In a Cowboy’s Arms (9 page)

She stepped back to admit the doc. Dade stayed outside by the buggy, staring at her.

“I didn’t expect you to drive out with Doc,” she said, planting a welcoming smile on her face like she supposed his sister would do.

He didn’t return the gesture. In fact, his expression hardened.

“I need a word with you,” he said.

She didn’t like that grave tone at all. Something was wrong, and that something must concern her.

“Of course. We’ll talk when we get back to town.”

“This needs to be settled now.”

Settled? She didn’t like the sound of that at all. She was tempted to put him off, to make an excuse and avoid the confrontation she sensed was coming.

But there was something in his eyes that stilled her. Some desperation that she understood all too well.

“Very well,” she said, damning the fact that her voice cracked. “What is so important that you couldn’t wait until I returned to town?”

He stared at her so long that a fine sheen of sweat slicked her skin. Then his gaze shifted to her throat, and his mouth pulled into a grim line.

She’d been the subject of dismissing or derisive looks all her life. But she’d never had anyone look at her with such open hostility before.

“That broach was my ma’s,” he said.

She nodded agreement, then what he’d said slammed into her. He’d said his mother. Not theirs.
His.

He knew the truth. She was almost relieved that she wouldn’t have to continue this charade. Almost.

“I’ve always loved it,” she said, and lifted trembling fingers to the only thing that did matter to her.

“Is that why you stole it, Maggie?”

Her mouth went dry, and her heart sank to her toes, but there was no sense denying the truth when he knew her name.

“I didn’t steal it. Daisy lost it.”

“Likely story.” Before she could think of a pithy reply, he asked, “How did you know Daisy?”

She hadn’t prepared herself to explain this part of her past, not that she needed to rehearse it. Those days in the foundling home had been hard. But they were also one of the best memories she’d had because she’d bonded with Daisy.

“Well?” he asked when she got lost in memories.

“Daisy and I became friends in the foundling home when she became too sick to travel on the orphan train.”

Maggie had vowed never to get close to anyone after the first family who’d adopted her brought her back. They blamed her for their daughter Becka’s death, and Maggie blamed herself as well. That was a heartache she never wanted to relive again.

But something about Daisy had called to her. An aching loneliness that she understood all too well.

“How long were you there?” he asked.

“Close to two months,” she said, though it had seemed longer.

His narrowed eyes told her that he didn’t believe her. “Two months, yet Daisy never told you she had a brother?”

She sighed, realizing she should have expected this question. “Daisy suffered a mishap shortly before arriving at the foundling home.”

“What kind of mishap?”

“I was told she took a bad fall off the wagon.” Maggie could remember the large bump on the girl’s head that took a week to go down. “The doctor who came to treat her said her memory had been damaged.”

“Convenient that she couldn’t remember her family.”

Maggie sent him a sad smile, taking no offense at his biting sarcasm. It was deserved in this. “Daisy didn’t even remember her name. The matron had to remind her who she was.”

Daisy had begun feeling poorly after the first two weeks, and Maggie had appointed herself the older sister to look out for the little girl with the too-big eyes. As soon as Daisy recovered, they put her back on the orphan train. But this time they placed Maggie on it too for she’d been adopted once and returned to the foundling home.

It was time for her to move on where she’d stand a better chance of finding a home. She’d hoped it would be with Daisy.

She always thought part of Daisy’s illness was a broken heart, for the child was horribly sad. Now she understood why. She’d been separated from her brother and sent to the West among strangers.

“How did you figure out my charade?” she asked.

“Had an interesting talk with a bounty hunter from up round Burland,” Dade said, his gaze probing hers with an intensity that made her shiver. “He’s looking for Margaret Sutten.”

She pinched her eyes shut a blessed moment. So Whit had hired someone to find her. He was more than angry too if he resorted to hiring a bounty hunter.

She tried to tamp down the panic erupting within her, but she couldn’t. A cold tremor skated through her veins, for if she hadn’t gone with Doc, she’d have been in Placid when the bounty hunter arrived.

She could be well and truly caught by now.

“Did this bounty hunter tell you why I was wanted back in Burland?” she asked.

“Yep. He said you’d stolen money from Harlan Nowell’s crippled daughter, and a family heirloom.”

“I never stole a red cent,” she said. “Caroline gave that money to me.”

Again his gaze dropped to the broach pinned at her throat. “Did you steal my ma’s broach from my sister?”

“No. Daisy lost it the day she was taken off the orphan train.”

He stared at the ground, but the muscle pounding along his jaw was proof he was holding a tight rein on histemper. “Doc fessed up to knowing you when Harlan Nowell adopted you.”

That was a laugh. “They took me in as a companion for their crippled daughter, though I ended up being more of Caroline’s personal servant.”

“That’s what Doc said.” He pinned her with eyes shining hard with steely determination. “What happened to Daisy?”

She cringed, unsure how to answer that. He’d see through any denial she’d voice, and what was the use of lying to him?

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I hope the family who took her in gave her a good home.” Unlike what she’d endured all her life in Harlan Nowell’s home.

Dade grabbed her upper arms and pulled her close. “Where was Daisy adopted? What was the name of the town?”

She shook her head, involuntarily shivering at the memory of the desolate place where the train had stopped. “We were in Kansas. But there was no signpost. Just cattle pens, a trading post, and a big white house up on a hill …”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“What about the towns before or after it?” he asked. “Do you remember either of them?”

She thought hard to bring the trip to mind again, but in truth they hadn’t been paying much attention. “We stopped at Wakeeney but I’m not sure if it was the last stop before they took Daisy. I can’t remember the name of the one after either.”

She’d been too distraught over Daisy to pay any mind to her surroundings. “I don’t think it was a scheduled stop because there wasn’t a crowd gathered when the matron trotted us girls out onto the platform.”

The skin beneath his eyes and around his mouth paled. “Just the girls?”

She nodded. “The matron told us to smile because the gentleman was looking for a pretty little girl.”

Maggie had known then that she’d not be chosen, for she was too tall and too hardy to be considered a pretty little girl. Even now she’d call herself average looking.

“This man. He just picked Daisy and went on?”

“Pretty much so.” She closed her eyes, bringing that moment to mind. “It was cold that day, the wind feeling like it blew right through us. But the matron made us stand side by side so the gentleman could get a good look at us. When Daisy clung to me the matron pulled her away from me. That’s when Daisy started crying.”

The skin around Dade’s pursed mouth paled even further. “She was always prone to tears.”

“Only when she was afraid.”

That made him scowl, but she couldn’t tell if he was disagreeing with her or if he’d never realized that fear was what made Daisy whimper. Not that it mattered now.

“The matron dragged Daisy to the end of the platform and shook her. Told her to hush,” she went on. “That drew the gentleman’s attention. He pushed the matron aside and pulled Daisy to him.”

“Bet she howled then,” Dade said.

“She kicked up a fuss and broke free, but she was too close to the edge. She fell hard and didn’t move.” Maggie blinked and swiped at the sudden moisture in her eyes, surprised she still had tears to shed. “He picked Daisy up, put her in a buggy, and drove up to that big house. I never saw or heard from her again.”

Dade’s jaw looked anvil hard. “Would you know him if you saw him again?”

“Without a doubt.” She’d never forgotten the calculating look on the man’s face when he got his hands on Daisy.

“But I wouldn’t know where to begin looking for her now. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Dade was silent for a long beat. She wondered at his thoughts, if he had any idea how to find his sister.

“How’d you come by her broach?” he asked, a note of suspicion back in his voice.

Her hand went to the piece of jewelry that tied her to the timid girl who’d befriended her. “I found it on the ground after the man left with Daisy. The clasp had broken.”

He just looked at her, as if trying to determine if she was joshing him. Finally he nodded, letting her think he believed her in this. And it was the truth.

Afterward, the lie about the broach being a family heirloom began, for it was the only suitable reason why Harlan Nowell would let her keep such a cheap piece of jewelry. Even then she was only allowed to wear it when they had visitors.

She could still remember the fuss Mrs. Nowell made over their ward’s “family trinket.” Few folks knew that as soon as company left, Maggie had to hand over the broach that gave her comfort.

If not for Caroline Nowell, she never would’ve been able to retrieve it from the safe the day she escaped.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” she said, her voice breaking the tense silence. “The gentleman had to have had money to convince the matron to stop the train in the middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe it wasn’t really nowhere.” Dade scowled off into the distance. “You said there were cattle pens? It must’ve been the railhead for shipping cattle east.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, his eyes darkening to match the intense expression on his face.

“You think that this could have been on the gentleman’s property? That he lived in that white house?”

“There’s a chance he did,” Dade said. “I’ll follow the tracks until I find a big ranch west of Wakeeney. If I can find some old-timers along the way, they might remember the location of such a big spread.”

For the first time in years, she felt a smidgen of hope. “If you can do that, we might be able to find Daisy.”

Dade shrugged, not showing the same enthusiasm that she felt. “Do you remember anything distinctive about this man?”

Maggie thought on that sad moment in her life. She’d begged to be taken too, but the gentleman hadn’t spared her a glance.

He’d had his eyes set on Daisy from the start, and he’d gotten her. But why?

The question had worried her for years. Daisy was such a fragile girl, and the man who’d taken her had seemed so cold and demanding.

“He was a bossy man. He told the matron, ‘I’ll take that pretty blonde hiding behind the gawky girl.’” Meaning her, the tall girl nobody wanted in his home unless it was to lend a hand. She could still hear his voice as if it’d just happened. “He was dressed well, and his buggy was a fancy one.”

Dade scrubbed a hand across his nape, as if reminded of what a daunting task it’d be to find one gentleman among so many. “Anything else you recall about him?”

“He commanded respect, like he was somebody important,” she said. Like he was a man who expected to be obeyed without question. Like Harlan Nowell.

“I need more to go on if I’m going to find her,” he said, though she sensed he was talking more to himself than to her.

Her heart went out to him then when she realized just how desperately he wanted to find his sister. She wished she knew more, for she’d like nothing better than to find her long lost childhood friend again.

Oddly enough, that bond between her and him touched something deep in her. She’d not had that with another soul for so long. If only she wasn’t being hunted by Whit. If only he’d let her go.

But she was afraid to take the chance. Afraid that getting close to another man could cost that man his life.

“This bounty hunter who’s looking for me,” she said, drawing Dade’s shrewd gaze back up to hers. “Is he still in Placid?”

He shook his head. “Duane saw him heading up into the mountains with a packhorse. With any luck he won’t come back for some time, if ever.”

So she had time to gather her thoughts and few possessions before moving on again. Hopefully Doc had found a place for her to hide in St. Louis. If not, where would she go?

Dade trailed Doc Franklin’s buggy back to town, his senses attuned to trouble while his mind spun off with all he’d discovered. Finding the gentleman who’d taken Daisy off the orphan train was going to be like looking for a needle in a damned haystack.

Rich gentlemen tended to be demanding–at least the ones he’d had dealings with. His best bet was finding this big ranch in Kansas.

He wasn’t familiar with that state, but there couldn’t be that many big ranches past Wakeeney that were close to the railroad and had their own cattle holding pens to boot. The trading post nearby should help narrow it.

Problem he might face was if any of it was still standing. The prairie had changed a lot in twenty or so years. Prairie fires, tornadoes, bankruptcy. Any of it could’ve happened and erased what had once been there.

Yep, the way it was shaping up, unless he recognized his sister right off, he might never find her unless someone pointed her or the gentleman who adopted her out to him. He didn’t hold much hope of either happening.

I’d never forget his face,
Maggie had said.

Was it true? Could Maggie Sutten recognize the man who’d taken his sister? Would she recognize the big white house? Would she know Daisy?

As for Maggie’s explanation about Daisy’s lost memory due to an accident, well, if she was telling the truth, then that explained a lot. He’d always wondered why his sister had never tried to find him. Why he’d never heard mention of her these past twenty years until six months back.