Savage Heat (15 page)

The general was in no mood to be reasonable and his face was red and his green eyes blazed fire when he raised a big fist in the air and thundered, “By God, you’ll both be court-martialed and hanged, do you hear me? Couple of cry babies who don’t have enough sense to get in out of the rain, Goddamnit! Why the hell didn’t you police those estate grounds? Answer me that! What were you doing all that time? Holding hands out on the front porch like a couple of old maid sisters, by God!”

The general was no easier on Major Berton when first they came face-to-face after the tragedy. Losing his head completely, he reached out, grabbed the younger, bigger man by his tunic collar, and shouted into his face, “You dumb Tidewater, Virginia, bastard, I’ll have your hide for this, you hear me? Any man that has no more gumption than to leave a helpless girl alone in the night should face a firing squad immediately! No!” he shouted, his fury mounting, when Major Berton asked for a chance to explain. “I will not listen to your sniveling excuses. There is no excuse, soldier! You lost my little girl and if you don’t find her, I’ll kill you myself, so help me God!”

The general was speaking those very words, and meaning them, when the senior senator, Virginian Douglas Berton, walked into the high-ceilinged room where the two officers stood facing each other. Without so much as a glance at his tall blond son, the wise, unflappable senator stepped up to the red-faced general, clasped him on the back, and said reassuringly, “General Kidd, we’ll find your daughter. Come, I’ll pour you a drink.” He smiled kindly at the wild-eyed general and, gently urging him toward the drink trolley, continued to speak in low, calm tones. “Your good friend and mine, President Rutherford Hayes, has dispatched additional troops and pledged punitive measures against all responsible parties and has sent me here to convey to you his deep, heartfelt concern and personal affection.”

The aristocratic, smooth-tongued senator managed to calm the anxious general. Minutes after the senator’s arrival, he and the general sat, knee to knee, facing each other, in big, overstuffed easy chairs, talking quietly, sipping their Kentucky bourbon, unwinding.

And when, after an hour spent together thus, they rose from their chairs and shook hands, the exhausted general, his eyelids heavy, his shoulders slumping, had agreed to climb the stairs to one of the many guest rooms in the Darlington mansion to get some much needed sleep before going back out into the field to rendezvous with Colonel Thomas Darlington.

No sooner had the general’s tall frame disappeared into the marble-floored corridor than Senator Douglas Berton at last turned to his silent, miserable son. Shaking his silvery head, the senator held his arms out wide. As if he were still a little boy, Major Lawrence Berton stepped into his father’s comforting embrace and unashamedly sobbed.

Patting his tall son’s shaking back, the senator said softly, “Son, haven’t I always handled it? And I will this time too. Don’t you worry. There, now, there. Shhh, hush before someone comes in and sees you like this. It’s all right, Larry, all right.”

While the two men stood embracing in the drawing room and the weary general stretched out on his back in a guest room, Regina Darlington, restless, bored, and tired of all the military coming in and out of her home, fretted in the privacy of her white boudoir. Her nerves were every bit as taut as those of her unwanted houseguests. She had been cooped up here at the mansion for five long days and it was beginning to tell on her.

Regina heaved a sigh of disgust and temperamentally jerked back a gauzy curtain to look out at those responsible for the constant commotion. Tight-trousered troopers milled about on the pebbled circular drive below, laughing and talking, their voices carrying on the thin, dry air.

The very idea of her husband making her home a temporary command post for the Kidd girl’s searchers! How thoughtless he was to subject her to such discomfort and total lack of privacy. She could hardly leave her suite of rooms lest she trip over a cavalryman.

Not that she didn’t appreciate the sight of handsome uniformed soldiers sprawling about on the lawn, but there were too many! With dozens about all the time, she had no chance to get acquainted with any of them. It might have been fun had there been only a couple.

She smiled wickedly as she considered how different, how pleasant, the long, hot August days could have been if the pair of tall, dark-haired young men lounging now on the steps directly below her were the only ones about while her husband was miles away. She’d seen the way the healthy young animals had cast covert glances at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. Oh, yes, the three of them could have had some good times indeed.

Her smile fled and again Regina sighed.

It was impossible with so many around. She might as well have been all alone. No, this was worse. If she were alone, she could ride into Denver and see Jim Savin.

The thought of the darkly handsome Savin caused her to lose all interest in the two young troopers on the front steps. Allowing the curtain to fall back into place, she left her post at the front windows. Oh, how she wanted to see Jim. Now. This very minute.

Her chin lifting determinedly, Regina Darlington decided she would do just that. She couldn’t bear it another day. She couldn’t. She’d been patient long enough. Besides, how long might this circus continue? No one knew. It could be days more, or weeks. They might never find the girl. Was she, Regina, to suffer forever? No. And she wouldn’t. She would make some excuse to the general and to the arriving Virginia senator.

Half an hour later, an elegantly turned-out Regina Darlington entered the drawing room, extended her gloved hand, and smiled prettily at the distinguished silver-haired senator, who gallantly bent to kiss her hand as he said, “My dear, I’m Senator Douglas Berton. How beautiful you are and how kind to allow me to be a visitor in your home.”

Preening as she always did when a handsome or powerful man paid her a compliment, Regina let her lashes flutter seductively and replied, “Senator Berton, you’re the one who is kind. I’m not really a beauty.” But her expression told him she thought differently. She reluctantly took her hand from his, adding graciously, “And we’re honored you’ll be staying with us, Senator Berton. You’re welcome here for as long as you wish to stay.”

“Hopefully this ordeal will soon be over,” said the senator.

“Yes,” she replied, making her face appear appropriately grave. “We’re all praying for Miss Kidd’s safe return.” She brightened at once, smiled, and said, “Lunch will be served in the dining room in precisely half an hour, Senator.”

He smiled too. “It will be a pleasure to be seated at the table with you, Mrs. Darlington.”

“Oh, dear, me. I … I’m sorry, Senator, I won’t be dining with you.”

“No?” His silver brows rose slightly.

“No, you see I was just on my way into Denver. I do so hate to appear rude, but I’ve an old friend who is in ill health and I’ve not checked on her since all this began.” She laughed, nervously. “The poor thing must feel I’ve deserted her.”

“By all means run along, Mrs. Darlington, and do not concern yourself with me. I’m quite tired after the long train ride. I’ll have lunch, then lie down for a needed rest, if I may.”

“Yes,” she said, “you do that, sir.” She moved in the direction of the hallway. He followed. “I shan’t be too long in town.” She walked to the marble-topped table in the foyer, picked up a picnic hamper covered with a snowy damask cloth, held it up, and said, “Soon as I deliver this food to my sick friend and stay for a short visit, I’ll come home. May I count on you to be my dinner companion this evening, Senator?”

“By all means, my dear.”

“Good. Then I’ll be on my way.” She turned at the door and gave him one of her most devastating smiles, fully aware that this well-bred senator was said to be a favorite in that chosen inner circle surrounding the President of the United States. She intended, while Senator Douglas was her houseguest, to make certain he never forgot the hospitality and friendship extended by the Darlingtons. “Dinner’s at eight-thirty, Senator. Shall we make it a formal affair, despite the depressing circumstances?”

“Mrs. Darlington, I shall count the hours.”

Well pleased with herself, a smiling Regina Darlington, the picnic basket over her arm, descended the stone steps, enjoying to the fullest the attention she effortlessly attracted. Young soldiers turned to look at the curvaceous copper-haired woman sweeping out to the waiting carriage. Pretending she had no idea that a dozen pairs of eager eyes were on her, she paused beside the carriage and turned to wave to her illustrious silver-haired houseguest, who was standing on the veranda watching with as much interest as the troopers. Senator Berton bowed slightly from the waist and smiled warmly at her.

“Hmmmm,” she murmured happily to herself as she settled back against the deep claret cushions for the long ride into Denver. It was going to be quite a lovely day after all. A sultry afternoon in Jim Savin’s arms, then a leisurely candlelit dinner alone with the powerful, charming senator. Afterward she’d suggest perhaps a game of whisk or a stroll in the moonlit gardens before a nightcap shared in the colonel’s study before a cozy fire.

Regina was still smiling when she knocked briskly on the door of Jim Savin’s Centennial Hotel suite. When the heavy door opened, she said excitedly, “Oh, Jim, I could wait no longer, I …” Her words trailed away and she stared, unbelieving, at a short, large-bellied man standing before her in his long cotton underwear. Foolishly looking past him, into the room, she demanded, “What are you doing here? What have you done with Jim?”

“Ma’am?” said the balding man.

“Jim Savin. What are you doing in Jim’s room?”

“This is my room, ma’am. Been here for the past five days.”

“Dear God, no,” said Regina, starting to tremble, the covered basket containing the French champagne and Russian caviar and English biscuits and Belgian bonbons sliding, forgotten, down her arm. The half-dressed man caught it before it could fall.

“Here, ma’am, you almost lost your …”

“Give that to me,” said Regina as she snatched up the basket and flounced away. Uncaring what he might think, she went directly downstairs and to the hotel employee behind the front desk. “Jim Savin,” she said at once, “where is he? Has he moved to another suite?”

“Mrs. Darlington,” replied the hotel employee, “Mr. Savin is no longer in the house.”

“No longer … what do you mean, ‘no longer in the house’?” Her eyes were snapping with frustrated anger.

“The gentleman checked out five days ago.”

“Checked out?” she repeated shrilly. “But why? Where did he go? When will he be back?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Darlington. Mr. Savin didn’t say what his destination was. He left quite unexpectedly one evening.”

Regina’s heart began to pound. “One evening? What evening?”

“Why I believe it was the evening of your gala for Miss Kidd.” The man’s face went grave at once. “Such a pity about Miss Kidd, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she murmured, stunned, and suddenly feeling very uneasy. “A pity.” And she turned and walked away, anxious to be out of the Centennial, back inside her carriage, away from questioning eyes. Her head had begun to pound as violently as her heart. Her stomach was jerking involuntarily by the time she sank back against the coach seat.

In her heart she knew that Jim Savin was responsible for Martay Kidd’s disappearance. Her first impulse was to rush immediately back home to her mansion and tell Senator Berton and General Kidd. She could envision their joyous response to the unexpected breakthrough; the good news she’d thrown into their laps. It would be easy enough to track down a handsome Harvard-educated attorney and his bubbly, blond companion. Such a celebrated pair couldn’t avoid detection forever. Both Savin and the girl were used to the pampered, privileged life led by the very wealthy. While Jim and Martay—she didn’t doubt for a minute that the girl had gone willingly with him—might find it delicious fun to spend a couple of days in some remote lovers’ hideaway in the wilds, they’d soon miss silk sheets and chilled wine and all the other things that made life worth living.

Suddenly furious that her prized lover would prefer the vapid Martay Kidd to her, Regina Darlington was very anxious to get back home. She would expose the presumptuous, unprincipled bastard, Jim Savin. She’d tell Senator Douglas Berton and General William Kidd that Savin had taken the girl. What a celebration there would be when they learned the truth. Both relieved, influential men would be forever grateful to her, Regina Darlington, wife of Colonel Thomas Darlington.

Already planning for a bright future, Regina saw happy days stretching ahead. Days spent in the very middle of all that bustle and excitement and power and glamour of the nation’s capital. Nights turning about on the White House ballroom floor in the arms of ambitious congressmen and important senators and visiting titled royalty. Polished counts and noble kings and the President himself!

All at once Regina sat straight up, a stricken expression spreading over her face. Whatever was she thinking of? What had she almost done!

Her hand went to the buttons at her throat. Quickly she flipped them open, feeling flushed and ill.

She couldn’t tell on Jim Savin. She could never tell because if she did, how could she possibly explain her visit to his hotel room to find him gone. To find that he had been gone since the night of Martay’s disappearance. She couldn’t dare tell of her suspicions without raising dangerous suspicions about herself.

“Damn you, you bastard,” she snarled to the absent Jim Savin. “I hate you!”

14

“D
amn you, you bastard,” Martay snarled at the impassive Night Sun,“I hate you!”

“So you mentioned earlier,” replied the tireless Lakota chieftain, his back still ramrod-straight, black eyes still alert, after the long hours in the saddle.

Squirming and miserable within his encircling arms, Martay wondered if this impervious savage would ever tire. They had left the line shack in the late afternoon, heading north along the foothills of the towering Rockies. She had assumed that they would make camp at sunset, but the sun went down and still they rode on, despite her demands that they stop.