Cinnamon and Roses (23 page)

A loud rapping awakened Sabrina from her early-evening nap, and it took her a minute to realize that someone was banging on the door. She got up, put on a wrapper, and went to answer it. A flushed Dolores, breathing hard from overexertion, stood before her.

"What do you want?” Sabrina snapped, annoyed at having been awakened during a rather erotic dream.

"Miss Rebecca ... she's sick.... “The woman's words were choppy as she struggled for oxygen.

At the mention of Rebecca, Sabrina brightened. “How sick?” she asked.

"Bad. She fainted ... husband carried her ... upstairs. They sent for the doctor."

Sabrina caught herself a moment before an excited giggle bubbled up from her throat. She coughed and regained control of her emotions. “You've been using the herb as I instructed, correct?"

"
Yes'm
. Is that what done it?"

"Oh, very unlikely,” Sabrina lied. “But why are you here?"

"To tell you,” the woman said, leaning against the doorjamb as her breathing began to return to normal.

"Stupid woman,” Sabrina spat, grabbing a dark-colored dress and boots out of the wardrobe. “You should have stayed there and found out what was wrong. You'll have to go back."

Dolores shook her head adamantly. “Uh-uh. I
ain't
never
goin
’ back there. They'll know, I tell
ya
. They'll know I done it, and they'll kill me."

"How will they know?” Sabrina asked, hoping to calm the woman's fears.

"I don't know, but they'll know."

Sabrina threw off her wrapper and sat to lace her shoes. “Oh, very well, blast it all. Run away if you must. I'll do the rest myself."

"But I want the
resta
that money you promised me,” Dolores stated.

Sabrina huffed but got up and went to the bureau. She pulled out several wrinkled bills and thrust them into wrinkled hands. “There,” she said. “Take it and go away."

"
Yes'm
.” Dolores turned to leave but then stopped. “Mrs. Adams. She
ain't
gonna
die or
nothin
', is she?"

"Of course not,” Sabrina said. “She'll be just fine, I'm sure."

Sabrina closed the door behind the old woman and finished dressing. She no longer had anyone inside the Adams house who could give her information, so she would have to get it herself.

She pulled her long black hair away from her face and tied it back with a thin brown ribbon that matched the dress she wore. It was dark enough that no one would see her. And everyone inside the house would be too preoccupied to even notice someone lurking outside the windows.

*
    
*
    
*

Caleb threw back his third glass of
Kentucky
bourbon and rested his head against the leather chair.

What the hell was taking that doctor so long?

His father stood at the window, smoking a cigar and staring out into the night. Megan was off somewhere doing whatever.
Fixing more tea.
Begging God to save Rebecca's life.

That's what he should be doing, Caleb thought, somewhat ashamed that he hadn't considered it sooner. He should be down on his knees praying for his wife and child to be all right. But all he could seem to concentrate on was the fact that his life would feel utterly empty without them.

Rebecca was the most important part of his world now. He fell asleep beside her at night and woke up beside her in the morning. They had arguments—which amused him no end—and intellectually stimulating conversations. Once she had even gotten him into a discussion about the merits of using horse manure in vegetable gardens.

He smiled at the memory and took another gulp of whiskey. Setting the glass on the table before him, he put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

Maybe it was time to pray. There was nothing else he could do. And he felt so damned helpless.

But where did he begin when he had long ago given up on believing that someone on high might actually care about a cad like him? It had been so long since he'd bowed his head in prayer, other than ritualistically, impersonally, in church, he wasn't sure he remembered how it was done. And who was he to think God would listen to him after all these years of angry silence?

Still, he tried.

The back of Caleb's eyes began to sting, and he blinked several times, astonished to see drops of moisture fall to the floor at his feet.
Just don't take her from me,
he pleaded, grinding his teeth.
Not when I've only just learned to love her.

His head snapped up. He wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his shirt and tried to grasp the last words of his silent plea.

Yes,
he realized in a flash.
Yes, I love her.
By Jesus, he really did love Rebecca. And he wouldn't be able to go on without her in his life. He bolted to his feet with a surge of newfound determination. He couldn't let her die. He wouldn't.

Just then Megan came into the room with a tray of tea.

Caleb headed for the door, but she touched his arm. “Caleb, I need to talk to you."

"Not now, Megan, I have to see Rebecca."

"Caleb, it's important."

Something in her voice warned him not to leave yet. “What is it?” he asked, turning from the doorway, hands on hips.

"I don't know if this has anything to do with Rebecca becoming ill, but—"

"Spit it out, Megan."

She took up a small brown bottle from the tray and handed it to him. “Bessie told me that Dolores has been putting this into Rebecca's tea."

He uncorked it and sniffed. “What is it?” he asked.

"I don't know what it is. Dolores told Bessie it was to keep Rebecca and the baby healthy. But I don't think that's what it's for at all."

Caleb's fingers tightened around the bottle, and he pulled Megan into a swift, fierce embrace. “Thanks, little sister,” he said before running out of the room and racing up the stairs to the doctor.

Sabrina crouched beneath one of the lighted windows, assuming the family was gathered inside. Another light shone from one of the upstairs rooms, but there was no way she could ever climb that high to sneak a peek.

She pushed aside the scratchy branches of the shrubs that grew alongside the house, trying to get closer. A sharp piece of brush pierced her flesh, and she let out a stream of muttered curses. A plan that had started so simply was rapidly becoming a dangerous mission. She had to find out what was going on inside and then hurry back to town.

Once again she pushed the bushes out of her way and grabbed hold of the windowsill. Her fingernails dug into the wood as she struggled to get a good grip. She used the shrubbery as a stepladder, climbing onto the narrow branches for support.

Her nose just reached the glass as she fought to keep her balance and see inside at the same time. Caleb sat in a chair with his back to her. She would know him anywhere just from his full head of ebony hair. Holbrook Adams stood across the room.
staring
out a parlor window. Sabrina gave a sigh of relief that she had decided against sneaking up onto the porch to spy inside. He surely would have seen her had she done that.

So the newly smitten Caleb wasn't upstairs at his wife's bedside. Sabrina smiled. Maybe this wasn't going to be as hard as she'd begun to think. Oh, Caleb was putting on a good show for the townspeople, but here he was, sitting in the parlor with his family as if it were any other day of the week, while poor, sweet Rebecca was upstairs deathly ill.

Even if the pennyroyal only caused Rebecca to lose the brat, Sabrina was sure everything would work out. Without the child, Caleb would have no use for Rebecca any longer, He could seek a divorce or annulment, and Sabrina would be free to move back into his life.

Yes, things were working out beautifully.
All because of her careful planning.

She readjusted her grip on the windowsill and rose on her tiptoes. She watched as Caleb bowed his head, holding it in his hands. If she didn't know better, she would think he was a grieving husband. But of course that was ridiculous. He was simply putting on an act for his family.

Then a girl came into the room. At first Sabrina thought
her a
servant, but she so resembled Caleb that Sabrina knew instinctively it had to be Megan, the sister Bart had been asinine enough to shoot.

The sister laid a tray on the low table in front of the sofa and stopped Caleb before he could leave the room. He turned to her, and they exchanged words. Sabrina strained to hear, but it was no use.

Dammit
! Megan handed Caleb the bottle of pennyroyal, and he looked at it suspiciously. Why the hell hadn't Dolores taken it with her? Now they would find out what was wrong with Rebecca all the sooner.

Oh, well, it really didn't matter. There was nothing they could do to stop the effects of the herb, was there? She hadn't thought to ask the madam about such things.

Caleb hugged his sister, turned, and rushed out of the room.

Why did he look so happy to have found the herb? Perhaps he was glad to know Rebecca's illness wasn't just something passing, that it was indeed serious.

Sabrina extended a foot, searching for support before letting go of the sill. She landed on the ground with a thump and a low groan. For a split second she wished she could have sent Bart to do this but then realized he would only have gotten himself caught. He really had been a bumbling idiot.

She yanked her skirts out of the clawing bushes and ran across the yard, retracing her tracks back to town.

When Caleb threw open the bedroom door, he saw Doc Meade bent over his still-unconscious wife. Beads of perspiration dotted the elder man's brow.

"
Dammit
, Caleb, I told you to stay downstairs."

Rebecca looked so pale and fragile that fear constricted Caleb's heart. He watched as the doctor ran his hands over the slope of her stomach.

"Is she going to be all right?” he asked.

"Damned if I know,” the doctor said. He shook his head and apologized for the sharp words. “I just can't figure out what's wrong with her. Has anybody else in the family been ill?"

"No,” Caleb said and moved forward. “But this could have something to do with it.” He handed the bottle to the doctor.

"What is it?” he asked, holding it up to the lamp.

"I have no idea, but Megan found out from Bessie that Dolores has been putting it in Rebecca's tea."

Doc Meade squinted through the
bottle,
then poured some of the contents into the palm of his hand. “I'll be damned,” he said softly. “How long has she been giving this to your wife?"

"I have no idea. What is it?” Caleb asked, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Pennyroyal.
Looks like
ol
” Chloe over at the Dog Tick has been giving it out again."

"What the hell does Chloe have to do with anything?” Caleb asked anxiously, becoming even more worried about Rebecca's condition.

"She gives it to her girls when they miss a flux. If given in large enough doses right away for three or four days, it can cause a spontaneous miscarriage."

"Sweet Jesus,” Caleb swore, running splayed fingers through his hair in agitation. “What will it do to Rebecca this far along?"

"I'm not sure,” the doctor replied, thinking.

Fury began to build in Caleb's belly. “You're not sure? You're a doctor, for Christ's sake. How can you not know what this stuff will do?"

Doc Meade turned tired eyes to Caleb,
then
poured the herbs back,
recorking
the bottle. “I don't give pennyroyal to my patients, Caleb. And Chloe knows what she's doing, so I don't get many of her girls in who are sick from it. The best I can tell you is to let it work its way out of her system. Give her plenty of fluids. Maybe even help her sweat it out.

"I'll pay Chloe a visit,” Doc Meade continued. “She ought to know a little about it.” He wiped his face with the back of his arm. “The bleeding has been minimal, just spotting, so I don't think we need to worry about the baby. Not yet, at least. I'll come by again tomorrow to check on her. And be sure to send for me if there's any change."

Caleb watched as the doctor packed up his medical bag and put on his jacket. He thanked the physician stiffly, still upset that there was nothing the man could do for Rebecca. He felt helpless enough; he didn't need to hear that a medical professional didn't know what to do, either.

After the doctor's departure, Caleb pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and lifted Rebecca's limp hand in his own. He had an overwhelming urge to tell her about his revelation, to confess his love. But he held back, deciding that when he told Rebecca how much he loved her, she would be wide awake. He would never give her cause to suspect that his words had been only a dream.

Soft voices drifted through her consciousness. She blinked several times and tried to clear her vision. A moan passed her parched lips, and the voices grew silent.

Rebecca opened her eyes and saw Caleb's handsome countenance before her. A dark shadow across his chin hinted for a much-needed shave, but she couldn't help finding him attractive. His thumb was rubbing her hand in the most delicate, delightful, circular pattern. A dull pounding started in her head as she drifted back toward darkness.

"How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

She groaned, hoping that would suffice as an answer to his question.

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady."

Rebecca opened one eye and focused on the source of the other masculine voice. Holbrook stood behind his son, looking on with a small smile. She tried to smile back before letting her eyes drift closed.

"Rebecca,” Caleb called, shaking her hand. “Sweetheart, wake up."

She shook her head, wanting to relax on the soft cushion of blackness surrounding her.

"Come on, darling, stay with me. You've slept long enough."

Oh, but they couldn't know. They couldn't know how very comfortable the darkness was. How free of worry and pain.

At the thought of pain, the throbbing in her head began again.

"Megan, could you get some tea for her, please? You have to wake up now, Rebecca."

She opened her eyes and looked around the room, only to find that she and Caleb were alone. She tried to speak, but the words came out garbled. Her lips and throat felt dry and sore.

"Here, take a sip of this."

Caleb helped her to sit up, and she took several swallows of tepid water. He fluffed the pillows behind her and propped her into an upright position.

"What happened?” she asked, searching her mind but recalling nothing. The last thing she remembered was walking downstairs for dinner. Only they had met in the parlor first, and ... oh, yes, it was a special dinner for Megan, to celebrate her mother's allowing her to stay in Leavenworth until fall.

"You don't remember?"

She shook her head. “We were having a special dinner for your sister."

"That's right. But you got jealous and decided to become the guest of honor."

Her eyes widened. She hadn't. Oh, Lord, she was feeling dizzy again. “I—"

"You didn't mean to, actually. You fainted."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I hadn't been feeling very well, but I never expected to pass out."

"You were sick, and you didn't tell me?” His voice held an edge of anger.

Rebecca looked at him and shrugged. “I didn't think much of it. I thought it was just the heat—and my condition."

Caleb stormed to his feet, nearly toppling the armchair, pacing to the opposite side of the room. “You didn't even bother to tell me you weren't feeling well? How stupid could you be?"

She watched him with astonishment. His movements were sleek, like those of a stalking panther. The muscles rippled beneath his wrinkled white shirt. A flame of passion leapt within her, and she wondered at the desires he could evoke from her even now.

"Remind me never to ask you to sit at my deathbed. Your compassion would surely kill me right off."

He turned to her and stood perfectly still. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

"Caleb—"

He returned to her side, dropping into the armchair. “I thought you were going to die. And when I saw the blood, I thought you were going to lose the baby."

Rebecca's breath caught, her hands going automatically to her belly.

"No.” He took both her hands in his own. “The doctor was just here and said you and the baby seem to be fine. But we're to send for him if anything changes. That means you're to tell me if you don't feel well.
No matter what.
Do you understand?"

"Of course,” she answered quickly. “Caleb, you have to know that I would have told you if I'd thought something was really wrong. I just thought it was the weather. I thought it was normal to feel out-of-sorts in my condition. I don't know much about bearing children, but I would never take a chance with our baby, Caleb. You have to believe me."

"I know, I know,” he soothed her. “And there's no way you could have known that you were slowly being poisoned."

"
What?
"

"Dolores has been tainting your tea.
For as long as she's been here, we suspect."

"But why?
With what?"

"We don't know why. Not yet, anyway. But I intend to find out. It was pennyroyal. An herb used by—"

"Prostitutes to prevent children,” she said softly.

He gave her an odd look, and she explained. “
Lilah
at the Scarlet Garter used to serve it to her girls each month ... in hot tea. At first I didn't know exactly what it was. It was to clean them out,
Lilah
said. In case they'd gotten...” She cleared her throat.
“Um, ‘knocked up.’”

Caleb nodded. “Doc Meade thinks it may have come from the Dog Tick. He says the madam there uses it for the same purpose."

"But why would Dolores want to give it to me?
Especially when I'm already so far along?"

Caleb's eyes narrowed. “I'm not so sure Dolores came up with the idea herself."

"You think someone made her do it?"

"Paid her to do it is more likely, yes."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Even Doc Meade didn't know what effect the herb would have on you. It's usually used very early in a pregnancy, not later. He wasn't sure what, if
anything,
would happen. We didn't know how much you'd been given or for how long."

"But I'm all right now? And the baby is going to be okay?"

Caleb cocked up his lips in a grin and squeezed her fingers. “You both seem to be fine. The doctor will stop by to check on you now and again, though, just to be sure."

"Good.” Rebecca smiled and pressed back into the soft pillows. She felt exhausted even though she had just awakened. Yawning, she let her eyes fall closed.

Caleb watched as Rebecca's
eyelid's
grew heavy. She snuggled into the pillows and fell back to sleep. A low, rhythmic snore began, and he smiled, knowing her sleep to be a comfortable, natural, safe rest.

He sighed and tucked the covers more securely around her, then made his way quietly across the floor and closed the door with a soft click behind him. He had meant to tell Rebecca that he loved her. He was fairly bursting at the seams with his newfound knowledge of an emotion he'd thought too long buried to be resurrected.

But she'd looked so tired. And the rest would do her good. It also gave him a chance to get out of the house and start searching for the answers to a few questions.

He met Megan coming out of the dining room with a silver tray of tea and sugar cookies.

"I thought Rebecca might like a little something to eat when she wakes up,” she said. “How is she feeling?"

"Better. But she's asleep again. I'm sorry."

"She needs the rest to build up her strength."

"That's what I thought. I'm going into town for a while. I'll be back in time for supper."

"What's in town?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"None of your business,” he said, giving her nose a tweak. Then he bent and kissed her cheek. “Keep an eye on that wife of mine. She's liable to get herself into a heap of trouble while I'm gone."

Caleb leaned an elbow on the scarred bar of the Dog Tick Saloon and waited for the barkeep to finish pouring drinks at the other end.

"Whiskey, Mr. Adams?"

"None today, Luther.
I'm looking to talk to Chloe."

The bartender's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.
“Chloe, sir?"

Caleb wondered how long it would take for the rumor that he was cheating on Rebecca to run rampant through town. “That's right,” he said. “Is she around?"

"She ought to be up by now. But her girls don't start working till later."

"I'm not here to see one of the girls,” he said, straightening. “I'm here to see Chloe. Where is she?"

Luther inclined his head.
“Last door on the right."

Caleb started toward the stairs in long, smooth strides. He could feel every eye in the room on his back as he climbed to the second story. Some of the cowboys put up a fuss and tried to follow, but a few wall-shaking bellows from the barrel-chested Luther settled them down.

He rapped on the door and heard a muffled reply from within. He turned the knob and walked into the room.

A half-dressed, shapely young brunette lay sprawled across a wide mattress. She rolled over and brushed tangles of hair away from her face. When she opened her eyes and saw Caleb standing inside the door, she gave a yelp of surprise.

"Who the hell are you?” she asked, sitting up. The twisted sheets slid over the mound of her breasts to gather at her waist. She didn't seem to notice. “What are you doing here? Luther never lets anybody upstairs this early."

"Well, he did,” Caleb said.

The woman licked her lips and shook the cascade of hair back from her shoulders. “You pay the right price, honey, and I'll forget
it's
only noon,” she drawled.

Caleb withdrew his watch from his jacket pocket and flipped open the lid. “It's past three,” he said. “And I'm only here to talk."

Chloe gave a snort. “That's a new one. What is it with you men, lately? The doc's
already been
here to talk.
Talkin
’
don't
make money, so it'll cost
ya
."

"Tell you what,” Caleb said, coming close enough to reach out and touch her. “I'll pay you your usual rate if you tell me what I want to know."

"And if I don't?” She thrust her breasts forward and turned her lips down in a pout.

"Then I'll make sure you're put in jail for trying to kill my wife."

"Now, wait a minute,” she said in a panic, waving her hands in the air. “I've never done anything like that in my life. Ask Luther, he'll vouch for me. I don't even leave the Dog Tick but about once a month."

"I know that,” Caleb said leisurely, leaning against a bedpost.

She let out a long breath and relaxed. “Then what are
ya
burnin
’ my butt for?"

"My wife was poisoned this week—with pennyroyal.” He noticed a spark of recognition in the madam's eyes. “Now, as I understand it, you use that herb quite often on your girls."

"That's common enough,” she replied, pulling the sheet farther up her body, trying to avoid looking directly at him.

He gave a nod. “What I want to know is who, outside the saloon, you gave it to."

She didn't answer and didn't look as if she was going to.

"Come on,” he said. “You tell me who came to you to buy some pennyroyal, and I'll try to convince Marshal Thompson not to arrest you for attempted murder."

"I don't know who she was."

Caleb narrowed his eyes, fixing her with a determined stare.

"I'm telling you the truth,” she hurried to explain. “Some woman came to the back door one night, and Luther sent her up to me. She started crying about how much trouble she would be in if her limp-cocked husband found out she was breeding. He would kill her and what not. I've heard the story before. So I gave her some pennyroyal to take care of the problem."

Her brow wrinkled. “Come to think of it, she did ask an awful lot of questions.
More than just how to take it.
She wanted to know how much and how often would make it dangerous or even lethal. Said she didn't want to make herself sick. And she insisted I sell her a full bottle instead of the amount that would have taken care of things for her. She said it was in case she got in trouble again, ‘
cause
she knew she wouldn't be able to stay away from the guy who was giving it to her."

"Did she tell you her name?"

"Nope.
Don't suppose she wanted me to know."

"No, I don't suppose she did,” Caleb said, more than a little disgusted. “What did she look like?"

"Real dark hair.
Darker than yours, even.
She looked to be getting up in years, but I couldn't be sure, she was wearing so much face powder. She looked like a lady. Held
herself
real proper-like. ‘Course she couldn't have been all that proper if she was spreading her legs for someone other than her husband, right?” Chloe laughed. “I think it's a real hoot how these ladies walk around with their noses up in the air, pretending to be so much better than me and my girls. Truth is
,
most of them are doing the same thing we are, they just
ain't
getting paid."

Caleb brushed off her final comment, wanting to get more information about the mysterious woman. Chloe's description didn't bring anyone to mind, and he wanted to see if there was any other detail that might ring a bell.