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  Drew mumbled something in his sleep, and Tricia moved closer. His lips moved again, and she leaned down to listen. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized what he was saying.

  He was mumbling her name.

  Tricia backed up, halting when her legs hit the upholstered chair behind her. Her throat was tight as she stared at Drew’s sleeping countenance . . . as she silently wondered, did she whisper his name in her sleep, too?

  Sweating profusely, hardly able to breathe in the closeness of the closet, Bruce swore under his breath as Collins’s bedroom door closed behind the woman. She had told Willie Childers that she wouldn’t leave until he came back. That meant any chance he’d had of accomplishing the job Simon had set for him was gone for the night.

  Damn her! If she hadn’t shown up, Childers would have been forced to leave Collins alone while he went down to check on his horse, and Bruce could have finished the job he had come for. All he could hope for now was that he’d be able to leave the house unseen.

  Bruce took a breath, scanned the hallway, then stepped out into the open and made his way toward the rear doorway.

  Out on the street a few minutes later, he glanced cautiously behind him, then walked to the spot where he had secured his horse a little distance away. He managed to escape without being seen, but he still had to face Simon in the morning.

  He wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Chapter Six

  Elizabeth Huntington Dodd moved quietly around Mother Ella’s empty bedroom in her New York City mansion. The dear woman was gone. Her strained, uneven breathing would never again sound in the room; nor would Elizabeth ever see her smiling face.

  Elizabeth fussed with a few meaningless details in the silent room, consoling herself, as she had throughout the funeral the previous day, that Mother Ella had passed peacefully and with the grace that had marked her entire life.

  Elizabeth turned to study the picture of the woman she had loved so dearly. Captured on her wedding day in the glory of her youth, Ella stood beside a sober, equally youthful Wilbur Huntington. The sense of wonder and the loving commitment that marked that day and set the tone for the rest of their lives was written in their expressions. That promise had never waned. Instead, it had expanded to take Elizabeth in. The gratitude and admiration she felt for both those dear people had grown greater over the years, along with a love that knew no bounds—a love that had been returned in kind.

  It did not cease to amaze her that despite Mother Ella’s rapid deterioration after Jason and she returned home, the dear woman was never without a smile. She realized that Mother Ella had been happy simply because she had returned home; because she had brought Jason with her; because she had given Mother Ella the opportunity to be present when she married the man who would love her and care for her the rest of her life.

  A sob choked Elizabeth’s throat at the realization that Mother Ella had then been content to go to the better place that had been waiting for her—where Wilbur was ready to welcome her with open arms.

  Unable to bear the thought of that loss a moment longer, Elizabeth went to the bedroom door. Out in the hallway, she looked up to see Jason approaching. She took the few steps into his embrace in a rush. Closing her eyes briefly as his strong arms closed around her, she whispered, “I can’t believe she’s gone, Jason.”

  “I know.” His response was filled with a wealth of meaning that went unsaid.

  Elizabeth remained in his embrace for a few minutes before she looked up into the dark eyes scrutinizing her with loving empathy and said, “I’ll always love her, and this house will always bear tender memories for me.”

  “I know that, too,” Jason said gently. “Take as much time as you need here, darlin’.”

  Elizabeth nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She went still when she felt Jason stiffen and saw his expression alter suddenly. She turned around sharply to see her cousin Trevor enter the hallway.

  Jason watched as Trevor Huntington started toward them. Elizabeth had tried to convince him that Trevor was a decent young man who had done his best during the difficult circumstances of their youth, and that the torments he had endured because of her had endeared him to her.

  Jason watched as Elizabeth left his side to welcome Trevor warmly. Following a few steps behind her, Jason approached them slowly, his expression noncommittal. Trevor was Elizabeth’s cousin and the only family she presently knew, yet there were some things that Jason had not been able to make himself forgive. He doubted that he ever would.

  Nagging at Jason’s peace of mind was the occurrence Chantalle had related to him prior to their leaving Galveston. He knew Elizabeth had originally gone to Galveston in the hope of solving the mystery of her past—a mystery that he believed accounted for her nightmares of a fire. The nightmares continued to haunt her dreams, and he believed that only solving that mystery could free her of them. If Chantalle were right, if Elizabeth’s pendant did bear the same crest as the ring that Whit Hawk had shown her, the discovery of Elizabeth’s true family might be at hand.

  He also needed to return to Galveston because he would be unable to rest until he proved that Simon Gault had collaborated with the enemy during the war and was responsible for the death of Jason’s friend Byron Mosley. For a reason he did not yet understand, Gault was also presently doing his best to negate Jason’s efforts to prove to the Galveston consortium that Houston was a threat to its future.

  It was time to find out more.

  “Jason, I found some papers in Mother Ella’s study that I wanted Trevor to go over with me. He says he has some time now and we’re going to read through them. ”

  Jason looked at the thin, pale young man. Trevor returned his gaze equally soberly as Elizabeth stood beside him. Jason noted the way Trevor glanced down briefly at Elizabeth. There was true affection in the fellow’s gaze . . . an affection that he suspected Trevor had not formerly been allowed to display.

  “Jason?”

  “Of course, go ahead. I have some things to do in our room.” Jason noted Elizabeth’s relief and he smiled. He loved every bit of her, from the top of her honey-brown hair to the tip of her leather-clad toes. He wanted her to be happy. He would spend his life ensuring it.

  Waiting only until Elizabeth and Trevor had disappeared at the curve in the staircase, Jason started back down the hallway. Entering his room, he closed the door behind him and then walked to the small desk in the corner. Seated there with paper in front of him and a pen in hand, he started to write:

  “Dear Chantalle . . .”

  Galveston was bathed in early morning sunlight that filtered gracefully through the window blinds of Gault Shipping, but Bruce did not feel the warmth of its rays. Instead, his throat dry, he stared at Simon Gault across the wide expanse of Gaunt’s mahogany desk.

  “He spoiled everything, boss!” Bruce complained. “I waited in the closet hallway for hours, but that damned Childers didn’t leave Collins alone for a minute. He even fixed it so’s some woman would stay with Collins while he was gone.”

  Bruce waited for the explosive reply that he knew was coming. Unable to sleep, he had arrived at the offices of Gault Shipping as the sun rose. He had hoped for time to prepare himself in some way for the report that he knew he must make to his boss, but Gault had been waiting for him. Gault had not spared a moment before calling him into his office.

  Bruce took a shaky breath. The boss was enraged. Bruce had never seen his face that apoplectic color before. Nor had he ever before seen Gault shake so violently as he did when he shouted, “I don’t want to hear your excuses, do you hear? I want you to do your job!”

  “I can’t, boss . . . not the way things stand. I’m telling you that Childers doesn’t leave Collins’s side for a minute.” He took a breath. “I can take care of Collins for you later, after he leaves Chantalle’s house, but making it look like he died of natural causes in bed isn’t going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just told you. Chil
ders doesn’t leave his side for a minute.”

  “It’s important that Drew Collins’s death appear natural.”

  “But Childers—”

  “Get rid of him, then.”

  “W-what?”

  “Get rid of Childers! He’s a nobody and nobody will care. Make it look like a robbery. You’re good at that. You said he goes to check on his horse in the evening. Take care of him then. It’ll be dark. You can take his money pouch and gun—whatever he’s carrying of value—and everybody will just assume he was killed by a thief.”

  “But—”

  “I want it done, Bruce, do you understand?” Simon was breathing heavily. “I want Collins out of the way, and if you have to dispense with Willie Childers to do it, that’s all right with me.”

  “But, boss—”

  Bruce’s protest came to a halt when Simon’s face flushed darker. Giving up, Bruce said in a rush, “All right, anything you say, boss. It’s as good as done.”

  “Don’t disappoint me, Bruce. As you know, I don’t take disappointment well.”

  “Right. Don’t worry, boss. It’s as good as done.”

  Shaking, Bruce left the inner office and walked to his desk. He sat down hard and swallowed.

  He knew he wouldn’t get another chance.

  “I brought your supper.” Tricia forced a smile as she carried the tray into Drew’s room. Willie stood up immediately and walked toward her. Taking the heavy tray, he said, “This sure smells fine, ma’am. Drew and me are going to get fat eating all this good food and sitting around like we are—but we sure appreciate it.”

  Tricia was wearing a simple blue dress, but the sight of her had the force of a blow to Drew’s stomach. She approached and reached toward his forehead, but he shook away her hand.

  “I don’t have a fever. I’m fine.”

  Tricia drew back and Drew cursed silently—but it would have been a mistake to let her touch him. It had been a long day and his impatience with his debility was growing. Dr. Wesley had come to see him that morning. Both he and Tricia had watched as he had gotten out of bed and limped across the room with Willie’s help. No one had to tell him that it would be another few days before he’d be strong enough to walk well on his own—just as no one had to tell him that his resistance to Tricia lessened with each passing day.

  He had originally believed that Willie’s presence would cure his malady, but it had not. The truth was, he missed Tricia’s concerned advice, feisty comments, and occasionally angry retorts—but most of all, he missed her. She was young, but she had none of the mindless naiveté of youth. She was beautiful, but she seemed totally unaware of the effect of her beauty. She was inexperienced, but her observations were thought-provoking. They agreed on very little about the war, and she had angered him with several of her comments, but the exchanges had made him realize that there was more to Tricia Shepherd than physical appeal.

  As if physical appeal weren’t enough.

  Drew looked again at Tricia.

  A blue dress.

  His angel.

  Hardly aware that he was staring, he saw Tricia flush and then stammer, “You both seem to be all right, so I think I’ll be going. I’ll send Polly back for the tray. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She was going.

  Damn.

  Well, maybe it was better that way.

  She had to get out of there!

  Tricia walked out into the hallway, then stopped to catch her breath. The truth was that she had been waiting for suppertime so she’d have an excuse to visit her former patient. She had worked in the kitchen of the bordello and had spent some time with Chantalle’s books, but the hours had passed slowly. Strangely enough, Chantalle still seemed to be avoiding any discussion of her future at the house, and Tricia was glad. She needed time . . . space . . . something to—

  “Ma’am, can I talk to you?”

  Willie stepped unexpectedly out of Drew’s room behind her, and Tricia turned toward him. Seeming embarrassed, he said, “I need to ask a favor of you, ma’am.”

  “A favor?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Willie took a breath and said, “Drew is my friend. He’s like a brother to me, but he’s been acting like kind of a bastard—if you can excuse the expression, ma’am.”

  “A bas—” Tricia took a step back. “What are you trying to say, Willie?”

  “I mean I ain’t never seen Drew act like this before. But then, I ain’t never seen him flat on his back like this either. What I’m trying to say is, he’s been sick, ma’am. He’s anxious to get back on his feet. Doc Wesley says another few days and he’ll be fine enough to mount up and ride off like nothing ever happened. Well . . . almost, anyway.”

  “So you’re saying?”

  “I’m trying to apologize for him like he’d do for me if he needed to. And I’m asking you to excuse his behavior, because I know he’ll regret it.”

  “Of course. I’ve taken care of injured men before and I understand.”

  “That’s right . . . in Yankee hospitals.”

  “Willie—”

  “I know, the war’s over.” Willie smiled his boyish smile as he added, “But if you wouldn’t mind staying with Drew when I go down to doctor my horse again later tonight, I’d appreciate it.”

  Panic touched Tricia’s mind and she said, “Couldn’t you tell him ahead of time what you’ll be doing later this evening?”

  “Ma’am, I have the feeling Drew’s going to try getting up by himself before the doctor says he can. He’s been saying all day that he’s all right, that he’s well enough to ride out no matter what the doctor says. If he tries it, he might break open that wound again, and we’ll be right back where we started. And the truth is, ma’am, I’m kind of anxious to get him home with me. I figure that crazy family of mine is just what he needs right now to make him see that life goes on.”

  “Willie—”

  “I’d consider it a real act of kindness if you’d do it.”

  Tricia said softly, “You’re a dear friend to Drew, Willie. Of course I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Willie’s smile broadened. “I’ll see you later, then. And thank you again, ma’am.”

  Tricia stood staring at the door that had closed behind Willie for long moments after he had gone back into Drew’s room. She was uncertain of the reason for the tear that strayed down her cheek. Hastily, she wiped it away and returned to her room.

  “You did what?”

  “I arranged for Tricia to come and stay with you while I go to the stable to doctor my horse.”

  Drew’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need anybody to sit with me.”

  “Maybe you do and maybe you don’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Willie shook his head. “It means I need to go down and doctor my horse because we’re going to be leaving here in a few days, and he needs to be healthy when we do. It also means that I ain’t as dumb as you think I am.”

  Drew did not respond.

  “Dammit, man, I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving that lady, and I’ve seen the way she’s been trying to avoid them. You’ve got something to say to her, and it’s not going to get said with me here.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t, huh? Well, then I guess you two won’t have too much to talk about when I go downstairs later tonight.”

  “I don’t need to talk to her, Willie.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You need to talk to her, if only to thank her for what she did for you.” Willie frowned. “Doc told me how she practically saved your leg. If it wasn’t for her—”

  “All right, I need to thank her.”

  “Among other things.”

  Drew frowned and said more softly, “You know the situation I’m in. I can’t stay in Galveston. The longer I do, the greater the chances are that the Yankees will realize who I am. I need
to get out of here as soon as possible. Whatever I might say to Tricia wouldn’t change the fact that she isn’t the kind of woman who would take kindly to a man who is living on the run.”

  “Well, she’ll be here later anyway.”

  “Willie—”

  “Like I said, I need to go to the stable to doctor my horse. The rest is up to you.” Willie ended the discussion by adding, “Right now I’m hungry and I’m going to eat while the food’s hot.”

  Drew remained silent as Willie’s spoon clicked against the dish. His friend was no longer listening.

  Simon paced the elegant confines of his home study. He had already called his servants into the room countless times with countless inane requests so they would remember clearly that he had remained home that evening, just in case they were asked to confirm his whereabouts. He knew that possibility was practically nil, but he was not a man to ignore precaution—most especially since he had sent Bruce on a particularly important mission that night.

  Simon glanced out the window at the shadows that stirred in the hot evening breeze. His patience was short. Willie Childers was an obstacle that would soon be removed. Drew Collins would be next, and Simon would be free to follow through with his plans for the future. Once he was comfortably ensconced in Houston in a position of greater wealth and prestige than he had ever known in Galveston, he would make sure every one of the Hawks paid the price of their heritage.

  But first things first.

  Tonight was a necessary step. Bruce was probably in place to follow through on his orders by now.

  It wouldn’t be much longer.

  Willie smiled to himself as he walked toward the stable. Behind him, Chantalle’s bordello was ablaze with light, but the far backyard where the stable was located was poorly lit.

  Willie stumbled on the uneven path and mumbled under his breath. He supposed the stable hands knew the walkway well enough so they didn’t suffer because of the poor lighting, and it probably wasn’t very often they had visitors there. But then, the present situation in the bordello’s spare room was not the norm.