Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) (5 page)

Shadow slipped into the seat across from Rand in
Bangor Joe’s Saloon and glanced nervously around the room. “Something be wrong,”
he said.

The hairs on the back of Rand’s neck rose beneath
the ties of his mask. Except when his dark friend was giving marital advice,
Rand knew better than to second guess Shadow’s intuition.

“Any idea what?”

Shadow hunched his shoulders and leaned in, even
though no one dared try to eavesdrop on the Phantom. They had the back of the
room to themselves.

“We know Harrigan suspects the judge and the
Phantom are one man,” he said.

Rand nodded.

“So, if he believes the judge is occupied at home,
he would do his foul deeds without fear this night, yes?”

“When the cat is away,” he mumbled. “You’re right.
The cages should have been full tonight, and they’re not.”

His friend’s eyes widened. “Perhaps selling flesh
to the captains is not what he wishes most to do in your absence?”

“But what? What would he do tonight that he could
not do if he feared the Phantom’s interference?” His heart fell. “Jez!”

In two seconds, the pair of them were outside and
running flat out for
The Port Queen,
Jez’s primary brothel where she
kept her own apartments.

When they came up on the building, Rand waved
Shadow to hold back. “We don’t want to go barreling in there before we know
where she is.”

They slipped around to the rear of the cathouse
and found one of Harrigan’s men standing guard—over Jez’s home—and Rand’s
stomach dropped again. Harrigan was the Phantom’s rival for the King of the
Underground in Portland. He believed Jezebel was both the Phantom’s weakness
and what gave him the edge over the competition. He’d been trying to get her to
change sides from the beginning. But every time he got near her, the Phantom
stood in his way.

It was common knowledge that the Phantom always
watched out for her and her girls, as she watched out for the man behind the
mask. No one was fool enough to give one of them grief and not expect trouble
from the other.

Harrigan had no idea the Phantom had once been
caught in his cage, or that Jez had been the one to spring him. But he did know
the woman had eyes for his mysterious rival. And like most men, he made the
mistake of believing that any whore would change her allegiance for the right
price. So he made her offers regularly.

She’d mentioned, only a week ago, that it had been
a long time since Harrigan had sent her any gifts. They’d laughed about it
then. But maybe they should have seen it as a sign that the man was done
negotiating.

He’s going to kill her.
At least, if he
were Harrigan, that’s what he would do.

Rand thanked God he’d ended up at the waterfront
that night. Nothing that happened between himself and his wife was as important
as his work there. And convincing Harrigan that the judge and the Phantom were
two different men would hopefully mean he wouldn’t go after Jez again. He might
be able to keep tabs on the judge, but he would have to go back to believing
the Phantom could be anywhere.

Shadow moved close and whispered. “You want I
should get more men?”

Rand’s gut twisted, trying to tell him something. “No.
I don’t think she has that kind of time.”

The cathouse sounded just the way it always did.
The piano player had already changed from the high-stepping tunes that brought
the customers in—to the slower, romantic music to give them ideas. At least
that was how Jezebel had explained it to him once, that music could manipulate
a man just as easily as a peek of lace. Music changed a person’s mood more
subtly than seduction—music took them to seduction’s door.

The third story windows were lit with the low glow
of lamplight through dark curtains. The bright squares of the second story,
where the gambling took place, made the building look like a fat man with a
wide yellow belt around his middle. The main floor windows glowed a warm,
welcoming shade of orange. Nothing looked out of place except that lone man at
the rear entrance.

Maybe Harrigan truly believed the Phantom was on
the hill in Rand Beauregard’s bed. Or maybe it was a trap. After all, killing
both him and Jez would ensure that neither one of them would be coming to
avenge the other.

Shadow moved along the wall beneath Jez’s
apartments and paused. He frowned, then his eyes widened and the bright lights
went out, leaving a small glow through her blue curtains. He cocked his head to
the side and listened, then hurried back to Rand’s side across the alley.

Rand couldn’t take his eyes off the window. The
blue glow pulsed, like a distance star. What caused the effect was something
that moved back and forth between the light and the window.

“Dancing,” Shadow whispered. “Her phonograph.”

But Rand could tell by the size of the shadow, Jez
wasn’t dancing alone. There was a chance she was entertaining an important
customer in her apartments except for two things. Jez didn’t allow any man but
Rand inside her personal quarters. And Harrigan was inside the brothel. The
woman would never turn her back on the man, so if he was inside, she was with
him.

If Rand could have flown like a true phantom, he
would fly through that window that second. But he would have to settle for
using the door.

He pointed at Shadow, then to the fire escape that
zig zagged down to one of Jez’s windows from the roof. He then pointed to
himself and the delivery door that would take him to the cellar.

Shadow nodded and disappeared. Rand pulled a key
from his pocket and unlocked the chain that held the cellar doors tight.
Careful to be silent, he removed the chain slowly, then eased into the darkness
below. He’d been in that cellar dozens of times. He easily found his way in the
darkness. Once he reached the ground floor, no one paid any attention to a dark
form moving through the back halls. No one passed him along the way.

He was just about to step out into the corridor
when he sensed he was missing something important. Standing stock-still in the
shadows, he listened.

The piano played on. Same tunes as always. Men’s
voices. Murmurs. Laughter. Nothing wrong there. But what was missing?

The sound of breaking crystal caught his
attention. A man laughed. Someone was drunk. Nothing new there. But the sound
of crystal niggled at him. The high pitch.

There were no women’s voices!

The only high notes in the house came from the
piano. Where were Jez’s ladies?

He should have waited and brought more men along.
If he’d have taken another two minutes, he could have roused a small army. But
he hadn’t been thinking straight, he’d been thinking about Jez. Yes, he felt
guilty for all she’d had to stomach that day, knowing the woman felt more
romantically for him than he felt for her. But how much more guilty would he
feel if her throat had been cut while he shared a bed with another woman?

That was impetus enough to fly to her side without
thinking of reinforcements. Foolish, yes. But if he had to choose between Jez
and her ladies, there was no question. Besides, if something happened to him,
Shadow would find a way to help the rest.

He edged to the corner and took a quick peek at
the large door at the end. A single gunman blocked the door, but his head was
turned to the side. Whatever was going on in the room had his attention.

Now close enough to hear the music, Rand smiled.
It was a bouncy tune that would inspire anything but romance.

The tilted brim of the guard’s hat shielded his
view. No time to waste. Rand moved silently down the hall and when he was close
enough that the gunman noticed his feet, Rand leapt at him and pressed the gun
against the other man’s middle, stopping him from pointing the weapon. He
jammed his thumb into the rear gap in the trigger and prevented it from firing.
Then he released the guard so he could have a free hand, and jammed two fingers
up the gunman’s nose.

The big man bellowed and his grip loosened. A
heartbeat later, Rand pointed the gun at the guard’s belly and wiped his
fingers on the man’s shirt.

The door opened wide and Rand shoved the gunman
through it. Half a dozen revolvers cocked and pointed at him while he shoved
the big man backward. Once the guard stumbled to the side, Rand’s muzzle came to
rest in his enemy’s face where he sat on the edge of Jez’s bed.

“You seem surprised to see me, Harrigan,” he said
with a smile behind the mask.

The man sputtered. Jez tried to get off the bed,
but he grabbed her ankle and held tight. Jez cried out in pain, then bit her
lip and held still. A quick glance told Rand she hadn’t been harmed—yet—and he
silently thanked God.

Still holding two barrels in Harrigan’s face, Rand
turned his smiling mask both left and right to count the enemy. “Good evening,
gentlemen.”

He paid no attention to their weapons but made it
clear their leader would suffer a dangerous head wound if any of them pulled a
trigger. They’d all been part of a dozen such standoffs before. They only
waited for the order to lower their weapons. But this time, Harrigan was slow
giving it.

“Will tonight finally be the night, Harrigan?” He
widened his eyes like the prospect excited him.

Harrigan glared. “What are you waiting for?”

Rand put a hand against his chest. “Are you asking
me?”

The man grunted impatiently and waved at his men. “Put
them down, you fools.”

Rand hid his unease, still suspecting he’d walked
into a new trap. “Release my lady’s ankle.”

Harrigan’s face twisted into a snarl. “Aren’t you
supposed to be bedding that new wife of yours?”

Rand threw his head back and laughed, and he kept
it up so long some of Harrigan’s underlings started laughing too, which only
helped Rand laugh harder. And the best part was knowing how much Harrigan hated
to be laughed at.

Eventually, he settled. “You are the fool,
Harrigan, if think for one minute I would choose any other woman over my
Jezebel. It seems you have me confused with Judge Beauregard again, since he’s
the only man I know who was married today.”

Harrigan ground his teeth together and said
nothing.

Rand lowered the shotgun and stepped closer,
producing a long, wicked dagger and holding the tip just an inch from the man’s
left eye. “How dare you touch her!”

Harrigan narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the
sharp, winking blade. “If you’re not Rand Beauregard, then you’re his brother.
And a brother will do me just fine.” He lifted a hand and wiggled a finger. “Bring
one of them out.”

A man opened the door to Jez’s large dressing room
and another gunman from inside pushed a woman into the room—a gagged and
petrified girl named Lilly. She’d worked for Jez for as long as he’d been the
Phantom. Her expression turned from fear, to hope, and back again when the
first man cocked his revolver and pointed it at her head.

“Russian roulette?” Harrigan asked. “Or Pig
sticking? Which do you prefer?”

Darby kept a stiff upper lip for the sake of the
servants when she sat down to breakfast alone the next morning. At the last
minute, she’d proved a coward and removed the ring. But she kept it in her pocket
just in case the day went well. By the way it was starting, however, she had
half a mind to take it up the hill and bury it in the woods.

But that was something the old Darby would do, in
a fit of temper.

She stuck her lip out. She was already missing the
old Darby.

Jacobs stepped into the morning room with his hat
in his hands and his hair looking even more disheveled than the day before. “Ma’am.
Mr. Beauregard is sorry he couldn’t have breakfast with you this morning.” He
blushed so scarlet she thought his hair might turn red. “He’s had
a...minor...accident, and as soon as he’s well enough to move—”

“What?” She jumped to her feet as Jacobs reached
for the back of her chair too late. She bit down on her tongue for a second or
two, then assumed her queenly manners again. “I insist you take me to him at
once.”

Jacobs shook his head. “Aw, no. You don’t want to
see him right now.”

“I beg your pardon?” She lowered a look on him
that stopped his head from shaking and started it nodding. “I shan’t bother with
the carriage, if you have a horse—”

“No ma’am.” Jacobs said firmly as he moved
sideways to the doorway. “I’ll have the carriage ready in ten minutes. No need
to rush. He’s not bleedin’ anymore.”

Bleeding anymore?

“Is a doctor with him?”

“No, ma’am. Not exactly.”

“Jenny, I want you to get any bandages or medical
supplies you might have in the house. And hurry.” Darby hurried upstairs and
collected her sewing supplies, then waited on the front steps with Jenny. The
girl was fighting tears and losing.

“Don’t worry, young lady,” Darby told her. “I’m
sure he’s twisted an ankle or cut open a finger. Men are notoriously clumsy,
you’ll see.”

“Aw, no, ma’am. I worry that the Phantom finally
got hold of him.”

“The Phantom?”

“Yes, ma’am. For nigh on two years now, the judge
has been trying to bring this Phantom fellow to justice. Sells slaves to the
sea captains. They say he eats the ones he doesn’t sell.” The girl shivered. “Mr.
Beauregard stopped practicing law so’s he could run the scum to ground. I just
hope the scum hasn’t won.”

Since she’d awakened alone in that large bed,
Darby had wondered if she’d married a coward. But it seems she was wrong. She
only hoped the man would survive long enough to show her everything else she
might have underestimated about him.

She’d never once imagined her mysterious husband
would actually be interesting. All aspects of survival—food, shelter, clothing—had
consumed her thoughts so completely she’d never once considered that a man
might prove interesting.

Her father had been interesting, of course. And
her mother. They were also interesting when they were together, like their
characters changed somehow because the other one happened to be in the same
room. Maybe that was what love did to people, changed their characters.

If Rand Beauregard grew to love her someday, would
it change him? Or would it change her?

Jacobs insisted that Jenny stay behind. After he helped
Darby into the carriage, he had some dire warnings she was glad the timid young
woman hadn’t been on hand to hear.

“Ma’am, I would like to give you one more chance
to go inside and wait for the judge to come to you.”

She shook her head.

“All right, then. You’ll have to do as you’re
told. Do you understand? You’ll put your husband in much more danger if you ask
questions.”

“I understand,” she said, even though she didn’t.
She only knew her husband was hurt and that it was her duty to go to him. If
she had to obey orders to be allowed access to him, then so be it.

Jacobs gave her a dubious glance, then closed the
carriage door.

This time, she watched every detail of the city as
it passed by her. The town seemed to have risen up between the enormous pines
and found a way to work around them. Large trunks that had to have been fifty
years old rose along streets that appeared freshly painted. And the smell of
sawdust filled the air as if every house and structure had been recently
erected. But then large old buildings insisted the city was nearly as old as
the trees.

The carriage carried her across a wide bridge
spanning a swift river. The Willamette, if she remembered correctly. The
Columbian River was the larger one she’d noticed from the train yesterday,
before they’d actually reached the city.

On the other side of town, they passed a few
warehouses, but the area looked practically abandoned compared to the sprawling
city across the river. Though she watched for some sort of hospital, Jacobs
turned the carriage through a small stock yard and inside a warehouse.

The door opened immediately. “What’s this, then?”
A filthy man dressed in rags poked his nose through the window. “Hardy? Who’s
this?”

“His wife,” grumbled the driver. “Do it.”

The filthy man smiled at her with the aid of very
few teeth. “If you’ll follow me, mum?”

Jacobs helped her climb down, then folded the
step, tugged on his hat, and climbed into the driver’s seat again.

“You’re leaving me?”

He nodded once and lowered his voice. “Just do as
you’re told, no matter who tells you, and you’ll be fine.” He snapped the reins
and turned the team to exit the way they’d entered.

The filthy man gestured toward the opposite end of
the warehouse. “This way, then. Mind the manure, mum.”