He nodded. “Only took me two cases.”
She laughed. A comradery had grown after the incident outside the saloon, and Delilah had found an easy friendship with Jack. Why had she struggled so much before? Jack was quiet and easy tempered and much more intelligent than most. In fact, Jack Davis was everything Delilah was not. Tall, strong, imposing, observant, quiet, secure…handsome, male, surprisingly considerate.
The memory of his embrace seared across her memory. She had needed comfort, but Delilah was not the type to seek it out, or ever admit it. Jack had instinctively known and offered himself as an anchor.
“Why don’t you wait here while I inquire?” Jack lifted his hands in a defensive way. “Only because I’d rather speak with this Jez before he drools at the sight of a pretty lady.”
Delilah smiled. He had been so quick to defend his suggestion, even flattering her. Perhaps he was a step above her brothers. “Nice recovery.”
Jack climbed the rickety steps and turned before knocking. “I learn a thing of two each case.”
A young man answered the door. He was tall and gangly, not yet grown into himself. His blue eyes narrowed at the sight of Jack, and the young man folded his arms, flexing his stringy muscles. “Yes?”
The young man couldn’t be much younger than Delilah—four or five years at most—but there was something about the way he stood and carried himself. He seemed to be ready to defend himself at a moment’s notice. He didn’t look the least bit trusting of Jack.
“Good afternoon, son. I’m here to speak with your daddy, Jez.” Jack glanced back at Delilah. “My wife and I are looking for a thief and were told your pa knew this country better than anyone else of Crooked Creek.”
The boy looked past Jack at Delilah. He blushed, and his shoulders relaxed. “Jez isn’t my father, but he’s might as well be. He’s gone on business at the moment.”
“That right?” Jack sighed. “Our errand is one of urgency. Perhaps you can help us?”
The young man visibly swallowed, silently staring at them for a long moment before answering. “Perhaps. The name is Everett Myers. Why don’t you come inside for a spell? I’ve got coffee on the stove now.”
Jack shook Everett’s hand. “Mr. Davis, and that sounds like just the thing.”
Delilah followed the other men into the one-room cabin. The inside was dim compared to that of outside, and Delilah squinted. The room, cluttered with only a bed, cot, table, and stove, was dusty, and a strange odor emanated from the pile of trousers in the corner. A pot on the stove held remnants of day-old stew, and the tabletop was in desperate need of a scrubbing.
The scene reminded her of the house she grew up in—disarray and stench, darkness and drabness. If ever Delilah had shirked her duties of cleaning after her brothers and father, she received more than scolding. Often, Delilah received the belt and went without a meal. Memories of home—most people cherished such recollections. But a shiver ran down her spine. Her past held the power to cut against her heart, knocking against the pain of loneliness and utter helplessness.
Everett scooted a chair from the table and gestured to Delilah. “I would apologize for the state of our home, but Jez doesn’t like me to. He says there’s nothing wrong with humble living.”
“Jez is right.” Jack led Delilah to the chair. “Now, Terrance tells me Jez owes his knowledge of this country to you. Is that true?”
The boy’s cheeks turned red once more, and he poured two mugs of coffee. “Terrance Wilkins likes to spin his tongue, but I’ll confess he’s right. If you’ve a question about the land, I might be able to help you. I’ve ridden the whole of it, many times over.”
“I’m looking for a camp.”
Everett nodded. “What kind of camp?”
Delilah took a sip of the coffee and coughed. The pungent mixture lingered on her tongue, and the bitterness threatened to gag her. She forced a smile and set the mug to the table.
“Dear, are you well?” Jack asked, smirking when he turned toward her. “You are nearly trembling. Here, drink my coffee as well.”
She narrowed her eyes. He wanted to laugh; Delilah felt it, and for some reason, humor crept at the corners of her lips too. She infinitely preferred Jack’s teasing to the arguing that had once been between them. “On the contrary, I think I will take my herbal tea when we return to the hotel. Coffee always makes my nerves a jitter, and as it is, I’m already quite jittered. But you—you could use mine.”
Jack’s lips twitched, and he finished the rest of his coffee in one swallow. He took her cup in his hands, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Thank you, dear. Now, Everett—the camp. My wife’s diamond necklace was stolen from her just outside the saloon by three men. From the things Terrance gathered, I imagined the men have a larger gang settled in a camp. Have you seen anything suspicious as of late?”
Everett poured himself a cup of coffee. “I don’t suppose you mean the one a few miles north? About ten men in the camp—real rough type.”
Delilah leaned forward. “You’ve seen a camp then? Can you take us?”
“Take you?” Everett scowled. “That isn’t the place for you, Mrs. Davis. Those men looked liable to shoot me, and I don’t have anything valuable like diamond necklaces. I suggest you contact the sheriff.”
Jack was right; Delilah needed to act her part as a wife. Submissive and fragile and a complete bore. She clasped her hands together; acting as such went against everything she had fought for. “I won’t make a sound, but I must identify the men that robbed me. You see?”
Jack shifted his weight. “I’d prefer to go ahead without the sheriff anyhow. I want to know if the camp is the right one before I get him involved. What do you say, Everett? Will you take us there today?”
“Right now?” Everett asked.
“Why not?” Jack straightened to his full height. “I can’t stand the thought of men like that, robbing innocent women in broad daylight.”
Terrance Wilkins had proved to be right about Everett. The boy knew the land; he led them to the camp along a route that kept them hidden in the trees. They went on foot, and Delilah had kept up surprisingly well. She seemed to be learning to walk in the high-feels better than Jack had thought possible.
Everett Myers was a different type of eighteen-year-old. The boy, it seemed to Jack, had been through sobering difficulties. Everett’s head was level, his gaze direct, and the only thing that served to distract him was Delilah—an understandable distraction for a young man. Especially considering Delilah was interesting and strikingly-beautiful.
Jack didn’t want to admit how often he thought of her too.
“Just beyond that clearing,” Everett said, pointing to the top of the ridge. “I reckon they chose the spot in order to keep watch on their camp.”
Jack surveyed the fifty feet in front of him. The slant of the mountain side and shield of trees made for an excellent cover. No one would wish to scale that slant, especially if a gang of murderous outlaws sat atop. He continued hiking to the top but stopped when he realized Everett had fallen behind. “Are you coming?”
Everett pressed his lip into a firm line. “This is as far as I take you. I’ve got better sense than to get myself shot.”
Delilah sat on the edge of a rock to catch her breath. “I suppose we can find our way back, Everett. Don’t trouble yourself by waiting.”
His brows lifted. “You intend to go closer too, Mrs. Davis?”
A gunshot rang through the air, silencing all three of them.
Jack’s ears perked, and he stood, frozen in place. Outlaw gangs never wished to draw attention to their camps. Either someone was hunting nearby, one of the outlaws had been shot, or Brooks had spotted Jack.
“Take cover,” Jack commanded, before bolting into the trees.
Without a single backward glance, Jack scaled the final fifty feet of the ridge, reaching the summit. Adrenaline rushed through him, heightening his senses. His heart raced. Jack was accustomed to the way his body re
sponded to danger or excitement. At the pinnacle of action, his body seemed to provide added advantages—quicker thinking, agility, observance, and an ability to blend into the background.
He leaned behind a rock to catch his breath. A single gunshot, and Jack was ready for anything. He hid behind a boulder, lifting his gaze just above it to survey the scene below.
The ridge cut into a small cliff, and only twenty feet below was the makeshift camp. The mountainside was formed into a series of caves. They were plenty large enough to shelter a band of outlaws. In fact, the caves were ideal, concealing their entire camp—except for the horses and campfire.
Eight horses were corralled near the caves. The rocky ridge served as a fence on one side, and stacked timber for a fence on the other sides. From the looks of the setup, Brooks’s gang had taken substantial efforts in building the camp; they weren’t planning on leaving any time soon. What were they planning that would make Crooked Creek and ideal hideout? The town boasted only one bank, and Jack doubted the establishment held enough cash to tempt the likes of Gunner Brooks.
At least Jack might have a chance in winning. If the horses indicated the amount in the camp, Jack was in luck. He had fought—and won—with worse odds than eight to one.
Faint voices reached his ears, and he squinted to the center of camp where two men were gathered around something on the ground—a snake. Jack resisted the urge to laugh. The gunshot hadn’t been anything other than self-defense.
One of the men was clearly angry. He shoved the man with the gun. “What do you mean, shooting?”
The other shrugged. “Only us for miles around. Brooks won’t be back ‘til sundown.”
Jack released a slow breath. Brooks. After their altercation outside of the saloon, Jack had assumed Les’s true name was Charles Brooks. His mangled finger served as probable evidence, but hearing the man below say the name added confirmation. Jack and Delilah had found their camp, and with any luck, Gunner Charles Brooks would be in bars by the week’s end.
The sheriff would be made to listen. Jack would need backup, and more than just law enforcement—Jack would need to find his own band of men, men that were trustworthy and upright individuals.
“What next?” came a whisper in his left ear.
Jack startled, whipping around.
Delilah was crouched beside him, and her face was mere inches from his.
“What are you doing?” He swallowed. She was far too close to him—close enough that he could feel the brush of her breath against his cheeks. Why had she followed him up the mountain? Hadn’t she heard the gunshot? Didn’t she know she might be in danger?
Delilah smiled and flicked her head to the side. Her voice was raspy when she whispered. “Everett has come too. Did you really expect us to wait in the shadows, while you witnessed all the action?”
She was brave; Jack had to admit that. “I told you to take cover.”
“And I have, right behind this boulder.” Her eyes seemed to dance in excitement.
She was nuts. What kind of woman was thrilled at the idea of danger? Hadn’t her previous meeting with Brooks taught her anything? These men were mean and vile, and they wouldn’t hesitate to harm her.
Jack pulled back his hat and wiped a hand through his hair. “We’ll talk about this when we get back to the hotel.”
“If you insist.” Delilah gritted her teeth and glanced at the camp from the side of the boulder.
He studied her. Why was he so bothered? Delilah had signed on to become an agent—she was briefed on the possible danger. She wasn’t hired by Archie to hide in the trees while Jack did all the real detective work. But reality was far worse than an adventure-seeking young woman could imagine, and an unfamiliar feeling pulsed against his temples.
He’d mistaken the sensation for anger, but he was wrong; Jack was frightened, and feeling frightened made him angry. What if Jack couldn’t protect her? He didn’t want to think of what would happen—the possibilities brought on a new kind of racing heart, one Jack didn’t like at all.
Jack took Delilah’s hand and pulled her away from the ridge. He pulled her all the way down the mountainside, refusing to speak until they were safely hidden in the trees. At last, he dropped her hand.
“Mr. Davis, I’ve the feeling you haven’t been completely honest with me,” Everett said, folding his arms. “Who are you, really?”
Jack sighed, still refusing to look at Delilah. He would have to settle his feelings on her later. Instead, he took a long glance at Everett. The boy’s features were settled into a frown. Jack lifted his hands. “Before you get yourself worked up, you should know that my wife and I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
“You’re with the law?” Everett’s jaw dropped.
“Not exactly,” Delilah said, pulling out her fan. “But we have been hired by the governor of Colorado.”
Jack dipped his chin. Now was the moment of reckoning. “We could use your assistance in the capture of Gunner Brooks and his gang. What do you say, Everett? Are you up for it?”
Everett’s eyes widened. He gasped. “You mean the camp we just saw was that of Gunner Brooks?”
“Exactly the one. Are you up for it?” Jack asked once more.
Chapter 7
Delilah tossed her fan to the bed when they entered their room. Jack had been silent on their return to town. As if his refusal to look at her hadn’t been enough to convince her of his anger, his clenched jaw and fisted hands only reaffirmed it.
“What is it?” she demanded, pulling at the back of her dress. She ached to remove her corset. The contraption was torture enough in a normal setting but scaling the mountainside in it was enough to suffocate her. “Out with it.”
The boardinghouse was unusually quiet, and her demand fell against silence.
Jack walked to the window. He removed his hat. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re angry with me.”
“You didn’t listen.”
A sudden urge to laugh overtook her. She clicked her tongue and sat on the bed. If Jack thought he could order her around, he had another thing coming. “You expect me to sit back while you could have gotten yourself killed? Not likely.” She inhaled sharply; the corset was cutting off her circulation. “Now, I understand you are to train me, but abandoning me to keep me safe is quite different. I’m not a little girl that needs protecting. Is that what you think of me?”
His cheeks turned red, and he let out a low growl. “I never said that, but I did order you to take cover. Why can’t you listen to a simple order?”
“You said that to protect me.” Delilah folded her arms. For all his goodness and stubbornness, Jack couldn’t seem to see the value she could add to their partnership nor their case. Maybe he was right, but she couldn’t bear to admit that she wasn’t as brave or strong as she hoped to appear. Brooks had rattled her to the core. “You saw how I handled myself with the thieves on our first day to Crooked Creek, and then the night outside the saloon—you know I could have shot Brooks.”
He lifted his hands to his head.
That last line was as clear a lie as any, but she hoped Jack would have the decency to overlook it. Delilah’s voice cracked. “Will I ever prove myself as an agent?”
Jack tossed his hat to the floor. “I never said you couldn’t handle yourself. You proved that the day you showed up to the Denver office, shooting up my hat and retrieving it.”
“Then…what is it?” Her voice rose, and bitterness crept into her words.
His shoulders lifted, and he turned to face her fully. He stared at her with a fierceness that unnerved her. His green eyes seemed to warn her.
But Delilah couldn’t step down. After the saloon, she had assumed Jack was different than other men—a friend, a partner. Perhaps something even more…though she hadn’t been able to finish that thought. “Is it my age then? Am I too young to be considered proficient or smart or…suitable?”
His lips parted, and
he stepped forward. “Look, I haven’t the time to explain everything I do or say, but I wouldn’t have wanted a different partner.”
She sneered. That was rich, considering his silent treatment for the last hour. “Then you aren’t angry at me?”
“No.”
Delilah wished she had the power to shake his large frame. What wasn’t he telling her? She put her hands to her hips and stepped forward to meet him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”
His eyes darted to the door, and he flinched. Before she could turn, Jack pulled her into an embrace, planting his lips over hers with startling fervor. He lifted her higher, and his mouth touched hers with increasing speed and tenderness.
Delilah’s heart thudded in tandem with the time, which had slowed to a crawl. Without her permission, her body melted in his arms, and she kissed Jack back with sudden adeptness she hadn’t known she possessed. Breathlessness threatened to overcome her, and she pulled back for air.
Jack set her feet back to the ground, but his hands remained at her waist. His glance swept over her. Never had silence been so loud. His glance seemed to convey a multitude of questions and answers, and his lips settled into a straight line, the edges on his left side tugging ever so slightly.
She wanted to kiss him again. Desperately.
The urge startled her. Delilah had never wished to kiss a man. In fact, Delilah had never wished to do anything but harm to the men in her life—her father, her brothers, the poker-playing agents, and Charles Brooks.
She spun on her heels. She needed to change from her corset so that she could breathe easier and think clearer…
Her cheeks burned when she saw a set of eyes peeking through the hole in the door.
Maggie.
The old woman shuffled away from the door in an instant, knocking against the other side of the hallway and clamoring down the stairs.
A new wave of heat encompassed Delilah, this time humiliation. Maggie had seen their fighting, and Jack had kissed Delilah to silence her. Or at least that was why he had kissed her in the beginning.
An Agent for Delilah Page 6
