Katie Rose (27 page)

Thomas. Of course.

“My friends and good townspeople, I appreciate your time given this evening to listen to my humble prayer. We have spoken of Christian forgiveness, of understanding, and of human charity between each other. No other town has impressed me with the goodness of its people the way Denver has. No other city can boast of the kind hand of friendship that has been extended to me, a poor traveling preacher.

“I now ask that you extend that same courtesy to one of our brethren, our less fortunate sister, Miss Emily Potter. Miss Potter, who by circumstances and unfortunate family connections, is considered a bit eccentric, but is nevertheless an innocent herself.

She is deserving of your charity, your forgiveness, your Christian friendship.”

A murmur went through the assembled women. Emily’s cheeks grew red. Pushing her way through the crowd, she tried to signal to him to stop, but he ignored her.

“You may well recognize her name. Her father, John Potter, was killed in that house down the road, a beautiful place known as Shangri-La. We all know that that name means paradise. John Potter may have called the house by that name for his own reasons, but I can assure you that it has truly become a paradise. Miss Potter is a wonderful woman, bright, intelligent, and gifted, and a magnificent milliner. Last week, she extended an invitation to the women of this town, an invitation that was rudely snubbed, by almost all of you.”

Tears of humiliation came to Emily’s eyes. Good God, why was he doing this? He wasn’t truly a preacher—he’d admitted that much at least. Why wouldn’t he stop? Yet as she peered at him through the crowd, she noticed that the women, especially ones with young, unmarried daughters, appeared to be affected by what he was saying.

“So I, as a member of this holy profession, am asking you to reach out to this woman, who only sought to brighten your lives. You will find Miss Potter to be a good woman, a woman who will enrich your lives the way … she has enriched mine.”

Emily lifted her head and her breath caught at his words. Thomas’s eyes met hers and Emily knew he
spoke to her. Something in her heart swelled until she felt it would burst, and she bit her lower lip.

“I think if you visit her shop, you will be delighted by her millinery talent, and will enjoy her company. Miss Eleanor Hamill, as well as myself, will attest to Miss Potter’s character. I will consider it not only a personal favor, but a gift to the Lord. Thank you, good people.”

To Emily’s amazement, the crowd began applauding, and the women touched handkerchiefs to their eyes. Dodging behind a water barrel, Emily heard the ladies whisper among themselves that they planned to call on Miss Potter immediately. Embarrassment mixed with pleasure as the women recalled tales of Emily’s deductive brilliance, and the reports of Mrs. Hamill were duly retold. Waiting until they dispersed, Emily approached Thomas with a rueful smile.

“That was an interesting speech, Reverend,” Emily said softly, putting emphasis on the last word.

Thomas grinned. “Think so? Wait until Sunday. I plan to lay it on twice as thick if you don’t have customers by then.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

The words came out simply, but sincerely. Emily’s eyes met his. He nodded, picking up his prayer book from the cracker barrel that had been his makeshift podium, then offered her his arm.

After a moment’s hesitation, Emily took it. Neither one spoke as they started down the path to her home. The silence hung heavily between them until Thomas broke it.

“Emily, I should have thought of a better way to tell you everything, but I couldn’t think of one at the time. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just thought you should know the truth as I see it.”

Emily nodded. “I understand, but it’s so hard to accept that my father was a lying thief as well as everything else—” Her voice broke off, then she looked back at him and held up her hand to indicate a truce. “I think it’s better if we don’t discuss this. But I do want you to know that you were right about one thing. Emmet Colter is onto me.”

“What?” It was Thomas’s turn to look astonished, and Emily quickly relayed what the postal clerk had told her. When she finished, Thomas took her by the shoulders.

“That’s it. Game’s over, Emily. Emmet Colter is a coldblooded killer. He’d think no more of plugging you than he would a rabbit. You’re going home. I don’t care if I have to put you on that train myself.”

Pain welled up inside Emily, surprising her with its intensity. He didn’t want her. She didn’t know why she was taken aback by his reaction, for it was no different than what he’d said all along. But now, after last night, she wanted something different.

Looking directly at him, Emily took a deep breath and held her ground. “I’m sorry, Thomas, but I’ve told you before. That’s out of the question.” Before he could argue, she rushed on. “Think about it. If Emmet Colter really thinks I have two million dollars, I hardly expect that there is any place I’d be safe. And to run would suggest that I have something
to hide, namely that I’ve found the money. My life wouldn’t be worth a pittance.”

“But you would be safer—”

“No safer than here. I’m sorry if I’ve become inconvenient for you, Thomas, but this is now my home and I intend to stay. Rosie did warn me that men sometimes wanted their mistresses out of the way, but I didn’t listen, and that’s my fault.”

“Rosie?” Thomas asked in confusion, then his voice turned hard. “Surely you can’t think—”

“It is my privilege to think whatever I want,” she said primly. “But all of this is beside the point. I’m not leaving. I’m going to Greeley to warn Bertie Evans. I thought we could go tomorrow—”

“We?” Thomas’s fingers tightened on her arms. “Emily,
we
are not going anywhere. You are going to run your shop, like a good little milliner, and I will see to Bertie.” When Emily opened her mouth to protest, he placed a finger against it. “No buts. Emily, I refuse to discuss this. It’s my way or no way.”

“But I have to interview her! She’ll tell me more than she’ll tell you!”

“Emily, I am investigating this case the same as you. Besides, after my little speech today, you will probably be deluged with customers tomorrow, out of curiosity, if nothing else.”

Her frustration was apparent. She looked like a bottle of shaken sarsaparilla beer, ready to explode. Thomas chuckled in spite of himself, and softly touched her cheek. “I promise to give you a full report when I get back. Remember, even Holmes trusted Watson to interview suspects occasionally.”

“I know.” Emily had to give him that one. “But Rosie thinks—”

“Emily, why do you keep insisting that you can speak to this dead bordello girl? This is incredibly surprising, especially from you.”

Emily stood on the porch, her eyes taking his measure. Then she made a decision. Taking Thomas’s hand, she pulled him toward the house. “I think it’s time you two met.”

“You don’t have to do this—”

Thomas protested in vain as Emily dragged him up the stairs. It was all he could do not to gawk at the lurid parlor as they passed through, especially with the fantasies that refused to leave his mind. Watson meowed, leaping out of their way. Heedless, Emily hauled him into her bedroom, then lit the candle on the dressing table.

“Now watch. Rosie! Thomas is here. He wants to say hello.”

The gilt mirror hung before them, a magnificent creation of ornate gold frame and silver glass. Thomas and Emily looked expectantly at their reflections.

“Rosie?” Emily called again.

Nothing.

Stamping her foot in frustration, Emily turned to Thomas. “But she is here! She’s in the glass! I can feel her even now!”

“Emily.” Thomas took her in his arms in an attempt to soothe her, but Emily pulled away.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Let’s just say I’m skeptical. You’ve been working very hard, and in a strange house like this—”

“Thomas! I’ve seen her, talked to her. She’s been helping me with the case!”

“Emily, it doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. You believe it. That’s all that counts.”

His hand went to her chin, softly caressing the rounded curve. Emily shivered, the delicious feelings rising up in her quickly even at the simple touch. They both suddenly became aware of the bed yawning in the center of the room, looking entirely too available and entirely too enticing. The previous night’s lovemaking was fresh in both their minds, and the room suddenly felt far too small.

“I should go.” Thomas’s hand reluctantly left her face. He waited for a moment, to see if she would object. When she didn’t, he appeared disappointed, then turned quickly, walking toward the door as if afraid he’d change his mind. He stopped only long enough to speak over his shoulder. “I’ll go see Bertie Evans tomorrow, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, put together a list of questions you want answered. I’ll try to get as much out of her as I can.”

Emily nodded, still shivering from desire. She watched him walk out of the room, wanting with all her heart to call him back. Now that she knew the sweet reward that lay in his arms, she only wanted more. Yet the mystery of her father’s death hung over her head like a guillotine, and until she knew what had really happened, she just couldn’t risk making herself any more vulnerable.

Besides, Thomas probably thought she was crazy. Even as the thought formed in her mind, Rosie appeared, her eyes sparkling impishly.

“Rosie! Why didn’t you come when Thomas was here?”

“What and ruin everything?” The phantom giggled. “I thought you two were doing just fine without me, honey.”

“Well, that’s nice. He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

Rosie hastened to reassure her. “I don’t believe he thinks any such thing. So you two have kissed and made up?” The ghost sounded hopeful.

“Not exactly. He tried to make me go back to Boston.” Emily fought to keep the stinging pain from her voice, but Rosie picked up on it instantly.

“Boston! Why?”

“Emmet Colter knows about me, and isn’t too pleased that I’ve been asking questions. When I told Thomas, he insisted I leave.”

“I see.” Rosie tapped a manicured finger against her cheek, then her smile broadened. “Honey, don’t take that as a sign that he’s not interested in you. Sounds to me like he’s really worried about you.”

“Yes, but after last night, don’t you think …” She let her voice trail off, unable to finish the sentence. She felt like a fool, an unsophisticated child who still expected a glass slipper.

Rosie nodded. “I understand. Don’t feel bad, honey, men just look at these things differently than we do. Thomas wants to keep you safe, and he thinks the best way to do that is to send you back East.”

“Well, I refused,” Emily said flatly. “Worse, I wanted him to take me to see Bertie Evans, but now that he knows about Emmet, he won’t let me come.”

Rosie sighed thoughtfully. “I know you won’t agree with me, but I think that makes sense. You would lead Emmet straight to the woman. You might even cost her her life.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Emily’s eyes grew wide.

“Let the preacher man do the dangerous work. You’re the brains here, after all.”

Emily nodded, brightening at that thought. “Tomorrow I open the shop. It’s so frustrating that I can’t be in two places at once! I’d really like to do more research and see what else I can find out about Emmet. But after Thomas’s little sermon today, I may actually have customers.”

“What sermon?” Emily was so used to the ghost’s presence, she’d forgotten again that Rosie couldn’t “see” what happened outside Shangri-La. She quickly explained the incident in town, and the ghost giggled uproariously.

“Well, if that ain’t the funniest thing! Our preacher man, who ain’t even a preacher, preaching to the choir!”

“Tomorrow is also the meeting of the Ladies’ Sewing Circle. Eleanor promised to introduce me around.”

“Maybe once your business is doing well, you could hire someone to help,” Rosie suggested. “Then you could do two things at once.”

“That’s a thought,” Emily agreed, slipping under the bedclothes. “In fact, that’s a brilliant idea.”

It was late morning when Thomas rode into Greeley, Emily’s words weighing heavily on his mind. Emmet Colter in Denver! He swore aloud, picturing the outlaw with his cruel eyes, peg leg, and menacing smirk. Although he’d never met the man in person, he’d seen enough posters and newspaper drawings to remember his features clearly. That such a man could be after Emily was enough to make his blood run cold.

Perhaps he could persuade her to move into the hotel, at least until things cooled down. Shangri-La, for all its graceful beauty, was dangerous in its isolation. Although the reason for the house’s location was obvious, it still troubled him to have Emily out there alone, except for an imaginary ghost. He had already spoken to the sheriff about protecting her, but the
man simply didn’t have enough help. He could only promise to keep an eye on things. Still, it was better than nothing.

Thomas’s thoughts went back to Emily’s claim that Rosie was haunting the house. The sheriff had made the same comment. Although Thomas had chalked the man’s story up to fancy, Emily was the most logical person he’d ever met.