owed Cole so much, but there had to be
a way out of this. Maybe he could talk to her, maybe they could work something
out.
It had only been thirty minutes or so since
she'd left the barn, long enough to smoke three cigarettes. So it came as a
shock when he got to the house and found it empty.
Cassie came back into the kitchen from the
pantry to find him staring toward the staircase.
"If you looking for Miss Katy," she
said shortly, "she ain't here. She done gone, luggage and all, with that Chicago gangster."
He felt his heart sinking. He turned, his eyes
dark, quiet. "When?"
"Not five minutes ago." She sighed.
"Mr. Cole going to be like a wild man. And how is I going to tell Miss
Marion?" Her tired, lined eyes misted. "My baby, gone off with
that—that man! How come you let her go, Mr. Turk?" she demanded.
"She's of age "he said harshly, when
all his fighting instincts were screaming for him to go after the man and kill
him. But what could he offer her? He didn't want to get married. And after what
had happened, it would be impossible all the way around if she stayed here. His
friendship with Cole would be at risk; Katy would grow to hate him. And that Chicago man did seem sincere enough, explaining patiently to Turk the night before that
their late arrival had been innocent. He cared about Katy, he'd told Turk. He
wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Perhaps he'd marry her...
Why should that hurt so much? He turned on his
heels and stalked out of the house. Cassie was crying softly as he went out the
door.
The shock was almost too much for Marion
Whitehall. She came home to a tearful Cassie and was hit with the news just as
she put her purse down on the hall table.
Her elegant features contorted; her dark eyes
filled with tears under their frame of curling, silvery hair. "Gone?"
she exclaimed. "My Katy, gone? To—-to live with a man? Why didn't someone
stop her?"
"Mr. Turk got here too late, and Mr. Cole
ain't come home yet, that's why," Cassie moaned. "And I was out in
the garden. Nobody was here to stop her. Mr. Turk said she was of age—and he
just stomped off somewhere in a temper. Mr. Cole going to be so mad!"
Marion sat down. She felt sick
all the way to her shoes. Katy.
Her baby. How could she do this? "Has Ben
come home?" she asked.
"I doesn't think so," Cassie said,
sobbing. "He didn't come down for breakfast, so I looks in his room, and
he ain't been in it. So I reckon he ain't here. Oh, Lord! What a terrible day
this is! What a terrible homecoming for Mr. Cole!"
Marion felt the tears running
down her cheeks. "Did she leave a message? A note? Anything?"
"I'll go look," Cassie said, ambling
toward the staircase.
Just then, the front door flew open, and Ben
Whitehall came rushing through it, his dark eyes wild, his dark hair disheveled
like his once-immaculate gray suit. "I got it!" he burst out, "I
got it! I got it! He hired me!"
He grabbed Cassie and spun her around in an
impromptu dance, too exuberant to notice that nobody was smiling. "I'm
going to work for a brand spanking new San Antonio newspaper." He laughed.
"They hired me to write news. I've been out with the owner and his
daughter, and I have to go back—"He stopped, frowning as the somber faces
of his mother and housekeeper penetrated his enthusiasm. He let go of Cassie.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Your sister just left for Chicago," Marion said miserably, her face a study in desperation and shame. "To live with the
owner of a speakeasy!"
Chapter Four
Ben 's face froze. He
straightened, running an idle hand through his thick, dark hair. He stared at
his mother. "She left with that gangster?" he asked, as if he could
hardly believe what he'd heard. "Why didn't somebody stop her?"
"Turk apparently didn't get here in
time," Marion said quietly, her eyes wet with tears. "My little
girl.. .in that terrible place! Oh, Ben! What will become of her?"
"Now, Mama," Ben said awkwardly. He
knelt before her, rubbing her hands in his.
a way out of this. Maybe he could talk to her, maybe they could work something
out.
It had only been thirty minutes or so since
she'd left the barn, long enough to smoke three cigarettes. So it came as a
shock when he got to the house and found it empty.
Cassie came back into the kitchen from the
pantry to find him staring toward the staircase.
"If you looking for Miss Katy," she
said shortly, "she ain't here. She done gone, luggage and all, with that Chicago gangster."
He felt his heart sinking. He turned, his eyes
dark, quiet. "When?"
"Not five minutes ago." She sighed.
"Mr. Cole going to be like a wild man. And how is I going to tell Miss
Marion?" Her tired, lined eyes misted. "My baby, gone off with
that—that man! How come you let her go, Mr. Turk?" she demanded.
"She's of age "he said harshly, when
all his fighting instincts were screaming for him to go after the man and kill
him. But what could he offer her? He didn't want to get married. And after what
had happened, it would be impossible all the way around if she stayed here. His
friendship with Cole would be at risk; Katy would grow to hate him. And that Chicago man did seem sincere enough, explaining patiently to Turk the night before that
their late arrival had been innocent. He cared about Katy, he'd told Turk. He
wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Perhaps he'd marry her...
Why should that hurt so much? He turned on his
heels and stalked out of the house. Cassie was crying softly as he went out the
door.
The shock was almost too much for Marion
Whitehall. She came home to a tearful Cassie and was hit with the news just as
she put her purse down on the hall table.
Her elegant features contorted; her dark eyes
filled with tears under their frame of curling, silvery hair. "Gone?"
she exclaimed. "My Katy, gone? To—-to live with a man? Why didn't someone
stop her?"
"Mr. Turk got here too late, and Mr. Cole
ain't come home yet, that's why," Cassie moaned. "And I was out in
the garden. Nobody was here to stop her. Mr. Turk said she was of age—and he
just stomped off somewhere in a temper. Mr. Cole going to be so mad!"
Marion sat down. She felt sick
all the way to her shoes. Katy.
Her baby. How could she do this? "Has Ben
come home?" she asked.
"I doesn't think so," Cassie said,
sobbing. "He didn't come down for breakfast, so I looks in his room, and
he ain't been in it. So I reckon he ain't here. Oh, Lord! What a terrible day
this is! What a terrible homecoming for Mr. Cole!"
Marion felt the tears running
down her cheeks. "Did she leave a message? A note? Anything?"
"I'll go look," Cassie said, ambling
toward the staircase.
Just then, the front door flew open, and Ben
Whitehall came rushing through it, his dark eyes wild, his dark hair disheveled
like his once-immaculate gray suit. "I got it!" he burst out, "I
got it! I got it! He hired me!"
He grabbed Cassie and spun her around in an
impromptu dance, too exuberant to notice that nobody was smiling. "I'm
going to work for a brand spanking new San Antonio newspaper." He laughed.
"They hired me to write news. I've been out with the owner and his
daughter, and I have to go back—"He stopped, frowning as the somber faces
of his mother and housekeeper penetrated his enthusiasm. He let go of Cassie.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Your sister just left for Chicago," Marion said miserably, her face a study in desperation and shame. "To live with the
owner of a speakeasy!"
Chapter Four
Ben 's face froze. He
straightened, running an idle hand through his thick, dark hair. He stared at
his mother. "She left with that gangster?" he asked, as if he could
hardly believe what he'd heard. "Why didn't somebody stop her?"
"Turk apparently didn't get here in
time," Marion said quietly, her eyes wet with tears. "My little
girl.. .in that terrible place! Oh, Ben! What will become of her?"
"Now, Mama," Ben said awkwardly. He
knelt before her, rubbing her hands in his.
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