’t want you to come out with me, Raelynn. There’s no telling what that crowd may be tempted to do once they see me, and I don’t want you getting hurt. Please, for my sake, just stay in here where you’ll be safe.”

Her eyes grew bright with brimming tears in the midst of their doleful pleading. “But, Jeffrey, I want to be with . . .”

“No, my love, I cannot allow it,” he stated, his own voice fraught with emotion. “You’re staying here inside the house where you’ll be safe, and that’s final.”

Rhys cleared his throat uncomfortably as Raelynn, blinded by the wetness welling upward over her lashes, stumbled toward the dining room. Jeff muttered a curse, annoyed by the whole situation, especially by the fact that he had to leave his wife alone in the house with no greater protection than Tizzy and Jake. He followed her to the adjoining room and, as he came up behind her, laid an arm around the small of her back as he swept her far beyond the door to a spot where Rhys couldn’t see them. Turning her about to face him, he crushed her to him as his lips plummeted down upon hers. Her lips tasted salty from her tears, but they parted eagerly beneath his ravaging mouth and questing tongue. She answered him with a zeal to match his own, and soon she was straining up against him as if beset with a desire to become totally merged with him in both body and spirit.

When Jeff finally drew away, Raelynn’s limbs were shaking uncontrollably and seemed incapable of providing her support. Weakly she leaned against him and squeezed her eyelids tightly closed, causing tiny rivulets to spill freely down her soft cheeks. His lips pressed against her brow for a long moment until he heard her sniff, and then, with a tender smile, he stepped back and fished into his trouser pocket for a clean handkerchief. Like a father with a child, he dried her eyes and gently bade her to blow her nose. She complied and looked up at him through a blur of fresh tears.

“I’ll get your coat,” she muttered thickly. “It has turned nippy outside.”

Some moments later, Sheriff Rhys Townsend escorted his lifelong friend down the front walk, out through the white gate and toward the waiting wagon. Most of the rabble were strangers to both Rhys and Jeff. If their clothes were an indication, then they were from the poorer section of town, which left open the possibility that at least some might have been paid to come out as part of a vigilante group. They harassed the sheriff in sneering tones, accusing him of favoring his rich friends and taking sides against an ordinary working man like Olney. As for Jeff, they were not above calling him names like “child-molester” and “filthy murderer” and spitting at him as he passed. Beneath their hateful, jeering slurs, even his deeply bronzed face darkened to a ruddy hue.

Raelynn stood at the window, making no effort to restrain the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks and along the pale column of her throat. Well over a month ago she had been dismayed by the sheriff’s lack of action in arresting her husband. Now she was filled with a burgeoning resentment that he had allowed this particular situation to occur. He had literally been forced to arrest Jeff in spite of the fact that he believed him innocent of the crime.

When Jeff reached the wagon, Olney was already sitting in its bed under the watchful eye of the deputy who perched on a side rail. Although Jeff sought to join Olney in the back, Rhys promptly summoned him to the front of the buckboard, a seating arrangement that gained more sneers and catcalls from the crowd.

“Ye gonna let him go as soon as ye get him outa town, Sheriff?” a deep voice heckled from the crowd as the sheriff climbed into the buckboard.

At this taunting, Rhys slowly turned to scan the faces of the people who were closing in around the conveyance. He met many eye to eye. “You think you’ve forced my hand to arrest a murderer,” he rumbled, gaining their silence. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m merely making sure Jeffrey Birmingham comes to no harm from you or others like you. I don’t think he’s guilty of Nell’s murder . . .” Sudden jeers prompted Rhys to lift a hand to halt the interruption. Though some were still muttering, he continued speaking, forcing them to fall silent. “In time, you’ll be able to recognize that what I now say is true, but until then, mark my words well. If you should cause anything of a violent nature to happen here in this neighborhood or anyplace else in this city tonight, I’ll be coming after you. I’ve seen your faces, and I’ll hunt you down to the last man if need be. I won’t abide a lynch mob taking control of either this city or this matter. I’ve already sent for reinforcements from neighboring towns to guarantee that law and order is respected here.” His gaze swept the uplifted faces. “You think you’re right, but I
know
you’re wrong, and I’m going to make every effort to prove that in the next several days. Until then, I’d suggest you take my warning. My friend, Jeffrey Birmingham, has never killed anyone . . .” Rhys allowed the silence to drag on a lengthy moment for emphasis before he smiled tersely and completed his statement, “. . . but I have.”

As Rhys sat down beside Jeff on the front seat and took the reins in his hands, Charlie settled into the bed of the wagon beside Olney. He had no complaints with the sheriff; he had learned years ago that people were better off not getting into a squabble or trying to butt heads with Rhys Townsend. The man had his own way of doing things, and for some strange reason, they always seemed to turn out right.

22

The ice blue eyes lifted slowly from the ledgers and settled upon the Englishman. During his short association with the Englishman, Gustav Fridrich had at times found it amusing to hear what Cooper Frye had up his sleeve, for the man was immensely clever when his brain wasn’t pickled by hard liquor. He was also a crook through and through. Of that, there was no doubt. Gustav hadn’t forgotten that it had been Frye’s sly tricks that had cost him Raelynn and, in a roundabout way, the loss of his arm. One day he would make the Englishman rue his deception.

Leaning back in his massive chair, Gustav tapped the feathered end of his quill against the finely tooled leather surface of his desk as he smirked in wry amusement. “So, Cooper Frye, to vhat do I owe zhis occasion? I rarely zee yu zober, so it must be zomezhing important. Vhat iz it zhis time? Zomezhing different altogether? Or iz it money as usual? Zince zhat is nearly alvays zhe case, I can only vonder vhat yu’re villin’ to do for zome coins zhis time?”

Cooper settled himself without invitation into a chair across the desk from the German. “I’ve been keepin’ me ears open an’ stayin’ abreast o’ the happenin’s an’ goin’s on in an’ around Charleston. This very afternoon I heard Jeffrey Birmin’am had been arrested for Nell’s murder. Since he has, I thought ye’d feel obliged ta give me what ye promised the last time we talked.”

“For vhat?” Gustav demanded in wide skepticism. “Vhat haf yu done zhat iz vorth zhis interruption? Can yu not zee I am vorkin’ on my accounts? An’ yu should know from past experiences zhat I dislike being disturbed vhen I’m involved in my vork.”

Cooper gave the German a facial shrug. The man’s dislikes didn’t bother him overmuch. “If I hadn’t killed Nell, Jeffrey Birmin’am wouldn’t be in jail now, an’ as I remember it, ye promised me a thousand Yankee dollars if’n I’d cause a split betwixt me niece an’ that there fancy bloke she married.”

The German shot to his feet in rapidly rising fury and slammed his palm down flat upon his desk. “Yu are lyin’! I spoke vith Olney earlier. He told me zhat he saw Birmingham kill zhe girl, so vhat are yu trying to do? Claim my money for zomezhing yu did not do?”

Frye sneered in rank distaste at the mention of his rival’s name. That young scamp was always trying to undermine his efforts to get a few coins. “Olney is mistaken, as usual. Birmin’am didn’t kill Nell.”

Gustav’s eyes blazed as they met the man’s bland stare. “Vhy don’t yu tell me just vhat in zhe hell happened out zhere zhat night. I hear vone zhing from Olney. Now yu tell me another. I vant to know vhich vone of yu iz really lying and trying his best to cheat me.”

“I suppose I can appease yer curiosity,” Frye allowed. He had never liked Gustav, and if not for the man’s wealth, he’d have found a way to be free of the tyrant. “Ye sees, I gots wind that Olney was gonna take Nell out ta make a ruckus at Oakley durin’ the Birmin’am’s ball if’n my nephew by marriage didn’t cooperate, as it were. So’s I decided ta go have a looksee ’round ‘ere meself, ‘ceptin’ I hads me a foul time findin’ meself a horse, what wit’ all the liveries hired out ta escort guests ta the affair. Humph, by the time I arrived, the shindig was o’er. Still, I looked ’bout the place real careful wit’ a lantern burnin’ real low like, jes’ ta see what might o’ happened, an’ that’s when I come across Nell lyin’ wit’ a gut wound in a horse stall. There she was, just her an’ her babe. She was in pain, all right, but it ‘peared ta me like she was gonna make it through just fine once she got herself a li’l help from a doc.