Rapture's Tempest (43 page)

“Tell Renee that I’ve come, please,” she ordered regally as she handed the maid her coat.

“Yes ma’am, Miss Annabelle.”

Annabelle stood for a moment in the hall foyer before walking casually into the parlor.

Dorrie, who’d been at the back of the house, heard the door and went to investigate. She came face-to-face with Anna-belle before Renee came downstairs.

“Dorrie…my poor child.” Annabelle hugged her, leaving Dorrie totally stunned. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss,” she claimed dramatically. “And I am just so upset…Jim…why did this have to happen to him?”

“Annabelle…” Dorrie tried to interrupt her to find out what she was talking about.

“No, don’t say a word. I know Jim was engaged to another, but I loved him so…” Annabelle’s eyes filled with tears that were most convincing, and for a moment Dorrie almost believed that she had really cared for her brother. “How could this have happened?”

“Annabelle?” Renee’s voice came to them as she started down the staircase.

“Oh, Renee…darling, I’m so sorry. I know that you loved him almost as much as I did…” She embraced her.

“Annabelle…” Renee didn’t understand what was going on. “Annabelle, dear, what are you talking about?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?” Annabelle was suddenly cautious. How could they not have been told?

“Heard what?” Dorrie asked, confused.

“The
Enterprise
…and Jim…we just found out this morning. It’s all so tragic…so unnecessary…” she sobbed.

Renee put an arm about her shoulders and seated her on the sofa. “Annabelle. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

Dabbing at her eyes with her lace handkerchief, Annabelle related what Wade had told them. “The word came that the
Enterprise
had burned, and that Jim and Mark had both been killed…”

Renee gave Dorrie a helpless look and then sat down to take Annabelle’s hand. “There was an explosion on board and the boat was lost, but Jim and Mark were not killed.”

“What?” A look of surprise crossed Annabelle’s face…one that Renee mistakenly took for happiness.

“They’re fine.”

“But they weren’t among the survivors.”

“No. They haven’t come back yet. The
Enterprise
was attacked by guerrillas, and Jim and Mark went after them.”

“They did?” Annabelle was nervous. They were alive? “Oh, thank God, they’re still alive…” She played the part to perfection; but all she could think of was getting the news back to Wade as fast as possible. “I just couldn’t bear it when I’d heard that Jim had been killed. Even though our engagement was over…”

“He’ll always care for you, Annabelle. You know that.” Renee patted her hand. “And I’m sure he’ll be grateful to know that you cared enough to come here today…”

“Thank you, Renee…Dorrie.” Annabelle rose to leave. “I hope I didn’t disturb you too much…”

“Nonsense.” Renee hugged her and then walked to the door with her.

“I’m so glad he’s all right,” Annabelle said once more, with all the sincerity she could muster.

“I know dear. Take care.” Renee watched her go and then turned back to Dorrie. “See. I told you Annabelle really loved Jim.”

“Maybe.” Dorrie was not totally convinced. “But then again, maybe she was just being ghoulish…”

“Dorrie!”

She shrugged. “I could be wrong, but there’s still something about her that I don’t like.”

“Well, we’re not going to talk about Annabelle anymore. There’s no point, anyway.”

“Thank heaven,” Dorrie remarked, but Renee chose to ignore her.

Annabelle practically ran all the way home. She flew up the steps and threw open the front door, rushing madly inside.

“Father!” she yelled, searching frantically for him in the parlor and the study. “Father! Where are you?”

The maid came from the back of the house. “Miss Anna-belle. Your father went out for a while. He said he’d be home in about an hour.”

“Damn!” Annabelle cursed, standing helplessly in the middle of the hall. Then, deciding on a plan of action, she went into the study to write out a note. Giving it to the maid, she instructed, “I want this delivered to Major MacIntosh right away. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. See to it.”

Taking off her coat, she threw it on a chair and went to the liquor cabinet to pour herself a drink. Things hadn’t worked
out as they’d planned, and they were going to have to be very careful.

It was almost a half an hour later when Wade finally arrived. Annabelle let him in. “What is it?” he demanded, angry at having been summoned while he was on duty.

“I went to the Westlakes’, just like we’d planned…”

“A n d? ”

“And Jim Westlake is very much alive.”

“What?”

“Your friend, Mark Clayton is, too.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Renee told me that they didn’t come back with the survivors because they were too busy chasing after the guerrillas who’d attacked the boat!”

Wade cursed under his breath. “What else did she have to say?”

“Nothing else as important as that.” Annabelle was frightened. “What if they catch them? We’ll be exposed…”

“I have to talk to your father. When is he due back?”

“Any time now.”

“I can wait a few minutes, but not much more. Fix me a drink, while I try to figure this out.”

Annabelle poured him a straight bourbon and took it to him where he sat on the sofa. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. It all depends on how much Tyndale told the guerrillas. If they don’t know who we are, we’re safe. But if he used any names and the guerrillas reveal them, we’re going to have to get out of town, and fast.”

Annabelle rushed into the hall as she heard her father come in. “Wade’s here, and he needs to talk to you.” She drew him urgently into the parlor.

“What is it, my dear? You look positively pale.”

“It’s Jim, Father. He wasn’t killed in the attack.”

“Then where is he?” Nathan was instantly worried.

“He and Mark Clayton both went after the guerrillas,” Wade finished solemnly.

“Oh, no.”

“I need you to get in touch with Gordon Tyndale and find out how much those guerrillas know about us. If Westlake catches up with them and they tell everything they know, we could be in serious trouble.”

“I’ll go see him right away.”

“Good. I’ve got to get back on duty, but I’ll stop by later.”

“Hopefully, I’ll have some reassuring news for you then.” Nathan tried to sound optimistic. “As any good informer knows, one doesn’t reveal his sources.”

“Yes,” Wade said sarcastically. “But just how ‘good’ of an informer is Gordon Tyndale?”

And the question remained unanswered until late that night when Nathan returned from his meeting with Gordon.

“Well? What did you find out?” Wade asked anxiously. He had come back to their house after he’d gotten off duty to await Nathan’s findings.

Annabelle looked up nervously. “Father?”

Nathan gave them a reassuring smile. “Everything is going to be just fine. No names were exchanged. All contact between them was handled anonymously.”

“Thank God!” Annabelle breathed, and Wade looked openly relieved.

“Well, all we have to do now is play it safe. We know for a fact that Mark thought I was involved in something, but with Sam Wallace out of the way there’s no proof.”

“Good. Let’s keep things quiet now. We don’t want to give them any excuse to look in our direction. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Wade felt the tension ebb from him. “Let’s have a drink. I need one. This afternoon took its toll on me.”

Marshall and George carried Jim as carefully as they could out to the wagon that next morning and laid him in the back on some straw and blankets. He was wearing the same shirt he’d had on the night of the explosion, but the rest of his apparel had been greatly altered. It had been impossible for him to wear
anything on his injured thigh, so Delight had cut off the leg on the extra pair of pants that Marshall had brought along. Jim had managed to get them on, but the result was a bit drafty, and he was more than a little vocal about his dislike of the new style.

Luckily, there had been no more rain, and the roads were drying out as they headed back toward New Madrid. The ride was rough, and more than once Jim had to grit his teeth against the jarring pain, but finally, by late that afternoon, they made it into town. The trip had so exhausted Jim that they decided to wait until the following day to continue their trip home. Taking rooms at the hotel for the night, everyone retired early in anticipation of catching the northbound steamer that was due in town near dawn.

Mark stood on the deck of the steamboat watching as the St. Louis riverfront came into view. He was back, at last. He’d done some serious thinking on the way home, and he knew exactly what course of action he was going to take. With a determination that was not to be denied, Mark Clayton left the ship intent on finding the responsible parties and exacting his revenge.

The day was warm and bright, and the sweet, heavy scent of spring was in the air. Walking slowly down the promenade deck with Marshall, Delight’s manner was relaxed and easy.

“I want to thank you again for buying this dress for me,” she told him gratefully.

“I was just glad that the seamstress in New Madrid had one close enough to your size that we could buy. I didn’t think you’d want to head home in those same old boy’s clothes.”

“You’re right about that. They served their purpose, but I definitely needed a change.” After the long, hard days she’d spent wearing pants, the soft cotton day gown made Delight feel very much a woman.

“How’s Jim feeling?” he inquired as they paused at the railing to enjoy the passing scenery.

“He got his first good night’s sleep since the explosion last night, and it did wonders for him.”

“Is he resting now?”

Delight nodded. “He was when I came out on deck.”

“Well, a couple of days in bed and he’ll be as good as new.” Marshall was pleased with the news.

“What time are we going to be arriving in St. Louis tonight?”

“We should be there by ten or so. It just depends on how many stops we make on the way.”

“Good. I know Jim is in a hurry to get back.” She let the sentence drop as her eyes clouded with concern.

“Don’t worry, Delight. Everything will work out.”

“How can you be sure? If the spies were organized enough to plan and carry out this attack…won’t they know that you’re looking for them?”

“They may or may not know that Martin came to us. If they don’t, we might be able to catch them unawares. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, they’ll disappear, and we’ll never find out who did it.” She looked determined. “We have to locate Martin and force him to tell us everything he knows.”

“Mark’s working on that right now,” Marshall assured her. “And by the time we get back, hopefully he’ll have the information we need.”

“All right, Captain Clayton. Sit down.” General Fields, Mark’s commanding officer, looked up at him assessingly. “Now. I want to know exactly what happened.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark replied respectfully and sat down at the chair placed strategically in front of the massive desk.

Mark knew an accounting to his superiors was due, but he just wished it could wait until he’d had the time to locate Martin Montgomery. General Fields, however, had other ideas. He had somehow known the moment Mark had arrived back in town and had sent for him immediately. Mark hadn’t even had time to clean up. He was controlling his frustration at being there with great difficulty. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the day going over everything that had happened. Montgomery was the key to the entire operation, and he had to go after him.

“I’m waiting, Captain.” General Fields sat patiently as Mark gathered his thoughts.

“We shipped out on schedule, sir, early Thursday morning. As you know, there had been a slight breach of security, so we doubled the guard.”

“By a breach of security, you mean the fact that it was known that the Westlake Line was carrying the gold?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on.”

“We rearranged the shipping schedules to keep everything off balance, and we sent guards on every run, so it wouldn’t be obvious when the gold did go.” As the general nodded, Mark continued. “We had a safe run as far as the wooding station north of New Madrid. The guerrillas, in disguise, had taken over the station. We wooded up with no problem, but as we were pulling out there was an explosion on board.”

“A n explosion?”

“They must have planted some explosives. Anyway, the steamer caught fire, and as my men tried to evacuate…” Mark choked as he remembered vividly exactly what had happened. “There were sharpshooters on the hillside.”

“Where were you at this time, Captain?”

“On the main deck, I had been supervising the loading with Captain Westlake. When the blast occurred, he was thrown overboard and I was trapped unconscious under the debris.”

“And who rescued you?”

“Captain Westlake, sir, and his pilot, Walter.”

“Continue,” the general ordered imperiously.

“After I came to, I found out that the Rebs had stolen the gold. So I took what weapons I could find and went after them.”

“Did you go alone?”

“No, sir. Captain Westlake went with me.”

“Why didn’t you send for help, Captain?”

“There wasn’t time, General. It was raining and I was afraid the trail would wash out. Besides, it seemed to me at the time that the element of surprise was on my side. I was certain that the guerrillas thought we were all dead, and I had hoped that they would not be expecting anyone to give chase.” Mark paused, taking a deep breath.

“And did you find them?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It was storming so badly that they had holed up and Jim—Captain Westlake—and I weren’t aware of it.” Mark touched his head. “We’re lucky we’re still alive.”

“Did you get a look at any of them?”

“No, sir.”

“Where is Captain Westlake now?”

“He was more seriously wounded than I was. He had to remain behind for a few days until it was safe for him to travel. His father and brother were the ones who found us.”