The Fall of Rome Page 16

  “Hush now.” He smoothed her wet hair out of her face, then moved swiftly to answer a knock on the door.

  Athens. Not as Sherman Shakespeare, but as himself. Soaked to the bone, he hovered on the threshold, voice calm and low. “Something went awry. I don’t know how Brady found out about Kat’s saloon, but he did. According to Mr. Appleby, Brady tortured the bartender before killing him. Don’t share that with Kat. She considered the man a friend.”

  Rome processed this and blew out a breath. “Go on.” “He didn’t get any information out of the barkeep, but the sheriff told him Kat had taken off with the Garrett brothers for Tucson. As thanks for the news, Brady killed him, too. The murdering thug was set to ride here until he read some letters from a nun, something about Kat’s niece. He told his boys he wouldn’t have to go after Kat, she’d come to him.”

  Rome clenched his fists. “Son of a bitch.”

  “I wired Camp Grant. Heard directly back. Soldiers are on their way”

  Rome caught a flash of angst in his brother’s green eyes. “You’re worried about Boston.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “If something bad happened to him, I’d feel it in my gut.” They’d been tight as ticks for too long.

  “Sound awfully sure of yourself.”

  “Like London always says--”

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” Athens finished. He glanced over Rome’s shoulder. “How is she?”

  “Not good.”

  Athens worked his jaw. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

  Rome shut the door in his wake.

  “Is it bad news?” Kat asked in a shaky voice.

  Rome sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “I want you to stay calm and listen to me.”

  “But--”

  “Do you trust me?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Truth is, Brady’s had plenty of time to make it to the convent. Us riding in a full day after isn’t going to change what’s already gone down. Athens wired a nearby fort. Soldiers are on the way.” He framed Kat’s pale face. “You have to have faith that Boston protected that girl. My little brother has more sand than the desert.”

  She shivered and he could well imagine her dark, ugly thoughts. “But Brady rides with a gang. Even with that other Peacemaker there, your brother would’ve been outnumbered. What if Brady got the best of them?”

  Rome thanked God she didn’t know about Manning. He ignored his own dark thoughts. Boston wouldn’t have been in this position if Rome hadn’t told him to get his own damned life. “Then we wait to hear from the bastard. Apparently Skeet overheard Brady saying he wouldn’t have to come after you, you’d come to him. If he’s got Frankie, he’s not going to hurt her. He’s going to use her as bait. He knows you’re in Tucson. He’ll send word letting you know where they are. I know it’s hard, baby, but we have to sit tight.”

  She stared into his eyes for what seemed a lifetime. Tears fell and her breath hitched. “I have to tell you something.” She was interrupted by another knock on the door.

  Rome forced himself to move. “It might be Athens with more news.”

  It was the bath he’d ordered.

  He glanced over his shoulder, saw Kat curl into a ball, her face hidden beneath the cover. Gut clenched, he helped the man tote in the brass tub. Fifteen minutes later it was filled with steaming water, and once again, Rome was alone with Kat.

  He stared down at her, his brain pounding from fifteen minutes of fast-paced deducing, his heart racing due to a wild but logical conclusion. He factored in things she’d said and things she hadn’t said, her expressions and reactions, and Frankie’s exact age. He sat on the bed and placed a hand on her hip. “I remembered right first time around, didn’t I, Kat? You’re an only child. There is no sister. Frankie isn’t your niece.” He spoke past the choking lump in his throat. “She’s your daughter.”

  She rolled over and faced him, and though she was no longer crying, her eyes were red and puffy and she looked tortured as hell. “I was going to tell you tonight.”

  He battled mounting frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me before? When you first mentioned Frankie at the ranch? Or the next morning when we walked together? Or, for chrissakes, this morning when I revealed my own stark truths?”

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “You don’t know how hard it’s been keeping this secret all these years.”

  He had a hundred questions. He focused on one. “Is she mine?”

  “I hope so with all my heart.”

  “Meaning she could be Brady’s.”

  Fresh tears welled. “The timing ... I have no way of knowing.”

  He told himself to breathe, to think. He put himself in her shoes. “That’s why you didn’t tell me. Because you feared I’d reject her, you. Because of my explosive words and actions when I walked in on you and Brady.”

  “I thought you hated me. And I couldn’t risk coming out of hiding. If Brady found me, if he thought . . . You don’t know how he was after he got me away from you.”

  He didn’t want to imagine, but he did. His brain and temper threatened to blow. But it wasn’t Kat he wanted to blast. He reined in his emotions and grasped her hand. “Climb into that hot bath. Last thing we need is for you to catch pneumonia.”

  She shook her head. “At least I’m dry. Your clothes are soaked. You take it.”

  He tugged her off the bed. “Get in.” He peeled off his shirt as she dropped the blanket and stepped into the tub. He’d seen her naked plenty of times before, but he felt as though he were seeing her for the first time. He tried imagining her belly swelled with a child. His child. He couldn’t grasp the idea that he’d missed out on almost six years of his daughter’s life. It was too huge. Too painful.

  Then again, no guarantee Frankie was his to claim.

  Frankie. A curious name. A feminine play on Frank? Then he remembered. Charles F. Simmons. Charles Franklyn Simmons. She’d named her little girl after her father. It pained him to think that gambler had turned out to be the only stable man in her life.

  He draped his wet clothes over a chair, then stepping in behind Kat, eased down into the hot water, his front to her back. He felt her tremble and knew without looking that she was crying.

  “Please don’t hate me,” she whispered.

  “I don’t hate you, Kat.” He was too poleaxed to feel anything but malice for Brady and concern for Frankie and Boston. He snatched the provided soap and washed the mud from Kat’s hair, bursting with questions about the little girl he’d never met. They’d have to wait. He’d never guessed the woman in his arms could be so fragile.

  “How did he find me?” she croaked. “My saloon? I was so careful.”

  “I don’t know, sugar.”

  She turned her lathered head and met his gaze. “Please tell me Frankie’s safe.”

  Her anguished expression tore at his already-aching heart. “Frankie’s safe.” He said it for himself as much as her. He also said a silent prayer for his brother.

  CHAPTER 27

  Kat woke in the middle of the night wrapped in Rome Garrett’s embrace. For a moment she thought she was dreaming. But she could feel the weight of his thigh, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his arms. He was real, but too good to be true.

  She remembered now, crawling into bed after he’d warmed her bones and heart with that thoughtful bath. She’d been exhausted--physically and emotionally. Regardless, she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Brady did to Johnson, what he might’ve done to Boston, and wondering where he’d taken Frankie. Was he treating her kindly? Was she scared?

  Rome hadn’t asked permission. He’d just climbed into bed and pulled her into a spooning position. Even though they were both naked, he hadn’t come to her bed for sex, but to offer comfort. She knew he had to be reeling from her news, yet he’d treated her with nothing but tenderness. Probably feared she’d shatter if he even raised his voice. Surely, she’d felt tha
t breakable. Even now she had a tenuous hold on her composure.

  She sensed he was holding in his disappointment and anger to spare her more distress. Would the negative emotions pour out once they’d found Frankie and she was safe in Kat’s arms? Would he look at the pint-sized girl and see shades of Brady? Would he see glimpses of himself? Would he want to be a part of their lives, or would he walk away, this time forever?

  “I can hear you thinking, Kat.”

  She must’ve been fidgeting. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “Who can sleep?” His voice was husky, his breath hot on her neck. Under different circumstances, she would’ve been insane with desire. As it was, she was acutely aware of his charisma. “But we need to rest,” he said. “We need to be ready for whatever Brady throws our way.”

  We. Our. Dare she hope there could someday be an us? As in the three of us? She let that fantasy float away almost as soon as it formed. She had no experience with a conventional family. She’d never even lived with her own daughter--just the two of them. She’d not only denied a father a daughter, she’d denied herself motherhood. In a moment of stark self-awareness, she acknowledged that she’d never had a close, long-lasting relationship with anyone other than her father. Was she so afraid of loving and losing again that she’d unconsciously looked for ways to keep Frankie at arm’s length?

  Kat shuddered at the thought.

  The urge was fierce to revisit the path she’d chosen, to assure herself and Rome that she hadn’t acted selfishly but selflessly. She needed to start at the beginning so she could start living in the present and anticipating the future. A future with no self-destructive expectations or fears. “I need to talk about Frankie.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned into Rome, forehead to forehead, and rested her hand on his shoulder. Again she was aware of their lack of clothing, yet she needed to shed even more layers in order to bare her soul.

  Once he knew her chosen path, would he condemn her as a horrible person? Feel her pain? Ponder her sanity? “You may not agree with the choices I made,” she ventured, “but I want you to know I did what I felt was best for Frankie.”

  “I’m listening, Kat.”

  The pressure to choose the right words triggered a bout of nerves. She wet dry lips and braved his judgment. “When I broke away from Brady, I ran as far as my limited funds would afford and landed in Arizona Territory. Near Prescott. I knew an old friend of my daddy’s had settled there, and sure enough Mr. Lamour and his wife took me in. When I realized my condition, I confided in Mrs. Lamour that I was with child. I was so scared, so ashamed. But they didn’t shun me, Rome. I borrowed Daddy’s middle name and went by the name of Katrina Franklyn. I avoided saloons and gambling halls. I helped Mrs. Lamour with housekeeping chores and entertained Mr. Lamour by joining him for nightly games of gin. They kept me safe and sheltered even after Frankie was born.”

  “They sound like good people.”

  “They were the best.” She swallowed hard and continued. “I felt awkward with Frankie. She was so tiny and I... I worried that I’d do something wrong. If you remember I was never very comfortable with children.”

  “I suspect it’s because you were an only child and grew up in an adult world,” he said. “As far as worrying that you’d do something wrong, I think that’s natural for a new mother.” “That’s what Mrs. Lamour said.”

  “Did she and her husband have children?”

  “One son. A soldier. He died fighting the Apaches.”

  “They were older, then.”

  “Yes. But overjoyed to have a little one in their home.” She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. “Meanwhile Jed Brady had become Bulls-Eye Brady, and the papers had started reporting news of his mounting treachery. Mr. Lamour, who sometimes visited the gambling halls, heard whispers connecting my name with Brady’s and even softer whispers that the outlaw was interested in my whereabouts. I feared if he learned about Frankie, he’d assume she was his and take her away, so I decided to distance myself from her.” She felt Rome’s body tense beneath her hand. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. This is where it gets hard.

  “I left her in Mr. and Mrs. Lamour’s care and relocated to Texas. I dyed my hair red and changed my name to Bertie Franklin. I moved from town to town, played more faro and monte than poker, and won a fair amount of money. When someone likened me to another female gambler, Kat Simmons, I started a rumor that Kat had moved East, where she married a wealthy businessman. The rumor spread, and I remember praying it reached as far as Brady’s ears.”

  “Don’t know about Brady, but it caught my attention.” Clearly agitated, Rome rolled to his back and raked his hair from his face. “Little did I know.”

  Kat’s pulse quickened. “I know what you’re thinking. How could I desert my own daughter? But it wasn’t like that. Leaving her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I truly believed she was better off with the Lamours. A married couple with solid religious beliefs and a fine, stable home. They were generous and caring and so good with Frankie. I didn’t want her to grow up like me, Rome, moving town to town, subjected to the seedier side of society. I didn’t want her to grow up as the illegitimate daughter of a scandalized cardsharp. Given society’s views ... we’d be ostracized. Surely you can understand--”

  “I do understand, I just, dammit, I wish . . .”

  “That I’d come to you? The Wells Fargo detective who lived to track criminals, who didn’t expect to be long for this earth? The dime-novel hero who craved glory? Would you really have been ready to marry me back then, to take in a child who was possibly fathered by one of your greatest enemies?”

  Rome flinched. “Ouch. Jesus, Kat. I don’t know. You never gave me the chance to find out.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know where that came from.”

  “Obviously, you’re still angry with me for not being your knight in shining armor, but merely a human being.”

  “Ouch.”

  The subsequent silence cut like a blade. Kat fell back on her pillow, widening the gap between them.

  Rome reached over, interlaced his fingers with hers, and tempered his tone. “Tell me how you and Frankie ended up together in Santa Cruz Valley.”

  Stomach roiling, she gazed up into the dark. Calm down. Slow down. “Mrs. Lamour died. It was sudden. In her sleep. Mr. Lamour couldn’t cope with the loss, certainly not with a toddler ... so I returned to Prescott. Learning that Bulls-Eye Brady and the Ace-in-the-Hole gang had recently pulled a string of robberies in Utah Territory, I worried he was drifting closer. I gathered up Frankie, hired a female companion who was good with babies, and paid for passage south on a series of stagecoaches.”

  “And settled in Casa Bend,” he said.

  “It was a nothing town in the middle of nowhere. I had enough money to purchase the Star, with a little leftover. I changed my name for the last time--Jane Murdock--and shed my cardsharp ways forever. It wasn’t only a matter of guarding my true identity, it was about being a better person, a grounded person--for Frankie.”

  “How old was she then?”

  “Almost three.”

  “Did you still feel awkward around her?”

  His tone was controlled, but she heard the underlying frustration. “You’re wondering if I showed her affection.” Kat envisioned the little girl who’d stolen her heart--bright, inquisitive, a bundle of giggles and hugs. “The more time I spent with her, the more I never wanted to leave her side.”

  “But you sent her away, to San Fernando.”

  She refused to feel bad about it. She still believed she’d done the right thing. Then show him by staying calm and confident. “Molly deserted us soon after I rooted in Casa Bend. Said it was too isolated. Nothing about my personal situation had changed, Rome. I was still unmarried, Brady was still a threat, and I still didn’t deem myself a proper mother for Frankie. San Fernando’s a wonderful school for little girls. A place where I knew she’d benefit from a solid
education and the guidance of grounded, wholesome caretakers.”

  “How did Frankie feel about that?”

  “She’s an adaptable and easygoing child. At least she was until last year.”

  “What happened?”

  “She turned five.” She smiled, remembering how Frankie’s face had lit up when Kat had shown up for her special day. Usually, she kept her visits to Christmas and spring, only sending gifts on Frankie’s birthday, as the day usually sent Kat into a depression. “She’s not a baby anymore, Rome. She’s a little girl. A bright, adventurous girl with a mind of her own.”

  He didn’t comment. And even though he still held her hand, she suddenly felt as though she’d just wedged a mountain between them. She tried to put herself in his shoes. He was possibly Frankie’s father. He adored children. He put family above all else. It reasoned that this moment he was feeling irrevocably cheated of Frankie’s early years.

  She felt ill.

  “Sister Maria’s last letter cited Frankie as unmanageable.” She refrained from mentioning the child was determined to live with family. He’d no doubt twist that knowledge into a hurtful stab. “Reading that letter, I realized that I wanted what Frankie wanted. She wants to be with me.”

  “Her mama.”

  Kat fought to keep her voice steady. “She thinks I’m her aunt. I’m not sure how I’m going to break the truth to her, or even if I should. I don’t want to confuse her. I don’t want to subject her to future ridicule, yet I want to make things right. I want us to live together. To be a family. But that means eliminating the danger in our lives.”

  “Brady.”

  She fell silent, her mind clouding over with dark, violent thoughts. The same thoughts that had propelled her out of the gambling house, racing blindly to Frankie’s rescue. “I never thought myself capable of killing someone, but if he harms Frankie in any way, if he even scares her--”

  Rome startled her silent by rolling on top of her. “First of all,” he said, glaring down, “Frankie isn’t with Brady. She’s with Boston.”

  “You can’t know--”