Twin of Ice Page 3

  She could hardly wait to tell her friends about the meeting, and how he’d asked if she knew which house was his. Perhaps she should have volunteered to measure his windows and order his curtains. That way she’d get to see the inside of his house.

  She was smiling to herself when a hand suddenly caught her upper arm and roughly pulled her into the shadowy alleyway behind the Chandler Opera House. Before she could scream, a hand clamped down on her mouth, and she was pushed against the stone wall. With frightened eyes, she looked up at Kane Taggert.

  “I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just wanted to talk to you, and I could see you wasn’t gonna say nothin’ in front of them others. You ain’t gonna scream?”

  Houston shook her head, and he dropped his hand but he stayed close to her. She wanted to be calm, but she was breathing quite hard.

  “You’re prettier up close.” He didn’t move but glanced down over her snug green wool suit. “And you look like a lady.”

  “Mr. Taggert,” she said with all the calmness she could muster, “I very much resent being pulled into an alley and held against a wall. If you have something to say to me, please do so.”

  He didn’t move away from her but put one hand on the wall beside her head. There were little lines beside his eyes, his nose was small, and the lower lip visible under his mass of beard was full.

  “How come you stood up for me in that store? How come you reminded that woman about when she fainted in front of me?”

  “I . . . ” Houston hesitated. “I guess I don’t like anyone hurting another person. Mary Alice was embarrassed because she’d made a fool of herself in front of you and you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I noticed all right,” he said, and Houston saw that lower lip stretch into a smile. “Me and Edan laughed at all of ’em.”

  Houston stiffened. “That wasn’t very polite of you. A gentleman should not laugh at a lady.”

  He gave a little snort into her face and Houston found herself thinking that he had especially sweet-smelling breath, and wondered what he looked like when he wasn’t under so much hair.

  “The way I figure it, all them women was carryin’ on so because I’m rich. In other words, they was makin’ whores of themselves, so they wasn’t ladies, so I didn’t have to act like no gentleman and pick ’em up.”

  Houston blinked at his vocabulary. No man had ever used such a word in front of her.

  “How come you didn’t try to get my attention? Ain’t you wantin’ my money?”

  That snapped Houston out of her lethargy. She came to attention and realized she’d been almost lounging against the wall. “No, sir, I do not want your money. Now, I have places to go. Do not ever accost me like this again.” With that she turned on her heel and, as she left him in the alley, she heard him chuckling behind her.

  She realized she was angry when she crossed the wide, dusty street and narrowly missed being run down by a smelly wagon loaded with hides. No doubt Mr. Taggert thought her action this morning was another play for his money.

  Lee said something to her as a greeting but she was too distracted to hear him.

  “I beg your pardon,” Houston said.

  Lee took her elbow and escorted her to the carriage. “I said that you’d better get home now so you can start getting ready for the governor’s reception tonight.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said absently as he led her to his waiting buggy.

  Houston was almost glad when Blair and Lee started arguing again because it gave her time to think about her encounter this morning. It sometimes seemed that all her life she’d been Miss Blair-Houston. Even when Blair was away, out of habit, the name stayed. Yet today someone’d told her she wasn’t at all like her sister. Of course, surely, he was just bragging. He couldn’t actually tell them apart.

  As they were driving west, out of town, she found herself straightening her spine as she saw Mr. Taggert and Edan about to pass them in their dilapidated old wagon.

  Kane pulled the horses to a halt and shouted, “Westfield!” at the same time.

  Startled, Lee halted his horse.

  “I wanted to say good mornin’ to the ladies. Miss Blair,” he said to Blair on the far side. “And Miss Houston,” he said, his voice softening as he looked at her directly. “Mornin’ to you,” he said, then cracked a whip over the heads of his four horses to set them into motion.

  “What in the world was that about?” Leander asked. “I didn’t know you knew Taggert.”

  Before Houston could answer, Blair said, “That was the man who built that house? No wonder he doesn’t ask anyone to it. He knows they’d turn him down. By the way, how could he tell us apart?”

  “Our clothes,” Houston answered too quickly. “I saw him in the mercantile store.”

  Blair and Leander continued talking, but Houston didn’t hear a word that was said. She was thinking about her encounter that morning.

  Chapter 3

  The Chandler house was set on one-half acre of land, with a brick carriage house in back and a latticed grape arbor just off the deep porch that surrounded three sides of the house. Over the years, Opal’d turned the land into a jewel of a garden. Elm trees that she’d planted when the house was new were now mature and shaded the lush lawns and flowers from the moisture-stealing Colorado sun. There were narrow brick pathways, stone statues and birdbaths hidden in the orderly tangle of flowers. Between the house and coach house was a cutting garden, and Opal always kept every room in her house filled with fresh, lovely flowers.

  “All right,” Blair said as Houston bent over a rosebush in the garden at the northwest corner of their property. “I want to know what’s going on.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Kane Taggert.”

  Houston paused for a moment, her hand on a rose. “I saw him in Wilson’s Mercantile and later he said good morning to us.”

  “You’re not telling me everything.”

  Houston turned to her sister. “I probably shouldn’t have involved myself, but Mr. Taggert looked as if he were getting angry and I wanted to prevent a quarrel. Unfortunately, it was at Mary Alice’s expense.” She told Blair about Miss Pendergast’s nasty remarks.

  “I don’t like your getting mixed up with him.”

  “You sound like Leander.”

  “For once, he’s right!”

  Houston laughed. “Perhaps we should mark this day in the family Bible. Blair, after tonight I swear I’ll never even mention Mr. Taggert’s name.”

  “Tonight?”

  Houston pulled a piece of paper from inside her sleeve. “Look at this,” she said eagerly. “A messenger brought it. He’s invited me to dinner at his house.”

  “So? You’re supposed to go somewhere with Leander tonight, aren’t you?”

  Houston ignored the remark. “Blair, you don’t seem to realize what a stir that house has caused in this town. Everyone has tried to get an invitation to see the inside of it. People have come from all over the state to see it, but no one has been invited in. Once, it was even put to Mr. Taggert that an English duke who was passing through should be allowed to stay in the house, but Mr. Taggert wouldn’t even listen to the committee. And now I’ve been invited.”

  “But you have to go somewhere else. The governor will be there. Surely he’s more important than the inside of any old house.”

  “You couldn’t understand what it was like,” Houston said with a faraway look in her eyes. “Year after year we watched the train unload its goods. Mr. Gates said the owner didn’t build a spur line to the house site because he wanted everyone to see everything going all the way through town. There were crates of goods from all over the world. Oh, Blair, I know they must have been filled with furniture. And tapestries! Tapestries from Brussels.”

  “Houston, you cannot be in two places at once. You promised to go to the reception and you must go.”

  Idly, Houston toyed with a rose. “When we were children, we could be in two places at once.�
�

  It took Blair a minute to understand. “You want us to trade places?” she gasped. “You want me to spend an evening with Leander, pretending I like him, while you go see some lecherous man’s house?”

  “What do you know about Kane to call him lecherous?”

  “Kane, is it? I thought you didn’t know him?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Blair, please trade places with me. Just for one night. I’d go another night but I’m afraid Mr. Gates would forbid it, and I’m not sure Leander would want me to go either, and I’ll never get another opportunity like this. Just one last fling before I get married.”

  “You make marriage sound like death. Besides, Leander would know I wasn’t you in a minute.”

  “Not if you behaved yourself. You know that we’re both good actresses. Look at how I pretend to be an old woman every Wednesday. All you have to do is be quiet and not start an argument with Lee, and refrain from talking about medicine and walk like a lady instead of looking like you’re running to a fire.”

  Blair took a long time before she answered, but Houston could see she was weakening. “Please, please, Blair. I hardly ever ask you for anything.”

  “Except to spend months in the house of our stepfather whom you know I detest. To spend weeks in the company of that self-congratulating man I think you intend to marry. To—.”

  “Oh, Blair, please,” Houston whispered. “I really do want to see his house.”

  “It’s just his house you’re interested in, not Taggert?”

  Houston knew she’d won. Blair was trying to act reluctant, but for some reason of her own, she was going to agree. She hoped Blair wouldn’t try to get Lee to take her to the Infirmary.

  “For Heaven’s sake!” Houston said, “I’ve been to hundreds of dinner parties and I haven’t yet been swept off my feet by the host. Besides, there’ll be other people there.” At least, she hoped there would be. She didn’t want to be held against a wall again.

  Blair suddenly smiled. “After the wedding, would you mind if I told Leander he spent an evening with me? Just to see the look on his face would be worth everything.”

  “Of course you may. Lee has a very good sense of humor, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy the joke.”

  “I somehow doubt that, but at least I’ll enjoy it.”

  Houston threw her arms about her sister. “Let’s go get ready. I want to wear something befitting that house, and you’ll get to wear the blue satin Worth gown,” she said enticingly.

  “I should wear my knickerbockers, but that would give it away, wouldn’t it?” Blair said as she followed her sister into the house, a light dancing in her eyes.

  What followed was an orgy of indecision. Houston went through her entire extensive trousseau that had been made for her wedding, in an attempt to find just the right dress.

  At last she settled on a gown of mauve and silver brocade, the low square neck and hem edged with ermine, the short, puffed sleeves made of mauve chiffon. She would hide the dress in a leather valise—Blair was always carrying bags full of oddly-shaped medical instruments—and change at Tia’s.

  She didn’t want to use the telephone for fear someone’d hear her, so she paid a penny to one of the Randolph boys to deliver a message to her friend Tia Mankin, whose house was near the foot of Kane’s drive, that asked her to say Blair was there, should anyone ask.

  Blair started complaining again, acting as if Houston were sending her on an impossible quest. And she wailed for twenty minutes about the tightness of the corset that forced her waist small enough to wear the Worth gown. But when Blair looked in the mirror, Houston saw the sparkle in her eyes and knew she was pleased with how she looked.

  The few minutes they spent in the parlor with their mother and Mr. Gates were a joy to Houston. Blair’s comfortable clothes made her feel quite the tomboy, and she antagonized Mr. Gates to no end.

  And when Leander came, she enjoyed baiting him too. Lee’s reserved coolness, the way nothing she said to him penetrated his superior attitude, began to make her angry and, by the time they reached Tia’s, she was glad to get away from both Lee and Blair.

  She met Tia in the dense shadow of a cottonwood tree and followed her up the back stairs to her room.

  “Blair,” Tia whispered, as she helped Houston to dress, “I had no idea you knew our mysterious Mr. Taggert. I wish I could go with you tonight, and I bet Houston wanted to go too. She loves that house. Did she ever tell you about the time she . . . ? Maybe I’d better not tell.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t,” Houston said. “Now, I must go. Wish me luck.”

  “Tell me about it tomorrow. I want to hear about every stick of furniture, every floor, every ceiling,” Tia said, following her friend down the stairs.

  “I will,” Houston called as she ran up the drive leading to the Taggert house. She hated arriving without a carriage, on foot, like a runaway or a beggar, but she couldn’t risk being denied this opportunity.

  The circular drive led to the front of the house, tall white wings radiating out like arms on each side of her. Around the roof was a railing and she wondered if there were terraces above.

  The front door was white, with two long glass panels in it, and as she peered inside and smoothed her dress, she tried to calm her pounding heart and knocked. Within minutes, she heard heavy footsteps echoing through the house.

  Kane Taggert, still wearing his coarse clothing, grinned as he opened the door for her.

  “I hope I’m not early,” Houston said, keeping her eyes on his face and forcing herself not to gawk at her surroundings.

  “Just in time. Supper’s ready.” He stepped back and Houston had her first look at the interior of the house.

  Directly in front of her, sweeping from both sides, was a magnificent double staircase, a black iron, brass-railed bannister gracefully curving along it. Supporting it, white columns topped with intricately carved headers rose to the high, panelled ceiling. It was a study in white and gold, with the soft electric lights drenching everything in their golden haze.

  “You like it?” Kane asked and was obviously laughing at her expression.

  Houston recovered herself enough to close her gaping mouth. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she managed to whisper.

  Kane puffed up his big chest in pride. “You wanta look around some or eat?”

  “Look,” she said, even as her eyes tried to devour every corner of the hall and stairwell.

  “Come on, then,” Kane said, setting off quickly.

  “This little room is my office,” he said, throwing open the door to a room as large as the downstairs of the Chandler house. It was beautifully panelled in walnut, a marble fireplace along one wall. But in the center of the room was a cheap oak desk, two old kitchen chairs beside it. Papers littered the top of the desk, fell onto the parqueted floor.

  “And this is the library.”

  He didn’t give her time to took longer but led her to a vast, empty room, with golden colored panelled walls inset with empty bookcases. Three large bare areas of plastered wall interrupted the panelling.

  “Some rugs go there but I ain’t hung ’em up yet,” he said as he left the room.

  “And this is what’s called the large drawing room.”

  Houston only had time to look into a large white room, completely empty of furniture, before he showed her a small drawing room, a dining room painted the palest green, then led the way down a hallway to the service area.

  “This is the kitchen,” he said unnecessarily. “Have a seat.” He nodded toward a big oak table and chairs that must have come from the same place as the desk in his office.

  As she took a seat, she saw that there was grease on the table edge. “Your table and desk seem to match,” she said cautiously.

  “Yeah, I ordered ’em all from Sears, Roebuck,” he said as he filled bowls from a huge pot on the cast-iron stove. “I got some more stuff upstairs. Real pretty, too. One of the chairs is red velvet with y
ellow tassels on it.”

  “It sounds like an interesting piece.”

  He put before her a bowl of stew with enormous pieces of meat swimming in grease, and sat down. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

  Houston picked up her big spoon and toyed with the stew. “Mr. Taggert, who designed your house?”

  “A man back East, why? You like it, don’t you?”

  “Very much. I was just curious, though.”

  “’Bout what?” he asked, mouth full of stew.

  “Why it’s so bare. Why is there no furniture in the rooms? We, the people of Chandler that is, saw crates delivered after the house was finished. We all assumed they contained furniture.”

  He was watching her as she moved the meat around in her bowl. “I bought lots of furniture, and rugs, and statues. Actually, I paid a couple of men to buy it for me and it’s all in the attics now.”

  “Stored? But why? Your house is so lovely, yet you live here, I believe, alone, with only one employee, and not even a chair to sit on. Except what you bought from Sears, Roebuck, of course.”

  “Well, little lady, that’s why I invited you here. You gonna eat that?” He took her bowl away and began to eat the stew himself.

  Houston had her elbows on the table, leaning forward in fascination. “Why did you invite me, Mr. Taggert?”

  “I guess you know that I’m rich, real rich, and I’m good at makin’ money—after the first five million the rest is easy—but the truth is, I don’t know how to spend money.”

  “Don’t know how . . . ?” Houston murmured.

  “Oh, I can make an order from Sears all right but when it comes to spendin’ millions, I have to hire other people. The way I got this house was I asked some man’s wife who I should get to build me a house. She gave me a man’s name, I called him to my office and told him I wanted somethin’ that’d be beautiful and he built me this place. He hired those two men I told you about to buy furniture for it. I ain’t even seen what they bought.”

  “Why didn’t you have the men arrange the furniture?”