Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Page 17

  “Doc—”

  “Cadence!” The door exploded inward as a woman of middling years swept into the room her heavy black skirts shrinking the room no small degree.

  “Mama!” Cadence exclaimed as Molly Jamison flew across the room.

  “Oh, my God, Cadence, I have been so worried,” the woman nearly crushed Cadence in a motherly embrace. “You’re alright?” she raked eyes like hot coals over the Langston brother’s. “These highhanded brutes didn’t hurt you?”

  “No, Mama! Curtis would never hurt me.”

  “Good. Sheriff,” Molly lifted her finely boned chin to a haughty level and said authoritatively, “take that man into custody. My daughter did not murder my husband. Curtis Langston did.”

  “What?” several voices burst before the room fell dead silent.

  “He killed my husband,” she pointed a trembling finger toward Curtis. “I heard him threaten my Michael!” Tears welled in her eyes and Cadence could hardly control the urge to deny her mother’s all too familiar theatrics. Molly Jamison strove to contort any and all situations to her advantage even if it meant false accusations of murder. Moreover if her mother hated anyone more than her, it was the Langstons. “Captain Langston charged into my house like a wild boar and told my husband if he ever laid a hand on Cadence again he would kill him, and then,” a well practiced sob was torn from her throat, for a moment she swayed as though about to swoon. “Two days later my husband was dead and my daughter was gone! Gone!”

  “You think I killed him?” Curtis blurted incredulously.

  “I heard you threaten him.”

  All eyes turned to Curtis who swept an angry glare about the room.

  “Yes,” Curtis granted spreading his arms for all to see, “I threatened him, but I didn’t kill him.” With an accusing glare he turned to his mother-in-law. “And exactly where were you while the man beat your daughter?” Turning to the other men in the room he reasoned, “Someone had to do something. The girl had his hands imprinted all over her face, arms, and Lord only knows where else.”

  Molly blanched her lips quivering. Wide eyed she implored the sheriff, “You see, he admits it.”

  “I didn’t admit to anything.”

  “Captain Langston,” Sheriff Hudson stepped calmly between the sparing pair, “Where were you the night Mr. Jamison was murdered?”

  “On board my ship. I was up half the night making preparations to set sail!”

  “More like making preparations to murder my husband!”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “And now that she’s back you would drag my daughter into this godforsaken place and see her hanged for your crimes!” Molly began trembling with such force the old floorboards quaked.

  “That is not true!” Curtis barked. “As if—” He broke off, almost having said, As if I would send my own wife to the gallows. But news of their less than conventional wedding would be best coming from Cadence.

  “Captain,” the sheriff spoke with an astounding degree of patience, “do you have anyone to vouch for your whereabouts the night Mr. Jamison was murdered?”

  “My cook, old Jack can tell you I was there all night.” Curtis was rapidly losing patience and the interrogation had taken a turn he’d not anticipated.

  “Only your cook can speak for your whereabouts that night?” Molly’s tone contained a victorious edge.

  “We took on a new crew in London.” Christ, if that doesn’t make me look guilty as hell. The plan he’d constructed seemed near ready to blow up in their faces. If Molly’s accusations went much further everyone would believe he and Cadence ran away only after murdering her father! “Jack is the only member of the old crew we kept. He’s been sailing with me since the war.”

  Cadence stepped forward placing herself directly between her husband and her mother. “I saw the man who murdered my father and it was not Curtis. The man was taller, much thinner, and dressed all in black.”

  “Don’t you see?” Molly Jamison turned to the sheriff, “Every woman in town is infatuated with that man. Even as he tries to turn her in she will protect him.”

  The room fell to an uncomfortable silence as all eyes turned to Curtis and Cadence Langston, leaving Molly Jamison to stare in bewilderment at the sheriff.

  After a long moment Sheriff Hudson cleared his throat. “Would you like to tell her or should I?”

  “Tell me what?” Molly’s shrewd glare whipped from the sheriff to her daughter. “Cadence? What is going on?

  Feeling like a little girl admitting her transgressions, Cadence stepped toward her mother. “Mama.” Her mother’s gaze was piercing; she gulped, returning the cool eyed gaze stare for stare. “Curtis is not here to turn me in to the sheriff.” Glancing to her husband she reached for his hand and he grasped it. “You see, I love him, and we were married in London.”

  * * *

  Love? Curtis was struck almost forcibly by the impact of her words. She loved him? She’d tried to say it aloud before, but now that he’d heard it an awareness of her he’d yet to experience began to sweep through him, clear to the finger tips laced securely through hers. He’d distanced himself from her these last weeks as much for his own benefit as hers, but… Almost imperceptibly he moved just a bit closer to his wife, the woman who loved him of all people.

  In an oh-so-rare moment Molly Jamison was struck entirely speechless. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she collapsed backward into the arms of George Hudson. The sheriff jerked his head, motioning for one of the other men to retrieve a chair.

  “You—you married him?” her tone suddenly brightened as she flopped into the chair David brought round. “You married Curtis Langston?” Curtis raised Cadence’s hand and displayed the jewel encrusted ring for all to see. “Oh my,” Molly shook her head in disbelief. “I saw these men bringing you to the jail and thought—” her voice trailed off, the wheels clicking visibly in her conniving brain. “Sheriff, I may have been mistaken about the words exchanged between Captain Langston and my late husband. The past couple of months have been a tremendous strain. I really haven’t felt myself.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Jamison.”

  Curtis quickly relayed what Cadence had told him about a man named Fields or Forrester to the sheriff, who promised to look into it further. Molly had no recollection of the man her husband had had dealings with immediately before his death.

  Curtis leaned close to Cadence’s ear. “I certainly hope my father takes the news as well as your mother did,” his dry tone lacked his usual humor.

  “Curtis—”

  He didn’t let her finish, but turned to the lawman. “Sheriff Hudson, are we free to go?”

  The older man lifted his shoulders in a bewildered shrug, “This matter is going to take further investigation, but for the time being you are free to go. I will ask you not to attempt leaving the city or I will be forced to take Miss Jamison, excuse me, Mrs. Langston, into custody, if not both of you.”

  “Of course.” Curtis nodded, then glanced at Molly. “Mrs. Jamison, we will come to see you later, but right now I need to go speak with my own family.”

  “Yes,” Molly nodded, “I wouldn’t presume to accompany you.”

  An uncomfortable silence ensued and was finally broken when George grabbed his hat off the wall hook. “Well, I’m off to speak with old Jack, but I’ll be in touch and I sincerely hope everything works out for the best.” The man suddenly looked tired and his eyes clearly spoke what he was careful not to say aloud; he didn’t know what or who to believe.

  A veritable mob had formed outside of the jailhouse as news of Cadence’s return had traveled with the speed of light through the city. Curtis secured her protectively at his side while his brother, Craig, flanked her opposite side and Marshal Langston strode directly in front of her. It struck her suddenly that this sort of camaraderie and togetherness was a trait her own family had never known. Curtis need only say, “This is my wife” and she was instantly accepted within the fold.r />
  “Ladies and gentleman!” The sheriff raised both hands as though to placate the crowd. “Please listen to me.” The crowd quieted until only a faint murmur rippled through the throng. “Some new evidence has come to my attention in the Michael Jamison murder case.”

  “Arrest her!”

  “His daughter did it, Richard Carlisle saw her!”

  The roar began to grow within the belly of the crowd again.

  With years of practiced patience George raised his hands with undisputed authority. “I have personally spoken with Richard and Melissa Carlisle several times,” his knowing eyes swept the near mutinous throng, “and neither of them actually saw who murdered Mr. Jamison.” The mass quieted again. “Know that the situation is well under control. I am in the process of tracking down a new lead, and I would advise all of you to leave justice in the hands of the law.”

  Turning, the Sheriff cast a compassionate glance at Cadence. “That should quiet them for a while, my dear, but don’t be afraid to come to me if you feel in need of protection.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff Hudson.”

  “Cadence!” The call came from the back of the crowd. “Cadence!” Curtis shoved her more securely behind him.

  “No wait,” she stepped from behind the protective curtain of her husband. “It’s Grace.”

  “Cadence,” Grace elbowed her way through the dissipating mass. “Goodness! It is so good to see you home and safe! Whatever happened to you?”

  Embracing her friend Cadence shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure what happened myself, but I’d like you to meet my husband.”

  “Grace,” Curtis nodded. “It’s been a long time.”

  Looking from Curtis to Cadence she grinned from ear to ear. “You told me nothing happened!”

  “Nothing had happened,” Cadence’s eyes darted from side to side, “yet.”

  Grace rolled her eyes at the technicality and hugged her friend again. “If you need anything, please ask, instead of running off without a word.” She tossed a quick glance at Curtis. “Although, if he had asked me to run away with him I’d hardly have said no.”

  Curtis laughed and pulled Cadence into his arms. “And can you blame me for taking her with me?”

  She shot a questioning glance into his eyes.

  Leaning his head low Curtis murmured. “I want them all to believe I knowingly and willingly took you with me. Even Grace.”

  Twenty

  “You did what?”

  Curtis cast a nervous glance toward the open study door. “Will you keep your voice down?” he implored his father. Robert Langston had taken the news of his son’s recent nuptials about as well as Curtis had expected, which unfortunately was not well at all, and Curtis was attempting to keep the impending tirade from reaching his wife’s ears.

  “Do ye ever stop ta think, lad?” The telltale thickening of his father’s Scottish burr never failed to make him feel the recalcitrant child.

  “Think about what?”

  “About the consequences of yer actions, Curtis. You traipse about the world on a ship for months on end without a thought to yer family! By the by, we have no idea if you’re alive or dead, or even if we should worry over you.” Robert stopped and ran a hand through his graying locks. “Fer three years we thought you were dead, three years during the war we grieved for you.”

  “Oh, God,” Curtis spat, “don’t tell me you’re going to bring that up again.”

  “You never sent any word, and apparently none of your abounding life’s lessons have taught you any sort of responsibility.”

  “Goddamn it all,” he muttered in exasperation, why were they rehashing this same old argument? “I did write. I wrote almost every month, and I will tell you again as I have told you one hundred times that I don’t know why none of the letters made it home. The Confederate postal system wasn’t exactly reliable.” Did his father really believe him so negligent, so reckless? Probably. “But that is hardly the point, and it is hardly what I am here to discuss with you now.”

  Robert wagged a finger toward his son. “Was it really any surprise to me that ye shirked a soldier’s life for that of a pillaging pirate nigh a year into the war?”

  It was all Curtis could do not to blanch at the words of his sire but he’d determined years ago to show no further distress at the constant reminder of being a disappointment, of being the disappointment. “I was not a damned pirate! I followed the rules of war to the letter, the letter.”

  “You have been the bane of my existence for years!” Robert roared near the brink of his control.

  The bane of my existence… Being the bane of someone’s existence seemed to be a recurring theme in his life… The bane of his father—being the third son of four children it had been a fight for his widowed father’s attention and the pranks had never failed to bring Robert running. The bane of his teachers—pranks at school had proved equally beneficial in distracting the schoolmarms from how he struggled with his studies. The bane of the Yankees—well it would suffice to say he was more than a little proud to have been called the bane of the Yankees.

  “And now,” Robert’s voice yanked Curtis from his dark thoughts, “you’ve come home and announced that you ran away with a woman accused of murder and married her.”

  Curtis could have breathed fire in that moment. “It isn’t like that!”

  “Then what is it like? She is a Jamison,” as if that said it all. Bad blood flowed hot and boiling between the Langstons and the Jamisons. While Curtis had never put much stock in other people’s bad blood he’d known his father would not take his marrying Cadence in a positive light.

  “Cadence is not a Jamison anymore,” Curtis growled, “and I would suggest you get used to the fact that she now holds the name of Langston.”

  “Not a Jamison anymore? Why would you believe that, because you gave her your name?” The older man strode forward his ire fully piqued in the face of what he felt a blatant insult to his proud family name. “The Langston name does not change who she is.”

  “You have no idea who she is,” Curtis growled, slamming a fist onto the desktop, “and whether you like it or not, she is my wife.”

  “Oh, aye,” Robert’s blue eyes gleamed, “and what wiles did you fall prey to that she can now call herself yer wife?” He drew himself to his full towering height to stare contemptuously at his son. “I should have forbidden this last fall when I read in that damned gossip column that the two of you were cavorting about in public. I should have put my foot down then.”

  “Put your foot down?” Curtis may not be quite so tall as his father but he was near twice as thick in pure brawn, and crossed powerful arms across his chest. He hadn’t earned a reputation for being obstinate lightly; no man stared him down, especially his father. “Need I remind you I am my own man? I pulled myself up from nothing to become what I am today. I did it myself, without you, without teachers, and without your bloody money!”

  “From nothing, boy?”

  * * *

  Cadence flinched and nearly fell from her precarious perch on the edge of the settee as a resounding crash emanated from the study down the hall.

  Craig seemed unperturbed as he drummed his fingers on the mantel above the fireplace. “They’ve been in there for a while.” He turned to his older brother, “Do you think it’s time to intervene?”

  “You are more than welcome to intervene,” David gestured to the door, “but I’m not going to risk life and limb getting into the middle of that.” To Cadence he said, “Don’t worry. The two of them always fight like this.”

  “Yes, well, I wish they wouldn’t.” Genie Langston, Curtis’s stepmother, stepped into the room with a lovely rose colored tea service. “Would anyone like some tea or coffee?” The pretty woman turned a warm smile to Cadence and her nerves quieted no small degree. Lifting a cup Genie sat beside her on the settee and said, “Cadence, dear, you must tell me everything. Was it terribly romantic to be married in London? I have always wanted to travel t
o Europe.”

  Cadence was surprised by the ease with which the older woman accepted the circumstances of her stepson’s marriage. Most women were not so open-minded about a young couple eloping across the sea. “London was lovely,” Cadence smiled feeling her guard slip just a bit beneath Genie’s kind gaze. Though she blushed, thinking of the two weeks she’d spent with Curtis in London and romantic could hardly describe those magical days… and nights.

  “It’s very difficult to picture Curtis as romantic,” David joked, and Craig joined him in laughter.

  “Do you remember that time when he got caught in the barn with the girl from the saloon?”

  Craig grinned. “Misty? How could I forget? What was he—all of fifteen at the time?”

  “I think so.”

  The parlor door exploded inward and Curtis strode out with his father hot on his heels.

  Genie was across the room in a flash ready to act as a buffer. “Curtis,” she smiled at her stepson before turning a withering glare on her husband. “Will you be staying with us?”

  “No,” he said abruptly. “Craig, Davy, thank you for your help today. I’ll keep you posted.”

  David stepped forward to clasp his hand warmly. “If you need anything else, just say the word.”

  “I appreciate it.” Turning to Cadence Curtis said, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes,” she replied, squirming uncomfortably under Robert Langston’s glowering stare. One would think she was personal courier of the seven deadly sins.

  “I’ve got to get home too,” Craig snapped his pocket watch closed and dropped it into a vest pocket. “My wife will have my head on a platter if I don’t make it home on time tonight.”

  “His wife is in a family way.” David threw a friendly grin and a wink toward Cadence. “I can’t decide who is more miserable, Craig or Marissa.” Turning, he continued, “I tell you, Curtis, I’ve never seen a woman so damned miserable or a man complain so much.”

  Curtis grinned. “Really, Craig, can’t you leave your wife well enough alone?” Curtis stepped forward to plant a kiss on his step-mother’s cheek.