Scotsman Wore Spurs (41 page)

“All right,” Kirby finally said, “I'll see that she gets on that train to Denver.”

Drew nodded. “I'll write her a letter, explaining, and another to my brother-in-law. Explain to her how important it is that he receives it …
personally
. Perhaps that will help.”

Kirby nodded. Then, gruffly, he said, “Drew, I don't know what to say. How do you thank—”

“You don't say anything,” Drew cut him short.

Kirby looked at him, and for a moment their gazes held. Then the older man held out his hand across the space between their horses. Drew reached over and took it, clasping it firmly. And no more words were needed. None at all.

When Drew reached Caldwell, Killian was long gone.

“And good riddance,” the storekeeper said.

The man eyed Drew curiously when he'd asked about the hired gun. He eyed him again when Drew inquired about sending a telegraph.

“I can do that for you,” the man said. “Town ain't big enough for a full-time operator, so I fill in.”

Drew passed him the message for Kirby's brother, warning Jon he might be in danger and advising him never to ride alone, particularly into town, and to be wary of strangers. Drew signed Kirby's name.

When he'd left camp, he'd taken two horses, the pinto and a bay known for its endurance. He'd stowed his bedroll and told Gabrielle that he would be scouting north for the next two days, that Kirby felt he was ready for the responsibility. He'd guided her behind the wagon, out of sight of curious eyes, and kissed her, long and deeply.

She had clung to him, as if sensing something, but she didn't ask questions. It was one of the things he liked best about her. She never pried, simply waited until he was ready to talk. The hell of it was, now that he
was
ready, he had something he had to do first.

He'd had to settle for saying to her, “Be careful while I'm gone, lass. I'll have a lot to say to you.”

He'd wanted to tell her he loved her then and there. But that wouldn't be fair, not yet when his life was so uncertain. “Wait for me,” he said instead, and saw the surprise in her eyes, then a soft joy.

“I'll always wait for you,” she whispered.

“And trust me.”

She nodded.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He kissed her, praying as he'd never prayed in his life that it wouldn't be for the last time. Then, because he was dying inside, because he knew she really wouldn't understand, he whirled away and mounted the pinto, forcing himself to keep a normal pace until he was out of sight. And then he spurred the horse into a gallop.

Switching mounts periodically to keep them from overtiring, he'd made Caldwell in one day. He didn't want to think, couldn't think, about Gabrielle. “
I don't like lies.
” How many times had he told her that?

But he hadn't known any other way to keep her safe. He had to find Killian before the gunman killed anyone else. And he had to find the man alive; he was the only link to whoever had hired him.

Drew stayed in Caldwell long enough to buy a few supplies, then rode south. He had to make San Antonio before Killian got there.

Two days passed, and Drew did not return. Gabrielle missed him more than she would have thought possible. She found herself looking for the tall, lean figure who had become her whole world.

She had accepted his explanation about scouting because there had been no reason not to. He had been going out more and more with Kirby, and Damien had been taking more responsibility for the herd. But as night fell late on the second day of Drew's absence, she knew something was wrong. Really, she'd known it that morning when Kirby had ridden out alone and come back late. Why would both he and Drew be scouting?

Kirby had been avoiding her, too, now that she thought about it. She really hadn't paid much attention to his comings and goings from camp, being kept busy herself with her chores and taking care of Ha'penny. But earlier that evening, she'd seen Kirby lead Damien away from the campsite, and, now, as she watched them return, she noted that Damien's expression was stormy.

She waited until the younger Kingsley stalked off, then approached his uncle.

“Kirby?”

He turned toward her, his eyes wary in the firelight.

“Shouldn't Drew be back by now?”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “He's gone, Gabrielle,” he said tersely. “He left the drive.”

Gabrielle gasped, feeling as if she'd been shot in the stomach. “I … don't understand.”

“He said he had some business to take care of,” Kirby told her. “He asked me to see you onto the train to Denver. Said he'll meet you there.”

Shocked, her mind a whirlwind, Gabrielle didn't know what to think. She knew how she felt, though: hurt. Drew had asked her to trust him—made her
promise
to trust him—but he hadn't trusted her at all. He didn't want anyone lying to him, but he apparently had few scruples about withholding the truth himself.

The loner. Whatever had made her think she could change him? He was as unable and unwilling as he'd ever been to share his emotions, his thoughts, his plans. Maybe he always would be.

Her heart was breaking, crumbling into pieces. She turned away, not wanting Kirby to see the pain, the betrayal she felt, in her eyes.

“Gabrielle,” he said, stopping her with his hand on her arm. “Drew loves you. He just wants to make sure you're safe.”

“Without asking me? Without finding out what
I
think or need or want?” The words burst forth in a fury as anger solidified inside her. “That's not love!” she said. “That's not even the honesty he talks so much about.”

She glared at the hand restraining her until Kirby withdrew it. “Where did he go?” she demanded.

Kirby cleared his throat. “He left a letter for you. And one for you to take to his brother-in-law, Ben Masters.”

With deadly calm, she said, “And the two of you expect me to travel hundreds of miles to the home of strangers—while you go hunting a murderer?”

The alarm in Kirby's eyes told her that she'd hit the target. She wanted to hit
him
. Kick him. She wanted to toss the bean pot into the ashes. She wanted to take Billy Bones and gallop away as hard and fast as she could. She wanted to murder the man in front of her—to say nothing of the one who'd left her—with her own two hands. If Killian didn't do it first. In all, Gabrielle had never been so angry in her entire life.

“
Trust me. Promise?
” She wanted to throw Drew's promises in his face. He'd known precisely what he was asking when he exacted that unfair promise from her.

“
Trust me.
” Ha! She'd trust him, all right. She'd … she'd …

Suddenly, Gabrielle's inward fuming came to an abrupt halt.
Trust me
. It was the first thing, the
only
thing, that Drew had ever asked of her. Slowly, that realization filtered its way through her anger.

“
He loves you
,” Kirby had just told her. Could he be right? Anger, fear, and hope all became jumbled in her mind, whirling around like colors in a kaleidoscope. Fear crowded its way to the forefront.

“He went alone?” she demanded.

Kirby's hands clenched at his sides. She watched various expressions flit across an usually impassive countenance, and she surmised that he was debating how to answer.

“Did he go after Killian
alone?
” she demanded again, her voice rising in stark terror.

Kirby shook his head in resignation. “No one knows Drew has a connection to me. Or to you. He's just another cowboy. And he's only going to my ranch to warn my brother. He's not out there looking for trouble.”

Except trouble always seemed to find Drew Cameron, even when he tried to avoid it. She wanted to go after him. But it was impossible, and she knew it. She had Ha'Penny to think of. She couldn't drag a baby halfway across the country, alone, on horseback.

But how did one choose between loves?

You choose the one who needs you most, her heart answered.

She tried to remember what Drew had said about Denver, about his half-sister and brother-in-law. The man was a lawyer, had been a marshal once, and Drew had seemed certain that this man could protect her. It seemed to her that he might also protect a brother-in-law hell-bent on getting himself killed.

“All right. I'll go to Denver,” she told Kirby. “But I want to go now, with Ha'Penny and Honor. And I want to know that Billy Bones and Samson will be taken care of.”

Kirby heaved a huge sigh, and his expression cleared in evident relief. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Everything will be just fine, Gabrielle. I'll see to it.”

“Who'll cook?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We'll manage.”

“You'll probably have grit in the beans.”

“Probably. Maybe even a horseshoe in the coffee.”

Gabrielle felt tears well in her eyes. She would miss him. She would miss them all. They'd become her family. “I'll make loaves of bread before I leave.”

He nodded. “I'll send someone with you north to the railhead. You can catch a spur to the Union Pacific.” He took two letters from his pocket and gave them to her. “One is to you, the other to Drew's kin. I'll get someone to accompany you tomorrow. Oh, and one other thing. Wait here while I get it.”

Walking over to the hoodlum wagon, he took out his own bedroll and pulled from it a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Then, tossing the bedroll back into the wagon, he came back to hand her the package.

“Drew asked me to give this to you.”

Hesitantly, Gabrielle took the package, feeling it squish and the paper crackle in her hands. Looking up at Kirby, she asked, “Do you know what it is?”

He shook his head. “Haven't any idea.” He started to turn away, then stopped, looking back at her as he spoke. “By the way, you've been the best damn louse I ever hired.”

She gave him a smile. “And you've been the best trail boss I ever worked for.”

“Make sure I'm the
only
trail boss you ever work for,” he warned. Then, in softer tones, he added, “Take good care of our Scotsman.”

“I will,” she promised.

She watched Kirby walk away, then carried her letters and package into the marginal privacy of the hoodlum wagon, where Ha'Penny slept peacefully. Sitting cross-legged beside the baby's bed and laying the letters aside, she untied the strings around the parcel, unwrapped the paper, then sucked in a quick, sharp breath.

And instant later, she burst into tears.

There, folded neatly in her lap, its delicate lace collar pristine white, was the calico dress off the manikin in the Caldwell dry-goods store.

Chapter Twenty-two

Gabrielle peered out the dirty soot-smudged window of the train as it pulled into Denver. Ha'penny fretted in her arms for his dinner, and Honor lay at her feet, growling at any man who approached them. Those few whom an Indian baby didn't scare away, Honor's bared teeth did, the results being that Gabrielle had enjoyed a bench to herself the entire way.

She'd sent a telegram to Drew's brother-in-law from Ellsworth, which she and Hank had reached after three days of hard riding, taking turns carrying Ha'penny in a rigged sling. She'd been exhausted when they'd finally arrived at a rail spur of the Union Pacific.

Two days later—two days spent sleeping in snatches, sitting up, and trying to keep Honor and Ha'Penny from disturbing other passengers—she was arriving in Denver full of doubts. She knew nothing about Lisbeth and Ben Masters, had no idea whether they would accept an actress with an Indian child, and she froze inside at the prospect of invading the home of folks she didn't know. She had never asked favors of strangers.

And she had a very big favor to ask.

Would they even meet her at the station? Her telegram had been brief: “Friend arriving Monday train. Gabrielle Lewis. Please meet.” And she'd signed Drew's name.

What would Drew's brother-in-law say when she told him she'd sent the telegram? When she asked him to go to Texas? And to take her with him?

As the train pulled into the station, she searched the platform. A number of men and women stood there, apparently waiting for new arrivals. Her stomach churned as she scanned their faces.

The train lurched to the stop, making her stomach turn over yet again. The conductor, who had been very kind when several other passengers had grumbled about Ha'Penny, stopped at her seat.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked.

She nodded gratefully. She didn't have much luggage—barely anything, in fact. She wore her new calico dress, now sooty and rumpled from the train; her other belongings included a second dress she'd purchased in Ellsworth, her trail drive clothes, a few things for Ha'penny, and her father's Colt, all stuffed in a cheap travel bag.

She scanned the crowd again. Ben Masters, a former marshal, she reflected. Most of the lawmen she'd met were humorless and rigid. And Drew's half-sister, Lisbeth? Would she approve of an actress who'd just spent nearly three months in the company of over a dozen men? Yet Drew had asked her in his letter to come here, saying she could trust Ben and Lisbeth. Still, shivers of apprehension ran down her spine and her heart thundered, thinking about the enormous request she needed to make of these strangers.

She stood awkwardly, reluctant to descend from the train.

“I'll carry the boy and the bag, miss,” the conductor said. “You just go on.”

She looked at Ha'penny, who felt as if he'd grown several pounds during the journey, and gave the conductor a smile from under the hat she'd bought, which she hoped hid the shortness of her hair. “Thank you,” she said.

He grinned. “A pleasure, miss. A real pleasure.”

She had no more excuses. She stepped into the aisle and then made her way to the door and down the three steps to the platform, Honor crowding her legs. Taking Ha'penny and her bag back from the conductor, she gave him another smile, then searched the crowd one more time.