Drew (The Cowboys) (28 page)

“It’s the way I talk. You wouldn’t want me to edit everything before the words came out of my mouth, would you?”

Her aunt looked as though she’d be profoundly grateful if Drew would do exactly that. “Please don’t talk that way tonight. If you do, nobody in this town will invite me anywhere ever again.”

“Why should you care? You don’t live here.”

“Bad news travels fast, especially if it’s something socially embarrassing.”

“Gossip,” Drew said. “That’s the trouble with the people you know. They lead useless lives. If they had something to do, they wouldn’t have time to worry about what I wear, how I talk, or that I work for a living.” This was another old argument. Drew hadn’t meant to let herself be drawn into it again. “Sorry, Aunt Dorothea, but you know how I feel about that.”

“It all comes from your mother marrying
that man,”
her aunt said. “If she hadn’t—”

“If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been born, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and you wouldn’t have to worry about such an unsatisfactory niece as myself.”

“I don’t mind worrying about you, and you’re a wonderful niece.”

“But one who disagrees with you in practically every way.”

Her aunt sighed. “I don’t see why your father had to take your mother to Texas. There were so many other places he could have gone.”

“I don’t know either, but I’m glad he did. I love Texas. It’s the perfect place for me. Now let’s not argue about it anymore.” Drew stood. “It must be time to go to this party of yours.”

“It’s okay to be a little late. In fact, it’s more fashionable.”

“To hell with fashion,” Drew said. “I want to get this shindig over with.”

“I don’t know why you insist upon dragging me to things like this,” Cole said to his mother. “You know I hate them.”

“After running off and leaving me, the least you can do is escort me to a few parties when you’re home,” his mother said, a complaining edge to her voice. “You have no idea how hard it is to convince people you haven’t turned into one of those savages you go after.”

“I don’t work in Texas anymore,” Cole said. “I do undercover work for the government.”

His mother grimaced as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. “So you consort with criminals instead. Do you know how embarrassing that is to me?”

Cole cursed under his breath for at least the one hundredth time since he’d been home. He never passed near Memphis without stopping to visit his family. He had no qualms about turning his back on the kind of life his family expected of him, but he couldn’t ignore his family.

They had just entered the home of one of Memphis’s most prominent society hostesses. After climbing wide, shallow steps to a porch with wrought-iron railings, they stepped into a wide central hall that ran the length of the house. On the left, a double salon gleamed in candlelight dispersed from two enormous chandeliers. Chairs had been placed along the wall, and the carpets rolled up to allow dancing. A small string orchestra struggled to be heard above the din of conversation. Servants served wine cups, cooled with last winter’s ice, at the back of the hall. The men were directed to the library if they wanted something stronger to drink.

Everyone looked overdressed and overanimated.

Cole hated the continuous round of social events that made up his mother’s life. He would have much preferred to stay home, but he’d learned through experience it was easier to go along than to fight. Because he was an only child, his mother had never accepted his decision to turn his back on the way of life she considered superior to all others.

“Don’t worry. I’ll probably do something else soon,” Cole said.

“Something even more embarrassing.” His mother looked pained. “I wish you would come home and behave yourself.”

Cole didn’t reply. There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said many times before. He’d already decided he wouldn’t tell her he’d joined the Wild West Show. As far as his mother was concerned, people in show business were common, immoral, and probably criminal. He couldn’t think of a way to tell her about Drew that wouldn’t bring on a fainting spell.

“Maybe you’ll find a nice girl,” his mother said. “Once you have a wife and family to think of, you’ll feel quite differently about associating with such unsuitable people.”

Cole didn’t reply to that, either.

“I hope you’re not going to refuse to dance tonight,” his mother said.

“I don’t like dancing.”

“But you do it so beautifully. You’re always the most handsome man in the room. All the young women want to dance with you.”

His mother meant they wanted to dance with the Benton fortune. The fact that Cole wasn’t plug-ugly was a secondary consideration. “I don’t dance,” Cole said.

“Then talk to them.”

“How? They have nothing to talk about but parties they’ve been to, parties they haven’t been to, and the people who went to both. They never want to talk about things that interest me.”

“Most people find it very difficult to be interested in savages and criminals.”

His mother’s tone and expression implied that such things could only be of interest to the lower classes. Cole didn’t reply to that, either. He had stopped trying to explain himself to her years ago.

“I will try not to embarrass you,” Cole said. “But if Sibyl Owens corners me again, I’ll leave her standing, even if it’s in the middle of the room.”

“She’s a beautiful young woman,” his mother said. “Her family is the oldest in Memphis.”

“She’s also in search of a rich husband.”

“It’s so sad to see such an old family fall on hard times.”

“They wouldn’t be having such a hard time if her father and brother would stop drinking and gambling and pay some attention to their business,” Cole snapped.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t,” Cole said, “so let’s not—”

Cole stopped midsentence, the words choked off in his throat. “Who is that woman?” he asked. He had to be dreaming, sleepwalking, or simply deluded, but unless his eyes betrayed him, Drew Townsend had just entered the room.

“Who?” his mother asked.

“That young woman who just entered.”

“I don’t know.”

“Everybody knows everybody at this sort of function.”

“I’ve seen the older woman before, but I don’t know anything about her. Doreen,” she said to a matron nearby, “do you know anything about the two women who just entered?”

Doreen Cutchins was one of the reigning dowagers of Memphis society, one of the hostesses of the party.

“That’s Dorothea Rutland and her niece. Mrs. Rutland is a wealthy widow who showed up here for the first time last year. She didn’t stay long, but she hired the biggest suite in the hotel. She seems to have an unending supply of money.”

“I can’t believe you would send her an invitation without knowing more about her.”

“She presented impeccable letters of introduction. Imagine, she has a letter from a Vanderbilt! Well, how could I refuse her after that, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t. Herbert is taking me to New York this winter. I plan to ask her for a letter of introduction to Mrs. Vanderbilt.”

“What about the niece?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know anything about her except that she dresses with a deplorable lack of taste and is very standoffish. She was rude to poor Hunter Ashby last night, flat refused to dance with him, said she wasn’t going to waste her time on a dried-up melon rind that probably hadn’t been any good when it was ripe. Have you ever heard anybody say such a thing?” Doreen asked, her substantial bosom heaving with indignation. “There have been Ashbys in Memphis for more than a hundred years.”

Despite his surprise, Cole couldn’t help smiling. That sounded exactly like something Drew would say.

“Molly Franks thinks they’re forcing their way into society in hopes the young one can catch a husband. If she expects to have jewels like the ones Mrs. Rutland wears every time I’ve seen her, she’ll need a very rich husband.”

“Jewels won’t be the only expense,” Cole’s mother said. “If that dress is any example of the rest of her clothes, it’ll take a fortune to supply her with a wardrobe.”

Seeing Drew at a society party had stunned Cole. That she should have an aunt of sufficient wealth and social connections to be able to procure an invitation was even more perplexing. Everything was in direct and glaring conflict with what he knew of Drew.

Or thought he knew. A hideous explanation presented itself almost immediately. Unfortunately, it fit the situation much too well.

Suppose Drew was behind the robberies, after all. Suppose she was using the money to support herself and her aunt in this extravagant lifestyle. If she was introducing herself to society in various cities—that would account for Mrs. Rutland appearing only now and then and staying at hotels—she was most probably scheming to catch a rich husband.

Cole didn’t want to consider this new possibility. He’d convinced himself Drew was innocent. He’d even tried to convince his captain. Maybe he was a stupid, infatuated fool who couldn’t believe the evidence right before his eyes. Every time he decided Drew couldn’t be responsible for the robberies, something happened that pointed the finger directly at her once again.

It was about time he woke up and started doing his job. He hadn’t been able to come up with an explanation for a single one of the facts that pointed to Drew’s involvement. The fact that the leader was a female who was an excellent shot, that she was accompanied by two heavily masked men, that the robberies always took place in or near the towns where the Wild West Show was performing, that he didn’t know Drew’s whereabouts at the times of the robberies. Then there was the fact she studied the workings of every bank she could, that she had all these old people depositing money in bank accounts that she controlled. And now, despite her modest clothes, she was attempting to enter a society well beyond the grasp of even the wealthiest Texas rancher.

Maybe the captain wasn’t bluffing when he said he had enough circumstantial evidence to convict her.

“I’ll go over and introduce myself,” Cole said.

“You can’t talk to her!” his mother said.

“Why not? You wanted me to dance.”

“I want you to dance with a nice girl.”

“How do you know she isn’t?”

“I don’t know anything about her.”

“I’ll ask,” Cole said, knowing such behavior would horrify his mother. “Anything you particularly want to know?”

“Cole Benton, if you tell that woman I want to know so much as one thing about her, I’ll refuse to acknowledge you’re my son.”

“Promise?”

He knew he shouldn’t tease his mother so, but her snobbery irritated him.

His mother ignored his remark. “You can’t just walk up to her without a proper introduction.”

“That’s the advantage men have over women. They don’t have to be so careful of their reputations.”

But he had to be careful to use his head, he told himself as he started across the room. So far his heart had decided what he’d think, how he’d act. He couldn’t afford to do that anymore. He might feel sure Drew wasn’t responsible for all those robberies, but feelings didn’t count. Facts did, and he had gathered precious few.

“I do declare, it’s Cole Benton in the flesh.”

Cole recognized Sibyl Owens’s voice before he turned to see the blond beauty bearing down on him. He recognized her gown as one he’d seen before, made over to appear new. He felt sorry for her. He knew the humiliation a woman suffered when she had to wear an old gown, even one so cleverly disguised, but he wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself to restore her to the style of living into which she’d been born.

“Your mama didn’t tell me you’d stopped chasing your savages long enough to come for a visit.”

“I don’t chase Indians or rustlers anymore,” Cole said.

“How disappointing,” Sibyl said, presenting her cheek for Cole to kiss. “I was dying to hear about some of your adventures.”

“Mama says my adventures aren’t suitable for feminine ears, especially the ears of refined, unmarried ladies.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sibyl said, making a face. “I’m so long in the tooth I’ll probably be considered on the shelf before the evening’s out.”

Cole had to admire Sibyl. She’d marry him for his money in a flash, but she didn’t hide the fact her family had fallen on hard times or that it was her duty to find a husband rich enough,
and willing,
to pay off the family debts.

“I think you’ll manage to stay in circulation a bit longer.”

“You want to walk me around the room and make all the young things so jealous their smiles will crack?”

“You forget about my
unsuitable adventures
,” Cole said. “I’m more likely to make them head straight for the protection of their mamas.”

Sibyl hooked her arm in his. “Don’t pretend to be modest. You know you’re the best-looking man in the room.”

Cole knew that wasn’t so. No one could pretend he was as handsome as Hunter Ashby, but every female in Memphis knew the Benton family fortune was several times larger than the Ashby fortune. Everyone also knew money improved a man’s looks several times over.