“Henri Andrevie wrote that he’ll be in New Orleans for a while before he sails for France and the gambling halls there. I think I’ll join him.”
“Isn’t he the rascal who taught you so much?”
“The same. He never did understand why I wanted to give up the gentleman’s life to become a horse rancher. Maybe I’ll tell him the reason now and give him a good laugh.”
“Maybe you better not. He might just figure out how you used him before.”
“I guess you’re right,” Lucas conceded
He was ready to leave. He looked at Billy one last time. How well they understood each other. He was going to miss this friend.
“Think you’ll ever get back this way?” Billy’s expression was sad.
“You never know. But there’s one more thing you can do for me, Billy. That passel of letters you’re to deliver to Sam? Seal them all in a big envelope and write on it ‘Compliments of Jake Holt, Boothill, Tucson.’ If that bastard’s got any conscience, he’ll remember.”
“The perfect touch.” Billy nodded solemnly.
Lucas wondered about it as he rode away from the ranch and Newcomb. The trouble was, Samuel Newcomb might not remember Jake Holt. After all, Jake was only one of Sam’s victims. But he would wonder, and he would try to connect the name with Slade and Lucas. And if he wondered about all of it long enough, he just might remember Jake Holt.
Thirty-three
“Is this your first trip to a big city, child?” the elegantly clad woman beside Sharisse asked condescendingly.
“New York is my home,” Sharisse replied automatically.
“Oh.”
The lady looked away, her interest gone at being denied the chance to dazzle a country girl with tales of city life. Sharisse shrugged and stared out the window again.
She did indeed look like she had just come from the country, with her portmanteau at her feet, Charley’s basket on her lap, and her poor traveling suit ready for the ragpile. But on this trip, her appearance had not been one of her concerns.
In less than an hour she would be home. What awaited her? The letter in her reticule just didn’t make sense. Sharisse had read it so often since leaving Newcomb that she knew it by heart, but she still couldn’t decide what it meant.
She took Stephanie’s rumpled letter out and tried, one last time, for some insight.
Dear, dear Rissy,
My dreams have come true at last. Joel and I were married last night, secretly. You will think this was terribly sudden after what I told you in my first letter, and it was. Oh, I wish I had waited before writing that letter, but I didn’t think Joel could arrange things so quickly. But he did. And now I have to admit that I lied to you before.
Oh, Rissy, you just have to understand. When you wrote that you wanted to come home immediately, I didn’t know what else to do but try to convince you that you couldn’t. It was still too soon. Father was worried sick about you, but there was never any mention that your wedding would be called off. He wouldn’t talk to me about it at all, and I thought, that when you returned, he would make you marry Joel.
You see, he didn’t admit to Edward Partington that you ran away. I lied about that, Rissy. He hasn’t talked to anyone, because being worried for you took the place of being angry. That happened on the second day you were gone. I was the one who made excuses to everyone for your absence. Naturally Sheila or one of your other friends would have wanted to come up to see you if you were ill, so I told them it was Aunt Sophie who was ill and you had gone to stay with her.
They still think you plan to marry Joel, but we can tell them that you changed your mind while you were gone. Then, later, after a reasonable time, it can be announced that Joel and I eloped. That way no one will know you ran away.
This must sound rather complicated, but it isn’t really. I would never have lied to you if I hadn’t been so desperate, Rissy. And don’t think I’ve been completely heartless where Father is concerned. I didn’t tell him where you were, but I did let him know that you had written to say you were all right. I told him you would be coming home soon. Do come home soon, Rissy, before he gets sick from worrying.
Please don’t be too angry with me, Rissy. I did try to let you know everything would work out when I told you not to despair, remember? Surely you understood?
Sharisse tucked the letter away. It was no good. She still couldn’t decide if Stephanie was telling her the truth this time, or if her father had found out that Stephanie knew where she was and had forced her to write this letter just so Sharisse would come home. Was she going to face Marcus Hammond at his very worst, or had he really been so worried about her that he would welcome her home without wrath?
She hated to think of Stephanie betraying her in this letter. But far worse was to accept that first letter as lies. To deceive a stranger with lies, as she had done, was one thing. But to deliberately deceive one’s own sister! Why, that first letter was indirectly responsible for her marriage! If it hadn’t come when it did, she might have had her wits about her that day. It was just inconceivable that sweet little Stephanie could be so unscrupulous, even for the sake of love.
Sharisse wished that were all that was troubling her on this journey, but it wasn’t. Ironically, going home was no different from when she had headed west, for the same three people occupied all her thoughts. But this time the third person was no longer an unknown entity.
Sharisse found herself missing Lucas. She wouldn’t have believed it possible, yet she hadn’t been a day away from Newcomb before it became apparent that what she was feeling was pure melancholy.
He had always managed to affect her in some way, whether or not she’d wanted him to. He could amuse her, exasperate her, even frighten her, and of course thrill her with pleasure. No matter what, when she was with him, she’d always felt something.
