Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) Page 13

  “Well, then, since we’ve both got something beyond price, perhaps a trade is in order.”

  Rand laughed. “I suppose…if the lass were my wife, I would welcome that trade. But she’s not. And for all I know, you don’t even have her in your possession as yet.” He turned to leave again, making sure to look men in the eye as he went, striking fear wherever he could. And he caught enough eyes darting to his right to know where Harrigan was hiding.

  Jez prepared to leave. She tried and failed to hide the relief on her face. But Rand was sure either the giant or Harrigan would stop them before they got off the ship.

  “I’m afraid my curiosity has roused, Phantom,” called the captain. “And though ye have my leave to go, the mask must stay, ye ken?”

  Rand knew the man wouldn’t make such a threat if he believed they would be doing business in the future, so Harrigan must have already convinced him the Phantom’s days were numbered.

  It was time to turn the tables.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Rand faced the giant again and chuckled. “I’ll tell you what,” he finally said, ignoring the crew members trying to get up the courage to stop him. “You tell Harrigan to come take it off me.” He chuckled again in real amusement. “If he weren’t such a mouse, I’d let him try. But I’m afraid the man hasn’t got the spine to fight his own battles.”

  “Happy to oblige, Judge,” Harrigan crooned and stepped out of the shadows.

  “Why, Harrigan. Is that you?” Rand laughed. “I guess, since you can’t rest in peace until you’ve seen under my mask, you’ll just have to rest in pieces.” His wicked Bowie knife appeared in his hand with barely a thought.

  “To the death, then,” the captain bellowed.

  Rand stepped back and shook his head. “I won’t fight for nothing. If I win, I get the girl.”

  “But then what will I have?” MacPhee descended the steps and came to stand between them. “What will you give me in return?”

  Rand pretended to consider for a few seconds. “A little entertainment…and two of the men I mentioned.”

  “That sounds fair,” Larson shouted, then laughed along with the crew.

  MacPhee frowned. “And why not the third man?”

  Rand pointed at Harrigan. “Because I don’t think he’s going to survive.”

  The captain’s voice boomed with laughter and he nodded as he stepped back against the rail next to Jez and folded his arms over his high chest.

  Harrigan produced a blade much like Rand’s and waved it back and forth, taunting. “If I remove the mask with my knife, I hope we can still recognize you, Judge.”

  “It’s high time for one of us to retire anyway,” Rand said. “Haven’t you had your fill of serving up innocents to feed this bastard?” He gestured to MacPhee. “How many people have you sold into slavery, Harrigan. Have you ever thought to count?”

  “Count?” The man lunged and sliced air where Rand’s belly had been. “I’ve sold hundreds just since you showed up two years ago, and I still can’t manage a mansion on the side of the mountain, like yours.”

  “Then you’re spending it wrong.” Rand moved in quickly, sliced the man’s shirt open from collar to belly button, then retreated before the man ever brought his blade forward. It was then Rand read the real fear in Harrigan’s eyes and he laughed. “Maybe, if you’d fought a few of your own battles lately, you might have a chance.”

  When Harrigan started leaking blood from both forearms, he had to have known he wouldn’t win the fight. And that was when he became truly dangerous. So Rand retreated two steps. He needed to get the man talking again, keep him distracted.

  “And this bastard?” Rand nodded toward the captain. “How many have you sold to MacPhee alone?”

  The giant chuckled. “Ye wish to compare records, Phantom? Then I’d say Harrigan sells me four to every one of yers.”

  Harrigan grinned.

  “But yers are worth much more.”

  Harrigan’s smile fell away. His eyes flashed just before he lunged, and Rand was able to step aside and shove the man and his blade in MacPhee’s direction.

  The captain relocated behind a crew member for safety. Harrigan took a moment to breathe deeply.

  “I think that’s enough,” Rand shouted. “Don’t you?”

  Two dozen policemen poured over the rails on each side of the ship. With all the posturing on deck, no one had noticed the officers climbing out of the steamboat that was still tied alongside the ship. The crew members were herded up against the bow while Harrigan and MacPhee were held at gunpoint.

  “Plenty of witnesses, I’d say, sir.” The police captain stood next to Rand and smiled.

  “What about him?” Harrigan blustered in outrage while his hands were tied behind his back. “Take off his mask. You’ll see. It’s Rand Beauregard. He’s the Phantom!”

  Rand reached up and unlatched the mask, then slipped the ties from behind his head. Harrigan watched, transfixed, while he pulled the mask from his face.

  “Of course it’s the Commissioner,” the sergeant said, showing no surprise. “The Phantom allowed us to use his costume. We’ve been planning this for a while now.” He turned and gave Rand a wink. “And what about the crew, sir?”

  Rand looked at Larson. “Let them go. Most of them were shanghaied in the first place. And Larson there has agreed to hire new crew, not buy it.” He shrugged. “At least, he won’t be shopping for slaves along our shores.”

  Larson put a finger alongside his nose. As good as a handshake.

  “Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “If you’ll take these criminals and go, I still have business to take care of here.”

  A few minutes later, the steamboat pushed away from the ship, and with a promise to send another boat to collect them, the sergeant and his men took away the two banes of Rand’s existence. When word got out that the Phantom had disposed of his two most powerful nemeses, he would rule the underground unchallenged. He could clean it up so that no one would recognize it again.

  “I’d like to see my wife now,” he told Larson. And while another man went to fetch her, Rand went to Jez and put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s almost over,” he whispered.

  Jez said nothing.

  The sailor returned from beneath the quarter deck with wide eyes. His mouth opened, but he said nothing as he stepped close to Larson. Behind him came Porter with his arms behind his head. He looked ill and his eyes widened in fear when he saw Rand standing in the Phantom’s costume but with his mask in his hands.

  Next came Shadow with a shotgun trained at Porter’s back. He glanced at Rand and gave a slight nod. With the barrel of his weapon, he suggested that Porter stand against the mast, which he did.

  Finally, Darby emerged from the shadows. Dressed in dark clothing, her face seemed to float out of the darkness. Her eyes remained downcast and she stepped next to the rail, wrapped her arms around herself, and waited.

  Rand stepped toward her, Jez in tow. But he stopped, surprised, when she visibly stiffened. He thought she hadn’t noticed he was on board.

  “Go on, Jez,” he said nice and clear. “Tell Darby how you betrayed her tonight.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Rand fought the urge to throttle the woman he’d counted on for the past two years. She’d meant more than just a bedmate and a business partner, but it was impossible to see her as anything but the enemy now.

  Jez’s eyes flew wide with guilt and she tried to wiggle out of Rand’s grasp, but he held her tight. Finally, she spun away and ended up standing in front of Darby.

  “Tell her,” he said again.

  Jez was spitting mad. “It’s not my fault she wouldn’t drink it, Rand. If she’d have just taken the drink I offered, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

  Darby looked up at her. Jez’s eyes were full of warning.

  “We never spoke tonight, until now,” Darby said. “I did see you though. Just after I was locked in the
cage. You laughed, then you disappeared.” She looked away again, staring into the shadows like she’d like to crawl into them and disappear.

  He could feel her pain clearly, as if someone had stuck a knife in his belly and twisted it. But he had to press on. He would never get near her until she understood all that Jez was responsible for, although there would be plenty of blame to lay at his own feet, too.

  “Darby,” he said gently, “who took you to the cage? I need you to tell me.”

  Foster’s eyes bulged and he looked nervously from Rand to Shadow’s gun.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Two men. Bad teeth.”

  Foster relaxed.

  “After Foster dropped me through the hole in the floor, they picked me up off the mattresses and led me to the cage.”

  Rand strode to Shadow and took the offered gun, then struck Foster in the face with the butt of it. He tried not to put all his rage into the blow because he wanted Foster to live…and he needed to save some of that rage for the woman.

  Jez used the distraction to try and get over the rail, but Darby stopped her with a hand twisted in her skirts. Rand was relieved there was some fight left in her.

  Jez gave up the tug of war, looked at him, and lifted her chin. “You love me, Rand. Tell her. You needed her gone. Admit it. And I had it all taken care of.”

  “You let Elton out,” he said. “What did you tell him, Jezebel?”

  She winced at the use of her name. He’d usually called her Jezebel when they were alone together. And it was that slap in the face that finally convinced her it was over.

  “I told him it was you who planned to sell her to MacPhee.”

  How she must have hated him!

  “I trusted you with the most important job there was, to tell Darby it was all just a show for Harrigan. But you convinced Elton I was the real monster and told him where to find her.”

  Darby suddenly caught Jez by the arm and dragged her around to face her. “Elton, and Masters, and who knows how many others are dead because of you!”

  Darby hauled back and struck Jez hard enough to spin her head off her shoulders. After she hit the deck, Darby got on her hands and knees and reached for Jez’s hand.

  Still reeling from the news of his dead men, Rand finally understood what Darby was searching for and closed the distance quickly.

  “Looking for this?” He held the little ring between his fingers and offered it to Darby, along with a hand to help her up. She glanced at his face, took his hand, and stood. She then plucked the ring from his fingers. Two long strides took her to the railing where she glanced at him again.

  “With my blessing,” he said.

  She pulled her arm back for the second time and hurled the ring into the river with as much force as she’d used to strike Jez. Then she stood still, watching the dark waves, thinking who knows what.

  Larson cleared his throat. “I think I should have my payment now,” he said. “Before it, too, ends up in the drink.”

  Rand pointed to Foster. “A little worse for wear, I’m afraid. The second and third are on their way to jail.”

  Larson nodded toward Jez in question.

  “You can’t do it!” Jez fumbled to her feet, fighting her fancy skirts. She reached for Rand and pulled on his shirt. “Darling, please! You can’t!”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t.” He teased her with a little relief before he continued. “But I’m afraid there is not room in Portland for you, Jez. No room in Oregon or Washington either.”

  She straightened away from him and smoothed her skirts over her hips, all begging abandoned. “It will take time for me to get my affairs in order—”

  “No. You’re wrong. It won’t take any time at all.” He exchanged a look with Larson, who nodded. “Larson will drop you somewhere.” To the man he said, “No one will touch her, is that clear?”

  Larson nodded, disappointed. Rand fished a pouch of gold coins from inside his vest and threw it to him. “That should make up for any losses.”

  While a couple of crew members led Jez, spitting and fighting, into the shadows, Rand joined Darby at the rail. A small steamboat, with a light on its bow, left the waterfront and headed their way.

  It was time to face the dread head on.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for all of it. I should have taken the time to explain to Elton what was really going on. I… I should have done a lot of things. I wish there were a more eloquent way to say it, but there isn’t. And I couldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave Oregon behind and never look back.”

  She nodded. “It’s a good thing I never signed that contract, isn’t it?”

  He was thrilled she would even speak to him!

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, it is. I had a change of heart almost immediately after I offered it.”

  She turned her head away. “You did?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  “Yes. I did. Because…”

  Just tell her the truth!

  “The truth is…fifteen years wouldn’t have been long enough.”

  Her head turned back and she frowned. A darling little ridge formed between her brows. “No long enough?”

  He stepped closer, and when she didn’t balk, he carefully raised his arms and wrapped them gently around her shoulders. She was shaking. They both were shaking, so he extended his cloak to enclose then together.

  “I’m afraid the only number that seemed reasonable,” he said, “you’d never agree to.”

  “Oh? Aye? And what number would that be?” She searched his eyes, glanced at his lips, then licked her own.

  In no shape to refuse the invitation, he pressed his lips to hers before answering. She returned the kiss, more than just tolerated it. And when he was finally able to speak, he asked, “How does a hundred sound, Mrs. Beauregard?”

  She gave her head a quick shake. “Auch, I don’t know. How many of those years can ye stand to live with a Scot?”

  He closed one eye and thought for a second or two, then nodded. “No more than a hundred and one, at most.”

  She gave him a narrow look that said she didn’t trust him. “You only want me beside you so you can win the governor’s seat—and save lives.” She rolled her eyes like saving lives was a bad thing, then smiled faintly.

  “No, Darby.” He pulled her face close and kissed the top of her head. He breathed in the perfume of her hair, her skin. “I want you by my side because you are life to me.”

  EPILOGUE

  Rand stood fussing with the length of his bolo tie while he waited for Poulson to return with a pair of pants. He’d been ready to head downstairs, and to the red, white, and blue bunting-draped stands for nearly an hour before disaster struck.

  Now the crowd would have to wait.

  Darby sat in the chair behind his desk upon which their two boys were perched. She was washing their two ink-covered faces and hands with a pile of handkerchiefs and a bottle of whisky.

  “Our sons will smell like drunkards,” Rand grumbled.

  The boys laughed and repeated the word drunkard over and over again.

  She shrugged. “At least they’ll be wearing pants.”

  Little Rachel gave up trying to see out the large windows and turned. She had a large blue smear below her nose. “Poppa no pants?”

  Rand took a deep breath and counted to ten.

  “Poulson is bringing him a clean pair, darling.” Darby laughed. “They may be too short, but at least they won’t have ink on them.”

  Tommy shook his head. “He shouldn’t have to wear someone else’s pants.”

  “Try to remember that, boy,” Rand growled, “the next time you want to play catch with a bottle of ink.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When the photograph of their young family was posted in the paper the next morning, announcing the new Lieutenant Governor of the State of Oregon, Darby insisted that the strange marks on the children’s faces would prevent anyone from noticing how short the pant le
gs appeared to be on Lieutenant Governor—and Lord—Rand Beauregard.

  She enjoyed a good laugh …until she noticed the dark mark on the end of her own nose that no one had thought to mention to her.

  “This is why you were grinning in the photograph!”

  Rand put his hands on her hips and turned her to face him. “I see nothing on your nose, sweetheart. It must just be a smudge on this copy.” He pulled the paper from her fingers and laid it aside. “But just in case, I think I’d better check the rest of you, to make sure all the blue is gone.”

  “I’m fair to certain I’ll survive it, my lord.”

  He shook his head and pulled her toward the bed, then slipped a slingshot from her skirt pocket she must have confiscated from one of the boys. “Uh, Darby?”

  “Mm?”

  “I want a favor.”

  “Do ye now?”

  “Promise not to get angry.”

  She shook her head. “I never promise that. What favor?”

  He leaned down and kissed her neck. “Promise me…that when I’m elected Governor…and the celebrating starts…”

  “Aye?”

  “That you’ll take the children on a vacation somewhere—to Scotland maybe—for a few weeks.” He straightened and kissed the end of her nose. “I don’t want ink or something on my pants, or my nose…in a photograph they’ll hang in the halls of the State Capitol.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It won’t matter how far in advance we plan, my love. I’m certain it will be too much to expect of me.”

  “To handle three children on your own?”

  “Nay. Three could be done. But four is asking a bit much, aye?”

  He swallowed a now-familiar lump of emotion that rose in his throat whenever their beloved children were discussed. “Four? You mean… By then—”

  “If, by then, you mean the middle of June, then aye?”

  Rand needed help to the edge of the bed. It was a good thing he’d given the role of Phantom to Shadow long ago, because it looked like his role of Father was going to last him a good long time.