The Return Of Chase Cordell

“There, I’ve finally got it.”

Ira shook the bits of corn off his arm while he extracted it from the barrel. When his hand reappeared, he was clutching an oilskin-wrapped bundle.

“I kept it real nice for you.” Ira Goten thrust the bundle toward Chase.”I see your hand hardly scarred at all.”

Chase followed the man’s gaze to the narrow white scar on the back of his right hand. He didn’t know how he got it, but it was plain Ira Goten knew. Some deep instinct inside Chase told him not to touch the bundle the man held out to him, but he ignored the silent warning within his head. Whatever was concealed inside the oilskin, it was a link to his past, a bit of the puzzle he longed to piece together. He reached out and took the object from Ira’s hands.

The bundle was hard and moderately heavy in his grasp. He allowed his fingers to wrap around it while curiosity burned inside him. No recall came attached to the object. He wanted to pull back the covering and see what he held, but Ira Goten was watching him, so he forced himself to wait.

“I never did get a chance to talk to you again before you left. We were damned lucky that night in Ferrin County, weren’t we?” Ira smiled but it was a cheerless expression. “We did what we had to for the cause, didn’t we, Chase? And now you’ve come home a major with all kinds of decorations.” Ira shook his head from side to side as if amazed by the outcome of Chase’s time in the war.

Finally, Chase could wait no longer. He turned the oilskin over and untied it. Slowly, to hide his eagerness, he pulled back the covering until the barrel of a Colt appeared.

“Yep, it’s just like you left it.” Ira reached into one oversize pocket of his overalls and pulled out a small leather bag. Ira dropped the bag into Chase’s empty hand with a metallic plop that was surely money. “I intended to give you this, as well.”

“What—?” Chase asked under his breath.

“Take it. God knows you earned it. I kept it for you all the while you were gone.”

He knew what he would see before he ever pulled the cords at the top to look inside the bag. The sound had been clear and unmistakable. Just as he’d expected, a stack of gold coins was nestled in the bottom of the leather pouch.

Chase yanked the top closed. He couldn’t look at the money. Holding the gun in his hand, hearing what Goten said, he was afraid to think of what he had done to get the coins.

He looked up at Ira Goten’s lean, weathered face and found himself wondering what kind of man he had been before he rode off to war. What was he involved in that would compel this man to keep a gun hidden for two years? And how much blood stained the small bag of gold coins in his hand?

Chase dumped the gold coins deep into his trouser pocket. He tossed the small leather bag in a heap of manure outside Ira’s barn, then he slid the Colt beneath the buggy seat. His head ached from trying to remember what they signified. Now he found himself dreading the moment when he might actually remember his past. Only hours ago it had been the most important task in his life, now he was apprehensive that he might find himself face-to-face with a past he could take no pride in, a past that might shame him more than his grandfather’s feeble mind.

While Chase walked to the Gazette, he was occupied with nothing but questions about his past life. Each time he searched his mind for answers, all he found were more murky questions. And when he looked at his grandfather, he felt a mingling of fear and an overwhelming responsibility to protect and shield the old man from ridicule.

Chase sighed and ran his hand through his hair while he strode unevenly down the alleyway. He had confronted nothing but mystery since he stepped off the train. First, his wife seemed surprised when he showed her the most basic kindness, which made him question their former relationship, now he’d been given a hidden weapon and Chase knew there was a damned good chance he had used it to obtain the gold Ira handed him.

He was beginning to think returning to Mainfield had been a mistake. Everything and everyone he met made him want to turn around and ride out, to lose himself in obscurity, to forget about finding his lost self. Everyone except for Linese.

Linese made him want to stay. Her shy smile and delicate features lured him toward the unknown. The thought that he could reclaim a past they had shared made him want to challenge his fears, to probe his past. She was an anchor in a sea of doubt and despair. He realized that even though he had no real feeling for her that he could recall, no actual memory of having fallen in love with her, he was glad she was his wife. He was glad she was the woman who had waited two years for his return.

The sudden realization brought a cold fist of sadness to Chase. If not for the fear of his infirmity being discovered, he would gladly seek comfort in Linese’s arms. It was a bittersweet truth to face. He would happily allow himself to be a real husband to her, if not for the possibility of her comparing him now to the man he had been.

Chase feared she would find the present persona of himself sadly lacking. She had known him in a way no other person could have known him. Any slip of the tongue, any mistake in action would bring the truth crashing around him like grapeshot. That one fact forced him to keep a rock-solid wall between himself and Linese.

Chase was still lost in his own private hell when he stepped through the door of the newspaper office and found himself toe-to-toe with Mayor Kerney. The shorter man looked up at him. Chase glanced around and found a small group of well-dressed, prosperous-looking men inside the Gazette. One man was verbally haranguing a whipcord-thin fellow covered from chin to toe in black ink. Linese was standing in the corner of the room watching the whole scene in tight-lipped but silent disapproval. She still had her gloves on and held her bonnet stiffly in one hand.

The besmudged man turned away from his inquisitor and looked at Chase. His black eyes glittered with intelligent irritation. Chase surmised he was staring at Hezikiah Hersh-ner and he felt a measure of relief.

He knew it was foolish that, under the circumstances, he would have begrudged Linese the company of a young, handsome man in his absence, but he admitted to himself he was glad Hezikiah was twice his age and plain as pudding.

“I’m glad you’ve arrived, Major. These gentlemen want to talk to the newspaper editor about certain plans they have,” Hezikiah told Chase curtly.

Chase saw the printer’s gaze slide over to Linese. She lowered her eyes and flushed a pretty rose under the man’s pointed attention. Hershner stared at her as if he expected her to say something more, but she remained silent under Chase’s gaze. He had the feeling there was much more going on beneath the cool exterior of Linese’s proper manners and demure silence. He tried to quell the sharp, yearning desire he had to explore her depths. With little enthusiasm, Chase forced himself to look back at Mayor Ker-ney and away from the beautiful mystery he was married to.

The mayor stepped forward. Chase remembered the long-winded speech he had suffered through at the train station and cringed inwardly. It was too damned hot, and his head hurt from trying to remember Ira Goten and his mysterious gifts, to be subjected to another political sermon.

“I told you, Hershner. Major Cordell will be pleased to see us and just as pleased to hear what we have to say.” The mayor winked at Chase as if they shared a confidence. Doubt about his past came seeping back into his limbs like cold water into a sponge.

Hezikiah turned back toward the press. He mumbled something under his breath that Chase couldn’t quite make out.

“Why don’t you step into my husband’s office, Mayor Kerney,” Linese gestured to a door that cut a wall in two equal sections. “I’m sure you will want to speak privately.”

Chase didn’t have the slightest idea what the men wanted to speak to him about, and he didn’t want to speak with them privately or any other way. He grasped Linese’s gloved hand in his own and looked down at her. When he stared into her eyes he felt an internal tug. For one moment he thought he might remember her, but he was wrong, and the strange notion evaporated from his mind. Disappointment left him feeling empty and more alone.

He knew it was foolish to want her with him, but he did. When she stood beside him, he felt less like a trapped animal.

“Linese.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I’d like you to be with me in case I have any questions about—about the Gazette—about what’s been going on while I was away.” He marveled at how easily the lie slipped from his tongue. Had he been a liar in the past or was this aspect of his murky personality something new?

“You want me to be there while you talk business?” she murmured softly.

“Yes.” Chase watched Linese scan his face with innocent blue eyes that turned him inside out. She had the ability to make him feel stripped bare to the bone, make him feel more of a man and less of a man than he was now. His belly twisted painfully while he wondered if he had been a better man in past. Surely he must have been to have won such a prize as her.

Linese studied Chase’s face and tried to understand the man who had returned to her. Chase had met with the mayor and the members of the local business association on at least two occasions after he brought her to Mainfield. He had made it plain at both meetings that he did not want her around, just as he’d made it clear that women should have no opinion about business. Her head swam while she tried to reason out the change two years of war had wrought. Finally she simply allowed herself to answer, even though she had no idea how or why his attitudes were so different than they used to be. “All right, Chase, if that is what you want.”

“It is what I want, Linese.” He impulsively gave her hand a little squeeze as a sort of silent thank-you.

Her cheeks flushed prettily when he stared at her a moment longer than propriety dictated he should gaze at his wife in front of the mayor and his associates. He heard one of them clear his throat in annoyance or possibly discomfort while time seemed to hang suspended. A strange sensation began to creep over Chase. It was like witnessing the first dawn. The feeling flooding through him was like watching sunrise turn pitch to a paler shade of gray. Each time he looked at Linese he felt a small part of the bleak places in his mind recede.

He felt something for her then, something more than simple indebtedness, and not only the strong physical attraction he could not deny. His heart was buffeted by an emotion infinitely more complicated and undefinable. Whatever the unique awareness was, it was just as potent and threatening to him as his fear of being exposed. Linese had a power over him, a power that fascinated and disturbed him. He craved her company at the same moment he feared her nearness. It was a puzzle Chase didn’t understand, but he would have to think about it later since the businessmen were waiting to speak with him. Chase tore his gaze from Linese and managed a smile.

“Gentlemen,” he said, and gestured to the doorway.

All the men who had been in the outer office managed to squeeze into the cramped confines of the smaller one. Chase felt his body shoved against Linese while he made room for the pudgy mayor.

Finally the door slammed shut and the mayor took a deep breath that threatened to empty the room of oxygen. “Chase, the Businessman’s Association met this morning at my office.”

Chase glanced down at the top of Linese’s head and noticed the soft, silky texture of her pale hair. The scent of honeysuckle blossoms and starched cotton wafted up from her body, while the temperature in the small office rose in accordance with the hot air the mayor was expelling. He struggled to listen to what the man was saying, but his mind was more occupied with the way Linese’s body fit next to his own.

There was a curiosity within him. A need to know her, not just to remember her, but to know the mystery that made her so special. He forced himself to focus on the mayor’s words.

“…we want you to write a series of articles about the way the prominent citizens of Mainfield have handled this conflict. We have managed to come out of this with a little profit, there is no reason why other people in this community can’t do the same thing.” The mayor looked at Chase with an excited expectancy shining in his face. “It could mean real power to Mainfield—and you—if you get my meaning.”

Chase’s belly flip-flopped. He didn’t understand the mayor’s meaning. “I’m not sure I do.”

Kerney looked at him with narrowed eyes. “As long as we remain neutral and don’t get involved with abolitionists or secessionists, as long as we remember that prosperity can come out of war, we can turn this to our advantage. It’s up to you, Chase. The people of Mainfield will listen to the Gazette. You could make a real difference to them. If you speak out and tell them to refuse to go with either side, they can all profit from this. Besides, do we care who wins? The real issue is how much profit we can make during the conflict.”

Chase felt his gut plummet to the bottom of his boots. What he had seen reflected in the eyes of the men in the infirmary while he was healing were memories he would carry forever. Those men, both Unionist and Rebel, had given all they had for their ideals. Now Mayor Kerney was telling him that as long as men could forget having ideals, and think only about profit, they could benefit from the war. His mind rebelled against the notion.

Chase didn’t remember the kind of man he was before he rode away two years ago. But the person he was now didn’t care about becoming powerful, or rich. He could not lie and say a man’s convictions didn’t matter—because in the end they were about the only things that did matter.

Silence stretched on while the men looked at Chase. There was something in their faces, something dark and familiar and almost expectant. The chaos in Chase’s soul was matched by the windstorm in his mind. He glanced at Lin-ese and saw nothing but innocence and trust shining in her eyes. He didn’t know what his association had been with these men in the past, but he knew where his responsibility lay today.

It was with Linese. She was saddled with a husband who could not remember her. She had lost so much in the war, perhaps even more than he had himself.

He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to do something that would take away the sting of guilt he felt each time he thought of her waiting for a man who had not returned to her.

“That is a mighty great responsibility, Mayor.” Chase slipped his arm around Linese and drew her close to him, partly for effect, partly because he wanted to feel her warmth against him. Even through the heavy-boned corset he felt her start at the unexpected contact of his hip against her. “All I want to do right now is get reacquainted with my wife.”

Linese’s head snapped up to stare gape-mouthed at Chase. The men in the room murmured with surprise. She fought to control her reaction. She had been raised to be a lady, and a lady never betrayed her feelings in public, but Chase had shocked her down to her high-buttoned shoes.

Last night he had sent her from their bedroom. Now he looked at her as if there were no place he’d rather be than beside her. The arm wrapped around her waist felt possessive.

“I know you gentlemen will understand. I just want to live quietly and put the war behind me. I can’t take the responsibility of trying to sway other men’s opinions.” Sincerity rang in Chase’s voice. He realized those were the first truthful words he had uttered since waking in the field hospital.

Linese watched the mayor’s flabby jowls quiver. Anger flashed in his small round eyes. “You can’t do this, Chase. We’ve been counting on you. We’ve had certain expectations. We had an agreement….”

Something in the man’s tone sent a warning through Chase’s mind. A flash of memory hit him like a cold rush of water.

He remembered the mayor’s smiling face reflected in the glow of torchlight. It was a time long ago, perhaps two years ago.

“Don’t you worry, Chase, we’ll keep your secret.”

The memory flashed brilliant like a strike of lightning, then it was gone. The fading image and the sound of the man’s voice remained lodged in Chase’s mind. He tried to remember more, but it was useless. Only that one small fragment had crystallized.

Now when he looked into the angry face of the mayor, he wondered what secret they had shared before he left Main-field. He felt as if a noose were tightening around his neck. Each day brought only more questions and suspicions about who he was. He found himself pulling Linese closer to his body. He wanted her near him so he could protect her. But from whom? Himself?

Chapter Four

Chase limped off the porch and into the hot dusky evening. The mayor’s words rattled around inside his head like a stone in an empty bucket. His temples throbbed and his stomach twisted from trying to bring forth hard facts, when nothing but smoke and doubt filled his mind.

The Texas thicket was alive with night sounds. Chase found his eyes traveling toward an overgrown path that disappeared into the tangled overgrown foliage. Something about the almost invisible path beckoned to him. He walked to it and stared while a strange feeling of déjà vu sluiced over him. Without knowing quite why, he pushed his way through the plants and went onward, stopping occasionally to let his instinct take him on a journey his mind had forgotten but his gut still knew. He had to move branches out of his way, yet some forgotten part of his brain knew that a path did indeed lie beneath the thick growth, whether he could see it or not.

The verdant foliage trapped the heat beneath a canopy of leaves. Chase unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the long tail from his trousers in the hope it would be cooler. The farther he went into the unknown thicket, the darker the night became, but still some feral intuition showed him the way. He neither stumbled nor faltered while he pushed on.

He stopped and looked back. The glow from Cordel-lane’s lamps was far behind him now. He was alone, with vague sensations of having traveled the path before.

The pain radiating from his hip forced him to halt sometime later. Flying insects fed on every exposed inch of his skin, but it was too sticky to consider rebuttoning the shirt that hung open and loose. He slapped a mosquito on his neck and saw a flicker of light through hanging vines clinging to the willow and hickory.

“Will-o’-the-wisp,” he muttered, but he found himself watching the uneven trail of illumination dancing through the trees with keen interest. Some buried part of him knew those flickering lights were his destination and not some mystical trick of swamp gas or flitting winged critter.

Chase walked, slower and more deliberately now, toward the source of the flame. When he was no more than a stone’s toss away, he saw a group of men in ribald discussion. They turned and recognition flooded him, along with a large measure of dread.

“It’s about time, Chase, we were beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” The mayor’s voice boomed out. “But I was pretty sure you would after our talk today.”

Chase stepped into the circle of orange torchlight and found himself in the company of the same men who had come to see him at the Gazette. He now realized what the man’s exaggerated wink signified. The splintered recollection he had at the Gazette, of the mayor’s face in the same eerie glow of light, came back to haunt Chase.

He had met with them here—before he went to war.

The certainty of that past deed sent chills trailing down Chase’s spine. He knew if he did not tread carefully these men would learn his secret.

“I wasn’t sure I remembered how to get here.” Chase told them a sliver of truth and watched their reactions.

“Sure, Chase, whatever you say.” The mayor chuckled at what he thought was a joke. “Now tell us what you’re up to.”

Chase focused on the faces of the men. A dim memory appeared in his mind. For a brief flash, he saw them as he had seen the mayor in his forgotten past. And as he remembered them, a feeling of shame wended through him. The men were dark spectres of past sins. A sick feeling of guilt, or something much like it, twined its way through his belly.

At first there was Ira Goten’s mysterious pistol and the gold that Chase was sure was stained with blood. Now there were meetings in the woods with men whose politics he could not stomach.

What kind of man was I? Chase’s voice screamed inside his head. What horrible things did I do?

“Listen, Chase, Hershner has had too much leeway since you’ve been gone. The Gazette has been printing things we don’t like. When do you intend to take over and get it back on track?” The man who had been introduced today as Mr. Wallace, from the local merchants bank, stepped forward.

“What exactly is it you want me to do?” Chase felt his anger rising each minute he spent in the men’s presence. He didn’t like the way they acted or how they looked. Chase didn’t know if it was a memory or a premonition, but he knew these men were capable of his ruin.

“We want you to start printing the kind of information we want the people of Mainfield to have,” Wallace said.

There was a hint in those words that Chase could not ignore.

“You mean the kind of information you wanted printed before I left?” Chase bluffed again and prayed he had not said too much.

“Exactly. We’ve kept our word about your little secret and we wouldn’t want to think that you’ve changed your mind about our arrangement. There are dirty secrets, things that have happened you wouldn’t want people to know, especially that sweet little bride you brought home and surprised everybody with.” Wallace grinned.

Chase’s instinct for survival made him hold his fists at his side. He wanted to pummel them until all the murky suspicions they raised about his missing past were gone. But he could not. Whatever he had done in the past, it was his responsibility, his burden. He drew in a resolute breath and forced himself to stay calm. Chase acknowledged that he was faced with this situation because he had no idea what they held over him. He needed to pry information from them, he needed time to dig into his past.

“Mayor, I’ve just returned from war. Give me a little time to recover from my wounds before I undertake these heavy responsibilities.” Chase tried to relax, but it was a hollow attempt. He prayed the anger he felt was not mirrored in his face. The men looked at one another as if weighing Chase’s argument.

Finally Mr. Wallace turned toward Kerney. “I told you it would be fine. Chase Cordell is a man who stands by his word. He’s a man who’s true to his politics and his friends. We can count on him.”

Chase swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. If these men counted him as a friend, then he certainly hoped he didn’t run into any of his enemies.

Linese was sitting in the window seat of her new bed-room, staring at the silver-ringed moon overhead, when Chase suddenly appeared like a shadowy phantom at the edge of the thicket. She watched while he slid one of his hands through his thick hair. He only did that when he was stiff with anger, it was one of the little things she had learned about him before he left. She wondered where he had been, how he could have materialized at the edge of the woods, and why he seemed to be bristling with suppressed fury.

Chase leaned one palm against a gnarled mountain laurel and tipped his head up toward the night sky. His shirt was open and the long loose tail fluttered in an unseen breeze. Spring moonlight and the soft glow from the windows of Cordellane turned his hard, muscular chest into a work of art.

One strand of his tousled hair was touched by the breeze and he turned his head slightly. She saw the glint of violence in his eyes. He was dangerous, wild, and a bit improper. Memory flooded through her.