The Scoundrel's Bride (12 page)

Talk at the table turned to the healings that had occurred that evening. Morality’s eyes and voice both began to sparkle as she displayed the zeal of a true believer. The woman should be on stage, Zach thought, his appetite disappearing.

“Isn’t my uncle wonderful?” Morality said, beaming at Sam Rankin.

“I almost fell out of my chair when I saw Lilly Mae Harris stand up,” Sam replied. “Her rheumatism has prevented her from walking for nearly three years now. I’ve never seen such miracles as you performed tonight, Reverend Harrison.”

“Praise God.” Harrison nodded, accepting the tribute as his due. “We did enjoy a successful night. Our prayers must have soared right to the Lord’s ears.”

Zach scowled at his boiled squash and muttered beneath his breath, “Something took to flying, all right. Those poor folks were higher than the top of an East Texas pine.”

Morality’s gaze shifted toward him, and he met it with a belligerent one of his own. Had she heard him? At that moment, he didn’t really care. Listening to Harrison had him riled, and if not for his own scam, he’d stand up and denounce the sharper here and now.

There was an edge to Morality’s voice as she asked, “Mr. Burkett? You had something you wished to say?”

He chewed his food much longer than necessary before he answered. “This squash would’ve been a mite better with a pinch of sugar added.”

She dismissed him with a look, turning back to Sam Rankin and saying, “I wish you could have seen the miracles my uncle performed in South Texas. One night he healed twenty-seven people!” She launched into an accounting of various bone breaks, croups, and cancers.

The bite of pecan pie Zach stabbed with his fork might as well have been lemon, so sour did it taste. For the next five minutes he sat there listening to the woman go on and on, one outlandish story after another. A few times Harrison joined in, pointing out the correlation between financial donations and the number of healings. By the finish of a tale involving two children and their rheumatic grandfather, Zach had listened to all he could stomach.

“Miss Brown,” he said, deciding to begin his campaign here and now. “I’m afraid I’m filled to overflowing with your…chicken. I find I need to stretch my legs. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a walk around the courthouse?” Reading her refusal in her eyes, he quickly added, “It’s such a
beautiful
evening and I’d hate to miss an
opportunity
to learn more about your uncle’s ministry. I imagine I
could
speak with him, discuss the revelations I enjoyed this morning…?”

Refusal transformed to certain retribution as she picked up on his threat. “Certainly, Mr. Burkett.”

“Mr. Burkett,” Harrison interjected, a frown dimming his smile. “My niece is not allowed to take unchaperoned walks in the moonlight with gentlemen not of her family.”

“I understand completely, Reverend Harrison.” Turning to Patrick, he said, “Come on, squirt. You need a walk to work down your supper and give yourself room for another slice of Miss Morality’s delicious pecan pie.”

“I don’t think—” Harrison began.

Morality interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Reverend Uncle. We’ll take a short walk, that’s all.”

Zach bowed like a gentleman and said politely, “After you, my lady.”

She gave him a look of pure disdain, then swept regally from the room, Patrick at her heels, with Zach bringing up the rear. Once in the hallway, Zach grabbed Patrick’s shirt. “Whoa, there, son. I want to have a private word with Miss Morality. I’d like you to wait downstairs until I come get you.” When the boy started to protest, he added, “There’s five pups, and I’d appreciate your picking out some names for ‘em.”

Positioning himself to block Morality’s view, Zach reached into his pocket and withdrew the deck of cards he’d saved for a time like this. His voice low, he added, “You can practice your dealing while you’re at it.”

Patrick stared quizzically at the cards. “Where did you get these?”

“Let’s say a bird told me where to find them.”

“How…?” The boy’s eyes widened with recognition, and his lips formed a silent
O
. “The drunk?”

Zach winked and turned to Morality. The storm clouds on her face accused him of making a tactical error with his blackmail, but he wasn’t overly worried. A thin line existed between anger and passion of a more enjoyable sort. Zach had every intention of crossing that line tonight.

Grabbing Morality’s arm, he guided her toward the stairway. She tried to pull from his grasp when he led her up the steps instead of down.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’ve a notion to watch the stars.”

“You told my uncle we’d take a walk.”

Zach opened his mouth to say “I lied,” but thought better of it. “We’ll do that after we watch the heavens. You ought to like that, Morality, isn’t heaven right up your alley? Besides, we have a few matters to discuss and I don’t want that evangelical outlaw finding us should he come looking.”

“Evangelical outlaw? Why, Mr. Burkett!” She said his name like a curse. “How dare you talk that way about my uncle? Surely you realize your soul is at risk for speaking ill of a man of God.”

“Forget it, angel,” he said, reaching the top floor of the courthouse. “I’ve got the goods on your ‘man of God.’ ”

“What do you mean?” She planted her feet, trying unsuccessfully to halt their progress.

Zach set his teeth against the words he wanted to say, knowing full well that seduction and accusation didn’t mix. At the door that led to the tower, her sudden rigidity caused him to pause.

“I can’t do this. Please. Heights make me dizzy.”

Right
. That’s why the first time he’d seen her, she’d been climbing a tree. Zach tugged her on, annoyed at her resistance. “Heights, miracle bread, what’s the difference?” he groused. “You should be used to it.”

The square clock tower was tall and narrow and divided into upper and lower sections by a wooden floor. A ladder provided access to the clockworks in the upper portion. Zach’s ultimate destination was the lower half, where four arched openings overlooked the flickering lights of Cottonwood Creek.

The chill of the fresh night air obviously hadn’t helped to cool Morality’s temper. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she huffed and puffed, appearing to gather steam for another assault on his ears.

Aware he’d unwisely allowed his tamper to direct his actions, Zach decided to launch an offensive of his own for the purpose of making up lost ground. He reached across the space separating them and laid his index finger against her lips. “Hush, now, angel,” he said in a low rumble. He slowly traced first her lower lip, then her upper, with his finger. “I want to make you dizzy, Morality. I want to make you melt. Forget about your uncle. Think of me. Think of you and me together.”

Her eyes flew open, rounded like the moon. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“What am I doing?”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of revelry coming from a lower floor. “You make me…feel.”

He stepped closer. “Feeling is good, angel.” He inhaled her fragrance, heard the rasp of her breath. Her lids grew heavy, her eyes soft, and Zach was caught in the web of his own seduction. He lifted his hand to caress the curve of her cheek, but she backed away, shaking her head.

“No. My uncle says—”

With desire running hot and heavy in his loins, Zach had little patience for such a protest. “I don’t want to hear what your uncle has to say about anything. It’s just you and me here now, angel. Leave that charlatan out of it.”

Immediately, he knew he’d made another mistake. Her chin came up, her shoulders went back, and the heat in her eyes changed from yearning to fury. “Stop it! Stop calling him names. He’s a messenger of the Lord, and the things you are saying are evil.”

Frustration goaded Zach’s words. “I’m saying evil things, am I? Well, I reckon it’s a whole helluva lot better to say them than to do them! I’m on to your game, you know.” Throwing caution to the wind, he sneered, “I know about the ‘miracles.’ ”

She tried to push past him but he caught her arm. “You’re gonna stop doing them, Morality Brown. Not another one. You understand me?”

Morality’s scornful, scathing tone filled the small chamber. “What is it, Mr. Burkett? Are you afraid my uncle has upstaged you? Oh, the townspeople might have been caught up in your display at first—the bloody palms were effective in helping make your point—but once Reverend Uncle began to perform his healings, they forgot all about you, didn’t they? Your efforts paled in comparison to my uncles miracles!”

“That’s enough!” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Dammit, woman. I told you I know all about it! I know he’s not curing those poor souls.” The blaze in Zach Burkett’s eyes could have burned through metal as he stared at her and shouted, “He’s drugging them!”

CHAPTER SIX

“I KNOW IT’S THE bread, Morality.” Zach loomed over her and spoke in a near whisper, somehow more threatening than a shout. “The bread you bake. Tell me, do you grind the seeds yourself or does he give you his own special flour to use for the damn miracle loaves?”

A cold shadow clutched at Morality’s heart. She didn’t want to listen, but she had to ask, “What do you mean?”

“They don’t have to be ground. They could be steeped in water till you have a tea that’ll knock you on your butt.” Scorn dripped from his words as he said, “Are the damn seeds in the water too, Morality? ‘Elixir of Life,’ isn’t that what you call it? ‘Elixir of Death’ would be more like it, don’t you think? Because it messes with people’s minds and makes them think their pain has disappeared when it has only been deadened. What happens when its effects wear off and they realize nothing has changed? Does he tell them they weren’t good enough? They didn’t pray enough? Didn’t pay enough!”

Cold seeped to the core of her bones. “Stop it, stop it now! How dare you say such a thing, Zach Burkett. You are a bastard!”

“Damn right I am,” he snapped. “And so is your uncle. I’ll bet my mother’s music box I’m right on the mark. The miracle loaves and elixir y’all pass out at the revival meetings are spiked with the product of morning-glory seeds.”

He paused, taking a deliberate breath. “Can you deny it, Miracle Girl? Have you killed anybody with ‘em yet? Are you a killer just like me?”

She slapped him, hard. Zach stood there and took it. Staring at her. Not moving a muscle. Accusing her with his silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was as soft as the night wind. “We both know I’m right.”

“No! You lie! You’re a liar! You admitted it!”

“I’m not lying now, angel, and you know it.”

The distant barking of a dog and the sounds of conversation from the meeting room downstairs filled the sudden silence between them. After a few moments, Zach held out his hands, palms up. “Look, I won’t tell anyone. I just want it stopped. Immediately. Harrison needs your help to put this scam over, so quit helping him. Go
plant
those morning-glory seeds, Morality Brown. Make something pretty out of something ugly.”

He tilted his head, watching her closely as he added, “I’d like to think you’re not part of this, that you’re simply caught up in something you can’t get out of.”

Morality summoned her strength, lifted her chin, and met his gaze. What kind of man was he that he could say these things? Why would he bother spouting such non-sense? He wanted her to plant her seeds? Well, she’d just do it in his cornfield. It would serve him right. “You can think whatever you like, Zach Burkett, but you don’t know anything. You don’t know my uncle, and you certainly don’t know me.”

He reached out to touch her, but she jerked away. She couldn’t bear his touch. She couldn’t bear the sight of him a moment longer. “Go,” she said, her voice low and furious. “Go now. And stay away from me and my family.”

“Morality—”

“Go!”

He gave her a long look, then said quietly, “Hell. Is it possible you
didn’t
know about this? Could he have kept you in the dark about the seeds? Ah, Morality, are you truly as innocent as you look?” When she didn’t answer, he reached for her again. This time his fingertip gently touched her temple. “Maybe so. It just might be. Talk about blind.”

Morality shivered as he seemed to gaze into her very soul. “Open your eyes, angel. Think about it. You have ten days until the next ‘healing.’ Don’t make me take care of it for you.” He turned to leave, pausing at the door and looking back over his shoulder. “And whatever you do, don’t eat the bread or drink that elixir. Don’t let the boy have any, either.” With that, he left the tower room.

Morality sank to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock slowly back and forth. The wind stirred, flowing in and out of the clock tower.

His words echoed over and over in her mind. Accusations she wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe. Reverend Uncle a charlatan? No. Never. “He’s a soldier of the Lord.”

It wasn’t at all as Burkett claimed. So her uncle gave her special flour for the miracle loaves, that didn’t prove anything. And the seeds, well, it didn’t matter what Reverend Uncle did with them. They couldn’t be harmful.

Zach Burkett was lying. He’d lied before and he was lying now.

But as she sat in the darkness on the hard tower floor, doubt crept past her defenses like a demon.
Patrick got sick after he ate a miracle loaf
.

“No!” she cried aloud. It was coincidence, that’s all. Reverend Uncle would never do such an awful, wicked thing. A person would have to be evil to create false miracles, and the Lord wouldn’t use an evil man to do His works. Morality was certain of that.

She climbed to her feet and gazed out at the lights of Cottonwood Creek flickering below. Dizzy, she swayed, but she clutched the stone sills of the arched opening and watched the light.

That was her proof. She could see the lights because of Reverend Uncle. Her uncle had healed her. She’d been blind, and he’d made her see.

In her heart of hearts she knew that God Almighty wouldn’t give such wondrous power to one unworthy of the gift. Morality inhaled deeply, summoning calm to her soul.