Twin of Ice Page 9

  While Kane was busy, she walked toward Reverend Thomas, who stood alone on the outskirts of the crowd.

  “You’ve certainly changed him,” Reverend Thomas said, nodding toward Kane, who now had three women near him.

  “The outside perhaps,” she said, and her voice lowered. “I want to talk to you. Last week, in the coal town, Jean Taggert said she knew about me. How much does she know?”

  “Everything,” the reverend answered.

  “But how—?” Houston began.

  “I told her. I had to. I wanted you to have a friend, a real friend, on the inside.”

  “But what if I’m caught? Jean could be in even more trouble if she knows who I am. It’s bad enough as it is.”

  “Houston,” the reverend said, his eyes on hers. “You can’t take all the responsibility by yourself. Jean came to me months ago and wanted to know the truth. I was glad to tell her.”

  Houston was silent for a moment as she watched Kane laugh at something one of the women said, and she saw the women take a step closer. It’s not just me he charms, she thought.

  “Did you know that Kane and Jean are related?” she asked.

  “First cousins.” He smiled at her startled look. “As soon as I learned about your engagement, I went to Jean. Oh, the guards were reluctant to let me in, but I do have a higher boss than theirs. Neither Jean nor any of her family’s met Kane. There’s some secrecy about his birth, something about his mother. Jean’s guess was that she was a . . . ah, lady of the evening and Kane’s father had some doubt that the child was his. That would explain why Kane was put to work at Fenton’s rather than being reared by the Taggerts.”

  “Do you know what happened to his parents?”

  “Jean felt sure they were both dead. Houston,” Reverend Thomas put his hand on her arm, “are you sure you want to marry this man? I know that what Leander did must have hurt you but—.”

  Houston didn’t feel she could listen to another lecture, no matter how well-intended. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my fiancé before he’s stolen from me.”

  “All right, but, Houston, if you want to talk, I’ll be here.”

  As Houston made her way toward Kane, one person after another stopped her.

  “He looks quite nice, Houston. You’ve done wonders with him.”

  “Did you really fall in love with him while you were engaged to Leander?”

  “Was Lee terribly heartbroken when you told him?”

  “Did you sneak out of your house to meet Mr. Taggert?”

  “Houston, you must tell us everything!”

  Finally, she made her way to Kane’s side and slipped her arm through his.

  “You damn well took long enough,” he said under his breath. “Do you know what those women wanted to know?” he asked in a shocked tone.

  “I can guess,” she laughed. “Did you get something to eat?”

  “Just a couple of those little sandwiches. A body could eat all of ’em and still be hungry. We have to stay here much longer? Who was that man you were talkin’ to?”

  “Reverend Thomas.”

  “Oh, yeah. You teach a class for him on Wednesdays.” Smiling, he touched her nose with his fingertip. “Don’t look so surprised. I know lots about you. Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll bring you a plate of food? That’s what I seen the other men doin’ for the women.”

  If she were with Lee now he’d know exactly what was proper to do, she thought. And they’d have to leave the party at 3:15 because on Thursdays he—.

  “You wishin’ you had a man that knew what to do?” Kane asked from above her, his big shadow blocking the sunlight, a plate of food in his hand.

  “Why no, I wasn’t,” she answered, but said no more because a mass of very wet food came tumbling into her lap.

  Kane didn’t move but shown in his face was the knowledge that everything he’d feared had just happened.

  It was when Houston heard a woman’s smothered laugh—for the entire party had come to a halt—that she reacted.

  Quickly, she stood, the food falling to the ground. “Pick me up,” she whispered, but he only stared at her with bleak eyes. “Sweep me into your arms, carry me to the carriage and drive away,” she commanded quietly.

  Kane wasn’t used to obeying orders blindly, but he did this one. With ease, he picked her up.

  As he carried her toward the carriage, Houston snuggled against him. On Thursdays, Leander took fencing lessons, but Mr. Taggert’s Thursdays were spent in sweeping his intended off her feet.

  Kane was silent until they were in the carriage and driving toward the Chandler house. “Why?” he asked. “What good did my carryin’ you do?”

  “Because few of the men in there have backs strong enough to carry their wives, and I think any woman would trade a little spilled food for a man who could lift her.”

  “You don’t weigh nothin’,” he said.

  With a smile, she leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “I weigh nothing to you,” she said softly.

  He stopped the buggy and stared at her. “You’re a real lady, ain’t you, Miss Chandler? A real lady.”

  “I hope, so,” she murmured and thought that it could be possible that whatever Kane Taggert wanted her to be, she just might become.

  Chapter 9

  Houston burst into her mother’s bedroom, where Opal sat quietly embroidering a pair of cuffs.

  “Mother! You have to help me,” Houston said.

  “Look at your dress,” Opal said, rising. “Do you think it’ll come clean?”

  “I don’t know. Mother, he’s downstairs waiting for me and you must entertain him while I change. If you don’t talk to him, I’m afraid he’ll leave.”

  Opal took a step backward. “You can’t mean your Mr. Taggert? You have him downstairs?”

  Houston took both her mother’s hands in her own. “He is very upset. By accident, he spilled some food in my lap and, oh Mother, everyone started to laugh at him. If you’d seen his face! He was completely humiliated. Please go down and talk to him for a few minutes. Don’t let him leave.”

  Opal felt herself softening. “No one should have laughed at him if it was an accident.”

  “Thank you,” Houston said, quickly kissing her mother’s cheek before rushing from the room. She ignored Opal’s cry of, “What will I talk to him about?”

  Susan was waiting for Houston and helped her with the back fastenings of the dress.

  “It’s just the front panel that’s stained,” Houston said, holding the dress up and examining it. “Susan, tell Mrs. Thomas to rub it with magnesia powder for the grease and—oh Heavens, every stain in the world is on it. Hold the panel over a sulfur flame, and if it still doesn’t come clean, I’ll use naphtha on it. But I’ll do it myself. The Last thing I want is the kitchen exploding. Hurry now, before it sets any worse.”

  When Susan returned from her errand, Houston was sitting at her desk, writing. “When I finish this note, I want you to give it to Willie to take to Mrs. Murchison. I also want you to explain to him what I need, so there’s no misunderstanding.”

  She wrote as she talked. “Tell Willie to take the stairs in the Taggert house, the ones by the kitchen, all the way to the attics, turn left and he’ll see a long corridor. The second door on the left leads to a small room filled with furniture, and along the back wall is a small Soumak carpet—no, I’ll write a red figured carpet—and a large muslin bag of decorative pillows. The bag is as tall as he is, so he can’t miss it. Tell him to take the carpet and the pillows downstairs to the small drawing room. Mrs. Murchison will show him where it is. Have him unroll the carpet, put the pillows along the edges of the carpet, and then bring in the large, three-arm silver candelabra from the dining room next door and set it in the middle of the carpet.”

  She looked up. “Can you remember all that to tell Willie?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss. A picnic indoors. Did Mr. Taggert really spill the whole table
of food on people?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Ellie, who works for the Mankins’ neighbors, came by.”

  “Well, it’s not true at all. Now, go downstairs, tell Willie, and have him give this to Mrs. Murchison. And quickly, please. I’ll need help dressing. Oh yes, and have him tell Mrs. Murchison I’ll delay as long as possible to give her time to cook.”

  Houston saw to her dismay, as soon as Susan had gone, that the spilled food had soaked all her undergarments. After a quick inspection, she thought boiling would cleanse them, and she hurriedly began to undress.

  From her closet she chose a dress of soft, pale green lawn with short puffed sleeves, the bodice and high neckline made of cotton guipure lace. Unfortunately, the back was laced with thirty-six tiny green buttons. She was struggling with these when Susan returned.

  “What do you hear from downstairs?”

  “Nothing, Miss,” Susan said, beginning to fasten the buttons with a little brass hook. “Should I look? I think the parlor door’s open.”

  “No,” Houston said, but she was beginning to worry. Opal Gates was a woman who needed protection, a woman who was easily shocked. Houston had a vision of Kane using some of his vile language, of Opal fainting from shock and Kane feeling no obligation to “pick her up.”

  “There’s no one else in the house, is there, Susan?”

  “No, Miss.”

  “Good, because I’m going downstairs and look through the hinges. You can button me down there.”

  Houston tiptoed down the stairs, Susan behind her, and peeked through the parlor door.

  Kane and Opal sat close to one another on the horsehair sofa, both peering together into a stereopticon.

  “I’ve never seen the place myself,” Opal was saying, “but I hear it’s quite impressive.”

  “I lived in New York for years but I never heard of this place,” Kane said. “What was that name again?”

  “Niagara Falls.”

  Kane put the viewer down and looked at her. “You’d like to go see it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Why, yes, I would. In fact, Mr. Taggert, I’ve always had a secret dream to travel. I would like to hire my own private railroad car and travel all over the United States.”

  Kane took Opal’s hand in his. “I’m gonna give you that dream, Mrs. Chandler. What color train would you like to have? I mean the inside. You like red?”

  “I couldn’t possibly—,” Opal began.

  Kane leaned closer to her. “I have a real weakness for ladies,” he said softly. “And you, Mrs. Chandler, are as much a lady as your daughter.”

  There was silence for a moment between them and Susan, as she looked over Houston’s shoulder, stopped her buttoning.

  “Pink,” Opal said. “I should like a train completely done in pink.”

  “You’ll have it. Anything else you want?”

  “I should like you to call me Opal. I’m afraid my husband, Mr. Gates, won’t appreciate his wife being called by her former husband’s name.”

  Houston held her breath to see how Kane would take the correction.

  Kane took Opal’s hand he was holding and kissed it heartily, not a gentleman’s kiss. “No wonder you got a lady for a daughter.”

  “I think your mamma’ll marry him if you won’t,” Susan said.

  “Hush and finish the buttons.”

  “Done,” Susan said, and Houston walked around the door to the front of the parlor.

  “I hope I didn’t take too long,” she said sweetly. “You were comfortable, Mr. Taggert?”

  “Yeah,” Kane said, grinning. “Real comfortable. But I gotta be goin’ now. I have work to do.”

  “Mr. Taggert,” Houston said, “could you please drive me into town to the dressmaker’s? I need to leave her some patterns.”

  A frown crossed Kane’s face, but he agreed when Houston said her errand would take fifteen minutes at the most.

  “Don’t expect me back until evening,” she whispered to her mother as she kissed her cheek good-bye and grabbed her parasol.

  “You’re in capable hands, dear,” Opal said, smiling fondly at Kane.

  When they were in Houston’s carriage, she turned to Kane. “Did you and my mother have a pleasant chat?”

  “You got a good mother,” he said. “Where’s this dress shop you want to go to? You sure you’ll only take ten minutes?”

  “Fifteen,” she answered. “My . . . previous wedding dress was made in Denver, but I’m going to have an identical one made here.”

  “Identical? Oh, yeah, for the double weddin’. When is it, anyway?”

  “Monday, the twentieth. I do hope you don’t have to work that day and can come.”

  He gave her a sideways look, then smiled. “I’ll be there on the weddin’ day if you’ll be there on the weddin’ night.” He laughed as her face pinkened and she turned away.

  She directed him down Coal Avenue to the Westfield Block, a long, two-story, sandstone building that ran from Second to Third Streets and contained retail stores below and offices above.

  Kane tied the horse, and helped Houston out of the carriage. “I think I’ll have a drink while I’m waitin’,” he said, nodding toward one of the town’s many saloons. “I hope bein’ a husband is easier ’n bein’ an intended.”

  Turning, he left her standing in the dusty street. There were times, Houston thought, when she missed Leander’s manners.

  Her business inside the dressmaker’s took only seven minutes, and the woman threw up her hands in despair at the idea of being asked to make such an elaborate dress in so short a time. She sat down in shock when Houston asked her to also make a dress for Jean Taggert. In a flurry of movement, she pushed Houston from the shop, saying she needed every moment for work. Houston could tell she was thrilled at the prospect.

  Now, Houston stood outside the shop, her green parasol open, and looked across the street toward the saloon where Kane was waiting for her. She hoped he didn’t stay in there too long.

  “Lookee here,” came a man’s voice. “You waitin’ for us?”

  Three young cowboys surrounded her and, by the smell of them, they had just come in from weeks on the trail.

  “Come on, Cal,” one of the cowboys said. “She’s a lady.”

  Houston pretended the men weren’t there, but silently prayed Kane would suddenly appear.

  “I like ladies,” Cal said.

  Houston turned and put her hand on the doorknob of the Sayles Art Rooms.

  Cal put his hand over hers.

  “I beg your pardon,” Houston said, drawing back, giving the man a look of contempt.

  “Talks like a lady,” Cal said. “Honey, how about you and me goin’ over to the saloon and havin’ a few beers?”

  “Cal,” one of the other cowboys said, with warning in his voice.

  But Cal leaned closer to Houston. “I’ll show you a real good time, honey.”

  “I’ll show you a good time,” came Kane’s voice as he grabbed the back of the cowboy’s shirt, and the waistband of his trousers, and sent the boy sailing to land face down in the dirty street.

  When the cowboy, who was half Kane’s size, lifted himself, shaking his head to clear it, Kane towered over him. “This here’s a clean town,” he growled. “You wanta free woman, you go to Denver, but here we take care of our women.” He leaned closer to the boy. “And I damn well take care of my Woman. You understand that?”

  “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean no—,” he began but stopped. “Yes, sir, I’m goin’ to Denver right now.”

  “I like that idea,” Kane said as he stepped back, grabbed Houston’s arm and propelled her into the carriage seat.

  He drove in silence to his house, then stopped “Damn! I guess you wanted to go home.” He picked up the reins again. “That kid didn’t hurt ya, did he?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  “Nothin’ to it,” he said, but he was frownin
g as if he were worried about something.

  Houston put her hand on his arm. “Perhaps it was forward of me but I sent a message ahead to Mrs. Murchison to prepare us something to eat. That is, if you don’t mind my dining with you.”

  He gave her a quick up-and-down look. “I don’t mind, but I hope you got enough dresses to last you, since I seem to ruin ’em often enough.”

  “I have more than enough dresses.”

  “All right then,” he said reluctantly, “but I got to work sometime today. You go on in and I’ll put your horse away.”

  Once inside the house, Houston ran to the kitchen. “Is everything prepared?” she asked.

  “Everything,” Mrs. Murchison smiled. “And there’s cold champagne waiting.”

  “Champagne?” Houston gasped, thinking of when Blair had drunk too much champagne and had ended up making love to Leander.

  “And I’ve made all of Mr. Kane’s favorites,” Mrs. Murchison continued, her eyes softening.

  “Buffalo steaks, no doubt,” Houston muttered, “and another woman in love with him.”

  “What was that, Miss Houston?”

  “Nothing. I’m sure everything will be perfect, as whatever you cook always is.” Houston left the kitchen to go to the small drawing room. It was exactly as she’d envisioned it, with the candles already burning, champagne cooling, pâté and crackers set on a silver platter. The late sun coming through the windows made the room glow.

  “You set this up?” Kane asked from behind her.

  “I thought perhaps you’d be hungry,” she began a bit nervously. The picnic had seemed a good idea, but now it looked like a setting for a seduction. “You said you’d like to talk, too,” she whispered, eyes on her hands.

  Kane gave a grunt and strode past her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted more than to talk. Come on and sit down here and let’s eat. I—.”

  “Have to work,” she interrupted, feeling a little hurt at his attitude. After all, she’d done this because he’d seemed so miserable when he’d dropped the food on her.

  Kane walked closer to her, put his hand under her chin. “You ain’t gonna cry, are you?”

  “Certainly not,” she said firmly. “Let’s eat so I can go home. I have a great deal to do also and—.”