Gabriel’s Fate
By Alice Duncan
Writing as Emma Craig
Gabriel’s Fate
Copyright © 2001 by Alice Duncan
All rights reserved.
Published 2001 by Dorchester Publishing Co.
A Love Spell Book
Smashwords edition September 1, 2009
Visit aliceduncan.net
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
Gabriel Caine’s eyebrows lifted when he caught sight of a tall blond woman striding toward the ticket counter, the handle of a large white wicker basket slung over her arm. Obviously a confident wench, she didn’t bother to hide her charms. Gabriel appreciated her for it, as her charms were considerable.
Her boots made a hearty, satisfying clop against the weathered boards of the old train station. They seemed to announce her presence, like a drum beating out the entrance of a queen. No shrinking violet, she. The peeling walls of the train depot had probably been white once. They and the decrepit wooden benches stacked against them looked as though they belonged here. She didn’t. She was as out of place in Laredo, Texas, as a butterfly in a swamp full of mosquitoes. The woman was, in fact, a sight for Gabriel’s sore eyes.
Although the weather was hot enough to melt wax, she didn’t show it. She held her chin high, and the flowers on her hat looked—perky was the only word Gabriel could think of, and it surprised him. He wasn’t used to thinking of things in terms of perky. Besides, that blond Juno was too large and lush for so flimsy a word as perky. The only concessions she made to the weather were the two moist patches of perspiration under her arms as she lifted them to set her wicker basket, very carefully, on the ticket counter.
A small woman scuttled after the blond like a puppy afraid of being left behind. Her footsteps reminded Gabriel of the mice that used to dash back and forth in the attic above his head when he was a boy and they visited his grandma’s house. He remembered those mice fondly; they’d added an almost musical accompaniment to the rhythmic rise and fall of his father’s sonorous prayers.
Juno’s companion was older than she, and a good five or six inches shorter. She too wore a flowered hat, but on her it didn’t seem at all out of place. Now she, Gabriel decided, could be perky without half trying. She had one hand clamped onto the brim of her hat, which tilted awry on her pretty graying hair. She grabbed at the sleeve of the blonde’s white shirtwaist with her other hand, delicately gloved in white kidskin. The gesture appeared timid. Gabriel got the impression no feeble sleeve twitching was going to deter the blonde from her purpose, whatever it was. The old lady had asset, rather vacuous face, although it carried a worried look on it at the moment.
“But Sophie,” she said, her voice diffident. “There’s such an unpleasant aura about this whole business. Recollect that Nine of Swords, my dear. The cards don’t lie, Sophie.”
Cards? The Nine of Swords? Intrigued, Gabriel edged his hat down to hide his eyes and sidled closer to the oddly matched pair, making sure they didn’t notice him. He liked the name Sophie for the blond. It fitted her somehow.
Sophie wrinkled her nose and slanted a disdainful glance at the overflowing cuspidor standing beside her. “Nine of
Swords, my foot. This is Texas, Aunt Juniper. What you sense is stale sweat and cow pies. And old tobacco juice and spit.”
“Sophie, no! I mean it. The Nine of Swords and the Five of Pentacles are very telling. This is a perilous journey, my dear. Listen to me!”
Plainly determined to do no such thing, Sophie smiled at the clerk, who gaped back. Gabriel didn’t blame him. Sophie was quite a work of God’s art. Her teeth were perfectly straight and as white as pearls; Gabriel could see them from where he stood. “Three tickets to Tucson, if you please.”
“But Sophie, I don’t want to go to Tucson!” The older woman, though obviously timorous around her more dynamic relative, sounded vexed. Gabriel wouldn’t have been surprised to see her stamp her foot. Sophie continued to ignore her.
Tucson. Gabriel didn’t go so far as to smile, but he was pleased to know he’d be able to observe this laudable specimen of nature’s craft for a while longer. He aimed to go to Tucson himself, and there was only one way to get therefrom here.
The clerk pushed up his sleeve, snapped one of his suspenders, and shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. He appreciated Sophie as much as Gabriel did; Gabriel could tell. “One way or round trip?”
“One way, please.”
The older woman tugged at her niece’s sleeve again.”Sophie! It wasn’t just the Nine of Swords and the Five of Pentacles. Recall the Devil, if you will.” Her whisper grated in the hot air and reminded Gabriel of the sound grasshoppers make when they swarmed.
“In a minute, Aunt Juniper.”
Sophie was adamant, and Gabriel wouldn’t have given a fig for Aunt Juniper’s chances of forestalling her, no matter how many minutes she managed to squeeze from Sophie’s schedule. He wasn’t accustomed to resolution in young females, except in pursuit of young males. They generally simpered and smirked around him. He twirled his black mustache at the thought. They did so to impress him, and he knew it. He was, after all, a very handsome man.
Poor Aunt Juniper had taken to wringing her tiny, gloved hands. Gabriel decided it was time to slather on a little of his cultivated southern charm. He shoved his flat-brimmed black hat back on his head and pushed himself away from the wall. His boot heels sounded like thunder in the stifling afternoon air when he walked toward the two ladies.
Aunt Juniper jumped at the sound. When she saw him coming, she looked scared for a moment, then gave him a shy smile.
Not so Sophie. To Gabriel’s amusement, she glanced at him and frowned. Her eyebrows were much darker than her hair. He wondered for a second if she dyed her hair, then decided Sophie wasn’t the type to do anything calculated to attract a man’s attention. Her brows drew down into a sharp V over her nose. Because she fascinated him, he disregarded both her and her frown and tipped his hat to her aunt. He figured he’d have better luck in that direction.
“Anything the problem, ma’am? Can I help you?”
“Oh! Oh, my! Oh, I—”
“No,” said Sophie, trampling over her aunt’s twitters like a longhorn on a June bug. Then she said, “Thank you,” sniffed imperiously, and turned back to the clerk, who almost swallowed his toothpick.
“Are there any rules about taking pets aboard the train, my good man?”
“Er—um—I—” The clerk scratched his chin and shifted his toothpick again. “Pets, ma’am?”
“Yes,” said Sophie, glaring at the fellow as if she suspected him of being deliberately obtuse. “Pets.”
Gabriel registered the sound of gentle snores emanating from the wicker basket. His interest in this pair increased tenfold.
Juniper tweaked Sophie’s sleeve again and whispered, “Sophie!” The result she achieved this time was the same as it had ever been. Sophie didn’t indicate by so much as a flicker of an eyelid that she even knew her aunt was there. Aunt Juniper looked ready to sink through the dirty floorboards.
Gabriel gave the woman a conspiratorial wink, which made her blush. He’d have thought such a reaction sweet if he weren’t so hardened a cynic. Hell, women had been blushing at him for twenty years or more; it didn’t mean a damned thing except that they were experts in their own ways, as he was an expert in his.
“I believe the lady has an animal she wishes to take on the train with her, Henry. You know: a pet. Like a puppy dog or a kitty cat.” Gabriel used his smoothest Virginia accent, just to see if he couldn’t ruffle Sophie’s pretty feathers.
She gave him the same look she might use on a frog that had landed in her soup, and he was pleased to discover her feathers were not easily ruffled. His trip to Tucson might not be boring after all.
“Oh,” said Henry around his toothpick. “You got yourself a kitty-cat, ma’am?” His grin was a work of frontier art, full of crooked, tobacco-stained teeth and huge gaping spaces.
“A kitty-cat?”
Gabriel wasn’t sure because he didn’t know her, but he didn’t expect Sophie could sound much more disgusted.
Aunt Juniper, diverted from her attempts to get Sophie to alter her course—which seemed to Gabriel not unlike trying to change direction of the ocean’s tides—seemed merely confused.
“Tybalt?” she said. Then, rather enigmatically to Gabriel’s mind, she repeated, “Tybalt?”
Gabriel had no idea what the woman was talking about, but he did begin to wonder if Aunt Juniper might not be playing with a full deck.
Without saying another word, Sophie reached into her big white wicker basket and withdrew the ugliest dog Gabriel had ever seen. The clerk behind the counter uttered a short curse and leapt back, as if he anticipated the thing’s attacking him. It didn’t look much like an attack animal to Gabriel. It looked like a very small pig, fawn-colored, black in the face, and with a tail that curled twice and lay flat against its haunch. It blinked at Sophie sleepily.
With a ferocious scowl, Sophie said, “This is not a kitty-cat. This is my pet. His name is Tybalt, and he’s a Chinese pug.”
Then she rubbed her nose against Tybalt’s, purred, “And what a sweet, sweet puppy-doggie he is, too,” and Gabriel lost his heart, a circumstance that perfectly astounded him since, until that moment, he’d been sure he no longer possessed such an article.
Henry still looked scared. “That there thing’s a dawg, ma’am?”
Sophie gave him a frosty look. Gabriel decided it was time for him to take over, considering interference in this instance in the nature of a benevolent act. Poor Henry might not survive an encounter with Sophie without assistance.
He stepped up to the counter, therefore, presented Sophie with one of his most stunning smiles—which earned him another frown—and turned to Henry. “That is indeed a dog, Henry. A fancy one. And this lady and her aunt want to take it to Tucson with them.”
As an expression of cunning crossed his face, Henry scratched his chin. “Ain’t no rules about dawgs goin’ to Tucson as I know about.”
Gabriel had anticipated this obstructionist behavior from the phlegmatic and mercenary Henry. “Now, it seems to me that this pet of Miss—”
He cocked an eyebrow at Sophie, asking silently for her name. She only glared at him and hugged her ugly dog. He got the impression she was daring him to make her tell him anything at all, and that he’d have to use torture before he’d wring her name out of her.
Undefeated and not unamused, Gabriel transferred his look of inquiry to Aunt Juniper, who blushed again. He began to think of the two ladies as a challenge. Leaning close to Aunt Juniper, he whispered into her ear, which was so hot it glowed, “What is your niece’s name, ma’am? I’ll just tell the gentleman here.”
Aunt Juniper jumped and squeaked out a frantic, “Oh!”Gabriel continued to smile at her as if she were the only female on earth. She whispered “Oh!” again, and pressed a hand to her bosom. He sighed.
“My name is Sophie Madrigal,” announced the blond Juno, drawing Gabriel’s attention. He smiled at her again, and kept it up in the face of her fierceness. At least Tybalt seemed to like him. His curly tail wagged.
“A musical name,” Gabriel murmured. Sophie continued to glare at him, but he knew he could wear her down if they spent enough time together. He wondered if a trip to Tucson would be long enough. Gabriel loved a challenge; especially if it looked like Sophie Madrigal. He’d always admired a well-grown female, and Sophie was built upon truly noble lines. He was also unused to being almost able to look one in the eye. Females generally came up to his collarbone. Sophie’s head reached his nose.
He turned to Henry. “Miss Madrigal only wants to be sure that her pet has a place on the train, Henry. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
Henry scratched his chin again before he disappeared from sight. Gabriel leaned over the counter, wondering if Henry’d fainted in the face of so much militant femininity. He hadn’t.
He was scrabbling under the counter for a large volume, which he lifted and plopped on the counter. Dust fluffed up, making Tybalt sneeze. Sophie ceased frowning at Gabriel and resumed frowning at Henry.
“Ain’t seen no rules about dawgs in this h’yere book.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll buy another passage if you’re worried about me cheating the railroad.” Indignation made Sophie’s bosom swell. Gabriel watched it with pleasure. Sophie Madrigal had herself quite a bosom.
“Well now, ma’am, I don’t know as to how another passage will fix it. I got here rules for pigs and cows and sheep and chickens and goats, but I ain’t seen nothin’ coverin’ dawgs.” Henry’s dirty finger poked at a line in the open volume.
“Pigs and cows and sheep and chickens are not in any way akin to pets.”
“And goats,” Henry supplemented conscientiously.
Sophie huffed.
As much as he appreciated the color blooming in Sophie’s cheeks, Gabriel feared poor Aunt Juniper might be about to suffer a spasm. She uttered another, “Sophie!” and paled alarmingly. He guessed he’d better fix the situation for them.
“Here, Henry. This should solve the problem.” He flipped a gold piece in the air. It winked amongst the dust motes and tumbled over and over, as if it were enjoying the scene, too. Henry caught it as deftly as a lizard snagging a fly.
“Why, I do declare,” said Henry without so much as cracking a grin, “I see here where it says dawgs can travel with their owners on the train, no problem.” His finger stabbed at the page again. “Ain’t no problem a-tall.”
Sophie snorted. “How convenient. Then we’ll need only three one-way tickets to Tucson.”
“You still need three, ma’am?” Gabriel asked sweetly. She disregarded him.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Henry, all cooperation now that Gabriel’s gold burned his palm. He held out three tickets and let go of them after she’d laid her cash on the counter. Sophie snatched up the tickets and stuffed Tybalt back into his wicker basket. Then she wheeled around, nearly upending her aunt who fluttered like a sparrow before she caught her balance and came to a palpitating rest. Sophie glowered ferociously as she dug into her reticule.
“Here,” she barked, holding a gold coin in her gloved palm and thrusting it at Gabriel. “Thank you very much for your help.”
From her tone, she might as well have told him to go outback and shoot himself. Gabriel grinned his appreciation and tipped his hat. He didn’t take the coin.
“It’s nothing ma’am. Consider it a gift.”
“I do not accept gifts from strangers, sir.”
“And I don’t aim to take your money, ma’am, so it appears we’re at a standstill here.”
“Sophie!” Aunt Juniper whimpered.
Sophie grabbed Gabriel’s hand so quickly his smile didn’t even have a chance to vanish before she’d slapped the coin into his palm. “Here,” she snapped. “I don’t care what your aims are. I do not accept gifts from strangers.”
Before Gabriel, in his astonishment, had thought of a suitably cutting rejoinder, a commotion from the door captured his attention. He felt his eyes widen when he beheld the smallest man he’d ever seen, walking like he had rheumatism in every single joint of his body, making his way across the filthy floor toward them. The fellow was clad in tan overalls and a cloth cap and reminded Gabriel of photograph she’d seen of people toiling in the turnip fields of Europe. The midget headed straight for Sophie, a circumstance that Gabriel discovered did not surprise him. He wondered if this strange trio belonged to a circus.
“There you are, Dmitri. Here’s your ticket.”
Dmitri—Gabriel decided his movements were akin to a mechanical man he’d once seen in a bawdy house in Dallas—took the ticket. “Thank you, Miss Sophie.”
The fellow had a strange accent. Gabriel couldn’t place it. He also appeared morose and didn’t smile once.
Sophie seemed to like him, though. Her severe expression softened.
“You want I take Tybalt?”
“No thank you, Dmitri. Just see that our bags are properly bestowed, and we’ll meet you on the train. Perhaps you can arrange a place for Tybalt to do his duty in the baggage compartment.”
Dmitri apparently found nothing to object to in Sophie’s suggestion. He tugged at his cloth cap and departed without another word.
“Come along, Aunt Juniper.” Sophie grabbed her aunt’s elbow and began to haul her toward the door.
“But Sophie,” Aunt Juniper cried. “You must thank that nice gentleman for helping us.”
Sophie snorted. Gabriel didn’t get his thanks.
He did, however, board the train to Tucson with lightness in his heart and a keen sense of anticipation.
* * * *
Sophie glanced through the smudged train window and sighed when she beheld what appeared to be a sea of bone-dry desert, speckled here and there with oddly shaped plants, bleached bones, and hovered over by lazily circling buzzards. She’d heard those strange plants were some kind of cacti. They reminded her in an abstract way of men, from their thick torsos and bent arms to their long, painful-looking spines. Sophie did not admire men for the most part. Other than her father—and he only nominally—Dmitri, and one or two others, men had not been a benevolent factor in her life.
Because her thoughts were about to lead her into a depression, she stopped looking out the window and turned back to petting Tybalt. Tybalt licked the back of her hand, and Sophie’s heavy heart lightened fractionally.
The railway carriage was nothing fancy, but it wasn’t as bad as some she’d been in. At least she and her aunt didn’t have smoke and soot and cinders billowing around their heads and threatening to ignite their clothing as they’d done in Colorado. Travelling in the Western states and territories could be an uncomfortable business.
Aunt Juniper, seated across from Sophie on a facing bench upon which she’d placed a soft cushion before she’d settled her softer bottom, had laid a board across her lap. A little frown puckered her forehead. Sophie recognized her expression as one of intense concentration.
Juniper was dealing out the cards. Sophie had no idea what she expected to learn from them, since she’d been doing the same thing for weeks now and ought to know by this time that no matter how many Devils or Nines and Tens of Swords she came up with, Sophie would not be thwarted in her purpose. She continued to stroke Tybalt absently as she added columns of figures in her head.
If Dmitri, who preferred to ride with the baggage when they travelled by train, did some discreet advertising by word of mouth and tacked up a few broadsides, she and Aunt Juniper should be able to make up their passage to Arizona Territory by reading cards and palms on the train and at the various stops between Laredo and Tucson. Even if business was bad, she still had plenty of money as long as she was frugal—and Sophie was an expert at frugality.
Anyhow, if they ran short, Sophie could always wire the bank in St. Louis. Thank heavens the general population was a gullible lot and believed in the occult and spiritual communication. The fools had made her, by this time, almost rich. She gave a soft snort of disdain and then felt guilty, knowing that if for no other reason than it provided her with a good income, she ought to respect her profession.
Besides, as much as she hated to admit it—and did so only occasionally and only to herself—she’d experienced enough odd phenomena not to disbelieve altogether in the mysterious and mystical aspects of life. She hated to acknowledge it, though, and seldom did so.
At any rate, once they got to Tucson, she hoped to be able to carry out her purpose and depart without wasting any more time and money than could be helped. That all depended, of course, on whether or not she was arrested. If the law clamped its hands on her, so be it. She was prepared to take the consequences as long as she completed the mission that had been burning her up from inside for nearly a year now. This was the first time in those long, miserable months she’d even come close to realizing it.
“Mind if I join you ladies?”
Jarred out of her thoughts, Sophie recognized the silky voice and uttered a silent curse. Frowning, she glared at the man’s elegant black vest and said, “I’m sorry, sir, we’re—”
“Oh, how kind you were to help us in the station, sir!”
Sophie transferred her glare to Aunt Juniper, who turned scarlet. Apparently in one of her rare defiant moods, Juniper lifted her chin in spite of her blush and Sophie’s warning glance and declared, “Well, I am grateful, Sophie, no matter what you are.”
“Fine,” said Sophie.
She turned her head again and aimed her glower higher, until it rested on the man’s face. Then she looked away in a hurry. Gracious, she’d forgotten what a handsome man he was. His smile was hot enough to toast bread—not that the weather couldn’t have done that on its own. He was a demoniacally good-looking fellow, though, blast him. Sophie’s distrust of him trebled. Because her own embarrassment bothered her, she deliberately turned her head and stared up at him once more. She didn’t care in the least if she appeared rude.
“Fine,” she said again, and tried to make her facial expression as forbidding as possible.
But it wasn’t fine. At all. She wanted him to go away, not the least because ever since she first set eyes on him, she’d felt a funny prickling sensation inside her. The feeling made her extremely uneasy because she’d experienced it before once or twice. She feared the pricklings boded ill for her future peace of mind, not to mention her ever-present desire to disbelieve in supernatural phenomena.
He tipped his hat and grinned a grin the likes of which must have charmed the serpent from the apple tree in Eden. He had the devil’s own grin, and Sophie resented him for it. His complexion was dark and his teeth gleamed white against it. He had hair as black as night, and a perfectly wicked mustache. His black coat, vest, trousers, and boots were impeccable. The only white on him, besides his perfect teeth, was his shirt. The effect was startling, and Sophie suspected he dressed the way he did because he knew he looked good. She would have scorned the affectation if he weren’t so blasted right. She pegged him for a rambler, a gambler, a rake, and a rogue—a species with which she was intimately familiar—and she hated him.
A vision so sudden she couldn’t capture it flashed in her brain. She jerked slightly, as the experience was both unexpected and unsettling. When she tried to retrieve the vision, it wasn’t there any longer. She had a terrible suspicion it had something to do with this man, though, and she didn’t like it. At all.
Rather to her surprise, he settled himself onto the seat next to Aunt Juniper. She’d have expected him to pester her some more. Most men, particularly after they discovered her profession, attempted to get beyond her hostility in hopes of stealing a kiss if not a tumble, no matter how futile their efforts inevitably proved to be. This man clearly found Sophie’s charms resistible. Well, good. He could entertain Aunt Juniper; maybe get Juniper’s mind away from her worries.
On the other hand, perhaps he was being subtle and expected Sophie to soften her attitude toward him if he was kind to her aging aunt. If so, he had another think coming. She knew all about men like him. They were the ones who’d made her life miserable. Why there couldn’t be more good men in the world, Sophie had never been able to figure out, but she didn’t think it was fair at all.
Blast that vision. She wished she could recall it. Or maybe she didn’t. While she’d experienced odd internal sensations occasionally, she’d never been troubled by visions before, even though they were said to run in the family. Sort of like insanity.
Gad, she had to stop thinking such things.
Because she figured he expected her to gaze at him like a moonstruck adolescent, she refused to do it. So handsome a man must be accustomed to females falling at his feet and begging him to have his way with them. If he was—and if he expected Sophie to be one of those foolish females—he’d miscalculated. From the corner of her eye she saw him smile at Aunt Juniper as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. She recognized the innocent look on his face as one that had been aimed at herself from time to time by gentlemen pretending to a goodness they didn’t possess. Inside, she sneered.
Politely removing his hat and settling it on his lap, he said, “My name is Gabriel Caine, ma’am. It was my pleasure to be of assistance to you in the train station in Laredo, and it’s a pure delight to be riding to Tucson in the presence of two such charming ladies.”
His accent was straight out of a magnolia-scented plantation summer night. It brought to Sophie’s mind images of sultry evenings, mint juleps, and ladies lazily fanning themselves while gentlemen flirted at their feet. Her heart quivered like jelly for a moment or two before it settled into a solid granite block. Damn him and every man like him who preyed on innocent young women. And, she reflected, thinking of her aunt, old women.
Juniper fluttered. Sophie caught herself in time to stave off a sarcastic snort. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction to his practiced flirtation. She despised him.
“My—my name is Juniper Madrigal, Mr. Caine. And I truly do thank you for helping us back there in the train station. Sophie is so—so—so—” Words deserted her.
Sophie suppressed the urge to swear.
“Your niece is a beautiful and resolute young woman, Mrs. Madrigal.”
“Oh, I’m not married, sir,” Juniper twittered. “I’m Miss Juniper Madrigal, you see. Sophie’s father’s sister.”
“I’m sure you’ve left a score and more of broken hearts in your wake, Miss Juniper.”
“Oh, la!” Aunt Juniper fanned herself with the ace of clubs. Sophie felt her lips purse. She stroked Tybalt too hard and he grumbled, opened one eye, and frowned at her like a dog sorely abused. She would have apologized, but she didn’t want Mr. Gabriel, Tongue-of-Silver, Caine to know he’d affected her in any way whatsoever.
“In fact, I’ve seldom met such a delightful pair.” Gabriel shared his smile equally between Sophie and Aunt Juniper. How devilishly fair-minded of him. “You are perfectly splendid, ma’am, and your niece is—exquisite.”
Sophie bit her tongue so she wouldn’t swear at him.
“Oh, yes,” cried Juniper, delighted. Sophie rolled her eyes.”She’s always been so lovely. She was beautiful even when she was a baby, you know. Why, she even won a beautiful baby contest in New York City, Mr. Caine. New York City! And her little b—oh!” Juniper clamped her lips together, shot Sophie a frightened glance, and pulled her legs in toward her seat and away from Sophie’s boot tips.
Wishing she could tape her aunt’s mouth shut, Sophie merely smiled a warning at her. Juniper, who had reason to know that smile well, looked like she might faint.
Gabriel Caine either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the uncomfortable pause that erupted in the middle of Juniper’s ditherings. He said, “Yes, ma’am. That doesn’t surprise me at all.” He gave Sophie a debonair nod; she pretended she didn’t see it and gazed pointedly out the window.
Silence sprang up once more, this time because Sophie had terrified Juniper wordless. Her aunt kept shooting her apprehensive glances, and Sophie kept ignoring them and staring out the window. She neither knew nor cared what Mr. Gabriel Caine was doing or what he thought. When he spoke again, therefore, his tone as nonchalant as if he were accustomed to such overt antagonism from pretty young females, she was somewhat nonplused.
“What’s that you’re doing, Miss Madrigal, if I might be so bold as to inquire?”
Sophie thought sourly that the damned man could use more words to ask a simple question than anybody she’d ever met except her own father. Which, all things considered, figured. Gabriel Caine seemed to be cut of the same charming—and transitory—cloth as Martin Madrigal. Sophie heaved an internal sigh as she recalled her deceased, dynamic father.
“Oh, la, Mr. Caine,” chirped Juniper. “I’m reading the Tarot.”
“The Tarot, ma’am?” He sounded suitably puzzled. Tarot decks weren’t easy to come by in the United States, and most people had never heard the word. Juniper had cherished her own deck for years. It had been hand-painted especially for her by Señora Esmeralda, a Gypsy woman from Spain. Today Juniper was using a plain deck of playing cards since she wasn’t about to entrust her pampered Tarot deck to the questionable mercies of territorial train travel.
“The mystical cards, Mr. Caine,” Juniper explained. “The Tarot. I am a medium, you see.”
Although Sophie didn’t turn her head to look, she could tell her aunt was blushing and bowing her head. Juniper considered her talents a gift from God, and was always humble in acknowledging them. Sophie, who figured God had better things to do with His time than confer mystical powers upon people, considered Juniper’s gifts a family legacy handed down through a long line of humbugs and charlatans. Juniper irritated the life out of Sophie at times, although Sophie loved her dearly.
“Is that so?”
Gabriel Caine sounded honestly interested. Shooting him a narrow look from under her flowered bonnet, Sophie acquitted him of subterfuge, although she reserved the right to change her mind later, if she ever got to know him better. She hoped she wouldn’t have the opportunity.
“Yes indeed, Mr. Caine. The gift is in the blood, you see.”
Gabriel blinked at Aunt Juniper. If Sophie didn’t hate him so much, she might have laughed. Nobody in the world was more sincere than Juniper.
“The Madrigals have been in the fortune telling business for generations, Mr. Caine,” Sophie said. The sound of her voice, hard and cold, surprised her, as she’d planned to ignore Gabriel Caine until he went away. She cursed herself for a fool and turned back to the window.
“Is that so? It sounds like an interesting line of work.”
“Oh, it is, Mr. Caine. And when one has the gift, you know, one must use it judiciously.”
“I see. And Miss Sophie Madrigal has this gift too, does she?”
Sophie figured he was aiming one of his snake charmer’s grins at her and was glad she couldn’t see it. She still burned inside from the first one.
“Yes indeed. She certainly does.” Aunt Juniper sounded troubled. Which made sense, as Sophie did not honor the family gift as Juniper thought she should. Sophie honestly wished she could oblige her aunt in the matter, but her life had taught her that this so-called family gift was, for the most part, nothing but a sham. She treated it thus, hurt Juniper in the process, regretted that, and couldn’t help it.
Which didn’t explain away that sudden, unexpected vision she’d had. Ah, well, it was undoubtedly a momentary aberration, and would not recur. If it did recur, Sophie would ignore it. Just because she’d been born into a family of crazy mentalists didn’t mean she had to succumb to the nonsense engendered therefrom. She prided herself on her commonsense, even in the face of mystical visions. Not that they were truly mystical, but . . .?
Fiddlesticks. Sophie decided not to think about it anymore.
“My goodness,” the man purred. “Such beauty and talent in one lovely package. My, my.”
Sophie imagined the look on his face as that of a cat about to pounce on a tasty mouse. She told herself not to be fanciful.
“Oh, yes. Sophie is very talented, Mr. Caine. She’s—very talented.”
“I look forward to learning more about her talents one day, Miss Madrigal.”
There were all sorts of subtle meanings in his tone of voice, and Sophie would have slapped him if Juniper weren’t present. Juniper wouldn’t understand, and Sophie felt guilty enough about her poor aunt as it was. She did nothing, therefore, and proceeded to stroke Tybalt, who snored blissfully.
“I fear,” continued Gabriel, “that my own lot in life is to dwell among those uninitiated into the cabalistic arts.”
Lord, the man could talk. Sophie almost admired him for it.
Juniper cleared her throat timidly. “Er, would you care to learn about the cards, Mr. Caine? I find them fascinating myself, and enjoy teaching people about them. I, er, sense that you might profit from the experience.”
Good Lord! Juniper only offered to teach people whom she considered blessed with the gift. Sophie couldn’t even imagine why she’d consider Gabriel Caine so blessed. The man was a devil, for heaven’s sake. She bit off a hot remonstrance, and stared with increased venom through the smudgy glass.
After a small pause—Sophie would have given her eyeteeth to know what he was doing but she’d die before she looked—Gabriel said, “I’d be honored, ma’am. I’d be genuinely honored. A fellow doesn’t get an offer like that every day in the week.”
Juniper giggled.
Thinking he’d never know how true those casual words of his were, Sophie glowered at the scenery.
Chapter Two
The dining car wasn’t crowded this early in the morning, so Sophie and Juniper had their choice of tables. They opted for one in the middle of the car, and Sophie settled Tybalt’s wicker basket in the chair beside her. Aunt Juniper sat across from her, her sweet face wreathed in one of her charmingly vague smiles as she surveyed the car. Juniper had, as she always did, tried to persuade Dmitri to join them for breakfast, but Dmitri preferred to dine out of the public’s eye.
Juniper had tried to tell him that people didn’t really stare at him, but Dmitri didn’t buy it. Sophie considered that sensible of him, since she knew as well as he did that most people considered him a freak of nature because he was a midget. It wasn’t fair, but life wasn’t fair.
Sometimes she wished she had control over life and death and the world in general; there would be many fewer people in the world.
Sophie had slept well on the train after an initial bout of internal turmoil, and was glad of it. Sometimes when they traveled, she found it mortally difficult to get a good night’s rest. The only thing that had troubled her rest last night was a recurrence of that odd vision. She wished she could capture it and study it. Or maybe she didn’t. Actually, all things considered, Sophie guessed she’d better leave the visions to Juniper, who valued them. Sophie’s as soon skip them altogether.
They ordered breakfast. Juniper folded her hands and placed them primly on the table in front of her. She cocked her head to one side the way she did when she was about to take Sophie to task for something. She reminded Sophie of a sweet little sparrow when she positioned her head thus. Sophie braced herself to endure one of her aunt’s lectures, although such preparation wasn’t really necessary. Her aunt’s fiercest scold didn’t carry a sharp enough edge to slice through butter. Aunt Juniper, unlike Sophie, was a very nice person.
“All right, Aunt Juniper, what’s the matter? What have I done now?”
Sophie smiled when Juniper gave a guilty start.
“Nothing is the matter, Sophie,” said Juniper nervously.
“Come along now, don’t fib to me. You’re mad at me, Aunt Juniper. Admit it.”
Juniper could no more admit to being angry than she could admit that most fortunetellers were frauds. Sophie knew it, and felt mean about teasing her. Her aunt was spared an answer when the porter brought their breakfast. Because she felt penitent about needling Juniper, Sophie smiled at the man. He smiled back, his black face shining. At once she felt better about life.
The two Madrigals sat in silence while they buttered their muffins. Sophie contemplated her breakfast with satisfaction, glad that she was able to enjoy food again. Juniper’s voice startled her.
“I don’t know why you were so rude to that nice Mr. Caine yesterday, Sophie.” Aunt Juniper took a savage bite from her muffin, the greatest show of pique Sophie had seen from her in a long time.
As for herself, Sophie heaped jam on her own muffin and gave her aunt one of her more jaundiced squints. “That ‘nice’ Mr. Caine is a thoroughgoing scoundrel, Aunt Juniper. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell that about him, given the family predilections and all. You, of all people, can usually tell the genuine article from the quacks.” She was ashamed of herself when a stricken look crossed Juniper’s face. Although she didn’t think he deserved it, Sophie modified her assessment.”Although he was very nice to you, and he did help us in the train station. I’ll give him credit for that.”
“Oh, Sophie, I wish your unhappy experiences hadn’t hardened your heart so. Not all men are bad, dear, and the world isn’t really such a terrible place. Truly it isn’t.”
The pain she strove like a Trojan to keep under control struck Sophie’s heart so suddenly and so sharply that she had to squeeze her eyes closed against it. Her muffin dropped from her fingers and she pressed them to her eyelids, as if in that way she could push the agony away. Her efforts this time, as always, were ineffective. Her other hand gripped the edge of the table hard. She felt Aunt Juniper’s small hand cover hers, and ruthlessly choked back tears.
“Oh, Sophie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
With a great effort of will, Sophie managed to withdraw her hand from her eyes, open them, and smile at her aunt.”You didn’t hurt me. Don’t fret, Aunt Juniper. I’m fine, I assure you. Just a touch of headache all at once.”
Juniper scanned Sophie’s face, trying to judge the truth of her assurance. She didn’t smile back. “Are you sure, dear? You know I’m always happy to consult the cards for you. Truly, Sophie, they can give you relief and hope. The cards and prayer together can’t fail to bring comfort and ease the pain in your heart. God sees everything, Sophie dear. He’s watching over you, even if you don’t want to believe it. God is the Universal Mind, dear, whether you admit it or not. Your unhappiness and disbelief can’t hurt Him, but He can give you comfort if you choose to ask for it. He knows everything and can help you so much, if you give Him a chance.”
Where was God when Joshua died? Sophie wanted to scream. Because she knew if she did, Juniper would first be hurt and then spout more of her endless platitudes, she didn’t. She said, “Thank you, Aunt Juniper. You already know what I think about the cards.” And the Universal Mind. She didn’t add that part. While Sophie didn’t know if she really disbelieved in God, she knew from bitter experience that He didn’t much care what went on down here on this planet.
Juniper shook her head sadly. “You know, Sophie dear, you do your mother and father a great disservice by speaking of them and their work as if they were fakers preying on a gullible public.”
“Well?” The word popped out of Sophie’s mouth before she could stop it. She and Juniper had carried this discussion around with them for years, like baggage. Neither of them would ever change the other’s mind. Sophie knew it even if Juniper didn’t. Because she loved Juniper very much and hated to hurt her feelings no matter what her own were, she added hastily, “I’m sorry, Juniper. I know how much these things matter to you. I didn’t mean to be hateful.”
Juniper shook her head again. “You’re not hateful, dear. You couldn’t be. But, oh, Sophie, your mother and father loved you so much. It would hurt them to hear the way you’re talking now. They went through so much in order to be together.”
There went the pain again, stabbing into her heart like one of her Uncle Jerome’s carnival knives. Sophie was prepared for it this time. She didn’t so much as flinch.
“Yes, Aunt, I do know it. I loved them too.” She picked up her fallen muffin, prepared to enjoy her breakfast in spite of everything. “And the family is still a nest of quacks and fakers, no matter what you say.” She smiled and twinkled at her aunt to pad her words’ sharp spikes. “Except for you, Aunt Juniper. I know you honestly believe in all of this . . .” She waved her hand, unwilling to label Juniper’s beliefs with another disparaging term and unable to think of a polite one.
Juniper tutted and gave up. “You’ll learn one of these days, Sophie dear. I know you will. The cards told me so, and the cards don’t lie, no matter what you think you believe.”
“In that case, perhaps you’d best do a reading on your friend, Mr. Caine. If the cards don’t lie, I’m sure they’ll tell you he’s a villain.”
As usual, Sophie’s sarcasm sailed right over Juniper’s head. Her eyes were as round and shiny as gold eagles when she said, “I already did, dear, and you’re quite wrong about him.”
Sophie repressed a sigh of resignation and took another bite of her muffin. She didn’t say anything.
“Now, they indicate quite clearly that he lacks faith, covers his internal pain with a dry and sarcastic wit, and that his past is clouded.” She frowned, as if trying to clear up the clouds in her own mind. “There may have been—improprieties.”
“I’ll bet.” Improprieties, indeed. Sophie would lay odds that the man’s past was as black as tar.
“No, really, dear. He himself is unsure of his future path and unclear about his own merits, but if he channels the goodness inside of him, it will lead him to do great things. Heroic things.”
Heroic. Sophie couldn’t stand it. She nodded, declined comment, and continued to eat. Merciful heavens, how had she ended up in this family? The merciful heavens didn’t deign to answer her this morning.
Sophie wasn’t surprised. They’d never once answered a prayer of hers. She’d come to the conclusion some months ago that if God and the heavens existed, they evidently didn’t like Sophie Madrigal very much. Well, she didn’t like them either, so they were even.
“And that’s not all, Sophie.” Juniper’s voice had taken on a quality of excitement. Sophie could tell she was warming to her subject, just as she’d warmed to Gabriel Caine the prior day. Sometimes Sophie wished her aunt were more discriminating in her acquaintances. Often, in fact.
“He’s well grounded in the spiritual life, Sophie. The cards said he was. He’s searching for something, and he has no idea it’s within himself. He has a definite gift, dear. I perceived it plainly.”
“Is that so?” Good heavens. If Juniper thought that, Sophie despaired of her. If there were a spiritual bone in Gabriel Caine’s entire large body, Sophie would eat Tybalt’s wicker basket.
“Indeed it is. I also perceive that his future is somehow entangled intricately with—”
“Good morning, ladies.”
Sophie stiffened. Wonderful. As if her aunt had conjured the devil out of the air, here he was. Sophie didn’t bother to respond, or even to look at him. She could feel his smile where she sat and didn’t want any part of it.
“It’s a beautiful day, Miss Sophie, Miss Juniper.”
Sophie heard him rub his hands together briskly. In her mind’s eye she pictured him, tall, handsome, and elegant—the quintessential gentleman traveler, taking breakfast with his fellow passengers.
She didn’t believe it for a second. She knew him to be a black-hearted scoundrel, even if Juniper couldn’t be brought to recognize reality, because all men who looked like him and were charming and attractive were black-hearted scoundrels; they couldn’t seem to help themselves. Sophie’d learned that lesson the hard way. And early. Very early. She did, however, wonder what Juniper perceived his future was intricately entangled with. The law, as like as not. The wrong side of it.
“Oh, yes! Yes, it’s perfectly lovely out, isn’t it, Mr. Caine?”
Juniper sounded as happy as a child with a new toy.
“It certainly is, Miss Juniper.”
Sophie could hear the smile in his voice. She’d bet anything he’d dressed in black again this morning. Black should be a sober, discreet color, yet on Gabriel Caine it looked positively dashing. He knew it, too, the bounder.
“Oh, Mr. Caine!” Aunt Juniper started to rise, sat down again, blushed, and fluttered her napkin at him. Sophie wanted to wring Juniper’s neck. The man already thought he was God’s gift to womankind; it irked her to have Juniper confirm him in his inflated opinion of himself.
“Oh, Mr. Caine,” Juniper repeated. “Please join us for breakfast. The food on the train is so delicious, you know.”
Sophie aimed a quick kick at Juniper’s ankle. Juniper, anticipating such a warning from her niece based on past experiences, had already tucked her feet safely away under her chair.
“I’d be delighted to join you two ladies, if I wouldn’t be interfering.”
“Oh, no—”
“Actually, we were having a private conversation, Mr. Caine,” Sophie said, drowning out Juniper’s words.
“We weren’t either,” Juniper said, astonishing her niece.
She glared at her aunt. “No?” She gave Juniper one of her dangerous looks. For the first time since Sophie could remember, Juniper glanced away from her and defied that look. Sophie was dumbfounded. “We had been chatting, Mr. Caine, but about nothing at all significant. It would be a pleasure to take breakfast with you.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Juniper.”
Deciding she had to look at him sometime, Sophie shifted her dangerous glare to Gabriel. He merely raised his left eyebrow in the most ironical expression she’d ever seen. Drat! The man was on to her. It didn’t matter. Sophie could ignore the most practiced advances of the most practiced flirts. She’d learned how a long time ago.
She lifted her muffin again—and suddenly gave a thought to her weight. Although Sophie was not a slim girl, she hadn’t troubled herself about her weight in ages.
Of course, after Joshua died, she’d virtually stopped eating. For eight or ten months, she’d been so devastated byte shattering grief of loss, she’d walked around in a fog of it. Her will to live crushed, she’d been unable to eat more than enough to sustain life. She didn’t want to eat even that much, but eating was easier than listening to Juniper harp at her. She’d lost weight then. In fact, Juniper had despaired of her. Her clothes had hung on her like rags on a scarecrow.
So gradually that she wasn’t even aware of it, the sharp edges of her anguish had blunted until the pain had become more of a constant, dull ache of sorrow, only flaring to sharp life occasionally. Then Juniper had given her the little pug puppy that Sophie had named Tybalt, and she’d gradually dragged herself back among the living. At last she’d discovered herself able to eat without feeling sick.
And then the notion of exacting revenge had occurred to her, and her life had opened up. She had finally discovered a reason for continuing this wretched existence and, as a consequence, began to enjoy food again. Food was her only joy now. Food and Tybalt. And, since Tybalt shared her love of food, the pairing of the two had been an inspiration on Juniper’s part.
After she’d fulfilled her plan, her life would be complete, and she wouldn’t know what to do with herself anymore. But Sophie couldn’t make herself care what happened after that. She’d have done her duty.
Generally, therefore, Sophie didn’t give a thought to her weight. Only women who were trying to attract men worried about such nonsense. Sophie was definitely not one of those.
Yet today, this morning, she found herself wishing she weighed twenty or thirty pounds less than she did. On account of Gabriel Caine. She tried to lie to herself, couldn’t do it, and hated herself for succumbing to such a nonsensical female anxiety. As if she should care about what he—or any other man—thought of her as a woman. Yet she did care. Damn him for upsetting her equilibrium.
“Where’s your—er—little fellow in the overalls this morning, Miss Juniper?” Gabriel asked, serenely unaware of Sophie’s inner turmoil.
Sophie would have laughed at herself if she were alone. Why should he be aware of it? Traditionally women pretended that their every living breath wasn’t wasted on the impossible task of trying to make men care. Traditionally women lied to themselves.
“Dmitri never rides with us or takes his meals with us, Mr. Caine,” Juniper said. “He prefers to guard our baggage.”
“He’s a midget, Mr. Caine,” Sophie said bluntly. “It embarrasses him to be gaped at by rude people.” She watched him and deliberately took a big bite of her jam smeared muffin. Let him consider her fat; she didn’t care. She wished she believed it.
“Is that so? I’m sorry to hear it.”
His tone was so mild, Sophie was embarrassed by her own show of antipathy.
“He’s a Russian, Mr. Caine,” Juniper said in a confiding whisper. “I understand Russians always feel things deeply.”
“Is that so?”
“Unlike the rest of us,” muttered Sophie.
She had taken to frowning at Gabriel, and was unprepared for the grin that suddenly spread over his face. He turned it on her, full-bore, and she felt it in every inch of her body.”Oh, I suspect we all feel the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Miss Sophie. Some folks try to hide from them, some folks brazen their way through them, and some folks erect stone walls with spikes on them to try to keep ‘em out.”
Like me. She knew he was talking about her. “You seem to know a lot about your fellow men, Mr. Caine.” She gave him a smile of her own, and hoped it was as cold and pointy as an icicle.
“A bit,” he said, still grinning. “A bit. And you, Miss Sophie? Do you like to study your fellow men?”
She stared at him for a second or two, wondering why he was persevering in the face of her undisguised antagonism. She couldn’t figure him out. At last she said, “I leave such nonsense to Aunt Juniper, Mr. Caine. Personally, I don’t care.”
He mouthed the word liar, and Sophie felt as though he’d reached into her soul and squeezed her heart. Damn him!
* * * *
The bitch. The cold-blooded bitch. What the hell was the matter with her? Gabriel had never seen a woman like Sophie Madrigal before—and until this minute, he’d believed he’d seen them all. Maybe she was one of those man-hating females whose lack of prospects had made them bitter.
Eyeing her from across the table—overtly, since he saw no reason to be polite if she wasn’t—he decided that wasn’t the answer. No female with Sophie Madrigal’s blond beauty and buxom charms could have been ignored by the other members of Gabriel’s sex. There was too much of her, and it was too gorgeous and way too lush to ignore. No. There must be another reason for her hostility.
Perhaps the answer was as simple as that she’d been born mean. Perhaps there was a deeper reason. Perhaps she’d been seduced and abandoned. Abused in some way. For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why he cared. What the hell difference was it to him how this female had come to be such an unpleasant bit of goods?
Sophie lifted the lid on the wicker basket sitting on the chair next to her, gave her ugly dog a piece of breakfast sausage, and Gabriel realized there was his answer. Right there in that basket. That silly, squash-faced dog. Somewhere under Sophie Madrigal’s prickles was a heart. Not, of course, that Gabriel had any desire to touch her heart, but it might be fun to figure her out. God knew, he had enough time in which to do it. If he worked at it, he might at least be able to touch the rest of her, which was an alluring prospect all on its own.
“So, Miss Juniper,” he said, aiming one of his warmest smiles at Sophie’s aunt, “did you consult the cards last night after you gave me my lesson?”
“Yes, I did, Mr. Caine.”
And that was another thing: Miss Juniper Madrigal. Miss Sophie and Miss Juniper might have belonged to separate races of mankind altogether, for all the differences existing between them. Yet they had sprung from the same family of charming fortunetellers. Also, no matter how much she tried to hide it, Sophie cared about her aunt.
Aunt Juniper’s tiny hand covered his for a moment, a gesture that touched something deep in Gabriel’s chest. “And Mr. Caine, I did a reading on you, too!” She flushed and jerked her hand away.
“Did you now? And what did the cards tell you, ma’am? Or do I want to know?”
She giggled like a schoolgirl. He couldn’t help but like Juniper. She was as different from her niece as a fluffy little kitten was from a Bengal tiger. He heated his grin up a degree just to see if her blush could get hotter. It could, it did, and he was enchanted.
“Oh, la, Mr. Caine! I’d never even have told you if the cards had said something awful. I don’t believe in frightening people, you know.”
“No?”
“Well, of course, I sometimes will give people a gentle warning,” Juniper said seriously. “But, you know, the cards don’t speak in absolutes. They might be able to hint a person away from a possible problem, but they aren’t to be considered akin to the Oracle at Delphi.”
“I see. And you’ll tell a person if a problem is looming?” It tickled him that Juniper was so earnest about those cards of hers.
Juniper tucked in her chin. “If I can. I believe it to be my duty to help people in that way.”
“That’s very nice of you, ma’am. And exactly what I’d expect of a kind heart like yours.”
Gabriel grinned when Juniper got flustered by his praise and uttered several unrelated words, as if she were trying to begin a sentence but didn’t know what she wanted to say or how to go about saying it.
“Of course, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Mr. Caine, it’s all bunkum.”
“Oh!” Juniper looked stricken when Sophie’s stark declaration smote her ears.
Gabriel, watching as Juniper seemed to wither under Sophie’s caustic scorn, wished he could paddle the exasperating Sophie. He turned to find her glaring at him, her eyes flashing. She had wonderful eyes. They were hazel, he guessed. Today they looked green, probably picking the color up from the green velvet doodads trimming her collar.
“Your aunt doesn’t seem to think so, Miss Sophie.” He kept his voice soft, but pitched it at a level calculated to instill shame.
It didn’t work on Sophie. She huffed and fed Tybalt a piece of buttered muffin.
“Oh, Mr. Caine, Sophie doesn’t mean it. She only thinks she does.”
Giving up on Sophie, who appeared as invincible as a mountain, Gabriel blinked at Juniper. “You mean there’s a difference, ma’am?”
She nodded hard. “Oh, my, yes, Mr. Caine. Why, if Sophie’s unpleasant experiences hadn’t hurt her so badly, she’d know—ow!”
Juniper turned the face of a chastened kitten on her niece.”There was no need to kick me, Sophie. You know I would never reveal anything you prefer to keep to yourself.”
“It didn’t sound like it to me, Aunt Juniper. I’d prefer it if Mr. Caine knew nothing at all about me, thank you very much.”
She was as mad as a wet hen. Gabriel was nettled with her for hurting Juniper. “Miss Sophie,” he said in his sloppiest, honey-and-magnolia-blossom Virginia accent. “Even though I’m just dyin’ to learn every little thing there is to know about you, I reckon I can forego the pleasure if your auntie’s silence will keep her safe from your sharp pointy toes.”
Giving him a smile that would have stricken a lesser man dead on the spot, Sophie said, “Good. That’s a wise course to follow, Mr. Caine. I’d hate to have to place the family curse on you.”
“Sophie!” Juniper looked like she might burst into tears.
After several seconds, during which Gabriel attempted to decide between giving Sophie Madrigal the spanking she deserved or trying to make peace between Sophie and her aunt, he said, “So, tell me, ladies: Why are y’all headed to Tucson? Do you plan to tell some fortunes there?”
It seemed an innocent-enough question to Gabriel, but from the look of terror Juniper shot at her niece, he guessed it wasn’t. He repressed a heavy sigh. “I’ve got business there myself,” he said, hoping to clear the air of whatever seethed in it.