Cade's Justice

With her flowing nightgown and billowing robe sailing out behind her, she resembled a ship being pushed by a full gale. “Miss Step, here you are at last. We’ve been looking all over for you.” Loutitia barely stopped before running into Emma. “Where on earth were you?”

“I was—”

“Oh, never mind!” the woman shrieked. “It’s gone. It’s all gone!” She dabbed at her eyes with a grimy handkerchief. “The dreadful fire has destroyed everything. Oh, what will become of me?”

“Since you were already planning on closing the school, its loss can’t be that painful.”

The callous remark came from Loutitia’s nephew. Unlike the people milling about, Lyman Thornton was dressed in something other than sleeping apparel. His coat, shirt and trousers showed no evidence of soot or water stains. Evidently, the owner of Denver’s largest hotel hadn’t seen the necessity of assisting the water brigade.

“But I intended on taking my furnishings,” she wailed. “Oh, my beautiful French bed, my lamps, my armoire—” Her voice broke on that last treasured possession. “My armoire is ashes.”

The older woman sobbed into her handkerchief, as heartbroken as if listing the names of her own children who had perished in the fire.

Her nephew remained coolly unaffected. “Come now, Loutitia, the insurance will cover our losses. And, as the French haven’t stopped making furniture, I’ll see you get another ostentatious bed to take to when a fit of the vapors strikes.”

Miss Loutitia raised her damp face from the hankie. “And a new armoire, too? Do you promise?”

“Whatever you want,” he said negligently. Emma noticed that his wavy brown hair was neatly combed. The only indication that he’d dressed in haste was his open shirt collar.

Loutitia blew her nose. “Oh, I don’t know how you can be so inhumanly calm.”

“Practice, dear Aunt, practice.”

“That and the fact you didn’t lose anything in the blaze,” she sniffed. “Goodness, you planned on tearing down the building to make room for that new hotel you’ve been talking about ever since you informed me Hempshire Academy could no longer remain in business.” Loutitia took a hiccupy breath as she turned her attention to Emma. “We were afraid you didn’t make it out alive. I guess I shouldn’t chide Lyman for always being so calm. He certainly wasn’t, my dear, when it appeared you’d been trapped inside.”

Emma was aware of Lyman Thornton’s regard. During the few weeks she worked for his aunt, she’d wondered what she’d done to spark his curiosity. Much to her consternation, he’d developed the unsettling habit of standing in the background and observing her. Rarely did he take the opportunity to engage her in conversation. He seemed content just to watch her. She didn’t know what to make of him. Because he was wealthy, smoothly handsome and a pillar of the community, she knew his interest wasn’t of a personal nature.

“As you can see, I’m fine.” Emma looked toward the fire. It amazed her that in a matter of minutes it could recede from an inferno to the smoldering hiss of dying flames. The morning sun came out, banishing the fog. As the smoke settled, a blackened ruin stood in place of the academy. “Did everyone make it out safely?”

It was a question she should have asked sooner. She visualized the faces of her students and co-workers, realizing she’d delayed voicing it because she didn’t know if she could bear the answer.

A look of despair welled up in Loutitia’s puffy eyes. “I’m afraid we lost the Cade girl….”

“Courtney’s all right,” Emma said quickly, wanting to spare Loutitia an extra moment of grief. “She’s at her uncle’s house.”

“Thank God!” More tears streamed from the headmistress. “Of all the students to have lost…I was terrified when Mr. Cade found out, he would…Well, there’s no telling what a man like that might do.”

It was at that juncture that Emma saw Gideon Cade standing behind the older woman. Flames every bit as deadly as those that had lapped at the academy smoldered in his angry gaze.

“It was horrible to be awakened by the shouting and screaming,” Loutitia continued. “Smoke was everywhere. I thought I was going to die. It was…” She dissolved into more sobs.

“Come, it’s time I take you home,” Thornton said.

“My home’s burned to the ground!” she cried pitifully.

“You were planning on living with me after the academy closed,” her nephew reminded her.

She sighed. “I know, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Just a moment, Miss Hempshire.”

Emma watched Jayne Stoneworthy, Loutitia and Lyman Thornton turn in unison toward Gideon Cade. That he towered above the women, and even Loutitia’s nephew, was probably something Cade took for granted.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Cade?” Loutitia inquired timidly.

“Are you certain everyone is accounted for?”

She nodded. “Yes, Miss Stoneworthy and I tallied the number of teachers and students before they left for the various hotels that agreed to take them in for the night. Everyone made it out safely.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

Her plump hands fluttered uselessly. “I have no idea.”

“We’ll probably never find out,” Lyman Thornton interjected. “A candle could have been set too close to the draperies, a log in one of the fireplaces could have shot a spark that caught, a lamp could have tipped over—any number of things could have happened.”

“I’m just grateful no lives were lost.” Loutitia wiped her eyes with the twisted handkerchief. “It’s bad enough my armoire was destroyed.”

“Yes, Aunt, tonight has been a terrible ordeal for you.”

“I’m really not sure I’m going to be able to recover.” Loutitia looked helplessly at her nephew.

“I’ll take you home now.” He glanced at Emma. “Naturally, you’ll be joining us.”

Until that very moment, Emma had given no thought about where she would sleep. Nevertheless, his assumption startled her. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I imagine I’ll stay with the other teachers at one of the hotels.”

It was only as she spoke that the dire nature of her plight struck Emma. She had no money, no clothes, and nowhere to go. A trunk being dropped on her head couldn’t have struck with greater impact.

At the age of twenty-four, she was stranded in a strange city where she’d lived a few weeks, out of work and destitute.

Chapter Five

Emma Step brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. Throughout their early-morning encounter, Gideon had watched a myriad of emotions cross the schoolmistress’s mobile features. For the first time since he’d met her, fear touched her gaze. Her vulnerability aroused protective instincts he was chagrined to discover he possessed.

“Don’t worry about imposing upon us,” Lyman Thornton persisted. “Having you in our home is the least we can do. Right, Aunt Loutitia?”

“Certainly you’re welcome to stay the night, dear.”

“It’s already morning,” Lyman corrected. “You’ll be more comfortable with us than at one of the hotels. It’s bound to take time to reestablish yourself here, Miss Step. You’re welcome to remain our guest for as long as you wish,” he added persuasively.

Gideon had never cared for Lyman Thornton. Like the majority of Denver residents, he was an eastern transplant. They’d never conducted any business transactions, but their paths had crossed more than once socially. The man projected a snobbish attitude that grated on Gideon’s nerves. The irony didn’t escape him that Emma had charged him with the same fault. Thornton’s suggestion that she stay in his home indefinitely pushed Gideon’s passive dislike to active hostility.

He had no intention of letting Thornton stampede her into moving in with him. Especially when, considering Loutitia Hempshire’s flightiness, the older woman would be a washout as a chaperone. Judging from Miss Step’s pallor, and the way she stood huddled in her shabby cloak, she was in no condition to make decisions for herself.

It shouldn’t have mattered to Gideon what happened to Courtney’s teacher. He frowned. Since the academy no longer existed, the woman was his niece’s former teacher. Not even the flimsiest connection existed between them. No argument could be put forth that she was his responsibility.

And yet, he found himself unable to abandon her to Thornton’s suspect hospitality. Something had passed between the queerly appealing woman and himself. Her earnest, prickly, damnably intriguing manner had nudged him to a peculiar awareness that wouldn’t let him walk away from her.

“Miss Step appreciates your offer, Thornton.” Complications… Knowing he was inviting a swarm of them into his organized household wasn’t enough to nail his lips shut “But she’s decided to stay with my niece and me.” ’Miss Step’s head came up. Some of the dullness faded from her eyes. “I certainly have—”

Since he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what she had to say on the matter, he silenced her by sweeping her into his arms.

“Oh!”

The startled gasp had to be less of a protest than the one she’d been about to utter. He noticed again how light she was. A robust breeze could have blown her into Kansas.

She attempted to squirm free. “Now just a minute…” “She hurt her foot earlier this evening,” he informed the clearly shocked group. “She’ll be able to recover more quickly at my place.”

It didn’t matter that his explanation made no sense. People rarely challenged his decisions.

Proving there was an exception to every rule, Thornton spoke. “I don’t think Miss Step appreciates being manhandled. As. for her foot—”

‘Terrible accident,” Gideon interjected. “The pain makes it difficult for her to speak.”

“I can talk perfectly—”

Gideon patted the back of her head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Mmmph…”

With her cheek pressed against his chest, her objection emerged as a muffled squeak.

Suspicion clouded Thornton’s hostile expression. “If she injured her foot, a doctor should examine it.”

“Good idea,” Gideon responded. “If it isn’t better by morning, we’ll send for one.”

Miss Step ceased her efforts to free herself. He waited a half second for her to launch a verbal battle, demanding he release her. None was forthcoming. “Well, it’s getting late. We’d best be on our way.”

Gideon strode toward his carriage. Hennesy hadn’t returned. He’d probably joined the bucket brigade dousing the last of the smoldering wreckage that had been the academy. Smoke, and the promise of more rain, ripened the morning air. The driver’s help wouldn’t be needed much longer.

Gideon jerked open the carriage door. Emma Step remained a stiff and unyielding package. Even though she wasn’t struggling to free herself, she still refused to put her arms around his neck. If that was all the form her rebellion took, he counted himself lucky. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her yell for help, rather than allow him to carry her anywhere. Maybe the puny blow she’d delivered to his jaw had siphoned some of her spunkiness.

Taking care not to jostle her foot, he deposited her inside the carriage. Her lips were compressed into a tight line. There was a defiant gleam in her eyes as she glared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him or his considerate gesture. Damned female was too stubborn for her own good, that much was obvious. It irritated him that she didn’t seem to realize how fortunate she was that he’d taken her under his wing.

If the gray gown she wore was any indication of the quality of her clothing that had been burned, Gideon was ready to declare the fire a community service. He remembered the surge of anger he’d experienced when he removed the miserably constructed walking slipper from her injured foot. In the split second when he first saw the newspaper she’d used to add a layer of protection to the worn sole, he’d tried to dull his sense of outrage with a quip about her putting the negative editorials printed about him to good use.

Then he’d noticed the proud tilt of her chin so at odds with the look of hot embarrassment flashing in her eyes. At that point, he’d wanted to pitch both her shoes in the hearth. It hadn’t mattered that she was a stranger to him. He’d been struck by the bizarre urge to buy her several pairs of shoes, and some new stockings—ones with pretty bits of lace instead of neatly darned patches. While he was at it, he’d make sure she had a pair of pantalets that didn’t look as if they’d been fashioned when Martha Washington was First Lady.

He ducked his head inside the carriage. “The last two times I’ve asked you to wait for me, you’ve struck out on your own.”

He wanted her to know he’d kept count of her mutinies.

She stared straight ahead. He discovered he didn’t like being treated as if he were invisible. “I’m getting Hennesy. You will be here when I return.”

She maintained her silence.

“I’m not leaving until you promise to do as I say.”

More silence.

“Stop frowning. You’ve got enough wrinkles as it is.”

As he figured, that had her head pivoting toward him.

“You are the rudest, the nastiest, the most vile man whom it has ever been my misfortune to meet”

“I just said that so you would pay attention. You don’t have any wrinkles.” If she owned a mirror, she would know that.

“Well, you’ve succeeded. You definitely have my attention.”

Probably the same kind of dangerous attention Delilah had directed to Samson before she sheared him like a sheep. “Look, we both know I could stand here for hours telling you how lovely you are.”

Her eyes narrowed. He wondered why he should be surprised. Whereas most women turned to warm honey when they received a compliment, Emma January Step imitated a blast of arctic air.

“Do I appear to be an imbecile?”

There was only one safe answer. “No.”

“Then, once and for all, cease your remarks about my appearance!”

Obviously the night’s events had caught up with her. Rational thought was beyond her. He decided to employ a different tactic.

“Be reasonable. You’ve been up all night, and a hell of a night it’s been—what with Courtney running away, you hurting your foot and the academy burning down. Why don’t we call a truce? After you’ve had some rest and taken stock of your situation, I’ll deliver you wherever you want to go.”

From the slight thawing of her formerly frigid gaze, he sensed he was making headway.

It occurred to him that life would be a lot easier if he and Emma were from an earlier period of time. Maybe the Dark Ages. Back then, if a man chanced upon a woman as damnably intriguing as she was, he could carry her off to his castle, declare her his possession and then go about the business of organizing his next battle.

There was a lot to be said for simpler times. But then, the chances were that a woman as sharp-tongued as Emma would have been burned at the stake before she reached her eighteenth birthday. Back then, people hadn’t taken kindly to witches, even if they shared an uncanny resemblance to more angelic beings. He let go of the image of her in a tower bedchamber reluctantly.

“When Courtney wakes, up, she’ll be devastated about the school being destroyed,” he continued. “I know she loved it there.”

He took shameless advantage of the tender sensibilities Emma had evidenced when she believed Courtney was wandering Denver’s streets.

“The fire will come as a shock.” A pensive expression claimed Emma’s features. “I do care about your niece, Mr. Cade.”

“Gideon,” he corrected, suspecting it would be a while before she felt comfortable calling him by his given name—more than the couple of days she probably envisioned staying in his home. “Courtney kept most of her belongings in her room at the academy, Emma.”

He remembered the wagonload of girlish clothes and assorted possessions Hennesy had transported from Courtney’s upstairs bedchamber to the school. Gideon’s conscience stirred. His niece really would be devastated that her things had been destroyed. He recalled one photograph, in particular, that of her parents holding her when she was a baby. Locked in his memory was the image of Courtney carrying the framed picture when her former governess had accompanied her to the academy. Where before his motives for having Emma stay with him had been vague, Gideon acknowledged she would be better suited than he to console his niece.

“Ask me.”

He looked into Miss Step’s otherworldly eyes and decided clarity was needed. “What?”

“Ask me if I’ll accept your invitation for shelter.”

Judging from her pallor, her own losses weighed heavily on her thoughts. Nevertheless, she was apparently considering Courtney’s needs. He admired the woman’s generous spirit and the resurgence of her natural feistiness.

“Please come home with me—for my niece’s benefit?”

And mine. I’m not done finding out who you are, Emma.

As if trying to divine the motive for his persistence, she studied him intently. Since he lacked the answer himself, he didn’t object to her scrutiny.

“I’ll come under one condition.”

That he never put his hands on her again? He didn’t delude himself into believing there was a chance on this good earth that he would let her disappear from his life before discovering how the inside of her mouth tasted. He was betting on berries. The tart kind that had a man reaching for more.

“What’s the condition?”

She gestured, pointing beyond the open carriage door. “Do you see that woman over there?”

He looked to where Lyman Thornton still stood, staring at them. A slender woman of medium height, wearing a sootstained robe, had just turned from him and his aunt

“Yes.”

“That’s Jayne Stoneworthy, an acquaintance of mine. I want you to invite her to stay at your home, also.”

Her hellhound would probably be next, Gideon thought, dourly. Evidently, Emma January Step was a collector of lost souls. The thought of establishing a home for unattached females held no appeal, but he’d learned long ago that success sprang from consolidating victories as they materialized. The lesser issues could be debated later. “Consider it done.”

Gideon Cade had scarcely agreed to her impetuous request before he turned from her, striding purposefully, toward Jayne’s retreating figure. Emma leaned wearily against the carriage seat. Every instinct she possessed told her that now was the opportunity to escape Mr. Cade’s domineering company. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure what would fill the void of his bullying tactics.

She was too exhausted and overwhelmed to go tramping about town, looking for a hotel to take her in. Nor would such a trek be beneficial to her battered toes. She could have accepted Lyman Thornton’s offer of shelter, but something about the man disturbed her. Though what could be more disturbing than trading insults with Courtney’s uncle remained a mystery.

Thornton, a hotel, or Gideon Cade? She tried to consider her limited options logically. Thornton was creepy—not logical, but reason enough to avoid him. If she went to a hotel, they would expect her to begin paying almost immediately for her lodging. She had no money. Gideon Cade was so supremely arrogant, he invited fantasies of insurrection. Thevote wasn’t even close. What did it say about her that she preferred arrogance to creepiness?

She surrendered to a full body yawn. Gideon Cade had another asset that swung her decision in his favor. In the short time since she came to know his niece, the girl had come to mean a great deal to her. Something about Courtney’s quiet but inherently cheerful disposition had drawn Emma to her.

Emma’s gaze drifted to what was left of the academy—a charred mass of rubble. The building looked as if it had been struck by several cannon blasts. A lump swelled in her throat. She’d seen dark times before, she reminded herself, remembering when the orphanage she grew up in had “graduated” her to independence. It had been a frightening experience to leave the Burnby Heartshorn Foundling Home, but she’d done it.

The difference between then and now was that the staff had arranged several interviews for her. That was how she’d come to be employed as a companion to Beatrice Kenswick. That position had provided free room and board. The money she earned had financed additional classes at a secondary school where she became certified to teach. From there she’d become an instructor at Reverend Wade’s Fundamentalist School of Higher Learning.

Looking back, Emma could see quite clearly how she’d come to be where she was today. When she looked ahead, though, she saw only a hazy blur of nothingness.

Emma watched Mr. Cade catch up with Jayne Stoneworthy and engage her in conversation.

He’d urged her to called him Gideon…. She couldn’t, of course. It would be too personal a liberty.

As he escorted her friend toward the carriage, Emma was struck by Jayne Stoneworthy’s graceful beauty. Mr. Cade had suffered no compunctions about emphasizing her own plainness with his exaggerated compliments, but Jayne was lovely enough to justify such flattery.

Their burly driver, Hennesy, joined Mr. Cade and Jayne as they proceeded to the carriage. Emma scooted across the seat to make room for her friend as Courtney’s uncle assisted her inside. It would be a relief riding back to Mr. Cade’s home without trying to outmaneuver his entirely-too-familiar hands.

“Here’s your friend.” With an economy of motion, he climbed into the carriage and sat across from them. His long legs neatly bisected the distance between herself and Jayne. “She seems, however, to have her own idea about where she plans on spending the next few hours.” The carriage lurched forward.

Jayne patted her arm. “Emma, it’s sweet for you to be worried about my welfare, considering your own desperate circumstances.”

Emma tried not to flinch at her friend’s use of the word desperate. Perhaps it was foolish at this point to try to preserve a modicum of dignity where Gideon Cade was concerned, but the thought of him pitying her stung the tattered remnants of her pride.

“I wouldn’t call my situation desperate,” Emma protested firmly.

Jayne gathered Emma’s hands into hers. “I wish there was some way I could hire you to teach at my school!”

Emma briefly closed her eyes. Good grief, it appeared that every aspect of her private life was to be trotted out for Gideon Cade’s contemplation. “You’ve already explained that—”

“I know I have.” Jayne interrupted Emma, foiling her plan to change the subject. “But the fire changed things. Goodness, most of my possessions were already moved into the new school building, but you’ve lost everything.”

“I’m aware of that, but—”

“You can’t go through this alone.” Jayne worried her bottom lip. “I know I told you that I couldn’t afford to pay you a large enough salary to live on. That’s why the instructors I’ve hired are married women. If I put my mind to it though, I can find the extra money needed to secure a place for you on my staff.”

Emma was painfully conscious of Gideon Cade’s speculative gaze as he listened to Jayne. “I won’t trade on our brief friendship. Besides, your own situation is too precarious to start taking in charity cases.”

“Oh, Emma, I have to do something.” Tears filled her fellow teacher’s eyes. “No matter what happens, I want you to know you have a place with me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But what will you do? Where will you go?” Jayne wiped her eyes. “You don’t have any family to help you,” she continued, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re totally alone in the world.”

Emma refused to meet Mr. Cade’s stare. It was one thing to receive Jayne’s genuine compassion, another to endure his pity.

“Nonsense. I have you for a friend. Miss Hempshire will refer me to another employer, and…and…”

And what? Should she add Duncan, stray mongrel and all-round rogue mutt, to her diminished list of worldly assets?