Never Love a Lawman (9 page)

“Where else did you consider going?”

“San Francisco. Chicago.”

“Big cities. Never Denver? St. Louis? Somewhere back East?”

“No. I never gave them any real consideration, and there’s no ‘back East’ for me. I was born in California. I guess he knew me better than I knew myself. San Francisco was too close. Chicago was too far. And a small town was a better choice than a city. He realized I’d need help that would be hard to come by for a woman alone in places like Denver. Reidsville’s just about perfect.”

“Folks here think so,” he said. “Tell me about ‘too close’ and ‘too far.’”

Rachel knew what he meant, but she declined to answer. “I better see to these dishes. I have plenty of work to do today before I can leave to look at that contract.” She started to rise, but he caught her wrist. It was a light grip, just firm enough to let her know that he could insist that she sit. She set her jaw, unhappy with this turn, but she sat.

Wyatt let her go immediately. “Just one other thing,” he said. “Did you know about the Calico spur before you came here?”

“Not until I began making arrangements to leave and realized I’d have to use the spur to make the very last leg of the journey. I wasn’t certain I’d come here after all.”

“What decided you?”

“The need to be connected, even if that connection is by steel rails and spikes.” Rachel saw Wyatt nod slowly, as if he understood better than she did. “You know, Sheriff, Mr. Maddox tolerated people using C & C when they talked about his western railroad, but he disliked it immensely when they referred to the great California and Colorado as Calico.”

Wyatt raked back his sunshine-threaded hair with his fingertips and shared a slip of a smile with her. “I know.”

Rachel slowed her steps as she passed the bank. She entertained the notion that she could ask Mr. Reston to show her the contract without Wyatt Cooper’s permission or presence, but what reasons she could offer did not occur to her, especially since Wyatt was reclining in front of his office in his familiar, sublimely restful pose.

Sighing, Rachel moved on. She’d chosen her dress with some particular attention today, wanting to appear as a woman who was both careful in her deliberations and confident in her decisions. With that in mind, she’d picked out a brightly colored batiste handkerchief dress, vaguely masculine in its tailoring with its double-breasted jacket and deep pleats. When she had critically regarded herself in the mirror, she was satisfied to see that she looked striking and not alluring. It was the first order of business for a woman who wanted to be taken seriously.

She nodded or spoke to everyone who greeted her, and even risked a proposal from Abe Dishman by acknowledging him first. Ned tipped his hat at her, laughed gleefully, then jumped two of Abe’s red checkers and palmed them. Johnny Winslow offered a cheery hello when she passed him coming out of Morrison’s on an errand for Mrs. Longabach. Rudy Martin stopped sweeping the sidewalk in front of his saloon when she passed, and Mr. Caldwell wandered outside his apothecary shop just as she was going by and bid her good day.

By the time she reached the sheriff’s office she estimated that she’d acknowledged the compliments of some fourteen men and one from that no-account Beatty boy. She stopped at the gate that Wyatt had erected with his long legs and waited for him to move aside or in some other way indicate that he knew she was there.

After a moment he nudged the brim of his hat back and looked her over—slowly—from her ribbon-adorned bonnet to her soft kid boots. “Are you planning to dress every woman in town in that fashion?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell, but you were accosted upwards of a dozen times once you turned the corner from Aspen Street until you got here. I can’t say that I see Gracie Showalter or Ann Marie Easter putting up with that sort of attention.”

“I was hardly accosted,” she said. “People are friendly here. At least most of them. And this dress wouldn’t suit Mrs. Showalter or Mrs. Easter, so I won’t be suggesting the design to either of them.”

“There’s a relief.” He dropped his legs so that his chair fell hard on all fours, and rose easily to his feet. “Let’s go. Jake’s expecting us.”

“I could have met you at the bank.”

“Sure you could’ve.” He didn’t add what he was thinking, namely that he’d have missed her gliding toward him if she had. The mannish cut of the dress she was wearing shouldn’t have lent itself to her floating walk, but somehow it was emphasized, not diminished.

Wyatt stepped to the outside of the sidewalk, giving Rachel the inside track, and gestured toward the bank. “Are you anxious?”

“A little,” she admitted as they began walking.

“Do you think I’ve been lying to you about it?”

“No. It was just unexpected, that’s all.”

He nodded. “When we get to the bank, you’ll have to read it with me there. I only have the one contract. I can’t risk something happening to it.”

“You hardly have to be concerned that I’ll destroy it. What would be the point? You seem dead set on living up to the terms of the agreement whether or not there’s a paper that says you have to.”

“Glad you see it that way, Miss Bailey.”

They fell quiet until they reached the bank; then Wyatt opened the door for her and ushered her inside. “Here we go,” he said softly, a bit resignedly, and Rachel was moved to wonder if he was speaking to her or himself.

Jacob Reston was the sort of man that medium was meant to describe. He came in at average for height, weight, and the length of his sideburns. He spoke in carefully modulated tones and was never passionate on any subject. He was genial, unaffected, and comfortable to be around. In matters of finance, he was the agreed-upon expert, and he managed the bank efficiently and with integrity because it was not in his nature to manage it in any other manner.

Mr. Reston engaged in precisely one minute of small talk, then showed them to the back room where the bank’s safe was located. The words
HAMMER & SCHINDLER
were set in bold gold-leaf typeface on the door and sides. The brass lock was as big as Rachel’s fist. Mr. Reston stepped in front of the safe and used his body to conceal the combination. It took him mere seconds to find what he was looking for; then he closed the safe and spun the dial.

He handed an envelope to Wyatt. “You’ll have privacy here,” he said. “Take your time.”

Wyatt waited until Reston closed the door upon exiting before he gave the envelope over. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, pointing to the ladder-back chair closest to the oil lamp.

“Yes, I think I would.” She put herself at the corner of the small table and leaned forward so her elbows were resting on the edge. She was peripherally aware that Wyatt had chosen not to join her but was leaning back against one wall, his hands behind him. “I guess I’m a little nervous. Did he write it in his own hand, do you know?”

“I believe so. I remember thinking the script matched his signature. You’ll know better, but I never doubted it was from him.”

Rachel nodded once, then slipped her finger carefully under the envelope’s flap where the seal had been broken once and then reset lightly by the pressure of the things placed on top of it. She eased out the contract, set the envelope aside, then carefully unfolded the paper.

She read.

Her vision did not blur immediately. She’d prepared herself for that first shock by asking if she’d find Clinton Maddox’s handwriting, so she was able to beat back tears for a while. The content was straightforward, outlining the terms, expressing that she was to have land, a house, and such assistance as she required from time to time to make certain that she would stay in Reidsville. That assistance, he was careful to specify, would have to be offered in a way that did not arouse suspicion. He did not put it to paper in plain words, but it was there between the lines that he thought she was too proud or too stubborn—perhaps both—to accept too many kindnesses, thereby ensuring that she would cut off her nose to spite her face and guarantee that she would decide to leave. The final implication was that she would decide to move back to him, and that was the very last place she was welcome. It was little wonder that Wyatt thought she’d been sent packing, albeit with much consideration and a great many possessions in her trunk.

Halfway through, she fumbled for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Without looking up, she addressed Wyatt. “I understand why you think you’re required to look after me, but that’s an interpretation, not a condition.”

“Read on,” was all he said.

She set down the first page and continued until her breath caught sharply. She stared at the page. “He wasn’t serious.” At first it was all she could think to say. “If you knew him better, you’d know he had a wicked sense of humor. This is clearly a joke or proof of an addled mind.”

“You knew him very well. Was his mind addled?”

It occurred to her to lie, but this was Clinton Maddox she was talking about, and she couldn’t bring herself to tarnish his memory. “No,” she said softly. “Anything but.”

“Which makes it a joke.”

Relieved, Rachel nodded. “Then you do see it. I’m glad. For a moment I was concerned that—” She bit down on her next words when she glanced up and saw that Wyatt Cooper wasn’t smiling. Not even a little bit. “You certainly don’t have to be worried that I’ll hold you to it. This sort of thing isn’t done any longer. I’m not even sure that it was done in Mr. Maddox’s youth.”

“A marriage arranged for property and protection?” he asked. “It’s done all the time.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so. I signed the contract, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but it’s not binding. It can’t be, not with such a ridiculous clause. You agreed it was a joke.”

“I didn’t say that exactly. You should know I put my name to it with a sense of the consequences.” He shrugged. “And now I have myself a mail-order bride.”

Rachel’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“You’ll catch flies that way but not much else.”

Her mouth snapped shut. She glared at him, rattled the paper in her hand, and continued to read. Clinton Maddox was clear that there could be no marriage while he lived, but at his death, her need to be protected was paramount. He did not outline his reasons, which Rachel knew was quite deliberate. She understood them well enough, though it was clear from her earlier conversations with Wyatt Cooper that he did not. Mr. Maddox had cared deeply for her, enough so that he arranged for her safety, but in the end blood will out. He could not bring himself to leave a record of why she’d been compelled to go in the first place.

“He must have thought that marriage was the only sure way to…” She let her thought trail away.

Wyatt picked it up. “To keep you from doing injury to someone?”

“If you like.”

“That’s what he implies.”

“Yes, I read that.”

He waited to see if she would say more, but on this subject she was obstinately quiet. “Will I have to spend our married life sleeping with one eye open?”

“Don’t suggest that, even in jest.”

“What? That you’ll murder me in my sleep?”

“That I’ll marry you.”

Wyatt released a pained sigh as he pushed away from the wall. He spun around one of the chairs at the table and straddled it. Placing his forearms across the uppermost rail, he jerked his chin at the contract she still held in her hands. “Finish reading it; then we’ll talk.”

His expression did not invite argument, although Rachel was sorely tempted. She did as he suggested but only after she made certain he understood it was because she wanted to. Her lips moved slightly as she read, not because she was quietly sounding out the words, but because she was cursing Clinton Maddox.

When she finished reading, but not cursing, she refolded the contract and slid it and the envelope in Wyatt’s direction. “He mentions the mine,” she said. “And reminds you that I’m to have a half interest in it.”

“That’s right.”

“That was his share?”

“Yes.”

“Who has the other half?”

“I have a quarter. The town has the other.” He watched her try to take that in, work out what it meant. “That’s not the important part,” he said before she began to raise objections that would make no difference in the end. “Did you read the paragraph about the spur?”

“Yes. He means to give me sole ownership of it.”

“If you marry me.”

“Yes, I saw that. And since I don’t want the Calico spur, there’s absolutely no motivation for me to marry you.” She tucked her handkerchief out of sight, then raised her eyes to regard him with frank satisfaction. “That ends it, doesn’t it? I believe a wedding contract requires the approval of both parties.”

Wyatt gave her a moment to enjoy what she thought was checkmate before he said the words that proved she had only checked him. “I told you how important that spur is to the town. Do you recall the second half of the message I showed you yesterday?”

She did. It was etched in her mind as deeply as the first, but it didn’t concern her. Then. “C & C control to Foster,” she said. “That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Foster is Mr. Maddox’s only grandson and therefore, his heir.”

“That’s right. Heir to everything but half of the Reidsville Mine and the Calico Spur.” He paused, watching Rachel’s cheeks lose color and her eyes darken until the black centers were nearly all that he could see. “How well do you know Foster Maddox?” She didn’t answer, but it was there in her expressive face. “That well,” he said. “Then you must suspect as I do, as most of the town will when they all learn of Clinton Maddox’s passing, that Foster Maddox isn’t likely to keep the spur open. He won’t have an interest in the mine, so you see, that pretty much eliminates
his
motivation.”

Rachel felt her shoulders compress as she drew in on herself. “I can’t—that is, I don’t know if—” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “How did Mr. Maddox arrange for me to inherit his half share of the mine? I mean, is it in his will? Will I have to go to Sacramento?”

“You don’t have to leave Reidsville, which, if you noticed, he was particular about. His right to name an heir was settled when he entered into the partnership. The town’s share can never be reassigned, but he and the other shareholder retained the right to pass their portion along.”