The Return Of Chase Cordell. Linda Castle

      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