Heaven Sent (36 page)

Hattie Byron was not in the best of moods. And seeing Tom Quick was just what she needed to set her off.

"Good morning,
Marshall
." Her voice reeked with sarcasm. "I certainly hope that it is a good morning for you, because it has been one of the most terrible that I have ever spent in my life!"

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Byron."

"You are sorry to hear it? Why, you should already know it,
Marshall
. After all it
is
your fault, isn't it?"

The
marshall
cringed slightly. She was some fiery woman, he thought. He secretly wondered if she was as excitable in the bedroom as she seemed to be in the parlor.

"That is exactly why I came over this morning, ma'am. To apologize for the terrible ordeal you suffered through last night. I can imagine that you are devastated to think that criminal activities were taking place in your own establishment, against your knowledge."

The
marshall
was no fool. She made money on whatever whiskey was sold last night, but there would never be any way to prove it and she could be of more help working with him instead of against him.

Hattie wasn't about to accept his apology, even if he was offering her a deal.

"You have no idea what I went through, Marshall Quick. First, my business is nearly destroyed. Many of the draperies are beyond repair. Then I am dragged to jail, actually to jail! Where I am forced to sit for hours, until I am finally allowed to come home. I find that my apartment had been broken into in my absence. Now tell me,
Marshall
, why weren't you busy arresting the person who broke into my house instead of persecuting an honest, hardworking widow woman?"

Her flashing eyes and dramatic gestures intrigued the marshall and all during her tirade he found his gaze drifting to her ample breasts, so decently covered with black brocade.

"Was anything missing in your apartment?" the
marshall
asked hopefully.

"Not that I've noticed, everything was pretty much in place. But the lock on the door was destroyed and must be replaced."

Tom Quick was grateful she was angry at the intruder. He was more than willing to use it to help his cause.

"Actually, Mrs. Byron, I am looking for the man who broke into your apartment."

He had her attention now. As if suddenly remembering her manners she said, "
Marshall
, please take a seat. Let me get you some coffee." She brought him a cup and a plate of cookies.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, mimicking a courtly bow.

"I just hate the idea of strangers being in my quarters," she told him. "I want to know who they were and why they broke in."

"The man we sought in last night's raid is a moonshiner and whiskey peddler from out near the border, by the name of Henry Lee Watson. Ever heard of him?"

Mrs. Byron was as good a poker player as she was a businesswoman. "No,
Marshall
, I can't say as I have ever heard that name before."

Quick knew that she was lying, a secret shared with this woman would be a secret forever. He wondered if she had a man sharing her secrets. If not, he fully intended to be that man shortly.

"Watson was the only person we were looking for last night," he said. "Seems he's trying to move some of his whiskey business down this way and we want to nip that in the bud."

Mrs. Byron nodded and offered Marshall Quick another cookie. She was aware of the
marshall
's speculative interest in her, but business was business. A woman didn't get ahead in this world by thinking between her legs instead of between her ears.

"Watson managed to get away from us last night by breaking into your apartment and getting onto the roof from your balcony."

"That's impossible!"

"Come let me show you."

The two made their way to the porch where Marshall Quick located the loose board.

"They climbed up on something, got on the roof and headed on down the street."

"The chair." Mrs. Byron snapped her fingers. "There was a kitchen chair sitting right out here next to the wall and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why."

"Well, that's why, Mrs. Byron. Your burglar is that whiskey peddler and we intend to get him."

Hattie Byron considered that for a moment. The
marshall
seemed very determined and if he caught Watson, there was always the possibility that he might implicate her. It was best to cover yourself first and worry about the next guy when you have the luxury to do so.

"What did you say this man's name was again?"

"Henry Lee Watson."

"I believe I have heard of him, Marshall. A handsome, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties?"

"Yes, that's him."

"I did see him here last night," Hattie admitted. "He was with his new wife. I understood this was their honeymoon trip."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, just a few weeks ago he married a preacher's daughter from over in the
Oklahoma
Territory
."

"A preacher's daughter!"

"Yes." Hattie moved closer as if she couldn't bear to speak such gossip above a whisper. "They say her father caught them fair and square and that there was nothing left for the man to do but marry up in a hurry."

The
marshall
was really getting somewhere now. If he could keep this woman talking, maybe he could find out a way to get Watson.

"Perhaps we might sit in the parlor and discuss it," he suggested.

"Certainly," she said, turning to make her way back through the house. Hattie could feel the
marshall
's eyes on her and she turned to catch him watching her behind with appreciation.

Mrs. Byron had heard it said that Marshall Quick was randy as a goat, but very discreet. This could turn out to be more pleasure than business.

 
CHAPTER
 
16

«
^
»

T
he early train from
Muskogee
to Sallisaw was not crowded, but it made frequent stops to deliver mail and pick up milk and eggs from local farmers.

Henry Lee and Hannah sat together, not touching, both lost
in
the sober recollections of the night before. For all the laughing that was done the previous night, the situation wasn't nearly so funny this morning.

Her head splitting and her eyes blurry, Hannah felt worse than she'd ever imagined possible. Her stomach had been squeamish the night before; after an abrupt emptying of its contents this morning, she felt hollow and achy.

When Henry Lee had awakened her this morning, she'd felt as if her eyelids were nailed shut. She had vivid recollections of the previous evening and she was shocked at her own behavior. Who would have thought that such a small amount of that clear, innocuous-looking liquid could make one act so strange, or feel so bad the next day?

Her behavior, both in public and later in that darkened alley, was personally embarrassing and morally inept. She was the churchgoer, she should be setting an example for her husband. Instead, she proved to be no match for the temptations of the flesh, dancing and drinking. She had wanted to prove herself as sophisticated as a woman he might have chosen on his own. How could she forget that her best features were her strong back and God-fearing heart? She had ignored every lesson her father had ever taught her, defiling her body with demon liquor and degrading herself by her wanton behavior.

Humiliated and ashamed, she decided that a good lesson had been learned. Never again would she compromise with the ways of the flesh. She would remain stalwart and controlled. Now that she was personally versed in the evils of corn liquor, she would use that knowledge to work for temperance in the territory.

Henry Lee was feeling as much regret as Hannah. After the ironic hilarity of the night had passed, he had been chillingly aware that he had placed his wife in danger.

The thought that she might have been taken into custody brought on a cold sweat. A woman like Hannah should never see the inside of a jail. And what would she have said going up before the judge? She knew nothing of the whiskey business, she would be totally innocent. And because of her ignorance, totally humiliated. He shuddered at the thought.

But he gave himself no pats on the back for getting her away, either. Dragging her across rooftops and through alleyways in the middle of the night was dangerous. What if she had tripped and fallen? She might have injured herself, or the baby! What kind of man would put his woman in such a situation? A worthless no-account, he answered himself, eaten up with remorse.

He turned to look at her sitting so stiffly beside him. He had vowed to love and protect her, no matter that it wasn't his idea. No one could have made him marry her if he hadn't been willing. He had wanted to have a decent woman for a wife, but he had proved unworthy of the gift.

Hannah looked pale, drawn, and weary. A wave of unexpected tenderness washed through him. He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him.

"Just rest here against me," he said as she started to pull away. "You look so tired, you need a little nap to begin the day."

"I am so ashamed of the way I acted," she confessed. "I wanted to impress you with how sophisticated and citified I could be."

She hid her face in the front of his shirt, not able to face him squarely and riddled with guilt. Confession was good for the soul, it was said. She intended to be honest about her behavior.

"Mr. Harjo told me that other ladies that you escorted in the past drank intoxicating beverages, and I wanted to prove to you that I was not a bit less worldly than they."

Hannah couldn't see Henry Lee's smile. He was surprised that she chose to apologize. He had expected her first concern to be his part in the liquor raid. But it pleased him that she was willing to go against her own upbringing to try to get his attention.

"Hannah," he whispered gently. "I haven't a thought for any of my former companions. None of them could hold a candle to you, of that I'm sure." He squeezed her shoulder lightly hoping to reassure as well as comfort her.

"Henry Lee, when I think of how embarrassed you must have been, having the
marshalls
chasing us."

Henry Lee stiffened, waiting for her reaction to the
marshalls
and his obvious involvement in the raid.

Hannah gave a ladylike sniff, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened. "When I think that you might have been arrested and taken to jail because I, so foolishly, wanted to try to pretend that I am something that I'm not. When I think of that, Henry Lee, I just don't know how you can forgive me."

Henry Lee held her in silence for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. Obviously, she thought the whole chase was over her quart of corn liquor. It was more evidence of how naive she was about the whiskey business, and made him feel even worse. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to make her understand. It was important to him that she did. There should be no lies between a man and his wife. He would be honest with her at last. But today was not the day.