An Agent for Cynthia
Page 9
Harold picked up the knife and cut the ties holding Cynthia and Corbin in place while the police officers escorted Kade and Gar toward the doorway. “Garland Holly, you are under arrest . . .”
“Wait,” Cynthia called out, and the arresting officer paused. “His name is Garland Holly? As in . . . a garland of holly?”
“What of it?” Gar snarled.
“Nothing. It’s just . . . It’s . . .” She was trying not to smile, but not succeeding very well. “Never mind. Please cart him away, officer.”
Harold and two of the policemen stayed behind to take statements while the other officers escorted Kade and Gar to the police station. “Are the two of you all right?” Harold asked.
“I’m fine—and actually doing quite well now that Holly’s in custody,” Corbin replied. “I’ve lost countless nights of sleep over his escape, and now I feel like I can finally close that chapter of my life.” He smiled at Cynthia. “You’ve been brave enough for both of us—are you all right?”
“I’m fine too, but I don’t think I’ll be standing up anytime soon. My legs are like jelly,” she replied with a laugh. “I’ve never been so terrified.”
Corbin sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so, so proud.”
“Thank you. And just think how lucky I am—most women never get to see what their husbands do at work all day, but I got to see it up close.”
He kissed her forehead. He didn’t have the words to tell her how afraid he’d been, how grateful he was that it had all worked out the way it had.
“Agent Carlson, I’m counting on you to fill in some details,” Cynthia continued. “How did you know to come right at this exact moment?”
“I didn’t—at least, not at this exact moment,” he replied. He sat down across from Cynthia and Corbin and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “When Corbin tossed that book at me—excellent aim, by the way—I immediately knew we’d struck pay dirt. I checked in with my special agent in charge, and we went down to the police station together. We might have been here a few minutes sooner if it hadn’t taken us so long to gather up the men we’d need.”
“Your timing was excellent as it was,” Cynthia told him.
“Thank you. Now, we had enough evidence to arrest Kade for helping the people listed in the book, but we knew you were hoping to arrest him as he was putting you on the train—we couldn’t wait that long, though. We assumed you were in danger, and the fact that you’d given him money was enough evidence to convince the police. So, here we are.”
“I appreciate you for making that assumption. I’d used up all my great ideas and didn’t know how we were going to get out of this one,” Corbin said.
“Another question, if you don’t mind,” Cynthia added. “Kade said Richard Michaels had vouched for us. How is that possible when he’s never met us and doesn’t know us from Adam and Eve?”
Carlson smiled. “It was fairly simple—I intercepted the telegram when it was sent to him. I knew his approximate address and I figured I knew where the telegram would be sent for delivery to his place, so I hung around outside, and when he exited the building, telegram in hand, I clunked him over the head, arrested him, and then sent a telegram back to Kade praising the two of you and encouraging him to help you out.”
“So, he’s already in custody?” Corbin asked.
“Already there.” Carlson stood up. “I think that’s all we need to discuss for tonight. We can get together tomorrow to tie up the loose ends, but it seems to me that a good night’s sleep is in order first.”
“Agreed, but something else first,” Corbin replied. “Can you recommend a good hotel? I don’t think we want to be here another minute.”
***
Cynthia was grateful beyond words that Corbin had suggested switching to a different hotel the night before. If she’d had to spend one more night at the Brookside after everything that had happened . . . but she hadn’t. Her new husband had seen to that. Even though he was exhausted himself, he’d made sure all their things were packed up, and they’d found a quiet place to stay on the opposite side of town.
They had shared a room because Cynthia was still too rattled to want to be alone, and Corbin spent the night holding her hand. It was exactly the kind of support she needed, and she knew that with his continued patience, she’d soon be all right. They’d won, after all. They were no longer in danger, and justice would be served to countless criminals who would have gotten away otherwise.
She lifted her head from the pillow and looked around the room, wondering where Corbin was. Oh, there—he was reading the newspaper in front of the window. It was such a nicely domestic thing to do, a direct contrast to their activities of the last few days. “Good morning.”
He lowered the paper immediately. “Good morning to you too. How are you feeling?”
“Stiff and sore, but so much better than last night.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure you need several nights of solid sleep to recover, but you will.” He crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve telegrammed Archie, and he’s authorized a few days off. He agrees with me that you’ve been through quite a lot for your first assignment and you deserve a vacation. Where would you like to spend it?”
Cynthia thought for a moment. “What about right here? We haven’t been able to see much of Salt Lake City, and I’d rather not change hotels again or get back on a train for a little while at least.”
“I like that idea. I like it a lot.” He reached out and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Cynthia, if I’d lost you last night—if we’d lost each other—”
“I know. But we didn’t, and now we get to celebrate. Every day is a blessing, and we’re going to remember that for the rest of our lives.”
“Our lives?” He searched her eyes. “Are you saying . . .?”
“Yes, Corbin. I want to stay married to you. I’m sorry I’ve been so wishy-washy—you can chalk that up to youth or inexperience or whatever else seems to fit, but I’m done with that now. I know what I want, and I want you.”
He grinned. “You have no idea how good that sounds, Mrs. Rawlings,” he replied.
“And speaking of that . . . Do you have any idea how many names I’ve had in the last few days? It’s ridiculous! I started out as Baxter and then I became a Rawlings and then I was a Phillips for just a few minutes, but then I remembered that I needed to be a Fielding and then I was a Stewart . . . It’s been so confusing.”
“As long as you never forget you’re a Rawlings from now on, I’m sure everything will be just fine,” Corbin told her, pulling her close for another long, long kiss.
The End
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About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the Old West—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born in modern times because the Internet is awesome. She’s an eater of tacos, a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.
You can reach Amelia at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.
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Also by Amelia C. Adams:
The Kansas Crossroads Series
The Nurses of New York Series
The River’s End Ranch Series
The Mail Order Mounties Series
The Cowboys and Angels Serie
s
The Matchmaker’s Ball Series
The Main Street Merchants Series
The Brody Hotel Series
The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series
The Kansas Cowboys Series
The Hearts of Nashville Series
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