Belle Gone Bad (4 page)

O
utside, Belle glanced around to judge her surroundings. Mercy stood quietly beside her, as if he was doing the same thing. She had begun to accept his presence. He was a calm, centered man who controlled his reactions. She appreciated that quality in a person. It was particularly important in her line of work in order to make calculated observations.

“Don't you think we need more information about Diana's disappearance?” she asked. “Somebody must have seen something.”

“Manny has asked around and nobody's seen her.”

“Manny's got an eye for horses, not people.”

“True. But folks either saw her or didn't see her.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone might have seen something they didn't know was important or even remember till their memory is jogged.”

“Don't we need to get out of the Bend fast?”

“We can't go off half-cocked.”

“But we can't question the whole town, either.”

“Manny already did a lot of footwork. Where does Diana live?”

“Lone Star Hotel. She's the housekeeper in exchange for a room downstairs.”

“Did anybody talk with Saul? He owns the place and lives there. He'd know if she was home last night.”

“We were at the Red River Saloon till the wee hours.”

“Let's go look at her room. Maybe it'll tell us something.”

They quickly walked to the Lone Star Hotel. Mercy opened the door and she stepped into the lobby ahead of him.

She glanced around at the décor that paid homage to the heritage of Texas. A pine staircase led to the second floor. Furniture sported brown and white steer hide for upholstery. Buffalo, bear, deer, and longhorn heads adorned the walls. The floor was scratched and gouged by cowboys' spur rowels. In one corner a stuffed black bear stood on hind legs and reached out with clawed paws.

She stayed here sometimes. She liked the place because it was simple, clean, and homey. Tex had liked it, too. She didn't see Saul anywhere, so she walked over to the check-in desk, rang the bell, and waited.

A compact man with a bushy black mustache wearing a white shirt and black trousers hurried out of the doorway that led to his suite behind the desk. “Belle, it's good to see you. How are you doing?”

“Fair to middlin'. How about you?” She smiled at Saul, liking him.

“I'm worried sick about Diana.”

“We're going to find her,” Mercy said.

“That's a relief.”

“Is it okay if we look at her room?” Belle asked.

“Sure. Anything to help.” Saul selected a room key and slid it across the desk. “I looked, but I couldn't tell much except she's gone.”

Belle picked up the key. “Thanks. Maybe we'll see something that'll help.”

Saul pointed past the stairs. “Go through that open doorway. Her room's on the left.”

With Mercy on her heels, Belle quickly crossed the lobby, opened the door to Diana's room, and stepped inside. The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt the anger, fear, and violence that had intruded here. She rubbed the place over her heart to relieve the sudden ache.

“Feels like she met up with something bad here, doesn't it?”

Surprised, she glanced at Mercy. “Why do you say that?”

“Those types of emotions linger a long time.”

“What do you know about that?”

He shrugged as he pointed toward the narrow bed. “Look how the quilt was pulled off the side. I've never known her to be messy.”

“She would have made her bed?”

“Every morning like clockwork.”

“You know her that well?” She didn't like her spurt of jealousy.

“We're friends. I've got a room upstairs.”

“And she's your doctor.”

“Right.”

Belle let her gaze, as well as her senses, flow over the room as she walked forward. Diana had added feminine touches to the small room and its plain pine furniture. Three small colorful pillows trimmed with ruffles and lace had been knocked from the bed to a hand-hooked rug. She caught the strong scent of lavender and looked for its source. A crystal perfume bottle lay overturned on top of the dresser. No woman would have left it there to spill its contents.

She stepped on something and looked down. She picked up a crumpled cotton nightgown with the ruffle around the neckline ripped loose.

“She'd never throw her clothes on the floor.” Mercy stalked over to the armoire and threw open the doors. “Look, her boots are gone. Her split riding skirt, too. And her jacket.”

“Looks like she dressed for a trip,” Belle said.

“I doubt she did it willingly.”

“She might have been in a hurry.”

“If she rode out of town, where did she get a horse?” he asked.

“Good question. We can ask Manny or check the other stables.”

“I'm more convinced than ever that she's in trouble.”

“I agree.”

He whirled to look at her. “I don't have to convince you?”

“No.” She gestured around the room. “I don't like anything about this.”

“Neither do we!” a voice called from the doorway.

Belle swiveled around. She saw two diminutive women, obviously identical twins, standing in the open doorway. They looked as if they had stepped off the pages of
Godey's Lady's Book
or out of a Parisian dressmaker's shop that catered to nobility. Belle had never seen such stunning gowns made of luxurious silk fabric. One lady wore dark green while the other wore pale blue in the latest style with the apron effect that was pulled into a small bustle in back.

She wasn't sure of their age, but perhaps about seventy was right. They were slim, as if they hadn't eaten well in some time. They had swept their silver hair into thick chignons away from beautiful faces. Bright, inquisitive, violet eyes focused intently on her.

“Ladies, welcome.” Mercy hurried forward to kiss the back of one gloved hand and then the other. “Miz Elmira and Miss Lamira, I'd like to introduce you to Texas Belle Thompson.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Elmira said. “Are you the famous bounty hunter?”

“Whose handsome father saved countless lives from outlaws?” Lamira asked.

“I don't know how famous or how many lives were saved, but yes, I'm a bounty hunter.” Belle liked them, but couldn't imagine why two elegant ladies would pull up stakes and move to the Bend. Maybe they were simply adventurous. “You're new to town, aren't you?”

They both tittered coquettishly, looking like mischievous Southern Belles.

“Miz Elmira is Temperance Tempest's grandmother. Miss Lamira is her great-aunt,” Mercy explained.

“We came here to make the crimson gown Mercy will use in his portrait of our darling,” Elmira said.

“And we stayed to open our own dressmaker's shop,” Lamira added.

“We're from Jefferson.” Elmira pointed east. “Our city was once the largest inland port in Texas with riverboats coming all the way from New Orleans.”

“When we were young, we had so much fun!” Lamira clasped her hands. “Kaleidoscope music. Dangerous gamblers. Handsome ship captains. Parisian fashions. Parties. Dances. And the wonderful Queen Mab Festival.”

“Please do not let anyone from New Orleans convince you that their Mardi Gras is better than our Queen Mab Festival because it is not true,” Elmira said.

“At least it wasn't true.” Lamira touched a fingertip to the corner of her eye as if to hold back tears. “The U.S. Corps of Engineers ruined our city. They dynamited the ancient Red River Raft to leave Jefferson high and dry. Without deep water, riverboats can no longer reach us.”

“We were left to pick up the broken pieces of our lives,” Elmira said. “And we just limped along.”

“So you came to the Bend to start over?” Belle asked.

“Yes,” Elmira agreed. “It's on the edge of civilization. It's vibrant with life. It makes all things seem possible.”

“And it's got nothing the government wants to destroy,” Lamira said.

“Yet,” Elmira added.

“I'd never thought of Delaware Bend in that way,” Belle said.

“Tempest inspired us.” Lamira smiled. “She shook off the roots of the past and grasped the future.”

“She's quite famous, you know,” Elmira said.

“Yes, I do know,” Belle agreed. “I imagine that she's an inspiration to other women to take up the cause of temperance.”

“Not me,” Lamira said. “I do like a little hot toddy of an evening.”

“Sometimes they share one with me,” Mercy added.

“We do whenever we can lure you away from the Red River Saloon, you naughty man.” Elmira winked at him.

“Not often enough,” Mercy said. “It's hard to tempt you away from an Angelica novel.”

“Oh!” Lamira fanned a hand near her face as if to cool her sudden heat. “
Sweet Rescue in the Indian Territory
is so exciting. I've read it six times.”

“And the Viking!” Elmira added. “To think Angelica wrote about a real-life hero. I've heard he sometimes accompanies her when she reads to book groups. Can you imagine meeting him?”

“You never know who you'll meet in the Bend,” Mercy said. “Lady Gone Bad has been known to sing in the Red River Saloon.”

“I'd love to hear her,” Lamira said.

“I bought the sheet music to several of her ballads,” Elmira added. “As soon as we get settled in our new place, I'm having our piano moved here. We may all sing some lovely duets together.”

“Belle, you'll join us, won't you?” Lamira asked.

She blinked in astonishment. What had happened to Delaware Bend? Folks wanted oil paintings and jeweled bar tops. Soon they'd be dressed in the latest Parisian fashion. Maybe poetry readings would be held in saloons. Civilization was making inroads into the Bend. Tex would've loved the twins. He'd have sung with them in a heartbeat.

“Sure she will,” Mercy agreed. “Nobody would miss out on one of your musical evenings.”

“Except Diana, if we don't find her soon.” Belle brought the conversation back to the business at hand. “Did either of you ladies see or hear anything unusual last night?”

“W
e're new to town,” Elmira said.

“And we don't like to stick our noses into other people's business,” Lamira added. “We wouldn't want to get the reputation of busybodies.”

“No one would think that of you.” Mercy felt the first glimmer of hope he'd had all morning.

“In that case,” Lamira said, “we were sitting by our window last night. It's pretty entertaining to watch Main Street.”

“And at our age we don't need much sleep,” Elmira explained.

“Or want it. There's plenty of time for that in the grave.” Lamira gave an emphatic nod of her head.

“Did you see Diana?” Belle prompted.

“We thought we heard unusual noises downstairs,” Elmira said.

“But with all the carrying-on in the Bend, it's hard to know for sure,” Lamira added.

“What did it sound like?” Mercy tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but he was anxious to find out if they'd seen or heard anything helpful.

“Muffled voices,” Elmira said.

“Men?” Belle asked.

“A man and a woman,” Lamira explained.

“And a scuffle,” Elmira said. “Yet there are always fisticuffs in the Bend.”

“But not in this hotel,” Lamira corrected.

“Afterward, the front door slammed shut.”

“So hard it shook the walls,” Lamira added.

“That's when we focused below our window,” Elmira said.

“Did you see Diana?” Mercy asked impatiently.

“I can't say for sure.” Lamira shook her head.

“But what did you see?” Belle stepped closer.

“A lady was manhandled out to a horse in front of the hotel,” Elmira said.

“That man was certainly no gentleman,” Lamira added.

“Certainly not,” Elmira agreed. “He threw her onto the saddle of one horse, leaped into the other, and tore out of town towing her horse by the reins.”

“Did the woman look like Diana?” Mercy asked.

“The light could have been better,” Lamira said. “I wouldn't want to make a mistake and lead you astray.”

“But was her shape and size about right for Diana?” Belle asked.

“Yes,” Elmira agreed.

“When we realized Diana was missing this morning, we concluded that she might not have left willingly last night,” Lamira said.

“We were on our way to find Mercy when we heard you down here,” Elmira added.

“What direction did they go?” Belle asked.

“North toward the Red River,” Lamira said.

“Did you notice the time?” Mercy looked from one to the other, hoping against hope that he could narrow the time so he'd have an idea how much distance they might have covered.

Elmira patted the gold watch pinned to her bodice. “About two this morning.”

“That gives them a good seven hours' head start.” Mercy felt a sense of relief to know what had probably happened to Diana, but he also felt a renewed sense of worry that they'd lost so much time. He glanced north as if he could see through the building, across the Red River, and into Indian Territory. He had little doubt that Diana had been taken there, but he couldn't imagine for what purpose.

“Did we help?” Elmira asked.

“Yes. You've given us a good lead,” Belle said. “Did you notice anything special about the horses?”

“One was gray,” Lamira said. “That's the best I can do.”

“Wait.” Elmira looked at her sister. “Don't you remember we remarked on the gray horse's unusual gait?”

“Yes. He moved like a pacer. And that's odd because pacers are usually buggy horses.”

“Pacer?” Belle asked in a choked voice.

Mercy glanced at her in surprise. She looked pale as she quickly sat down on the bed and took deep breaths.

“Are you all right?” Elmira stepped forward and soothingly patted Belle on her shoulder.

“Did I say something to upset you?” Lamira asked, appearing contrite.

“No.” Belle closed her eyes as if retreating into her own private thoughts.

Mercy wanted to go there with her, but she wouldn't welcome him. She had her own personal demons just like he did. Sometimes the best you could do for another person was to leave him or her alone.

“Oh, dear,” Elmira said, “we wouldn't have caused you pain for the world.”

Belle stood up, a slight smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You've given us good leads. Thank you.”

Mercy smiled at the sisters. “If we're going to find Diana, we'd better get on our way.”

“Stay safe,” Elmira said.

Lamira glanced around. “We'll neaten up Diana's room, so it'll be nice for her when she comes home.”

“Thank you,” Mercy said.

He walked into the hall with Belle. “I'm going to run up to my room and grab my saddlebags. Want to come with me?”

“No.” She nodded toward the front door. “I want to see if I can find anything unusual in the dirt in front of the hotel.”

“Good idea. I'll be right down.”

While Belle walked away, he hurried upstairs. Once in his room, he set his rolled sketch and box of charcoal on the table beside his other sketches. He opened his saddlebags, packed the new purchases inside, and then sat down on the bed to catch his breath. He didn't want Belle to think he was weak, but after she spent a little time around him, she'd know. He cursed his situation again. As long as he hadn't been exerting himself physically, he'd been fairly stable. A short time with Belle and he was losing ground fast.

Two weeks ago in Burnt Boggy Saloon in Indian Territory he'd been drinking himself into an early grave to ease his pain. He'd met Lucky and Tempest there, and they'd given him hope. They'd persuaded him to return to the Bend to repair the bar and create a painting of Temperance Tempest to hang in the Red River Saloon. Tempest believed he was haunted by a ghost sucking away his energy and slowly killing him, so she'd sent him to Diana for help. Diana was a palm reader and some sort of mystic, although she wouldn't talk about her past. She'd helped stabilize him so that he'd felt better than he had since coming to Texas.

Yet he knew what was killing him and it wasn't any damn ghost. Sheer arrogance was the culprit. He'd believed in Free Love like many others in the Spiritualism movement. He'd thought women were for play, not commitment. He'd known he could seduce, satisfy, and be on his way because he'd done it often enough with the ladies. But he hadn't counted on Victoria. She was something he'd never encountered at any of the Spiritualism picnics and camp meetings. Everything in him had told him to stay away from her, but she was the most seductive woman he'd ever met. He couldn't resist the temptation and the conquest. Only he'd been the conquered one. And she wouldn't let go.

If he'd left a trail of broken hearts before, he was paying for it now. But he'd truly believed in Free Love and he'd thought all those women had felt the same way. Still, maybe that's what he'd wanted to believe. He couldn't tell anymore. He knew only one thing. Even if it cost his life, he was going to save Diana. Call it penance. Call it self-serving. Call it helping a friend. It didn't matter. She was a woman who deserved a long, happy life. And if she somehow saved him along the way, he wouldn't complain.

He shrugged out of his fancy vest and replaced it with a sturdy leather one. He tied a red bandanna around his neck. In case the weather turned bad, he rolled up a long, cotton duster and tucked it under his arm. He doubted Belle had one, so he'd get a duster for her from Ludmila. He finished packing his saddlebags and added a sketch pad and pencils. He glanced around the room. He might not see it again. He touched the sketch of Tempest with one long finger. As much as he hated to think it, he might never finish this painting.

He adjusted his hat as he turned his back on the peace he'd known for a short time and stepped through the doorway. He'd linked his future with Belle. Only time would tell if two brave ladies could lift the curse of a powerful, vengeful woman.

And if he could find redemption.