The Scoundrel's Bride (40 page)

As Stephen Carstairs vacated the witness seat, Jess Tanner nudged Zach’s arm. Zach shook his head, unable to take his gaze off his wife. What was she up to? What could she possibly know? She’d been beaten and blind and in bed the night her uncle died.

The courtroom grew quiet as she took her seat. The clerk brought the Bible for the swearing-in, and for the longest time, Morality sat frozen, staring at the book in the clerk’s hands. Zach watched her chest rise as she inhaled a deep breath. Then slowly, calmly, Morality placed her hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth.

“All right, Miss Morality,” Judge Mills said. “What is it you want to tell us?”

Zach had a sick feeling in his gut as he watched her chin tremble.

Morality’s voice rang loud and clear as she looked the men of the jury in their eyes and said, “Zach Burkett could not have murdered my uncle. He was with me in our bed between the hours of nine and half past eleven the night Reverend Harrison died.”

Zach’s senses reeled. On the witness stand, having laid her hand on the Bible and promised to tell the truth, Morality Brown Burkett had told a lie. For him.

Something inside Zach cracked wide open, rupturing defenses built layer upon layer, year after year. Up through the fault, like the swirling fury of an April tornado, blew the wind of a revelation so powerful it sucked the breath from his body. She lied because she loved him.

And he loved Morality right back.

He struggled to breathe as knowledge burst from his heart. He had loved her for some time now. Probably since that first dance out at his cabin. He loved her spirit and her spirituality. He loved her loyalty, her faithfulness, and her honesty. Oh, God, her honesty.

The second revelation hit him like the smell of soured milk. She had forsaken her most fundamental creed. Morality had stood before God and man and lied. She’d lied for him. To save his life.

Ah, hell, angel
. Zach slowly shook his head, the buzz in his ears drowning out the noise in the courtroom, the questions being asked his wife, everything but the pale, glassy-eyed look on her face.
I’m not worth it
.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MORALITY LICKED HER DRY lips and replied to the prosecutors question. “Yes, I was unable to see that night. But we have a clock on our mantel that chimes every quarter hour. My husband arrived home a few minutes before the bell tolled nine o’clock. I repeat, Zach Burkett did not kill my uncle.”

Her vision had narrowed to a small tunnel through which she saw only the man asking for answers. She didn’t see Zach. She didn’t want to see Zach.

“Did Burkett leave you home alone while he went to murder your uncle?”

Morality lifted her chin. “He
didn’t
murder my uncle.”

The prosecutor smirked. “Were you home alone the night your uncle died?”

“No, Mrs. Eulalie Peabody was staying with me.”

“Can she collaborate your story?”

From her seat among the spectators, Eulalie called out, “I fell asleep before Mr. Burkett came home, Timmy.” The crowd snickered at the widow’s use of the childhood name the prosecutor had abandoned along with short pants. “I can’t rightly say when he came in, but in the morning those two were curled up together like spoons in the silver case.”

As the crowd laughed again, Morality blushed with embarrassment and rocked beneath a wave of profound relief. She’d worried Eulalie might contradict her.

Might catch her in her lie.

Shame sliced deep. “
A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he who speaks lies shall not escape.
” Dear Lord, what had she done?

As if homing in on her insecurity, the prosecutor next questioned her truthfulness by asking about the morning-glory seeds, the veracity of the healings, and her own miracle. Morality drew a shaky breath and replied, “I only learned of my uncle’s use of the morning-glory seeds after his death. I have given the matter much thought and consideration, and while I cannot be certain of his motives, I do believe I have an idea of why he might have acted as he did.”

Truth strengthened Morality, and she leaned forward in the chair and spoke earnestly. “My miracle happened. It was real. I was blind, and through my uncle’s hands, the Lord healed me. I do believe that miracles happened during Reverend Harrison’s revival meetings. It is my thinking that he may have used the seeds to help free the faith of the congregation from demon doubts and disbelief.”

“What does that mean?”

Morality gave the prosecutor a hesitant smile. “I don’t quite know how to explain.” She paused, searching for the words that could convey the convictions of her heart. “Some of the people here today may have experienced a loosening of the tongue from alcohol. I think my uncle may have used the seeds to loosen the doubts that stand as a barrier to total faith. Faith not only moves mountains, it paves the way for miracles.”

“Oh.” The prosecutor appeared at a loss as to how next to proceed. He looked from Morality, to Judge Mills, to the Marston brothers, then back to Morality again. With a shrug, he asked, “Did your uncle have any enemies other than Burkett?”

“My husband was not his enemy. My husband was angry. He believed my uncle had gone too far in his disciplinary efforts. To answer your question, no, I do not know of any man who may have called himself my uncle’s enemy.”

A moment of silence followed, then Jess Tanner rose and said, “Based upon Mrs. Burkett s testimony and considering the exemplary reputation she enjoys, I’d like to move that the charges against my client be dismissed.”

Noise in the courtroom rose as the crowd discussed the motion. One woman’s voice rang out: “No!” Every head in the room turned to look as Henrietta Marston surged to her feet. “Burkett is a killer! You cannot allow him back on the streets. Our children will not be safe!”

A few others jumped to their feet and voiced their agreement with the congressman’s wife. Others called out in support of Zach and Morality. E.J. scowled and tugged his wife back into her seat, then whispered something in her ear.

Jess raised his voice. “Judge Mills, testimony here today has proven my client innocent of the charges levied against him. You have no choice but to dismiss the charges. Otherwise, no matter the outcome here today, I promise I’ll pursue the injustice to the highest court in the land.”

Judge Mills leaned back in his chair and rocked. He looked from the prosecutor, to the jury, then to the Marstons. “Well, under the circumstances, I reckon he’s right. I could get my tit in a wringer.”

“Wait a minute, Judge,” one of the jurors called. “We do get to keep our new shoes, don’t we?”

The judge nodded decisively, then pounded his gavel. “Case dismissed. Burkett, you’re a free man.”

Mr. Tanner slammed his fist against the table, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Zach rose slowly to his feet. His blue eyes burned intently as he stared at Morality and deliberately shook his head back and forth. “No, Judge,” he said, addressing Mills, but never breaking eye contact with her. “I’m not a free man. I’m a married man, bound by word and deed to the most wonderful woman on earth. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Even now, he lies
. A sick sensation crept through Morality like a chilling fog. She remained in her seat as townspeople approached him, all smiles as they shook his hand and clapped him on the back. Twice she heard someone say they’d be around the office soon to buy stock in the Texas Southern. Repeatedly, Zach’s gaze flickered toward her, but Morality didn’t react. She’d gone numb—blessedly, divinely numb.

A proverb kept rolling through her mind. “Bread of falsehood is sweet to a man; But afterward his mouth shall be filled with gravel.” Morality attempted to swallow. Gravel was awfully dry.

The courtroom had for the most part emptied when her husband approached, his hand extended to help her from the chair. “Let’s go home and talk, all right, angel?”

“I’d rather not,” she said quietly.

He gave her a rueful smile. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’m not too sure I want to do it either, but you realize it has to be done.”

She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. Then, swallowing hard, she nodded and rose from the witness chair. Zach put a guiding hand against her back, and she shuddered at his touch. She’d sold her soul to a devil named Zach Burkett.

In her ear, he murmured, “I didn’t kill him, Morality. On my mother’s grave, I’m innocent.”

“I know.”

But his innocence didn’t excuse her sin. Morality gazed up at him with eyes that brimmed with tears. She loved him. Even after all of this, she loved him.

Even now, when she hated herself.

ON THE widow’s walk outside the cupola of Season’s House, high atop the tallest hill in Cottonwood Creek, a figure stood gazing out across the town toward the river-boats lined up along the bayou.

Burkett. Zach Burkett. A bastard who should never have been born. A bastard who should have died twenty years ago along with his slut of a mother. “That’s how I planned it.”

Footsteps thudded against cypress planks as the figure paced the confines of the walk. Flash glass colored to mark the seasons lined the trio of windows on each wall; orange for autumn, blue for winter, green for spring, and red for summer. The figure paused in front of summer’s windows, smiling at the slash of red cast across hands that had performed the devil’s work. “How appropriate.”

These hands would not rest. The menace had yet to be dealt with. Burkett was still alive and his railroad a threat. That was unacceptable.

The figure laid fingers against the blood-red window glass warm with heat from the sun. Devil’s work. How best to accomplish it? How best to deal with the bastard?

After inhaling a deep breath spiced with the aroma of ham baking in the kitchen out back, the figure expelled a sigh and said, “The girl.” Careful observation of the bastard’s face during his wife’s little performance had proven the depth of his feelings for the Miracle Girl.

The figure smiled evilly.
Yes, the girl was the weapon. Wielding her promised great satisfaction.

MORALITY MANAGED to avoid being alone with Zach until well after supper. She’d jumped at Eulalie’s offer of help in gathering hers and Patrick’s belongings from Joshua Marston’s house. Because the Burkett cabin had sat unoccupied while Zach was in jail, the widow had suggested she accompany them home in order to help “spruce the place up.”

“I tidied up some when you were ill, dear, but it needs a thorough cleaning, and I hesitated to disturb you at the time,” she’d said.

The women had worked hard to bring the cabin up to Eulalie Peabody s standards. Morality insisted the widow stay for supper, so it was growing close to dark when Zach took the older woman back to town.

After sending Patrick to bed, Morality restlessly paced the cabin, doing anything to stay busy and avoid thinking about what had happened in court or what might happen upon Zach’s return. Finally, the cabin walls seemed to close in on her, and she decided to take a walk down toward the bayou.

She took a lantern with her, although she didn’t need it. The near full moon climbing in the sky cast a bright, silvery light across the flower-dotted fields. She was stooping to pick a buttercup when Zach’s reproachful voice sounded from behind her.

“Morality, it’s taken me a while to find you. I was beginning to think you’d run off.”

She straightened, but didn’t turn around. “I’d rather not talk tonight, Zach.”

“Fine.” He stepped closer, and a note of steel entered his voice. “You don’t have to talk, but you’re damn well going to listen. When I was in town I stopped and spoke with Jess. Friend that he is, he understands. Morality, we’ve called off the railroad scam.”

Shock stiffening Morality’s spine, she whirled around. “What!”

He bent and scooped a rock from the ground, then lobbed it in a high arc toward the bayou. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Me to give up my revenge on Cottonwood Creek?”

“Yes. But…” Morality didn’t know what to say. A fierce wave of gladness swept through her, even as she questioned his honesty. The timing was terribly suspicious. “Why now? Why now, after years and years of planning, are you willing to give up your scheme on the eve of its fruition? Is this payment, Zach Burkett? For my lie? For your life?”

“Damn, woman. You don’t believe in making anything easy for a man, do you?” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and lifted his face toward the sky. “It’s not payment for anything. I wanted to do it, that’s all, and I figured out a way to make it work. We’ll bring the Texas Southern to town after all. All those people who bought stock—even the sons of bitches who manned my jury—will make a substantial return on their investment. Hell, this might end up actually saving the town.”

“What about Mr. Tanner’s father? And what about Joshua?”

With winter in his voice, he replied, “Don’t stretch it, angel. I’m meeting you halfway here, and you’ll have to be happy with that.”

Morality looked at him. “Who are you, Zach Burkett, and who have you made me? You stand there and tell me you are going to deliberately ruin your father—a man who has been extraordinarily kind to me, I might add—and I’m supposed to be happy about it? You know the worst part?” She lifted her hands in a gesture of futility. “I am. I am glad you’ve decided not to punish Cottonwood Creek, for whatever reason. I accept the fact of this animosity between you and Joshua Marston. And today…today I did something I’d sworn I’d never do. I still can’t believe it! Who have I become?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And you? Do I know you at all?”

Moonlight glinted off his raven hair, and his eyes were like blue fire burning in the night. He stood tall and broad and strong—so handsome he made her ache. And she loved him. God help her, she loved him.

Filled with despair, she finished in a whisper. “They say Lucifer before the fall was the most beautiful of angels.”

The anguish in her voice plunged a knife of regret into Zach’s heart. “I didn’t want you to do it, Morality. I wish you hadn’t—it kills me to see you this way.”