Angel in My Arms (38 page)

It was close to three when Fox stepped out onto the icy street. But
instead of heading for his boardinghouse and his warm bed, he found
himself wandering down, first Peach Street, then Plum. The woman's name
had been Sarah Mae. She'd been sixteen.

Fox wiped his mouth with the back of his cold hand, but he couldn't
wipe away the evil taste in his mouth. There was no way he could sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes he knew he would see that poor, butchered
girl. Every time he closed his eyes, he knew he would be afraid. Not
for himself, but for Celeste.

The killer had changed his method. Young Sarah Mae was not a whore,
but a maid in one of the new saloons. She had lived with her brother in
a shack out on the miner's claim. The killer had either made a mistake,
or had broadened his circle of victims to include women of merely shady
reputations. And the killing hadn't taken place in a whorehouse, but on
the street. The girl had been headed home after washing whiskey glasses
for Mr. Gloakem, the saloon owner.

Fox glanced up and found himself in front of 27 Plum Street. The
house was still dark, and quiet. He stared up at Celeste's window. He
considered banging on the door, or going back to the boardinghouse for
the key to the front door. He had an overwhelming desire to see her,
just to be certain that she was safe. But Fox knew he was being overly
apprehensive. The killer had never struck more than once on a single
night. Celeste wasn't even really a target. She'd not slept with a man
for payment in close to a year.

Would that matter to the killer?

Fox sat on the upper step of the porch, shivering. He thrust his
hands into his pockets for warmth. It would be dawn in a few hours and
then Celeste would be safe. He'd just wait it out..

Celeste woke early, then tossed and turned in bed, hoping she could
go back to sleep. Though she'd gone to bed before ten, she didn't feel
rested. Several times during the night she knew she'd reached for Fox
in her sleep, only to find he wasn't there.

After lying in bed for another ten minutes, she gave up and rose to
add coal to the fire. She missed having Fox here to warm the house
before she got up in the morning. She missed waking up to the whistle
of her teakettle, too.

She missed Fox.

Throwing on her flannel wrapper and wool mules, she shuffled to the
coal stove to stoke it. She wouldn't add coal because she wouldn't be
upstairs the rest of the day, but even a little warmth from the turned
coals would be welcome.

Celeste stirred the dying coals wearily. She was beginning to have second thoughts about Fox. Maybe he was right; maybe she
was
asking too much. Maybe to have him care about her,

She leaned the poker against the stove and closed the door. She knew
one thing. She was certainly miserable without Fox. Could living with
him without love make her any more unhappy than she already was?

Wrapping her arms around her waist for comfort as well as warmth,
she walked to the window and peered out. Dawn was just beginning to
light the winter day and radiate its heat. Absently, Celeste tugged on
the curtain and drew a heart on the frosty window. She added her name
and Fox's inside it.

If only Fox had argued with her that morning. If only he'd begged
her to go with him to California. If only he'd come back later and
tried to compromise. If only he'd shown some sign that there was a
possibility he could come to love her someday…

With a sigh, Celeste wiped the cold window with the heel of her hand
to smear their names, and turned away, letting the curtain fall.

Fox waited patiently on Celeste's step until the first streak of
dawn peeked over the snowy mountain tops. Then, he rose off the step,
cold and stiff, walked down her sidewalk, and turned onto the street.
He dared only one glance back at the house. Was that Celeste's bedroom
curtain he saw move? He watched for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse
of her pretty, sleepy face in the window glass. After a moment, he gave
up, turned away, and headed back to his lonely boardinghouse room for a
couple hours of restless sleep.

Celeste lifted her skirt to allow the warm air to drift under her
woolen knit petticoat. At her insistence, Petey had added coal twice to
the stove this morning, but she was still cold. It seemed as if she
hadn't been able to get warm in weeks—not since Fox left.

Celeste reread the list of equipment and supplies that needed to be
ordered and shipped from Denver. She'd checked the list twice already,
but couldn't concentrate enough to know if it was correct. With the
coming of winter, the trains weren't running as regularly, and it was
imperative that the necessary supplies be available to keep the mine
operating.

Instead of checking the list, though, Celeste idly sketched a grape
leaf and wondered what Adam would think of the idea of moving to
California to live in a vineyard.

But, who was she fooling? The offer had come and gone. Fox had said
nothing more of going with him to California since he moved out of her
house three weeks ago. He seemed perfectly content with the new
arrangement. He'd not once tried to see her, except here at the mine.
Then he was all business—charming, but cool.

Celeste heard Fox's rich-timbered voice and dipped her pen into the
inkwell and added something to the list. His voice grew louder as,
talking to a miner, he entered the equipment room. They finished their
business and Fox walked over to her desk, Silver trailing him.

"Did you add that extra order of timber to the list?"

"Mmhm." She didn't look up. To talk to him without seeing that
twinkle in his eyes that had once been for her was agonizing, so she
tried to avoid eye contact.

At his silence she glanced up from the desk. He apparently had something else to say, or he would have left by now.

"Yes?" she finally asked. "Something else to be ordered?"

He massaged the back of his neck with one broad hand, and she felt
her own neck tense. What she wouldn't give to have him touch her like
that right now…

"Um… no. I—" he said awkwardly. "I was thinking I would set up a
meeting with Trevor next week to um… talk about selling my share of the
mine. I thought you should be there."

"Fine." She pretended to concentrate on the list again, but suddenly
felt lightheaded. All she could think about was that Fox was
definitely planning to leave Carrington. He was leaving her. She'd
known it would happen. So why did it still hurt so much? "I'd like to
meet with him," she heard herself say as if they were speaking of the
weather. "I might be interested in selling as well."

"Oh. All right." He stood silent again. "Going to Sally's party tonight?" he asked after a minute.

"Wouldn't miss it." She glanced up and smiled as she would have
smiled at any of the miners who'd come to ask a question. "Say, I meant
to ask you, could you take Silver for a few days? I have to go
somewhere."

She could have sworn he glowered, but then he flashed that boyish grin of his. "Want me to take him tonight?"

"If you would."

"Not a problem."

"Thank you." This was the most personal conversation they'd had in weeks. Dismayed, Celeste lowered her gaze.

Fox stood a moment longer in front of the desk, as if he wanted to
say something, but then he walked off briskly, leaving Celeste alone
with the supply list and a heavy heart.

Filth. Nothing but filth, those who think they're reformed. They
are falsely led to believe that forgiveness is so easy to come by. They
think they are forgiven simply because they ask for forgiveness.

But how can they truly be exonerated for such a sin?

There is only one way. Death. Blood. Only the blood poured out
for Him can wash the soul clean. Only in death can forgiveness come.

She must die.

Celeste stood outside Kate's Dance Hall, listening to the raucous
music that filtered through the walls and into the street. Tonight was
Sally's farewell party, and tomorrow she and Noah would take a train to
Denver and then on to St. Louis, where they intended to be married by
his uncle.

Celeste tried to gather her wits before she walked into the dance
hall. She was so happy for Sally, and yet at the same time she felt a
deep sadness for herself and what she now knew she would never have.

Celeste knew Fox might attend the party, so she had dressed
carefully in an emerald green watered silk gown with a white muslin
canezoe trimmed with Valenciennes lace. She'd spent an hour in front of
the mirror, taking a hot curling rod to her freshly washed hair. Then
she'd added a hint of color to her lips and cheeks, too subtle to be
recognized as paint, but attractive to the eye.

Celeste intended to go into Kate's and have a wonderful time. She
wouldn't let Fox know how much he had hurt her, how much she had
allowed herself to be hurt. She would laugh and chat with her friends,
share in a good luck toast to the happy couple, and she would pick up
the valise she'd left at the train station and take the midnight train
to Denver.

Adam wasn't expecting her until Christmas, but she felt the need to
be with him. Seeing Adam would remind her that in losing Fox, she'd not
lost everything. She still had her son, who she loved dearly. As long
as she had Adam, she could make a life for herself.

With that determined thought, Celeste pasted on her prettiest, most beguiling smile, and walked into the dance hall.

Kate's was alive with music and laughter and bright with glittering
lantern light. Kate had surprised everyone in Carrington, including
herself, by closing for the evening in Sally's honor. Only friends of
the bride and groom had been invited, and other would-be patrons were
sent down the street to Sal's.

The moment Celeste entered the dance hall, her cloak was swept away
and someone passed her a glass of wine. As she sipped the dry vintage
and nodded greetings, she spotted Sally.

Sally was dressed in her wedding gown of white satin, its skirt
trimmed in white tulle, with a square-cut bodice and elbow sleeves with
ruffles. Her hair was pulled back with a pink ribbon in a mass of
curls; and without face paint, she appeared as virginal as any
cloistered bride on her wedding day.

"You look beautiful," Celeste said as Sally approached in a swish of white skirts.

Sally laughed girlishly and held out her arms to hug Celeste. "I
feel beautiful. And oh!" Her eyes shone. "You have to finally meet my
Noah." She looped her arms through Celeste's and led her across the
dance hall's main room past the painted mural of naked dancing women.
They wove around two men doing a jig.

"I swear, I didn't think I'd get him off that claim," Sally told Celeste. "But here he is. Noah, honey."

A giant of a man turned to Celeste and Sally.

Noah was over six feet tall and nearly as wide. He had a great
scraggly red beard, wild red hair, and the merriest blue eyes Celeste
had ever seen.