Twin of Ice (Montgomery/Taggert 6)

“K

ane, darling, what have they done to you?” She began to kiss his face and he started to wake.

“Oh, Houston,” Kane said as he rubbed his head. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember? They say that you killed Jacob Fenton. You didn’t, did you?”

“Hell, no!” he blurted, then paused as Houston went to her knees and put her head in his lap. “At least I don’t think so. I . . . ah, I really don’t remember too well.”

With her cheek against his thighs, his hand in her hair, she was determined not to show her fear. “Tell me what you do remember.”

He began his story slowly. “I went to see Fenton, and nobody was home so I went upstairs lookin’ for him. When I got to the front of the house, there he was lyin’ at the bottom of the stairs. Dead. The next minute, Marc Fenton and some others came in and started yellin’ that I’d killed him. There was a fight, and I got hit over the head with somethin’ hard, and I woke up here. I think there’s talk of a lynchin’.”

Houston looked up at him with fear in her eyes and after a moment she stood and began to walk about the cell. “That’s a very weak story.”

“Weak!” Kane gasped, then calmed. “Houston, honey, it’s the truth, I swear to you.”

“You were the only one in the house? There were no witnesses that he was already dead when you entered?”

“Not exactly that way. I mean, nobody saw me come into the house, I don’t think, but maybe somebody saw Fenton dead earlier.”

“That won’t matter. If someone saw him die, that would make a difference, but you could have been hiding in a closet for hours for all they know. Did someone actually see him die?”

“I . . . I don’t know, but Houston—.”

She came back to sit on the bed by him. “Kane, everyone in town heard you say that you wished Jacob was dead. Unless you have an eyewitness to his death, we’ll never prove that you’re innocent. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I think I’m beginnin’ to worry. Houston, there’s somethin’ I wanta tell you. It’s about the money.”

“Kane,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why were you at Mr. Fenton’s house? You weren’t really planning to murder him?”

“Hell, no,” he said quickly. “I had Mr. Westfield draw up a paper sayin’ that I was releasin’ all my claims to the Fenton property, and I was takin’ the paper to Fenton. What I wanta talk to you about is my money. If they convict me, they’re gonna confiscate everything I own. You’ll not only be a widow, you’ll be a pauper. Your only chance to save any of the money is to leave me right now before I go to trial. If you do that, Westfield can arrange for you to have a few million.”

Houston was barely listening to the last part of what he was saying. Her face showed how stunned she was. “Why did you go to Fenton’s?” she whispered.

“I told you,” Kane said impatiently. “I wanted to give him a paper sayin’ I had no hold on his property. Poor ol’ man, he was dead when I got there and never saw the paper. But, Houston, what matters is that you have to save yourself and you’ve gotta do it now. If I’m taken out of here and lynched, it’ll be too late.”

Houston felt that she was in a dream. Ever since she’d found out that Kane had married her to enact a plan of revenge, she had never felt the same. She’d admitted that she loved him in spite of what he felt about her, but in her heart she’d always known that some part of her would withhold her complete love.

“You’ve given up your revenge, haven’t you?” she asked softly.

“Are you on that again? I told you that all I wanted was to have him at my table at a house that was bigger than his. If I could afford it, what was wrong with it?”

“But you also wanted a lady-wife at the table, too. You married me because—.”

“You married me for my money!” he shot at her. “And now you’re gonna lose ever’ penny of it when they hang me for a murder I didn’t commit.”

Houston stood. He hadn’t said, in so many words, that he loved her, but he did. She knew it. She knew it with every fiber in her body. He had married her as part of a stupid plan of revenge, but in the end, he’d fallen in love with her and, because of that love, he could forgive an old man who’d wronged him.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have a great deal of work to do.”

If she’d looked at Kane, she would have seen the look of pain on his face. “I guess you gotta talk to Mr. Westfield about the money.”

“Someone,” she murmured, pulling at her gloves. “Perhaps Mr. Westfield isn’t the right person.” Absently, she kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about a thing. I know exactly what to do.” With that, she called to the sheriff and he let her out.

Kane stood in the middle of the cell for a moment, unable to move. She had certainly jumped at the chance to get rid of him, he thought. He climbed on the cot to look out the window and, as he saw Houston speeding away in her shiny carriage, he had to blink his eyes to clear the water. Sunlight, he thought, stepping down.

Easy come, easy go, he told himself. He’d done all right without a wife before, and he’d do all right again.