by Cat Cahill
James set about repacking his saddlebags. He hadn’t much in them—a few odds and ends, a spare handkerchief, some matches, and two more sets of the wanted posters.
He’d put everything back inside, except the posters, which were nowhere to be found. He made a small circle around the area, searching, but the papers were gone. He might have surmised they’d blown away, except there was hardly a breeze. It was a perfectly still night. And that left James with only one conclusion to make: the man who’d struck him had stolen not only his money and his guns, but the remainder of the posters.
Ice crawled through his veins. Who would bother to steal such a thing unless his face was on one of them? He’d only been carrying the posters offering rewards for capture of the Fletchers and the Beaumonts, no one else.
Still holding the saddlebags, James peered through the night around him, even though it was clear those responsible were no longer in the vicinity. He was lucky to still be alive. The Fletchers, in particular, weren’t known for their mercy.
As he returned the saddlebags to the horse, he supposed it could have been some other sort of outlaw who’d taken the posters in fear of the possibility of his face being among them. But he knew that was wishful thinking. The ambush had been too practiced, too quiet. He hadn’t known anyone was upon him until the very last moment. And if that wasn’t the work of men who’d been defying the law for upwards of fifteen years, he didn’t know what was.
He mounted the horse, nudged him into action, and winced as the movement jarred his aching head. If only he knew which of the Kansas gangs he was dealing with, then he could form some sort of strategy. But one thing did become clear as he rode, and that was where his mind had been right before he was attacked.
Edie.
Was that why he hadn’t heard the men coming up from behind him? Not because they were so good at what they did, but because he’d been paying no attention whatsoever to his surroundings? That was a dangerous mistake, and one he knew better than to make. In fact, he’d known better this entire time, and yet that hadn’t stopped him. He’d been far too taken with her.
Memories resurfaced as he rode. Ones of Uncle Mark telling James’s father about a beautiful woman he’d met and instantly fallen for, and even wanted to marry. His father reassuring Mark he was happy for him and yet questioning how quickly everything was happening. Mark appearing preoccupied at every turn, but with a blissful smile on his face. James’s uncle had been county sheriff then, and had been working for a year to finally put an end to the Fletchers’ activities in the Flint Hills. James vividly remembered that last night, when Uncle Mark had left the farm to propose to the love of his life, only to find it had all been part of an elaborate trap. Georgia Fletcher had led Mark to his death, ending the life of the one man who’d ever come close to discovering where her brothers and cousins were holed up. And Mark had never suspected a thing.
His sweet Edie was no Georgia Fletcher, but he was acting just as his uncle had. He’d been distracted to the point of obliviousness. He could have easily been killed. And even before tonight, had he been fully present as he walked the town, talked to the people there, kept his ears and eyes open for anything out of the ordinary? Or had his mind been elsewhere, set on a pair of kind brown eyes and fair skin?
He was taking the same path his uncle Mark had. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d meet his own end sooner than he wanted.
Chapter Twenty
James came neither to lunch nor dinner in the dining room, and that was when Edie began to worry. Something must have happened to him. What that was, she didn’t much care to think on for very long. But there wasn’t a way she could simply ask after him to the desk clerk or the stable hands.
She’d created another mixture of peppermint and crushed sagebrush leaves the night before, suspecting he’d used most of what she’d given him earlier. It calmed her mind from thoughts of her family and the news of the horse thieves. And now, it presented the perfect opportunity to ensure he was all right.
If she could find a way around the rules of propriety, that was.
After debating all through the dinner service, Edie finally made up her mind. She’d grown up with a family who saw the law as optional, so it wasn’t as if she’d never broken a rule before. Besides, she was hardly breaking an edict that would result in injury to anyone or anything. And this wasn’t self-serving; she was truly worried for him. If he wasn’t back at the hotel, she needed to alert someone.
But if she was going to bend the rules of propriety just about as far as they could go, she’d need an accomplice. Thinking through her friends as she cleared her last table, she settled on Millie. She was the clear choice, given that she’d bent many a rule herself, and she likely understood Edie’s feelings toward James better than Edie herself did. Besides, Millie was always up for an adventure.
And sure enough, Millie readily agreed to Edie’s plan.
They waited until an hour after curfew. Beatrice was fast asleep, thankfully, when Edie moved through the darkness of their room, still fully dressed, and slipped out the door. Millie waited near the landing at the top of the stairs, her bright red hair pulled back into a braid for the night and a smile lighting up her face.
“I’ve only seen one person come upstairs,” she said. “But don’t worry, I scooted around the corner before he spotted me. The desk clerks rotate at midnight. Mr. Graham will be taking over from Mr. Peterson, so we should have plenty of time before Mr. Peterson comes up.”
Edie bit her lip. Only Millie would know the desk clerks’ evening schedule. “I was able to get Deputy Wright’s room number from the ledger earlier,” she said. That had taken a fair bit of time, waiting for Mr. Peterson to become occupied with helping a guest find a bellboy. She’d slipped behind the counter, paged through the book, and found his name just before the clerk had turned to come back to his post. “He’s up here, room 210.”
Millie nodded in approval, and now that Millie knew how resourceful Edie could be, Edie feared she might be drawn into one of Millie’s schemes in the very near future.
They walked like wraiths across the landing and stopped to peer around the corner into the south wing, which housed both guests and male employees of the hotel. No one was in sight. With a deep breath, Edie led the way down the hall. Room 210 wasn’t very far. Before she knew it, Edie stood, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, outside his door.
She had a moment of doubt, standing here with her fist poised to knock. It was beyond improper, showing up at a man’s door, particularly this late at night. Even if she did have Millie with her, she couldn’t possibly explain this away if she were to be caught. And even more, a small part of her feared James might think poorly of her for doing such a thing.
“Knock,” Millie whispered.
Edie hesitated again, the tea mixture clutched tightly in her other hand. She finally swallowed and rapped lightly on the door, praying with all her might that first, he was inside, and second, he wouldn’t think any less of her for this.
A moment passed, and all fear of impropriety began to slip away as real terror that something must have happened to him took its place. She glanced quickly at Millie, who nodded.
Edie raised her hand to knock again when a click sounded from the door.
Relief washed through her, so hard she braced herself with a hand on the doorframe. The door opened just a crack, and there he was. Here. Alive.
The door opened wider, and he stood in nighttime disarray. She could tell he’d hurriedly dressed, and his hair looked as if he’d been asleep for hours.
“Did I wake you? I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“You’re no bother.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes and gave her a quick smile before letting it fall into a frown. “You shouldn’t be here.”
That little bit of fear lit inside Edie’s heart again. What if he thought her too brazen? “I know this isn’t proper, but I worried and I needed to see if you were all right. I didn’t come alo
ne.” She gestured to Millie, who stood just to her side.
James stepped forward. Millie smiled at him. He nodded politely at her before peering down the hallway.
“You can’t stand out here,” Millie said, following his gaze. “Go, talk quickly inside, and I’ll keep watch out here. I’ll knock if someone is coming.”
“That’s not—” James started, but Millie interrupted.
“It’s not proper, I know that. I’m fairly certain Edie does too. But unless you want to rouse every man in this hallway, I suggest you hold your conversation inside your room.” She stood, hands on her hips, her gaze bouncing between James and Edie. “Tonight would be nice, as some of us might like to return to our beds.”
Edie tried not to smile. Millie was a force unto herself. She’d even stunned James into silence. Finally, he stood back and opened the door wider. Edie stepped quickly inside.
When he shut the door, the room descended into darkness. The floor creaked as he moved across it, and after a brief moment, a lamp flickered to life.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I almost didn’t come, but you had me fearful that something had happened to you. And besides, I made you more tea.” She held up the bag, as if it might explain away her rash actions.
He set the lamp on the night table and reached for the little bag. “I can’t thank you enough for this. It’s—you’ve . . . changed my life.” He caught her eyes and she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe.
He placed the little bag on the night table next to the lamp.
Edie stood uncertainly near the door. She’d accomplished her purpose in coming here—given him the tea mixture and reassured herself that he was all right. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to know more. “I’m glad you’re unhurt. Did you find the horse thieves?”
“I didn’t. But they may have found me.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more, and suddenly, all Edie could think about was the way it touched his collar and how badly she wanted to fix it for him. She clenched her hands in the folds of her skirt.
“Someone ambushed me after I left the camp.”
“Are you . . . you aren’t hurt?” Her eyes searched him for signs of injury. “How could that have happened?” He was so alert when they’d ridden from the camp together.
“I’ve got quite the bump on the head, but that’s all.” He said nothing more, but something in his face went a bit distant.
Edie fought the urge to close the space between them. It felt so far. He felt so far away. Something was different, but she couldn’t quite figure out what. “Why would they have done that?” she finally asked.
He shrugged. “I came to only to find they’d taken my guns, some money, and the wanted posters I’d had in the saddlebags.”
Edie tried not to show any reaction to that last item. “And you think it was the same men who stole those horses?”
“I’ve no way to know for certain, but they’re likely suspects.”
Her throat went dry, and a new question seemed to burn in her throat. “You don’t suppose it was . . .?” She trailed off, unable to speak her family name out loud.
“The Fletchers or the Beaumonts? I don’t know for certain, but I have my suspicions. I only wish I knew which of them was causing all this trouble. It might make tracking them down a lot easier.”
The walls seemed to grow closer, and the room suddenly seemed too warm. Edie lifted a hand to her collar as if that could help her breathe.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was there in front of her now, one hand reaching for hers, no longer looking so distant.
“It’s . . . it’s quite all right,” she managed to say, even though it still felt as if there weren’t enough air in the room. She felt strangely responsible for what had happened to him. Perhaps if she weren’t here, he wouldn’t have been hurt. It was a ridiculous notion, some still-functioning part of her brain told her. It might not even be her family at all. And even if it was, it was unlikely they knew she was here.
Unless Mr. Adkins had called her bluff.
Still, if it were her father or one of her brothers or even Nick who’d done this to James, she’d feel terrible. A dangerous desire to tell him everything rose in her mind again, just as it had out in the valley several nights ago. What would he say if he knew? Would he ever look at her again, much less take her hand?
What would happen if this went further? If, after he began to court her in earnest this fall, he proposed marriage? Could she keep this a secret forever?
Could she live with herself if she did?
The words bubbled in the back of her throat. If only she could find the courage to speak them aloud.
Chapter Twenty-one
Edie’s jaw worked, as if she wanted to say something. The soft brown eyes behind her spectacles looked over his shoulder, but it was clear her thoughts were far away from here. While any sane-minded person knew to keep their distance from the Fletchers and the Beaumonts, Edie seemed downright terrified each time the subject arose. And this wasn’t the first time James had noticed this reaction. It was almost as if she’d had firsthand experience with them. Almost as if she’d lost someone too . . .
“Edie?” James said gently, her hand still in his. It took conscious effort not to envelop her in his arms.
Her eyes flicked back to him, but her face remained serious.
“Have you had a run-in with the Fletchers or the Beaumonts? You look scared to death.” He paused as she glanced away again. “I don’t mean to dredge up what might be painful memories. You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much.”
“I don’t . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t . . .” Her sweet face looked up at him again, her eyes filled with unshed tears behind her glasses and her lips pressed stubbornly together.
James let his gaze travel down to their intertwined hands. He so rarely spoke about Uncle Mark that it was hard to find the right words. “I’ve mentioned my uncle. It’s been a few years since he died, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
She said nothing, but her hand tightened around his. It gave him the courage he needed to press forward. “It was the Fletchers. He was too close to them, too close to finding out where they’d hidden themselves away in the Flint Hills. They lured him into a trap and shot him.”
He looked up to find her watching him. Her eyes still shone as if she were on the verge of crying. She raised her free hand and gently touched the side of his face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking just a little on the last word.
More than anything, he wanted to close his eyes and revel in her touch. But that old anger fired again, somewhere deep down inside. The one that had led on him a trail of vengeance years ago, right after Uncle Mark’s death. The one he’d thought he’d extinguished, when he’d finally given up revenge to pursue a life serving the law. It reminded him he needed to make a choice.
He’d almost met his fate outside the mining camp last night. If he’d been in his right mind, he might not have found himself knocked out and robbed. And he’d been lucky.
He could’ve been dead.
James caught Edie’s hand and gently lowered it. He stood a moment, soaking in everything she gave him—compassion, sweetness, and, possibly, her heart. He wavered a moment, unwilling to break any of that. It would be so easy, and so perfect to wrap her into his arms and hold her close. He shut his eyes, trying to still his mind. Trying to find some semblance of logic that would tell him what he needed to do.
But it was hard to think straight. This was too much. Her, being here. She smelled of roses, although heaven only knew how that could be considering it was barely spring.
“James?” Her lovely voice saying his name sent his mind whirling.
“I need to— You should go.” He forced himself to drop both of her hands and take a step back. The rose scent dissipated some, and he gulped a
ir like a man dying of thirst.
“Yes,” she said uncertainly.
And all he could think about was how pretty she looked with her hair falling down around her confused face.
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything new.” His voice was more gruff than he’d intended it to be.
She shrunk toward the door as if his words had hit her in the stomach. A horrible ache rose up inside, and he yearned to take them back, to press his lips to hers and reassure her all was well.
Except it wasn’t. He turned abruptly to force the temptation away.
“Good night,” she said, her voice tenuous.
He said nothing. He couldn’t trust himself when he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth. His muscles strained with the effort of remaining still until he heard the door click shut.
Only then did he turn around.
His room was empty, save for himself. It was lonely, and he hated it.
But it was the only way.
Chapter Twenty-two
It was still early when Edie slipped out the kitchen door. The sun glittered on the wet blades of grass and bunches of sage. She pulled on a pair of gloves, shivering a bit in the chill, and trying not to think about how strangely James had acted last night.
It was as if something had changed in an instant. One moment, he was holding her hand and speaking softly to her, and the next, he’d turned away and hadn’t even bid her good night. The memory cut through her heart, and for the hundredth time since last night, she wondered what she’d done.
But try as she might, she couldn’t figure it out.
The little town was quiet as she headed toward it, down the hill to the tracks. Mrs. Ruby wouldn’t be happy she’d ventured out alone. She’d hesitated, more because of the promise she’d made herself to remain safely at the hotel than for Mrs. Ruby’s rules. But she needed the fresh air and the solitude. And besides, it was too early for anything untoward to happen—and much too early for any of her brothers to be up and about. Provided they were even anywhere nearby. All she wanted to do was go to the mercantile, inquire about ordering seeds for a garden, and then return to the hotel.
