Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,62
with me.” Leanna stood, tucking the shawl tighter about Cabe.
“Let him come.” Leanna rarely took Cabe into town. It was time his world expanded. “The boys will have a good time.”
She shook her head. “He’ll only get fussy.”
The wind gusted harder by the second and the temperature dipped with it. To Cleve it was invigorating after the long, hot summer, but maybe she was right. Cabe would be better off staying here where it was warm.
“Let’s go inside, then. I’ll gather up Melvin. As hard as he’s scrubbing the floor, he might have another dollar to go toward that horse.”
Half an hour later, Cleve walked into the bank with Melvin hopping up and down beside him. The boy was clearly proud of opening an account of his own. Every tenth step from home to here, he had suggested a new name for the steed he would own someday.
“I reckon Black Ace would suit him,” Melvin declared, reaching up and sliding two dollars across the counter.
By a stroke of luck, Willem worked alone this morning. Cleve might have had a hard time not leaping over the counter to finish his business with the younger Van Slyck.
Involved at his desk, Willem dipped his pen in an ink bottle, scribbled something on the bottom of a sheet of paper. He looked up, smiled, then rose from his desk and crossed the room.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Holden? This isn’t your usual banking day.”
“Melvin would like to open a savings account.”
“Someday I’m going to buy me a horse.” He would reach that goal, if the eager expression on his face was anything to go by.
“That’s a fine thing, young man. Start now and when you’re ready you’ll be able to.”
The banker’s smile at Melvin was as cordial as any he would give to a grown customer. He didn’t look like a killer, just a common businessman with a son who might or might not be one.
He would dismiss Van Slyck as a decent man stuck with a detestable son, but he’d learned something over the past couple of months. Looks could be deceiving. A ruined reputation might hide virtue and a respectable facade might disguise wickedness.
He glanced about the bank as if a clue to what had happened to Leanna’s parents might leap into the palm of his hand.
It didn’t. Polished desks sat upon waxed floors. The place smelled like old leather and almond. To all appearances nothing questionable took place between these walls.
The big iron safe in the back was locked as tight as the secrets that the Van Slycks might keep.
With the transaction completed, Willem shook Melvin’s hand, then Cleve’s.
“Until this evening, then, Mr. Holden.”
A shaft of morning sunlight shot through the front window and illuminated the banker’s face. It glinted off his eyes.
Cleve’s heart stopped. His stomach heaved. Damned if his soul wasn’t writhing on the well-kept floor.
Preston’s eye, blue and gold… Willem’s eye, the same. Father and son, both with identical half-moons with a star at the tip.
Breathe, he told himself, in and out, even and steady. Stand straight…smile…act as though the world hadn’t just quit spinning.
“Is there something wrong?” Van Slyck withdrew his hand from Cleve’s. He flexed his fingers.
He must have clamped too hard on the older man’s hand without being aware of it.
“Not at all.” He forced a friendly, casual smile. “It’s just… I hope I’m not being forward in asking, but you and your son have the same unique eye coloring.”
“That’s how I know he’s mine.” Van Slyck shrugged. He smiled, lifting one side of his mouth. “Couldn’t disown him even if I tried to. All the Van Slyck men carry it, for as long as anyone can remember.”
“It’s a handsome mark,” he managed to say when all he wanted was to puke on his boots.
He clasped Melvin’s hand, crumpling the receipt that the child held proudly. He turned for the door and placed one foot deliberately in front of the other.
It made sense now, why Leanna usually left Cabe behind when she went to town.
The family mark was handsome, at least on Cabe.
Leanna sat at her dressing table absently brushing her hair. Looking in the vanity mirror she watched Cleve’s reflection while he sat on the bed.
Something fascinating must be happening on the floor. He’d been staring at it for a good long while. He claimed to be healed of his bout of stomach trouble, but he didn’t look it.
Walking home from work in the wee hours this morning, he’d held her close,