Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) Read online

She rolled swiftly away from him.

  “Hey!” He cried out, laughing as she evaded his grasp.

  Marissa quickly swept her gown off of the floor. Scooping up his pants she tossed them into his lap. “You are the one who promised your grandmother a real wedding so.” She quirked a perfectly arched brow, giving him The Look, “either we tell everyone we’re married or I’m going back to Carolyn’s.”

  “All right, all right,” Craig held up his hands in defeat, “but I am only letting you go for the sake of my grandmother. You’re sure Carolyn and Genie won’t spill our secret to her? Surely they will guess.”

  “They’re trustworthy.” She grinned stepping into his embrace. “If I don’t go back there tonight, they’ll never tell. But how I’m going to sneak through town in broad daylight, wearing the gown I wore to our engagement party, I haven’t yet figured out.”

  * * *

  The coffee supplies had run out some weeks ago as a result of the Union blockade of the coast but Craig and Marissa hardly minded sipping the bitter chicory, so absorbed were they in each other. They’d arrived back at Carolyn’s house just before dawn and Marissa prepared breakfast while waiting for her friend’s to rise. She couldn’t wait to share her news with Genie.

  “Ouch!” Marissa snapped her hand back from the heavy skillet popping and spitting on the stove. “I burned my finger,” she complained, sticking the affected digit in her mouth.

  Craig chuckled as he stepped behind her, folding his big arms about her middle. “Always hurting yourself. People are going to suspect I beat you.” Pressing his face into the sweet curve of her neck, his breath washed over her skin in an intoxicating wave. Marissa closed his eyes resting back against his chest. This was how she wanted to spend every morning for the rest of eternity. “That is a huge omelet,” he said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “How many eggs did you use? Ten?”

  “Five,” she rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. “What can I say? I’m hungry. Besides,” she turned in his arms, “I thought we could share.”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” Craig flashed his alluring grin and reached around her to snatch a scrap of bread from the counter. “I’m famished.”

  A few minutes later they sat side by side at the wooden table devouring their breakfast and sipping from steaming mugs. “When the war is over,” Craig glanced up from his plate, “I would like for you to join my medical practice. I’ve been giving it a great deal of thought and I think we work very well together.”

  “Really?” Marissa was rather taken aback by his statement. She felt that work at the hospital had been going well, and she would even venture to say that she had made a goodly number of positive changes. “But I’m not a doctor. People wouldn’t want to see me. What would you have me doing anyway?”

  “Women would probably sooner see you than me, and,” Craig set his fork down and looked seriously into her eyes. “Marissa, you have proven to have more knowledge and experience than most of the physicians I have met. In fact, sometimes I think you’re about ten steps ahead of me on what needs to be done, and that you’re somehow just steering me in the right direction.”

  He paused, lifting his mug from the table and rolling it between his palms. “I could petition the medical board to get you a license based on apprenticeship right now. I don’t know where and how you learned all of the progressive ideas you have stored in that pretty little head of yours, but I do know that they work and I want you to keep working with me,” he leaned back and took another swig of his ‘coffee.’ “Just think on it, all right?”

  Marissa nodded, considering everything he had said.

  “Craig,” she asked presently, “what about the man who shot at us in Genie’s woods the other day. Do you think he could come after us again?”

  Letting his breath out in a heavy rush, he wrapped a secure arm about her shoulders. “I don’t know, Marissa, but Sheriff Hudson is probably right. After what we found, whoever murdered that man is probably halfway to Texas by now.”

  “I hope so,” she murmured with a shudder, laying a cheek against his shoulder. “If I’d just murdered someone I’d certainly want to get out of Dodge!”

  “Dodge?”

  Oops. “When do you have to be at the hospital?” she asked, quickly shifting the topic.

  “Soon,” he sighed. “Although it’s the last place I want to be.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later Craig made his way to the hospital deep in thought.

  “Dr. Langston!”

  Pausing in his trek, Craig glanced around the busy intersection and caught sight of Sheriff Hudson hailing him from across the street. With an internal grimace Craig dodged a horse and buggy and jogged across the street to the lawman. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Though the question probably should be, who’d you dig up in those woods?

  Sheriff Hudson shook the hand Craig offered, his grim expression speaking volumes. “Doc, do you remember the Army payroll that went missing a while back?”

  Craig a raised brow. “Of course I do.” The wagon and horses carrying the payroll were found abandoned on the side of the road outside of town. There’d been no sign of the transport officers or the payroll. “What about it?” he asked. “I always figured the transport officers made off with the money and deserted.”

  “That’s what everybody suspected up until yesterday,” the sheriff said, then cleared his throat. “We found them buried in the Harris woods.”

  Craig nodded as a vision of the woods flashed through his mind.

  “Along with three empty strong boxes, but there’s more, Doc,” George Hudson continued. “There were several other bodies out there, and I’d guess some have been there for years.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “This looks like a dangerous situation and I think best if Mrs. Harris and her family continue to stay away from the farm until we figure out what has been going on out there.”

  “Of course,” Craig nodded gravely. “But, George, have you thought more about whether or not Paul Christenson could be the one behind this? He was nosing around looking for Marissa again the same day we were shot at.”

  George instantly shook his head. “I don’t think so, Doc. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed if you know what I mean, and whatever is going on out there is bigger than he is smart. I’d wager on it.”

  Craig’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t so sure. “I’ll make sure Genie and her family keep away from the house.”

  “Good man.” George extended a hand again. “I’ll head over and speak with Mrs. Harris right now. I’ve still got deputies posted out there so old Fredrick and Grace don’t run into trouble.”

  Craig couldn’t suppress the multitude of questions assailing him, the foremost of which was, Could they all be in danger? And why did Paul Christenson persist in following Marissa around town? Craig couldn’t imagine Genie Harris being involved with murder, and Jim Harris was dead. It was a puzzle.

  Edge of Time 230

  Eleven

  The last days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind. Not much for frilly, frou-frou parties, Marissa was only too happy to hand over all plans for the hasty wedding to Genie, Carolyn, and Ginny Long. While the bodies in the “haunted” woods proved an ungodly, unnerving revelation, she couldn’t help but be lost in the bliss of the unconditional adoration Craig bestowed upon her. And there was something inexplicably fun about their precious secret. Thrilling was the word that came to mind. In the end Marissa had told neither Genie or Carolyn about the unplanned nuptials. Genie’s eyes danced whenever she spoke of the wedding, and Marissa hadn’t wanted to ruin her fun.

  The only damper on her joy was being less than truthful with her husband about her past. Lying to the one person to whom she should be most honest preyed on her conscience.

  * * *

  Molly Jamison irritably elbowed the g
reen pillow at the back of her chaise lounge. “I tell you, Kirsten, it is a damn, crying shame that Dr. Langston is getting married to that woman this coming weekend,” she complained. “If you had played your cards as I told you to, it would have solved all of our problems.”

  Kirsten rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to be reminded of the family’s dwindling funds. “What would you have me do, Mother? I’ve done everything short of climb uninvited into the man’s bed.” She’d looked for every opportunity to catch Craig Langston in an even remotely compromised situation.

  Molly sat forward. “What did you say?”

  “You heard what I said, Mother.”

  “That’s it!” Molly’s eyes glowed with renewed energy as she abandoned her chaise. “You’ve solved it for us.”

  “Solved what? He is getting married in three days.”

  “But he isn’t married yet.” Molly paced about the room, clearly plotting. “Now,” she said, turning back to her daughter, “here is what you are going to do.”

  Two hours later Kirsten swallowed a wave of unease and paused to stare up the steps of the hospital, stealing a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to the street corner in search of her mother, who’d set off to find Paul Christenson—the man hated the Langstons as much as the Jamisons coveted their money. Molly was gone. Kirsten knew that once she entered the hospital a specific chain of events would officially be set in motion, and there was no way to stop them. The plan her mother had concocted should work, but if it backfired… well, if it backfired Kirsten would be the one left to linger in the flames.

  Putting a foot on the first step, she beat back doubts.

  With the second step she thought, It is a good plan.

  The third step. This will work.

  And before she knew it she’d passed through the heavy door of the hospital and steeled her courage. No turning back. This was the moment when her future would be realized.

  “Dr. Rowe,” Kirsten dimpled prettily. “Do you have a moment to help me with something?”

  The young, flame-haired captain turned to her in some surprise. “Certainly.” He flashed an eager smile.

  “My mother has been having difficulty sleeping at night and we were hoping you could recommend a little something to help her.” She cocked her head, smiling sweetly and stared straight into his green eyes, pulling him under her spell.

  He swallowed, his nervous gaze trapped within her own. “I, um—” He cleared his throat. “We really don’t have any supplies to spare...”

  “Oh, please,” she said, lashes fluttering. “I would consider it a personal favor.” She stepped forward, lightly touching his forearm and allowing her breasts to bump against his uniformed bicep. Men always gave her what she wanted—with the exception of Craig Langston anyway. She fixed Captain Rowe with a full-lipped smile and beguiling stare that men never resisted.

  “Let me see what I can do,” the young doctor said, patting her hand.

  He strode to the supply room and emerged a moment later with a small glass bottle. “Laudanum,” he said quietly, and placed it in her hand, letting his fingers linger over hers. “Just a few drops in some water before bed and she’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “Oh, thank you, Doctor,” she cooed with another smile. “Mother—and I, of course—will be forever in your debt.”

  “I’m more than happy to be of service to you, Miss Jamison, and please, you must call me James. I hope we’ll become great... friends, Kirsten.”

  “But of course we will, dear James. I feel we already are.”

  * * *

  The day before the wedding Marissa watched in some bemusement as her husband grumpily shoved through Carolyn’s front door, shook the gray uniform jacket from his shoulders, and sprawled unceremoniously onto the settee, glowering into the flames licking the scarred brick of the fireplace.

  “Craig, what’s the matter?”

  “My father,” he grumbled testily, stretching an arm across the back of the couch as she came to sit beside him. He dropped it over her shoulders and squeezed.

  “Your father is here?” Marissa didn’t know much about Robert Langston, apart from the fact he was Scottish born, worked as an aide to President Jefferson Davis, and Craig had alluded to an overbearing nature which irritated his son. She also knew that Genie believed the man Zeus incarnate. If Genie liked him, he couldn’t be all that bad. “Is he coming to the wedding?”

  “Unfortunately.” Craig stood, turning a circle about the room. “I tell you, Marissa, the man is insufferable. He wasn’t in my house for five minutes before spewing insults about you and he hasn’t even met you.”

  Marissa gulped. She could only imagine the content of Craig’s argument with his father. She guessed the elder Langston was privy to all the lurid gossip about her loose morals. Gotten the girl in trouble, was a particular phrase Marissa had heard muttered more times than she cared to count. Coming from a world that practically glorified premarital relations, she found this terribly insulting. And while unwanted pregnancies weren’t necessarily desirable, couples were not expected to leap into marital bondage as a result. On one occasion she’d overheard a woman in the dry goods store snidely comment to her companion, “There is that girl who got herself in trouble. Can you believe poor Dr. Langston having to marry her?”

  Marissa had been so irritated she’d snapped a curt response to the shocked women who hadn’t realized she overheard. “Isn’t marriage the thing to do if a girl gets herself in trouble? Besides, I doubt any woman has ever managed it all by herself.’’

  The two gossips had marched off in high dudgeon, and somehow the exchange had gotten back to Craig. He hadn’t been entirely pleased with her, though at first she couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t want her to defend herself. Then she remembered that the fact of the matter was she had lived in a very different time and was going to have to make greater effort to mind her p’s and q’s She had no desire to create marital strife because she couldn’t hold her tongue.

  It had been hard, though, when she’d overheard yet another pair of old crows cawing about her. “It’s a crying shame it is,” one of them had said. “Especially with all the talk. Why, who even knows if the child is his?”

  That time, she’d simply walked away, biting her tongue, but livid.

  Pulling herself back to the present, she squeezed her husband’s hand. “Craig, everything with your father will be fine. I’m sure we have nothing to worry about. It’s you I’m married to. Not him.”

  And when she did meet her father-in-law, she was glad to learn Genie’s opinion was one she could share. Robert Langston, while gruff, could manage to be courtly when the occasion called for it.

  Craig was near to the spitting image of his father even though he was more the twenty years the man’s junior, and Genie was quite obviously over her grief enough to be infatuated with Robert. Though he may have been less than thrilled with the northern roots of his son’s chosen, and mumbled several times in Marissa’s hearing that the story of her past did not quite add up, and stated clearly he did not believe women had a place in medicine, he was more concerned about the man in Genie’s woods. “The sheriff is quite correct. It’s unsafe for you to stay at your farm under the circumstances, Mrs. Harris. If your daughter grows tired of your company, I’m sure you’ll be welcome in my home—that is—Craig’s grandmother’s home.”

  But when the time came for the men to depart for the bachelor’s party at Schooner’s Saloon—it sounded as though every man in Charleston would be in attendance—afather and son did so on more or less good terms. Robert even unbent enough to kiss Marissa’s cheek. “You are a bonny one, lass,” he conceded. “My boy always did have an eye for the prettiest girls around.”

  “Didn’t I tell you!” Genie exclaimed as the men took leave.

  “Tell me what?” Marissa was only half listening, wondering if bachelor pa
rties in 1863 consisted of the same trouble and antics as those in her day. Strippers. Too much booze. Plenty of trouble. Fights. She could almost envision Kirsten Jamison in a g-string and pasties leaping out of a cake. “Tell me what?”

  “That all the Langston men are gorgeous?”

  “Actually I think you told me that Robert Langston is the embodiment of Zeus.” Marissa grinned suggestively at her friend. “You know Genie, you’re both widowed.”

  “Absolutely not.” Genie instantly raised a hand. “My Jim was it for me. I won’t think of sullying what we had by chasing after another man.”

  “Well, what if another man was to chase after you?”

  “Now that,” Genie allowed with a twinkling smile, “would be entirely different.”

  * * *

  It took an immense amount of effort but eventually Kirsten and her mother managed to dump the unconscious Craig Langston onto Kirsten’s bed. Paul Christenson had successfully delivered him to their backdoor from Schooner’s saloon and the bachelor’s party. Dr. Rowe had recommended a few drops of laudanum, so she and her mother had instructed Paul to use half the bottle on Craig. That, combined with a couple of drinks at his bachelor party had proved more than adequate in sedating the large heavy man. It took a full forty-five minutes for the women to wrestle him free of his clothes and he didn’t stir once.

  Everything was going perfectly to plan.

  “All right,” Molly wiped her brow, letting a wicked grin split her face. “I’ll make sure your father finds him early. With any luck you’ll be married by noon.”

  Kirsten could practically hear the chinking of money as she crawled into bed with her victim. Tomorrow at this time she would be Mrs. Craig Langston, a dream come true.

  * * *

  Light forced its way through Craig’s closed eyelids and into the hazed consciousness of his brain. He wanted to groan but it would take far too much effort. God, he felt as though he’d been run over by a wagon and at least four horses. It must have been one hell of a party. Too bad he couldn’t remember it.