Never Love a Lawman (45 page)

The accountant nodded faintly while Foster Maddox’s expression remained implacable.

Holding out his hand, Wyatt asked for the documents he’d passed around to be returned. He collected them and gave them over to Ted Easter.

“I’d like to transcribe the originals,” Davis Stuart said.

“Of course,” said Wyatt. “I’ll want to review the copy. Mr. Easter is able to witness and certify the document.”

“Tomorrow?” asked Stuart.

“Sunday? No.” He glanced at Ted. “It should be at your convenience.”

Ted Easter shrugged. “Monday’s fine. Bank opens at nine. Jake will let us use the back room.”

“Does that suit?” Wyatt asked. At Stuart’s nod, Wyatt looked back at Foster, his eyebrows raised. “Is there anything else?”

Foster didn’t answer immediately, resting his chin on his knuckles in a deeply thoughtful pose while he fixed his remote stare on Rachel. “No,” he said at last. “It seems you have an answer for everything.”

Rachel accompanied Wyatt and Ted to the bank, where Jake Reston was waiting for them. The corporation papers and Clinton Maddox’s directions regarding the spur were returned to the safe. Ted took his notes, and Rachel kept her marriage license.

“Foster never mentioned my ring,” she said after parting ways with the others.

Wyatt plucked the license from her, folded it carefully in thirds, and placed it inside his coat. “That can’t be because he didn’t notice it. You flashed it often enough.”

“Not intentionally. I hardly knew what to do with my hands. I was nervous.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

Rachel didn’t miss his dry tone. “Liar.” She slipped her arm in his. “Why do you think he let it go unremarked?”

“I suspect it was on the advice of his counsel. He was careful in his language where you were concerned.”

“Do you think so? He characterized my kindnesses toward his grandfather as calculating.”

“That’s my point. In other circumstances he certainly would have called you a whore.” He gave her arm a small squeeze, softening the sting. “I have to know,” he said. “Where did you come by this notion of a spring with restorative waters?”

She glanced at him, her smile both guilty and apologetic. “Was it too much, do you suppose? It just seemed that the town should have more to recommend it than gambling and brides of the multitude.”

Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “Brides of the multitude? Where did you hear that expression?” Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. “Never mind. I suppose as long as you’re going to make gowns for Rose and her girls, you’re going to hear things.”

“I certainly am.” Her smile turned sly. “And I certainly am.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Did it sound convincing?” she asked. “About the springs, I mean.”

“I was convinced. In fact, I thought I would stop by Chet’s and ask for a bottle of his liniment.”

She sighed, slowing her steps as they approached the drugstore. “Perhaps we should go in and mention my deception to Mr. Caldwell.”

“The least we can do,” he said mildly. “In the event that Foster and his men show more interest in Chet’s foul concoctions than either cards or the brides.”

Joe Redmond was waiting for Wyatt in the churchyard before services began. He tipped his hat to Rachel and asked for a moment of Wyatt’s time.

“Go on,” Wyatt told Rachel. “I’ll be in shortly.”

She looked at the grim set of Joe’s mouth, the concern that he couldn’t conceal, and told Wyatt, “I believe I’ll just wait by the steps.”

Wyatt not only waited until Rachel was out of earshot but also turned so that his back would be to her. “What is it?” he asked Joe.

“Seven of them came by the livery this morning.” Joe thrust his hands deep in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. “A man named Seward took that many of my horses. Paid what I asked for them, and I charged them plenty just to see how serious they was to have the mounts. He didn’t blink.”

“Seward’s the surveyor and engineer. The demolition man, too.”

“Ah. That explains the equipment.”

“Explosives?”

“I didn’t see anything like that. There were a couple of tripods. I thought they were for cameras. You know, like you used to do.”

Wyatt nodded. Seward might be planning to take photographs and make a survey. He described Foster Maddox to Joe and asked if he was among the riders.

“Sorry. Don’t recollect seeing anyone like that.”

“It’s probably better that you didn’t. Did they say where they were going?”

“I tried to ask real delicate-like, on account they weren’t exactly inviting questions. Not one of them acted like he heard, so I let it pass.”

“Good idea. Do you have a guess?”

Joe’s mouth twisted to one side as he thought. “They went toward the depot. I figure they want it to look like they’re following the tracks out of town, but it’s likely they’ll double back. Can’t imagine they’re riding out today for any reason ’cept to try to find the active mine.”

“How long ago?”

“Forty minutes give or take. I have a mare getting ready to foal. Had to tend to her first before I could get away to find you.”

“Did you see Will?”

“Pounded on his door, but if he’s there, I couldn’t rouse him.”

“That’s all right. I think I know where he is.” He clapped Joe on the shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate the information. Take care of that mare.”

Rachel was talking to Molly Showalter and Johnny Winslow when Wyatt stepped to her side. Molly and Johnny excused themselves and hurried into the church just as the bell called the congregation to worship. Rachel turned to Wyatt and knew immediately that he wouldn’t be joining her.

“Where do you have to go?” she asked, steeling herself for the answer.

“Just out.” He repeated Joe’s story quickly. “It doesn’t look as if Foster tagged along, so I’d feel better knowing you aren’t alone while I’m gone.”

“I’ll go to Rose’s,” she said.

He could think of half a dozen other places he wished she’d go, but he also had no grounds for objecting. Sunday afternoon at Rose’s was likely to be quiet. “That’s fine but stay put.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her easy compliance made him look her over carefully. “I mean it, Rachel.”

“So do I.” She wished she’d told him earlier about Foster’s unannounced visit to their home, but telling him now was out of the question. “Truly,” she said. “I’ll be fine. And what about you? Are you taking that no-account Beatty boy?”

“As soon as I yank him off from the piano stool at Rose’s place.”

Rachel nodded, satisfied. At least he wasn’t setting out alone. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“Just poking around.”

“I don’t like it,” said Rachel.

“It will be fine. Think of it this way: when they don’t find anything, Foster’s likely to abandon this nonsense about challenging your right of ownership. It’s only worth his while if there’s something to gain. His attorneys know that he has almost no chance of winning, especially if he can’t make his case in a California court.”

“Have you heard anything from Judge Wentworth?”

“No news to or from Denver. The line is still down somewhere. We’ll have to wait to see if the Admiral arrives tomorrow. John Clay can’t know the bend’s been cleared. If he comes, we’ll send out a message to the judge on the return.”

Rachel had a sudden urge to touch her husband, and she didn’t hesitate to give in to it. Stepping closer, she laid her hand on his upper arm and rubbed gently, then fussed with the lamb’s wool collar of his coat. Even as she did it, she appreciated that he allowed her. If he was worried about his own safety, it wasn’t readily apparent. It seemed his only concession to the fact that there might be trouble was to have Will with him. “You’ll be careful?”

“Yes.”

Reluctant to back away, she fiddled with the buttons on his coat. “You tell Will to be careful, too.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Rachel searched his face. “I love you.”

Wyatt’s throat tightened as he covered her hands with his. “I’m coming home, Rachel. I love you and I’m coming home.”

She held on a moment longer, then turned away abruptly and hurried into the church, the beginnings of a prayer already forming on her lips.

Molly and Johnny insisted on escorting Rachel home after the service. She gave in, not because she was particularly concerned about herself, but because they so clearly wanted an excuse to remain together a little while longer. She sent them on their way when they reached the flagstone walk and watched them wander off, fingers tentatively intertwined and heads gently angled toward each other.

She was still smiling as she walked in the door and removed her bonnet and gloves. It was only as she pivoted in the direction of the parlor that the turned-up edges of her mouth collapsed.

“Adele?” Rachel’s brow puckered as she hurried into the adjoining room. Adele Brownlee sat perched with the delicacy and stillness of an injured bird on the edge of one of the damask-covered side chairs. Her legs were tucked slightly under the chair, and her arms rested flush to her sides so she occupied as little space as she possibly could. Her narrow, oval-shaped face was turned so it was revealed in only three-quarter profile, but even then as Rachel got closer she could see the beginnings of a bruise on the delicate line of Adele’s jaw. “Let me look at you.” She placed three fingers under Adele’s wobbling chin and gently nudged her head. “Who did this to you?”

Tears swam in Adele’s leaf-green eyes. She tried to look past Rachel to the front door. “Is Sheriff Cooper coming?”

Releasing Adele’s chin, Rachel shook her head. “He had to ride out. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Adele fumbled for a handkerchief in her reticule. She pressed the crumpled ball of linen to each of her eyes, momentarily stemming the tide of tears. “I’ll just go, then. Don’t know what I expected he could do anyway.”

“Come into the kitchen, Adele. Let me look after your face and give you a cup of tea; then you tell me what happened.” Rachel could see that Adele was reluctant, but she didn’t give the girl a chance to refuse. She took Adele firmly by the elbow and insisted she rise. It was immediately apparent that Adele’s face was only the visible evidence of injury. There was a definite favoring of her left side as she began to move.

Rachel said nothing about this but made Adele comfortable in the kitchen, taking her outerwear and hanging it in the mudroom. She set the kettle on the stove for tea and put out cups and saucers and a small plate of almond cakes. While the water was getting hot, she went to the bedroom and removed her coat, then searched the cupboard in the washroom for liniment. When she returned, Adele was nibbling carefully on one of the almond cakes.

Rachel pulled the glass stopper from the bottle of liniment. She wrinkled her nose at the strong, pungent odor. “Turn your head this way,” she told Adele.

Adele recoiled as the scent reached her. “Pardon me for saying so, but that smells like cat piss.”

Rachel didn’t blink an eye. “I prefer ‘woodsy.’ And I can’t say that this will improve the look of the bruise, because it seems they must all run the full course of color, but it will ease the pain in your jaw. You can take it with you if you like and apply it at your convenience to your ribs.” When Adele looked at her sharply, she simply said, “Well, that’s the other area that’s injured, isn’t it? You weren’t wearing a corset.”

Adele’s smile was a bit uneven, but there was finally a spark of humor in her eyes. “No,” she said. “I wasn’t.”

Rachel applied the liniment gently but still had to brace herself against Adele’s wince. Her own experience with this sort of injury told her that it was very recent, probably just early this morning. “You haven’t told me who did this to you,” said Rachel. She corked the bottle and placed it on the table at Adele’s side. While Adele wrestled with what she wanted to do about that, Rachel washed her hands. “You came here to tell Wyatt, didn’t you?”

Adele shrugged uneasily.

Rachel began to prepare the tea. “Adele, does Rose know?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adele shake her head. “Did this even happen at the house?”

Adele was a long time in answering. “No, ma’am,” she said finally.

Rachel sighed. “I thought you girls didn’t go out on your own.”

“Don’t usually. But Rudy offered me a good wage for entertaining at the Miner Key. Singing, I mean. Not the other.”

“I knew what you meant. You have a lovely voice.” Rachel put the teapot on the table and took a chair herself. “So you met someone at the saloon. Someone from town?”

Adele could barely hear herself when she replied, “No.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Rachel. “Someone from the train, then.”

“Oh, he was very nice,” Adele said quickly. “Polite. A bit shy, I would say. He kept looking away. Not sneaky, not at all, just like he was out of practice talking to a woman.”

“You were charmed.” Rachel watched color creep into Adele’s cheeks and was reminded that Adele’s experience did not make her less vulnerable to matters of the heart. In truth, the very opposite was probably true. “I suppose he was charmed as well.”

“I think so, yes. He complimented my performance several times and invited me to the hotel for dinner.”

“I see. It must have been very late by then.”

She nodded. “It was, but I was hungry. My insides get all twisted up before I sing, so I can’t eat more than a couple of salted crackers. And besides, he was…well, he was…”

“It’s all right,” Rachel said when Adele couldn’t find the proper adjective. “I understand.” She poured tea and pushed a cup and saucer in front of her guest, then gently encouraged her to drink. “You went with him, I take it.”

Adele gripped her cup and offered a shade defensively, “We had dinner in the dining room. It was…” Again, she struggled for the right descriptor. “Lovely,” she said at last. “Yes, it was lovely.”

“Did he tell you his name, Adele?”

She was slow to answer, but eventually said, “Pennway. James Pennway.”

Rachel hardly knew what to make of her own relief. It was undeserved and seemed strangely like a betrayal, but she’d been so certain that Adele’s path had crossed Foster’s that relief was the first emotion to wash over her. “Was he staying at the hotel?”