Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Lawmen [The Lost Collection] (Siren Menage Everlasting) (3 page)

“All right, Miss Dupree. Let’s resume our journey.”

“All things considered, I think you both ought to call me Amanda.”

“Mandy,” Warren corrected.

She smiled at him, then looked at Adam again. “I’m used to that,” she said. “That little exchange of meaningful looks you two just shared.”

Adam raised that eyebrow again, a sure sign to Warren he was confused. “Are you, now?”

“Yes.”

Adam lifted her back up onto the seat beside Warren.

“It’s a darn shame,” she said then. She looked from Adam, to him, then sighed. “All the best men are always already taken.”

“Not such a shame,” Adam shot back. “As Warren and I also enjoy women. And, we’re both very attracted to you—Mandy.”

* * * *
 

It would have been better if he’d killed the whore.

Colin Baker stared out the window of his room at the Lyon House Hotel in Springfield, Missouri, and knew the truth of that sentiment. He thought back to five days before, to his furtive visit to that small cottage on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia.

He’d panicked. The harlot had screamed, and then came a heavy pounding on the door, and the shouts of an enraged man. Fearful of being caught, he’d heaved the woman against the wall, felt the bone-deep satisfaction of watching her eyes roll back in her head as she slid to the floor. Even as he’d levered himself out a back window, the front door of the small house had burst open. He’d looked back once and watched as the whore had slowly shaken her head and moaned.

He’d not had his hands around her throat long enough to kill her and that, he feared, might be a mistake that would come back to haunt him.

Fortunately, it would be unlikely the incident would have been reported to the authorities. The woman was just a whore, after all. He’d not finished rifling through her bureau when she’d discovered him, but he’d managed, despite the debacle the evening had turned into, to find what he’d been looking for.

He’d discovered where the whore’s daughter had gone.

There’d been a copy of a newspaper advertisement for the B & O Railroad listing excursions departing Philadelphia for all points west. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out that paper, now slightly rumpled looking. On it, in flowery script, a notation at the side read, “Amanda Philadelphia to St. Louis to Springfield to Waco.”

He had only one more city to reach.

Colin could think of no reason for a whore—for surely the daughter took after the mother—to travel to Texas unless it was to retrieve the treasure his stepfather had hidden.

The treasure that, by all rights, belonged to
him
.

Colin’s mother had married William Gladstone when he’d been but five years old. The old man’s only son, nearly a decade older than Colin, had gotten himself killed in the war. At least his mother hadn’t produced any whelps in her new marriage to the man. Thus, Colin remained as Gladstone’s only
legitimate
heir.

He’d never particularly liked the old man. He thought the bastard tedious in the extreme, always insisting that Colin attend school, then actually learn a trade and earn his way.

Why should Colin work for a living like a common laborer? He’d had an inheritance from his own father, and Gladstone had been wealthy enough to provide whatever Colin needed.

When the old man tightened the purse strings last year, Colin looked for another way to get what he was entitled to. One night, when he was into his cups, he recalled Gladstone’s journals.

As a young lad, he used to spend time on winter afternoons reading through his stepfather’s accounts of his life before and during the war. William Gladstone was one of those sons of wealth and privilege who’d attended the military college at West Point. Then, when the War of Northern Aggression had broken out, he’d come home to Richmond, exchanging a blue uniform for a gray one. It seemed to Colin that when the man wasn’t soldiering, he was writing.

Colin recalled one journal in particular, the final one written during those tumultuous years. As a boy of ten, he’d not understood
all
the finer details he’d read. But as he’d grown older, as he’d become an adult, he’d understood one adventure in particular Gladstone had chronicled.

While he’d not read that account for several years—Gladstone had hidden the damn books once he realized Colin had been reading them—he remembered the story and knew what it meant.

When money became tight, Colin decided that he would make his fortune the old-fashioned way. He would steal it. So he’d devised a plan, a rather ingenious plan, he’d thought. Gladstone had grown old and shown signs of ill health. It proved a simple matter to sneak into the man’s room one night and place a pillow over his face until he’d stopped struggling.

Colin had worn mourner’s black very well. He’d stood next to the bastard’s casket, received the condolences. He’d sat in stoic silence during the reading of the will. No other family remained, save a maiden aunt nearing seventy. He’d received the bulk of Gladstone’s estate, of course, except for a small bequest and a personal memento left to a young woman named Amanda Dupree. Miss Dupree hadn’t been invited to the reading of the will, so Colin had thought nothing more of the matter until he’d discovered the final journal missing.

The lawyer had been unwilling, at first, to divulge any information to Colin about the mysterious young woman. Finally, though, the man had admitted that Miss Dupree was Gladstone’s illegitimate daughter and had been left the sum of two thousand dollars and a worn-looking tome.

The lawyer swore he had no idea what the book contained, for he had promised his client to deliver the items to the woman
immediately
upon learning of his death without ever opening or reading the book. The lawyer had assumed he’d delivered nothing more than a family chronicle.

Colin had no choice but to search for Miss Dupree. He hadn’t found her, of course, but he had located her mother—
also
a Miss Dupree.

Colin would never understand why his stepfather had left the journal to that chit, but since she’d lit out of Richmond and headed southwest, he had no doubt the old bastard had done just that and that the whore was going after the treasure.

The sun had set, and his belly grumbled, demanding food. The man at the hotel desk had assured him that fine fare could be had down the street at a restaurant called Murchison’s. He’d go and eat, maybe stop off for a beer or two at the saloon on his way back.

He hated traveling, hated the frontier. But he figured when he caught up to the Dupree woman and retrieved his journal, all this discomfort would have proven to be worthwhile.

Especially when he followed the clues he recalled reading and recovered the very real treasure his stepfather had so painstakingly hidden.

Chapter 3

“I never had a sister, although I’d always wished for one. That’s why I decided I wanted to meet you,” Sarah said.

Amanda stood still for her cousin’s inspection. Sarah Carmichael Benedict didn’t quite match Amanda in height. She wore her blonde hair in a soft upsweep, and her brown eyes fairly shone with intelligence. Her own coloring differed in that Amanda had received the red hair and green eyes of their common grandfather, or so she’d been told. Otherwise, looking at Sarah was very nearly like looking in a mirror.

“My mother had red hair,” Sarah said softly. “She said it was a family trait.”

“You lost her when you were young,” Amanda said. “That’s hard. I’ve never had much in life, but I’ve always had my mother. We’re very close.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t we have tea out on the verandah? Dinner will be ready in a half hour or so. In the mean time, it’s nice out, and that seems to be the only place I’m permitted to be outside these walls
without
armed guards lately.”

The last bit Sarah said while slanting a sideways glance at her husbands.

Amanda wanted to laugh at the guilty looks worn by both Caleb and Joshua Benedict. Instead, she assumed a serious expression and lowered her voice as if sharing a confidence. “I’m not sure if you’ll be allowed that privilege this time, as I’m here and I don’t think any of the men trust me at all.”

Sarah grinned. “Yet you don’t seem very upset by that idea.”

Amanda returned her smile. “I’ve learned not to care what other people think of me. Folks will believe the worst, and there’s nothing you can do, usually, to change their minds.”

“I predict that we’re going to be good friends,” Sarah said. She stepped forward and linked arms with Amanda. To the men she said, “Please have some tea brought out to us.”

“Bossy.” Caleb Benedict shook his head, then turned toward the kitchen, followed by Joshua and the two lawmen.

Amanda laughed and walked with Sarah outside to the verandah. From what she’d seen so far, her cousin’s house resembled some of the fine plantation homes outside of Richmond. Amanda guessed she was going to have to revise her impression of the so-called rustic Western frontier. So far, nothing had been as expected.

She’d not had that chance to freshen up yet, either, but just then she thought that could wait. She hadn’t returned her cousin’s sentiment, but she thought they were going to be good friends, too.

“What do you think of Adam and Warren?” Sarah asked once they were seated on identical rockers.

Amanda met Sarah’s gaze. “I’m not sure if my thoughts on that pair can be summed up in such short order. I like them both, I think.”

“I only asked because I saw the way they both were looking at you.”

Amanda could tell, just by Sarah’s expression, that she wanted to say more. Since she understood the nuances, she said, “You mean they were looking at me the way they only usually look at each other?”

Sarah sighed, then nodded. “Caleb and Joshua have assured me that both men have kept company with women. I know this sounds funny under the circumstances, but I find this entire relationship thing awfully confusing. Everyone just ought to be able to love who they want, with it being nobody else’s never mind and that be that.”

Amanda decided that such a bold opinion earned honesty. “My mother worked as a courtesan before she had me. For the last few months before I was conceived, she kept herself exclusive to one man. My father—that would be your Uncle William—never doubted that he’d gotten her with child, though he never claimed me as his daughter. He agreed to buy her a small house and provide her with an income until I came of age. She didn’t want me to be raised in a brothel, you see. Once I was born, my father never came back, so she resumed making her living in the way she knew how, able, because of my father’s generosity to be selective with regard to her clientele. So because of who she is and who she knows, I’ve grown up with what the rest of society would consider unusual attitudes.”

“And Uncle William never acknowledged you as his daughter?”

Amanda could see the outrage on Sarah’s face. “That’s normal, Sarah. Once I became old enough to understand the circumstances of my birth, I never would have expected him to. After he died, I discovered he left me a legacy and a letter in which he called me daughter.”

“None of it seems fair. Grandfather turned his back on my mother just because she followed her heart.” Sarah frowned. “What is it about some men that make them think that women are things and not people?”

“It’s just the way it’s always been. Maybe, to a certain extent, things are as they are because we’ve let them be that way.”

“I guess it’s silly talking about what we can’t change.”

“Well, we can’t change the world. But we can live our own lives on our own terms. That’s something which you’ve done. And so have I, in a way.”

“You don’t have two husbands, too, do you?” Sarah asked.

Amanda laughed. Her cousin had a quick wit and an obvious love of teasing. “No, I have something nearly as unusual. I have a business. I’m a private investigator.”

“That sounds exciting.” Sarah opened her mouth to say more but snapped it shut when Joshua came out bearing a tray with a pot and a couple of cups.

“Rita said she can delay dinner a while if you want her to.” He set the tray down and poured a cup of tea for each of them.

“Tell her no thanks. I’m hungry,” Sarah said.

Joshua bent low and gave Sarah a fast, thorough kiss. “You have twenty minutes, then.” He straightened, winked at Amanda, and went back into the house.

Sarah blushed. “If there has been a negative aspect to this life I live, it’s that I’ve been unable to talk or share my feelings or my situation with another woman,” she confessed quietly. “Don’t get me wrong. Caleb and Joshua are not only my husbands, they’re my best friends, too. We can talk about anything and everything and do.” She took a sip from her cup, then set it gently on the saucer.

“But it’s not the same as having another woman to talk to,” Amanda finished for her.

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to oblige your need—and mine—for female conversation for as long as I’m here.”