Behind His Blue Eyes (19 page)

Arrogance, she might believe. But ignorance? Never. Along with Tait Rylander and Father, Ethan was one of the most intelligent men she knew.

“But do ask Mr. Hardesty,” Bonet snapped. “Perhaps he can explain why he put a glass wall beside the beds of men too sick to protect themselves when it fell.”

He must have seen her building anger. In a kindlier tone, he added, “I say this because I feel we're friends, Miss Pearsall. With your generous nature, I fear you mightn't see the kind of man he is. I meant no offense.”

Fearing if she opened her mouth, she might say something that would get her dismissed, she simply nodded and continued folding the sheets of newsprint.

But the seeds of doubt Bonet had planted flourished in the back of her mind. Had Ethan been negligent? Was he somehow to blame for the tragedy?

The notion continued to prey on her, making her such poor company at lunch that even Edwina and Lucinda commented on it.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Edwina mumbled through a mouthful of pins as she hemmed Audra's new silk. “I've never seen you so droopy.”

“Just tired, I guess. We're printing tomorrow's edition.”

Mr. Bonet's revelations had upset her more than she wanted to admit. It was apparent now why Ethan seemed so melancholy at times. So haunted. And being Ethan, whether the tragedy was his doing or not, he would take responsibility for it, just as he seemed to take responsibility for everything else . . . including her. But she didn't believe it was his doing. A man like Ethan wouldn't be so careless.

“Perhaps she needs some of your tonic,” Lucinda suggested.

“Oh, that's long gone. I would go for more, but Declan has forbidden me to go to the coolie camp again.”

Lucinda's blond brows rose. “
Forbidden
you?”

“Strongly advised.” Edwina smiled, pins poking out between her teeth. “I doubt he would
forbid
me anything right now. The tonic and those herbs are both quite . . . invigorating . . . if you know what I mean.”

“So the trip to the coolie camp was worth it?”

Pulling the pins from her mouth, Edwina sat back on her heels. “Not in the way I anticipated. Declan and I had a terrible row when we got home. I've never seen him so upset. I said some awful things. He yelled like he never has before. And then I realized he wasn't as angry as he was afraid. Can you imagine that? Declan Brodie afraid? And over me. I was astounded.”

Audra could believe it. Hadn't Ethan had an equally strong reaction?

“But you were able to talk it out?” Lucinda pressed.

“Yes, and that's another astounding thing. We stayed up for hours talking. Declan talking! I'll warrant he used up a year's worth of words in a single night.” That impish grin. “Or, most of the night. He even told me to hire someone to help out at least one day a week. Audra, if Winnie ever runs out of things to do, I'd love to have her. The children fear her. Plus, she's a good cook. I'd pay, of course.”

“With me working, she's got her hands full right now. But maybe Curtis could watch Father and free her for a day now and then. I'll see what he says.”

“I'm just pleased the Chinese cure worked,” Lucinda said. “I was worried.”

Audra had noticed that Lucinda was the proverbial mother hen, clucking and fussing over her friends as if they were new hatchlings. The ultimate manager—of the hotel, the town, all the people in her life—she wanted everything to be right and everyone to be happy. It was endearing, rather than annoying. But then, Audra hadn't been pulled under her wing yet.

Edwina returned to her pinning. “I still tire easily and sometimes get frazzled and overwhelmed, but I no longer feel like I'm trapped in a Louisiana fog. I don't know if that's because of Mr. Kim's tonic, or the passage of time like Doctor Boyce said, or clearing the air with Declan, but I'm definitely getting back to my old self.” She smiled at the baby dozing in his basket. “Or maybe it's because Whit is finally sleeping at night. There. All done.” She rose and stood back to study her work. “Luce, what do you think?”

“I think it's beautiful. That green does wonders for your coloring, Audra. Mark my words, you'll be the belle of the social.”

By the time Ethan showed up at the office that afternoon, Audra had decided to put Mr. Bonet's vicious gossip out of her mind. If there was anything Ethan wanted to tell her about his past, she would be happy to listen. Otherwise, she would go on as if she hadn't heard a thing.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Apparently, Ethan knew her well enough to sense her mood.

“Something is troubling you,” he said before they'd even stepped off the boardwalk at the end of the street. “Is Bonet being difficult? Shall I speak to him?”

She turned, prepared to dress him down for interfering, then saw he was teasing. “Yes, please. Tell him I want double my salary and half the hours.”

Instead of being amused, he took her hand and threaded his long fingers through hers. His hand felt warm and strong, his palm slightly rough against hers.

“I wish you didn't have to earn your way, Audra. I wish you had someone to take care of you, and give you a house full of children, and make sure you had all the time you needed to write your lurid novels of romance and adventure.”

She looked up at him in surprise, expecting to find him teasing her again. But he wasn't smiling, and the look in his eyes was almost . . . sad.

“You're a rare creature, Audra Pearsall. A woman who gives more than she takes, and brings happiness, rather than pain, to those around her.”

It was a remarkably odd thing to say, and made her wonder what he might have suffered to leave him with such a jaded view of women. But before she could question him, he leaned down and kissed her.

A short, sweet kiss. Restrained.

But beneath it, she sensed more than friendship. Or even ardor.

She sensed regret.

Nineteen

P
hoenix—or Phe, as Audra had begun to call her—improved rapidly, both mentally and physically, probably due to the enormous amounts of food she consumed, as well as the burn ointment Doc had sent with Ethan.

She still hid under the table whenever Curtis or Ethan came around, but didn't seem bothered by Father. After Ethan left in the evening and the Abrahams and Father had retired, she would sit beside Audra's rocker on the porch, careful to stay out of kicking range, but still close by. Within a few days, she no longer cringed when Audra reached out to pet her, and once even gave a quick lick to her hand.

Noting the dog's instinct to hide when frightened, Audra had Ethan and Curtis construct a roomy crate for her that was closed on three sides. Not wanting the animal to feel trapped, she hung a piece of toweling over the open side, so that Phe could come and go as she wished, but was still able to hide in her safe place when she felt threatened.

She took to it immediately. Audra tucked the crate in a corner by the storage room—out of the way, but still near enough to the family and work areas that the dog wouldn't feel ostracized. Gaining the battered animal's trust would be a long undertaking, but Audra already loved Phe, so it wouldn't be a chore.

The day of the social dawned clear and cool. Audra had slept poorly, partly because of excitement—it had been years since she had attended a festive gathering—and also because of all the rags tied in her hair. But when she took them out and anchored the curly mass on the back of her head with a ribbon that matched her dress, she was well pleased with the fluffy ringlets dangling down past her collar in back, and the few wispy curls framing her face.

Once dressed, she studied her reflection in the mirror over the bureau. Motion in the upstairs window behind her drew her attention. She turned, but saw only blue sky and the woods bordering the side yard. Perhaps a bird had flown past the window and she had caught the reflection in the mirror.

That had been happening a lot lately. Glimpsing furtive movement just beyond the corner of her eye, or feeling she was being watched. But whenever she looked around, she saw nothing to arouse suspicion. With all the vandalism to the sluice and the recent deaths, everyone was jumpy, she supposed.

“Child, you outdone yourself,” Winnie said from the doorway. “If this don't bring that man to his knees, nothing will.”

Bending over to hide her blush, Audra brushed a speck of dust off the green silk skirt. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”

Winnie snorted. “I'm sure you do. No more friendly back pats, that what I'm talking about. Maybe even some kissing out there on the porch when you send him home. Strong, healthy man like Mistuh Ethan hold himself back only so long. So watch out. This could be the day he finally cut loose.”

“Don't be silly.” But Audra had to smile at the prospect. Even in her own estimation, she looked prettier than she ever had. But would Ethan see her any differently? Would he finally find her alluring enough to push aside all the barriers of his past and reveal his true feelings—whatever his true feelings were?

“Come on, then,” Winnie called, heading down the stairs. “Curtis already got the buggy hitched, our box lunches be packed and ready, and Mistuh Percy getting fidgety.”

Ethan rode up just as Audra stepped out of the house. Reining his horse to a stop, he sat motionless in the middle of the lane, staring. His hat shaded his face, so she couldn't read his expression, but he seemed quite taken with her appearance. When finally he dismounted, she held her breath, wondering if this would be the moment he fell to his knees.

Alas, he remained upright.

Throwing his horse's reins over the rail out front, he walked toward her.

He looked magnificent. Freshly shaved, trimmed, and pressed. Even his hat and boots had been brushed. And those eyes . . .

Stopping at the bottom of the single porch step, he gave a slight bow and offered his hand. “Miss Pearsall,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Mr. Hardesty.” She slipped her hand in his much larger one, felt the heat of his fingers through the thin lace of her glove, and wondered if he could feel the tremble in hers.

“You look . . . so . . . beautiful.”

Embarrassed by the way he was looking at her, she gave a nervous laugh. “You needn't sound so surprised.”

“I'm not surprised. Only regretful.”

“Why?”

Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he walked her toward his horse and the waiting buggy. “Because I'll be so busy today.”

“Doing what?”

“Keeping the other men away.”

An unlikely prospect, but Audra delighted in hearing it anyway.

The buggy wasn't large enough to accommodate all five of them, so after handing her into the driver's box, Ethan walked back to his horse. As he stepped into the stirrup, Audra noticed a long rectangular box tied behind his saddle.

“What's that?” she asked.

He gave a sheepish grin. “My fiddle.”

“You play the fiddle?”

“I did.” He looked ruefully down at his hands. “But I haven't played since the fire. Let's hope I still can.”

“I have no doubt of it. You're a most determined man.” Laughing, she unwound the reins from the brake lever. “My, my. Playing the fiddle
and
keeping the men away. You certainly will be busy today.”

He looked over at her. What she saw in his eyes left her slightly breathless. “It'll be worth it.”

The crowd outside the church was even larger than the one that had gathered two weeks earlier beside the water tower. Tables had been improvised with boards laid atop barrels and crates, and several were already laden with lunches in boxes and baskets and calico sacks. Later that afternoon, men would bid on the parcels, with the proceeds going into a church fund for those who had suffered losses from the fire, then the winning bidder would share the meal with the woman who had prepared it. It was supposed to be secret. But part of the fun was speculating on which woman had made which lunch, and which man would spend the most to buy it. Naturally, Audra hoped Ethan would bid on hers.

Throughout the early afternoon, games, archery contests, and shooting matches were held in the open field on the other side of the cemetery. Audra was glad they used paper targets rather than a live turkey. Closer to the church, tables displayed items that would be raffled later—quilts, baskets, bonnets, toys, and various hand tools. Audra regretted there were no Chinese in attendance, but Ethan told her that Saturday was a workday for them, and when they did have their Sunday off, they preferred their own entertainments, mostly gambling, playing fan-tan, or relaxing with their opium pipes.

The only thing that marred Audra's enjoyment of the early afternoon was the way Mr. Bonet watched her, and the resentful sneers directed at her by that red Irishman, Gallagher. Luckily, Edwina and Lucinda stayed by her side, and with their husbands and Ethan nearby, talking at the men's “punch” table, Audra was able to put the two men out of her mind.

Until that awkward moment during the bidding for her box lunch.

Audra didn't know how they found out which box was hers—unless they guessed it from Ethan's interest—but both Peter Bonet and Gallagher entered the bidding. At first, onlookers found it amusing, but as the price went higher and higher, they began to whisper.

Gallagher snickered at her discomfiture. Ethan looked thunderous. Finally realizing he was drawing glares from both the sheriff and Tait Rylander, Mr. Bonet graciously bowed out. But Gallagher continued to drive up the bid until Thomas Redstone, who had dropped by on his sheriff rounds, walked over and spoke quietly to him.

Color faded from the Irishman's face. Abruptly, he spun and walked away. And the bidding was over.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured when Ethan came to claim both her and his exorbitantly priced lunch.

That crooked smile. “That you'll be dining with me, rather than Mr. Bonet?”

“Of course,” she teased back. “And that it only cost you a week's pay.”

Dropping his face close to hers, he whispered, “Again, it was worth it.”

“But you haven't tasted it yet.”

“I've tasted enough.” When he saw her shock, a laugh burst out of him, ruffling the curls by her flushed cheek. He straightened, and with his broad, warm hand against her back, steered her toward the trees where Thomas Redstone and the Rylanders, Brodies, and Abrahams were settling on a blanket in the shade.

“Besides,” he went on, “now that I've staked my claim, all the men will know to stay away, so I won't be as busy today as I feared.”

“What a relief for you.”

“You have no idea.”

As they approached, several knowing looks came her way, but Audra pretended she didn't see them.

“What did you say to Gallagher?” Tait Rylander asked the Cheyenne.

“That I have no red hair hanging from my lodge pole.”

“I thought you didn't take scalps,” Ethan said.

The Indian smiled but said nothing.

“Have you noticed any unusual activity in the canyon, Redstone?” Tait Rylander asked.

Thomas shook his head. “The same people—Weems, the prospector we spoke to, a trapper now and then, a few hunting parties. Nothing new.”

“I'm rethinking the idea that all three deaths are connected,” Brodie said. “Or that the woodcutter and prospector died by foul play. People fall off bluffs or get caught in rock slides. Accidents happen.”

“The Chinaman's slit throat was no accident,” Rylander put in.

“Maybe the killer was interrupted,” Ethan suggested. “Maybe he intended to make it look accidental, but was scared off by the people coming to fight the fire.”

“Or, maybe,” Tait added, “he expected the body to be burned so badly you couldn't tell if it was an accident or not.”

Edwina heaved a great sigh. “Must we talk about slit throats and burned bodies and murderers? This is supposed to be a festive occasion.” Picking up the box she had prepared, she set it in front of her husband. “For you.”

Somewhat warily, he opened it and peered inside. After a slight hesitation, he lifted out a packet of jerky, a tin of peaches, and two hardboiled eggs. His strained smile didn't mask his obvious disappointment. “Thanks, Ed.”

His wife gave him a playful nudge. “Read the note in the bottom.”

He pulled out a piece of paper, read it, then stared at his wife, a deep flush spreading up his neck.

“Well?” she asked, fighting a smile.

“Ah . . . sure.” Looking addled, he wadded up the paper and thrust it into his pocket. Seeing the faces staring at him, he smiled weakly. “Just a reminder to save room for dessert.”

“That must be some tonic,” Lucinda murmured to Audra.

“What tonic?” her husband asked.

“Never mind.” Opening the huge box her husband had bought, Lucinda pushed it to the middle of the blanket. “Cook made enough for five people. I do hope you'll share with us.”

With Redstone and Brodie happily digging in, the box was empty in no time.

Occasionally, the Brodie children ran over from the cleared field where the three elderly choir ladies were supervising games, stole a snack, then darted off again, shouting and laughing. Their high spirits seemed to rattle Father. He scarcely touched his food and appeared quite bewildered by the goings-on, although he did show great interest in Whit, who was being entertained by Winnie, sitting on his left.

“This here the cutest child, Miss Edwina.” Winnie bounced the baby in her arms and was rewarded with a gurgle. “Never seen such a happy one.”

“That's because he's with you. You're very good with him, Winnie. In fact, you're good with all the children. Even Brin and Joe Bill. I wish I had your knack.”

“They good young'uns. Just gotta be firm with them.”

Edwina laughed. “I try. Truly, I do. But as soon as one of them gets me laughing, they know they've won.”

Reaching out a pudgy arm, Whit poked at Father's nose.

Father laughed and poked back with a palsied finger. “Mary always wanted a son. Where is she? Isn't she coming?”

“She'll be along later, Father.”

He looked up, his smile giving way to a frown of confusion. Audra stiffened, but before Father could ask who she was, Edwina cut in.

“Now that we'll all together, I have wonderful news! I received a letter from Pru!” Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulled out a wrinkled envelope and opened it. “She's settling in quite nicely, she says. And everyone has been so welcoming. Shall I read it?”

Before anyone could answer, Thomas Redstone rose and walked away.

Edwina's smile faded. “Oh, dear.”

Reaching over, her husband rested his big hand over hers. “It's okay, Ed. It's just his way.”

“I'd like to read it,” Lucinda said. “Perhaps later, after the gathering?”

Blinking hard, Edwina handed her the letter.

There followed a moment of awkward silence, then Ethan pushed himself to his feet. “I better go. Looks like the musicians are gathering by the church steps.”

Lucinda looked up at him in confusion.

“He's a fiddler,” Audra explained.

“Is he? I didn't know.” Lucinda winked at Edwina. “Be sure to play something we can dance to. A waltz, perhaps. Wouldn't that be nice, Declan?”

“Sure,” he said without enthusiasm.

Ethan dusted grass from his trousers, then gave the other men meaningful looks. “You'll keep an eye on Audra for me.”

Brodie nodded.

“It would be my pleasure,” Mr. Rylander said with a gracious smile.

Did he think her a complete nitwit? Audra was about to be offended, when the sheriff added, “Gallagher won't be allowed anywhere near her.”

Gallagher?
She looked around and didn't see him, but did notice Peter Bonet approaching. Pasting on a smile, she braced herself.