My Reaper's Daughter (22 page)

inside his slicker with the other. “And I brought a small treat for our little lady over

there who I hear has had a bad old cold.” He brought out a small brown paper bag and

held it out to Valda.

Valda laid her dolly aside and came over to take the offering. She smiled shyly then

opened the bag. Her eyes grew wide. “Peppermint sticks, Mama!” she exclaimed,

extracting one of the red and white confections. “Mama, look!”

“What do you say?” Mystery prompted.

“Thank you, Mr. Tony!”

“My pleasure, milady,” Anthony responded.

“May I offer something to warm you up, Mr. Simmons?” Mystery asked.

For a brief moment Anthony Simmons’ eyes turned molten gray but he shook his

head. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t stay, Mystery. I want to check on Aunt Zettie. I’ve

got my healer with me.”

Mystery’s smile slipped. “She’s fading fast, I’m afraid. I sat with her last evening

and I’m making a pot of chicken soup to take over later this morning.”

“You are an angel, milady,” Anthony said. He gave her a look that no woman could

have misinterpreted and when she blushed and looked away, he cleared his throat and

reached for the door handle. “If you need anything, just send word.”

Mystery nodded unable to look up at him. “I appreciate it, sir.”

“Tony,” he said softly.

A quiver ran through Mystery and she lifted her head to look right into her visitor’s

pale gray eyes. What she saw there brought her hand to her bodice. “Mr. Simmons, I…”

“Tony,” he repeated. “And if it would not be too presumptuous of me, I would like

the honor of calling upon you once this foul weather passes over.”

“C-Calling upon
me
?” she whispered, her fingers plucking at her high-buttoned

collar.

Anthony straightened his shoulders. “Milady, I have never entertained bigotry or

dwelt overly long on class or race distinction if that is a deterrent to you regarding me

as a possible suitor,” he stated.

Mystery’s eyes widened. “Suitor?” she repeated with a slight gasp. At his emphatic

nod, a crease formed along her forehead. “But we’ve only just met a few days ago.”

His hand on the handle, he took a step closer to her. “When I see something I want,

Mystery, I let nothing stand in my way of obtaining it. The moment you walked into my

home, I knew I wanted you to be its mistress and to share my life with me.” He started

to put his free hand to her cheek but stopped, glancing at Valda for a moment before

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lowering it. “Forgive me if I am bolder than the gentlemen to whom you are

accustomed but I have been a bachelor too long.”

With that, he nodded formally to her, cast Valda a parting smile and left, closing the

door gently behind him.

Valda pulled the peppermint stick from her mouth with a loud slurp. “What’s a

suitor, Mama?” she inquired.

“What?” Mystery asked, stunned by the turn of events.

“What’s a suitor?”

“A gentleman who comes calling on a lady he wants to marry,” her mother replied.

“Oh pooh!” Valda rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s just plain silly, Mama. Mr. Tony

can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you and Glynnie are gonna get married,” Valda stated, and went back to

her dolly.

“Sweetie,” her mother began, and came over to squat down in front of her

daughter, taking Valda by the arms. “You have to forget about Lord Kullen. He is

hundreds of miles away and we’re not likely to see him again for a long while. If ever.”

“He’ll be here,” Valda declared. “You just watch and see. He will.”

As much as she wished her fanciful, heated dreams could come true, Mystery

was—if nothing else—a practical woman. Though her erotic imaginings were filled

with the handsome Reaper suddenly appearing on her doorstep to take her and Valda

away from their cramped and lonely life, it wasn’t likely to happen. Dreams were one

thing. Reality was another.

Valda sneezed and ran her arm under her drippy nose.

“Valda Butler, don’t you dare do that again!” her mother warned, reaching for a

handkerchief that she held to her daughter’s nose.

* * * * *

Walking beside Healer Atmore who had climbed down out of the buggy to visit

with the elderly woman of color whose cabin was next door to Mystery’s, Anthony

thought of the beautiful woman he had just left. From the moment she had entered his

life he had been unable to get her luscious sensuality from his mind. Her graceful and

refined movements, her ladylike qualities and soft, gentle voice had stayed with him

long after their meeting. Her untimely widowhood had not turned her despondent or

morbid and neither had it caused her to throw herself and her child on the aid of

strangers. Obviously intelligent, the young woman had impressed him with her desire

not to live off the charity of her relatives but to make her own way in the world and

provide for her child. She was a strong, independent woman with a good head on her

shoulders.

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My Reaper’s Daughter

“And what a pretty head it is,” Anthony muttered as he stepped up on Aunt

Zettie’s porch.

“Beg pardon, milord?” Healer Atmore inquired.

“Nothing,” Anthony said. He lifted a hand to the door to knock. He smiled politely

at the young man of color who answered, inquiring, “How’s she doing?”

While Healer Atmore did all he could to make the last hours of the old woman’s life

as comfortable as possible, Anthony stood off to one side, lost in his own musings.

He had every intention of making Mystery Butler his although he knew his fellow

plantation owners might balk at having a woman such as her as legal mate to a wealthy

white man. There would be many a naysayer and bigot to overcome but he had waited

too long for the right woman to come along to ignore the chance for happiness. He

prided himself in being able to see beyond color to the heart and soul of the man and

woman with whom he interacted, and he had seen in Mystery a kindly soul with a

giving nature and an intellect to compliment his own. He had known she was the right

one the moment he had shaken her hand.

“Can I get you something, Mr. Tony?” one of Aunt Zettie’s many daughters asked.

“No, thank you, Adele, but you can tell me what you know of your mother’s new

neighbor,” he replied.

“Mystery?” Adele questioned. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

Anthony smiled. “Would you happen to know her favorite flower?”

* * * * *

It was into a quiet, subdued town that Glyn Kullen and Kasid Jaborn rode that late

Friday afternoon. The sky was boiling dark, the rain slashing, thunder rumbling

ominously, and despite the oppressive heat, every door was shut and shutter drawn

with only slivers of lantern light showing through the cracks. The main thoroughfare of

Charlestown village was deserted. No horses were tied to the hitching posts.

“Now this is the welcome I’m used to,” Glyn commented as they made their way to

the darkened hotel.

“I hope there is room for us,” Kasid replied.

“There always will be even if they have to put somebody else out in the rain.” The

remark was made bitterly as the Reaper reined in before the Beverly House Hotel.

Kasid nodded, dismounted, his boots sinking ankle deep in the mud. He grimaced.

“I will never accustom myself to this infernal sludge.”

“Don’t they have mud where you’re from, Jaborn?” Glyn quipped, lips twitching.

“Mud, aye, but not muck!” Kasid groused. He shook his foot as he stepped up on

the boardwalk then scraped the sole on the edge of a wooden plank.

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Surprised to find the door to the hotel locked, Glyn rattled the doorknob then

knocked loudly. From inside came the shuffle of furtive footsteps then the curtain was

drawn back surreptitiously from the side light beside the door.

“Reapers!” someone gasped, and then the sound of the lock disengaging.

The door was jerked open so quickly, the glass shuttered in its frame.

“Come in, milords! Come in!”

For a reason he couldn’t explain, Glyn’s hand went to the butt of his six-shooter and

he stepped into the hotel carefully, his hawklike gaze moving quickly from side to side

within the perimeter. There was little light but what there was of it showed two men

hovering in a doorway with shotguns cradled in their arms.

“It’s bad times, milords, bad times,” the man who had opened the door hastened to

explain. “People go out and they don’t come back.”

“So we’ve heard,” Glyn acknowledged, only marginally appeased as the men

holding the weapons lowered them. He felt better when they set the guns aside

altogether.

“Lord Kiel is up to Beaumont,” the man, who was obviously the hotel manager,

told them. “He and the constable rode up last night with one of the deputies from up

that way.”

“Something happen up there?” Glyn inquired.

“Found some kind of burial ground they did,” the hotel man said as he lit another

lantern. “It was a bad place I hear tell. A real bad place.”

“How far is Beaumont from here?” Kasid questioned.

“Ten miles as the crow flies,” the hotel owner answered. “Will you be needing

rooms then?”

“Two if you have them,” Glyn replied, and introduced himself and Jaborn to the

owner.

“Max Bowles,” the hotel man said, jerking a thumb to his chest. “That’s my son

Chet and his friend Tray Reynolds.” He hurried behind the counter to get the guest

register. “There’s nobody here but us. People hear about the troubles ’round these parts

and stay away.”

“What’s the count now on missing people?” Glyn queried.

“Near to twenty that we know about,” Bowles told him. “That doesn’t include the

ones who have been murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Four men were found with their hearts cut out,” Bowles said. “Two more were

found split four from Sunday with everything inside them gone. Another three had

their throats cut and all the blood drained out of them.” His voice cracked and tears

filled his eyes behind the thick spectacles he wore. “And they were little babies.”

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“Their mamas went out of their minds when them kids were found. Just like them

who ain’t right in the head no more,” Reynolds piped up.

“What do you mean?” Glyn inquired.

Reynolds shrugged. “People who’ve lost their minds, milord.” He glanced at Chet.

“I guess there’s about a dozen or so who are just plain addled. Don’t know how else to

say it.”

“They’ll walk right by you like they don’t see you,” Chet said, eager to join in the

conversation with the infamous lawmen. “Don’t talk no more, don’t recognize their

kinfolk or have sense enough to come in out of the rain.”

“You’ll see them walking out there without benefit of coat or hat,” Bowles injected.

“Just staring straight ahead of them. Gives you the willy-creeps, you know?”

“They walk stiff like a corpse would,” Chet stated.

“Their eyes are dead anyway,” Reynolds said with a shudder. “Dead, dead eyes

that look right through a man.”

Glyn and Kasid frowned at one another before Glyn asked if the hotel man thought

Phelan would be back that night.

“I don’t know, milord. I guess it depends on what he found up that way.”

After getting the keys to their rooms, the Reapers asked for something to tide them

over to supper and a warm bath. After riding all day in the rain, a bath was sorely

needed.

“Just go on up and I’ll call you when we get the tubs filled for you. I’ve got some

baked ham I can stick together with bread and cheese, if that’ll do you?” Bowles

recommended. “I have a girl who comes in to fix our supper, so if you don’t mind plain

fare, we can accommodate you.”

“That’ll do just fine,” Glyn said. “We don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re like Lord Phelan in that regard,” Bowles said with a grin. “Not that we get

to see him all that much here. He has a place outside town but he spends his free time at

Sagewood with Mr. Tony.”

“That’s what we’ve heard,” Glyn mumbled. “How far is Sagewood?”

“About three miles east of here on the river. Best plantation in these parts.”

“We might head up that way if Lord Kiel isn’t back come morning,” Glyn observed.

He turned to go then stopped and looked around. “Do you know a woman named

Mystery Butler?”

Bowles scratched his chin. “Can’t say that I do. Is she from ’round here?”

“That’s Dawson Dupree’s baby sister, isn’t it?” Reynolds asked. “Just came back

from out west somewheres?”

“Has a little girl with her?” Glyn asked.

“That’s the one,” Reynolds acknowledged.

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“I know who you mean,” Chet ventured. “She’s working with Miss Laverne out at

the school. We used to go hunting with Odell. You remember him, Pa. Got himself

killed by a rogue. That was her husband.”

“Oh aye,” Bowles said, smacking a hand to his forehead. “Now you mention it, I do

know the girl. Haven’t seen her since she’s been back, but you’d think with a name like

that I would have remembered her.”

“Do you know where I can find her?” Glyn asked. “Does she live here in town?”

“No, milord,” Reynolds answered, shaking his head. “The Duprees all live out at

Sagewood.”