Delilah's Flame (10 page)

Maggie nodded knowingly. “Guess they don’t want the menfolk knowin’ where they go.”

“That’s right,” Loo answered in the same conspiratorial voice.

“I won’t tell,” Maggie whispered back, then, raising her harsh voice again, said, “Got two more kettles to get.”

With Maggie gone, Loo broke into laughter and Delilah slipped from her listening post behind the door.

“That was a fantastic story! I predict it’ll spread over Sacramento by nightfall.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Loo smiled. “I had to tell her something. She snoops. I think she’s been through the wardrobes.”

Delilah sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She won’t find a thing to make her believe your story isn’t true. But as a precaution we’ll find another base for next year.”

Loo agreed, looking up at Delilah as she poured fragrant bath salts in the steaming water. “Smells divine.”

“It looks divine. We’ll draw straws and see who gets in first.”

“Let Dinah,” Loo said softly. “She needs pampering.”

“You’re right.” Delilah’s smile vanished and once again she felt a sinking in her heart. Dinah had hardly opened her mouth since they left Yuba City. She absolutely refused to talk about what happened after her solo act. “Tip Maggie well and have her bring up a couple of extra kettles,” Delilah added, having lost the liveliness in her voice. “I’m going to need plenty of hot water to wash this henna out of my hair.”

Downstairs Maggie called Ridgley to the back where she stood pumping water. “The Alden women got eight brothers and no mother. They came in here just to get some privacy from a house full of men.”

“That right?” Ridgley said, his ears perking up as he stepped closer. “Learn anything else?”

“Nope,” Maggie said, throwing more wood in the stove. “Eight brothers telling them what to do. Kind of makes you feel sympathetic.” She touched a patch on her apron. “If it wasn’t for all that money.”

*     *     *

“Christ!” Tabor’s hand went to the aching part of his head, expecting to find it crusty with blood. It wasn’t, but just the lightest pressure on the goose egg swollen beneath his hair made him wince. He blinked his eyes several times, failing to convince them to focus clearly. Where the devil was he? His last memory wasn’t of a lumpy mattress or a cracked ceiling or bars. Bars?

Moaning, he struggled to a sitting position. A cell? He was in a cell? No, that wasn’t right. Had to be a dream. He clenched his eyes tight and flicked them open again, only to be greeted by the same view, rows of iron bars. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear the fog a little. Where was that rose-patterned wallpaper and that soft feather bed and that pretty face he’d been seeing until the moment he woke up?

“Been out awhile,” came Walsh Peregrine’s gravelly voice. “Reckon that fancy cowboy packed a fancy punch.” A robust laugh followed.

Tabor’s vision cleared quickly as a man with a face like an old bulldog’s strode up to the cell, a wide grin showing his tobacco-stained teeth. A dented but shiny star hung on his chest.

“What the hell? Marshal?”

“Yep.”

Tabor made a mistake and stood up. The action made his head feel as if it were taking punishment all over again. He stayed on his feet only a few seconds before he slumped back to the bunk. Half pain, half the aftermath of all the liquor Delilah had poured down him, he decided.
Delilah.
Only vague memories bobbled in his mind, but Delilah had to be the answer to this.

“Marshal.” Tabor spoke slowly. “Why am I locked up?”

“‘Cause you were lucky enough not to get killed, mister.” Peregrine hooked his thumbs in the arm openings of his vest. “I thought about puttin’ a plug in you myself.”

“I must have been rotten drunk,” Tabor said, holding his head steady with his hands.

“Don’t go layin’ what you did off on drink. A man don’t treat a woman like that in Yuba City, drunk or sober.”

A cloud of uneasiness darkened Tabor’s face. “Just what is it I’m supposed to have done?”

“You ain’t
supposed
to have done nothin’, cowboy,” Peregrine barked. “I got a signed deposition on my desk says you did draw a gun on a lady and threaten to kill her. Maybe would have if her hired man hadn’t got you.” His eyes bulged as his anger mounted. “We don’t take to a man mistreatin’ a lady, or to a man welshin’ on a bet.”

“Delilah,” Tabor mumbled as a line of her song echoed mockingly in his mind?
If you love Delilah there’s a terrible price
...He was finding out what that price was.

“I see you ain’t denyin’ it,” Peregrine growled.

“I sure as hell am denying it.” Tabor stood and grabbed the bars, too mad now to feel the pain. “The lady whacked me with a sherry bottle while I was in a vulnerable state. She also cheats at poker.”

Peregrine grabbed Tabor by the shirtfront and jolted him against the bars. “Watch your filthy mouth, Stanton. Miss Delilah ain’t the kind of lady to compromise herself with the likes of you.”

“Lady, my eyetooth.”

Peregrine shoved. Tabor hit the wood-framed bunk like a cannonball. “Now, don’t go makin’ me madder, Stanton.” Peregrine’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head. “Wouldn’t take much for me to make you a permanent resident of the Yuba City jail.”

Tabor groaned and heaved himself to his feet. He wisely avoided approaching the bars again. “Does that mean you’re not holding me long?”

“It means I ain’t holdin’ you permanently,” Peregrine responded. “Six or eight months ought to be enough to make a better man out of you.” He started to leave.

“Wait a minute, Marshal,” Tabor called, for the first time realizing the severity of his situation. It wasn’t going to be easy to reason with the marshal, not after that redheaded witch Delilah had worked a spell on him. He’d have to think of something. Meanwhile Curtis down at the livery would be expecting him to come for the Admiral. “I need to send word to the livery about my horse,” he said.

Peregrine stopped at the door, turned, and grinned. “You ain’t got no horse. Miss Delilah took
her
horse with her.”

*     *     *

“Good-bye, Misses Alden.” Ridgley edged out from behind the desk to offer his farewell. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“Perhaps that will be the case, Mr. Ridgley. My sister and I always enjoy our stays here.” Delilah gave Ridgley one of those smiles that made a man forget almost everything else on his mind. Wearing a dark blue bonnet and a traveling dress of the same shade, she had her hair concealed by a brown wig. Still smiling, she dropped several fat envelopes in Ridgley’s hand, one for each member of the hotel staff who had served the suite. She considered the money a good buffer for questions, should anyone come along asking them. Ridgley quickly pocketed his envelope.

Dinah, outfitted in green and also wearing a brown wig, told Ridgley good-bye as well. Loo, in her black maid’s uniform, merely nodded as she passed him by.

A short walk took the trio down the street to the train station. Seth and Todd had ridden out of Sacramento the night before, shortly after collecting their pay.

Dinah remained uncharacteristically quiet. Delilah was worried about her, but until they were settled in the Pullman car and the noise of the engine building speed leveled off, refrained from attempting to persuade her sister to talk.

When the train was under way she looked understandingly at her sister. “Dinah,” Delilah said softly, looping an arm around the younger girl’s shoulder, “I know this tour has been hard on you. I’m especially glad for your sake it’s over.”

“For my sake?” Dinah’s morose mood quickly changed to anger. She shrugged Delilah’s arm away. “All this is for your sake, isn’t it? You’ve had your revenge on two more men. Now that it’s over for a year, you can worry about little Dinah.”

“Dinah!” Bewildered, Delilah stared at her sister. “How can you say that? I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it because these men deserve to pay for what they did to our papa. And to others. It isn’t right they should go unpunished when they made so many suffer. You can’t believe I like—”

Suddenly repentant, Dinah threw her arms around Delilah’s neck and clung to her. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “That was awful of me. I didn’t mean it.”

Delilah stroked Dinah’s soft cheek and brushed a tear from her face. “I know. And you have every right to be upset. I’ve been thinking that perhaps next year you should stay home. Loo and I—”

Dinah straightened up and adjusted her bonnet.

“We’ll decide on that next year.” She deftly changed the subject. “How long to San Francisco?”

“Not so long,” Delilah told her, and for the first time in days felt a genuine sense of relief. Tomorrow the madness would be completely over. The brown wigs could be discarded. Delilah and Bright Moon and the Alden sisters would vanish from California. She and Dinah could step back where they really belonged and resume living the life they loved.

*     *     *

“Lilah! Dinah!” Clement Damon rolled his wheelchair into the crowd on the platform of the train station. Following closely behind him came a black-clad Chinese man. “I’m here.”

“Papa!” Lilah and Dinah said in unison as their eyes turned in the direction of the familiar voice. They spotted their father and hurried toward him. His joyful smile gave no hint that Clement Damon was a man often racked by pain, nor did it indicate any bitterness at being confined to an invalid’s chair.

Determined to always see the bright side of life, Clement considered that if he had not become an invalid he might still be in the hills with a pick and a pan waiting to strike it rich. Not many of his acquaintances who had stayed with prospecting had ever found that mother lode. Unable to continue that sort of rugged life, Clement had sold out the Damon Star Mine and set himself up as a banker and storekeeper.

He’d come a long way from hiding bags of dust in holes dug in a dirt floor. Today the Damon Bank was among the largest in San Francisco. His dry-goods store, started out in a mule-skinner’s wagon, was the biggest in town. The lumber company up in the Sierra Nevada and the other half-dozen businesses he owned had made him a wealthy man. And that wasn’t counting his greatest assets, Lilah and Dinah.

“How are my girls?” Clement asked, extending hands to both daughters. “It seems you’ve been gone forever.”

“To me too, Papa,” Dinah said as she knelt beside her father’s chair and dispensed kisses and hugs. “It’s wonderful to be back.”

Lilah Damon offered her share of hugs and kisses from the other side. Finally Clement waved them back, insisting he was being smothered.

“It’s your fault, Papa,” Lilah told him. “We didn’t expect to see you at the station.” Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure you feel like being here?” She took a step back and made a careful study of her father’s appearance, then smiled. “Actually, you look splendid. How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” His elder daughter had a tendency to dote on him if she thought he was the least bit under the weather. Thankfully today he did feel splendid. “I may decide to roll myself home,” he added.

Dinah laughed too, dislodging her green straw bonnet. “Oh, Papa, you are outrageous. I think you would, if someone dared you.”

“It won’t be today,” he said, joining her laughter as he took her hand again. “I want to ride with my daughters and hear all about the trip to St. Louis.”

Dinah’s smile faltered for a few seconds and she cast a look of uncertainty at her sister. Lilah, however, returned a look of encouragement which quickly restored Dinah’s confidence.

“What do you think, Dinah?” Lilah said, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “Shall we make him listen to every detail, even down to the shopping excursions?”

Clement winced. His daughters’ weaknesses for shopping constantly amazed him. He was convinced such a propensity for bonnets, slippers, gloves, and gowns had been deliberately instilled in them during the years they had spent in London with their mother’s sister, Emily Dearborn. He had given up accompanying them on such expeditions long ago, finding even the mention of such an ordeal tiresome. Now he simply gave each daughter a generous allowance and a free hand to do what she would with it.

“Later,” he said, hoping to postpone that accounting indefinitely. He glanced around the platform. “Where is Loo?”

“She wanted to be certain all the trunks arrived,” Lilah answered, also looking around. “She’ll be along. Where has Ching gotten to?”

Cement twisted around in his chair. “He’s right behind me. Or he was.” He shook his head. “He’s somewhere near. You know Ching. He never lets me out of his sight.”

At that moment both Ching and Loo appeared, Loo from the direction of the train, Ching as if by magic. While Loo gave Clement a warm greeting and a kiss on the cheek, Lilah and Dinah hugged a resistant Ching.

“You are making a spectacle,” the Chinese man said, patiently enduring their attentions but never changing his stoic expression. Only a pair of twinkling black eyes revealed how glad he was to see the girls.

“That’s all right. We don’t mind a spectacle,” Lilah teased.

Nodding to the women to follow, Ching rolled Clement’s chair through the station, and when outside, with assistance from the driver, helped him into the carriage. Dinah climbed in beside her father, while Lilah and Loo sat across from them.

“Well, Loo,” Clement said, looking fondly at his daughter’s companion. “Did you enjoy St. Louis as much this time as you did on the last visit?”

Loo gave an implacable smile. “I’ve had a very interesting trip.”

“You did get our letters, didn’t you, Papa?” Lilah queried innocently.

“Oh, yes,” Clement acknowledged, his expression carefully blank. “Two from you. Two from Dinah. Very vague, very hastily written. Makes me wonder why I paid all that money for schooling.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, but neither daughter offered any explanation. “I don’t suppose either of you met any marriageable young men.”

“Papa!” Lilah blurted out, her cheeks warming. “Dinah’s only sixteen and I’m—”

“And you’re old enough to be thinking about providing me with grandchildren.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to put my money on Barrett. He’s the only man you’ll give the time of day to,” he said to Lilah.