Trail of Passion (Hot on the Trail Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  He must have read her expression clearly, because he answered, “This isn’t your fault,” in a soft voice.

  So he must have known Leopold was behind it too.

  “I have some suspicions,” Gideon answered Pete. “I don’t want to go accusing anyone until we’ve had a chance to look at things in the daylight.”

  Or more likely, he didn’t want to explain why a man who had joined the wagon train two days before would make such a vicious attack. Lucy couldn’t blame Gideon for wanting to keep his secrets to himself.

  “Whoever it was,” Pete went on, “somebody had to have seen them.” He tossed a piece of broken jar that he was examining on the ground. It shattered further as it hit a rock.

  “Good gracious, what’s all this?”

  Lucy turned to find Viola Riley and the pair of farmer’s wives who she’d taken up with, now that her friend Ruth had left the wagon train, charging toward them.

  “You can smell it in my camp,” one of the women said.

  “You’re smelling it now, but we didn’t catch a whiff of it until we were all the way up here.” Gideon rubbed his chin in thought. “That means whoever did it must have been here moments before we were. He might have seen us coming.”

  “It was those orphan miscreants,” Viola grumbled. “Causing problems wherever they go.”

  “It was not an orphan,” Josephine snapped, returning with a lantern. “And I’ll thank you to show a little more respect and compassion for those children,” she added, coming to stop in front of Viola, free hand on her waist.

  “Open your eyes, Josephine Lewis.” Viola planted her fists on her hips and glared at her. “Those orphans have wreaked havoc on this train since the moment they joined it. I’m always seeing them crawling in and out of people’s wagons, breaking things, stealing things.”

  “I don’t think it was an orphan.” Lucy put in her two cents, but without any conviction. She wandered closer to Gideon, who stood with his free hand on his head, lantern in the other, staring at the mess that had been made of his camp.

  “If you want to put your trust in a bunch of wayward children from who knows what parents,” Viola raged on, “then be it on your head. This vandalism is precisely the kind of thing some of those boys would do.”

  “It wasn’t an orphan,” Lucy whispered to Gideon as she reached his side.

  He replied with a strangled hum. “It was dark. No one saw.”

  “Someone had to have seen something.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he replied, as dark as the night.

  “You’ve been against those children since day one.” Josephine was continuing her own crusade as Lucy and Gideon turned their attention back to the women.

  “Because I know trash when I see it,” Viola snapped.

  “Trash?” Josephine balked.

  “Is there a problem here?” Leopold asked, striding out of the darkness from the opposite direction of the camp. He crossed through the corner of Gideon’s camp. The sound of broken glass crunching accompanied him, along with a fresh wave of intense chlorine scent.

  Lucy popped her eyes wide and turned a pleading glance on Gideon, but there was nothing he could do or say.

  “Orphans have vandalized Dr. Faraday’s things,” Viola informed Leopold.

  “And I say it wasn’t them. You’re just being a stuck-up, ignominious turd,” Josephine barked.

  “Well, I never,” Viola gasped. She pulled herself up to her full height and glared down her nose at Josephine. “Come along, ladies,” she said to her friends. “If these people don’t want our help and advice, then they are welcome to whatever evils befall them.”

  Viola and the farmers’ wives huffed and sniffed, then whipped around and marched off.

  After a stunned silence, Leopold turned to Gideon. “Someone vandalized your wagon?” His expression was as blank as ever, his eyes menacing in the lantern-light.

  It took all Lucy had not to jump at him and accuse him of sabotage. She balled her fists at her sides to keep from lashing out, but it was the sure and certain knowledge that she had fit the last pieces of the puzzle the man had been trying to piece together for more than a year that kept her lips pressed shut.

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Gideon answered, not meeting the man’s eyes. “Several jars were broken.”

  “You didn’t happen to see anything, did you, Mr. Diver?” Pete asked. He and Josephine were the only ones who weren’t bristling with tension.

  “Nothing,” Leopold answered. “I had taken a walk to clear my head after… after an upsetting conversation.”

  Lucy wanted to confront him, ask if anyone had gone with him, ask why he was near Gideon’s wagon or why he smelled so strongly of chlorine.

  “I found that young boy you were talking to earlier lurking out on the prairie by himself, Miss Lucy,” Leopold went on. “Please tell him to be more careful.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure if she should be more surprised that he would drag Alvin into his alibi or more angry. He was as bad as Viola when it came to blaming someone in an unfortunate position.

  “I will,” she answered, choking on the simple words.

  Leopold nodded to her, to Pete and Josephine, then stared long and hard at Gideon before marching on, away from the camp.

  A few moments later, Pete said, “You need some help cleaning up here?”

  Gideon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No. There’s not much that can be done now. The chlorine won’t contaminate the ground if we pour some water over the area. Do you think it would be all right if I just packed up my things and moved my wagon?”

  “I suppose so,” Pete answered.

  “I’ll help,” Lucy said. She moved as soon as she was done speaking, crossing to lift one of the empty crates and to move it back to Gideon’s wagon.

  Pete and Josephine left, but Lucy and Gideon remained silent. They tidied up as best they could by the light of one lantern. All the while, Gideon wore a look of stark determination. Lucy was far more anxious. Whatever Leopold was after, whether he tried to strike again or not, she wouldn’t leave Gideon’s side now for anything.

  Gideon had never been so glad to move on from a campsite as when the wagon train moved out the next morning. They left a faint smell of chlorine in the air behind them, but he’d thrown a few buckets of water over the rocks where his jars had been broken in an attempt to dilute the liquid. Whether it would do any good or not wasn’t as important as preserving the remaining crates of chemicals.

  If only he was certain who had destroyed his things and why. Lucy was convinced that it was Leopold, that he was looking for some kind of revenge after she confirmed his suspicions about Michael Diver’s death. Gideon wasn’t convinced that an older, sophisticated man would stoop to smashing crates of chemicals.

  “There’s no way to know for sure,” Gideon confided in Graham as the two of them walked together after the midday break.

  “It’s a shame no one saw anything,” Graham said. “I wish I’d been paying attention, but with everything working out so well between Estelle and I lately, well, my attention was elsewhere.” He lowered his head with a smile that Gideon could feel from feet away.

  It must be a wonderful thing to love a woman and have the path before the two of you cleared. Gideon slipped his hand into his pocket to feel the ring that he’d won from Charlie. His opportunity for a lightning fast proposal and marriage was gone now that Rev. Kilpatrick had left them. There would still be opportunities to propose in the future, but it didn’t seem right to go talking about a happy future with a dire mystery on their hands.

  “Lucy might have a point about Mr. Diver,” Graham went on, lowering his voice. He glanced over his shoulder, missing a step as he balanced on his crutches, but Leopold was nowhere near them. “You say there’s a connection between the two of you from the past?”

  Gideon sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “There is.” He felt bad keeping that connection from Graham, but even thoug
h Lucy said she’d forgiven him, his guilt was as burdensome as ever.

  “Well,” Graham went on, “I find it kind of suspicious that nothing happened and no one so much as looked twice at your things until he joined the wagon train. If it was just a case of vandalism—or the orphans getting up to no good, like Viola Riley thinks—wouldn’t something have happened before now?”

  It was a good point. Too good of a point. If an orphan was responsible, they could have taken his money satchel. He’d managed to lose a good bit of the cash playing poker, but the satchel was still the kind of thing a thief or troublemaker would go for first, and it hadn’t been touched. It wasn’t well hidden, either. So whoever had broken into his wagon must have been targeting the chemicals alone. Leopold had the motivation to commit the crime, he had the opportunity, and circumstances were right.

  Gideon was still stewing over the whole thing when they stopped for supper that evening. Pete suggested he park his wagon just slightly apart from the rest of the train so that if anyone tried to tamper with it again, they’d have to do it out in the open where someone would see them. Lucy insisted on parking hers beside his, which both warmed Gideon’s heart and made him nervous.

  While she went off with Estelle and Olivia to fetch water for cooking and to make supper, Gideon stayed close to camp. He shifted the remaining crates of chemicals to the front of the wagon, closer to the driver’s bench, working to put the pieces together. A large part of him wanted an orphan to be responsible. If Leopold had nothing to do with it, if he wasn’t intent on avenging his son’s death, then maybe there was some sort of means of forgiveness for the experiments after all.

  “Evening, Gideon. Lovely weather we’re having.”

  Gideon was yanked out of his thoughts and spun to see Charlie striding—almost running—toward him.

  “Mind if I borrow your wagon for just a minute? I’m trying to avoid someone,” Charlie said, rushing up to the back of Gideon’s wagon and hopping into the bed. He shuffled to the far end and crouched between two stacks of crates.

  “What—”

  “Just act natural,” Charlie whispered. “You don’t know where I am.”

  Gideon blinked in confusion. He backed away from the wagon, swiping his hat from his head and running a hand through his hair. What on earth—

  “Evening.”

  Another voice sent Gideon spinning around to find one of the new gentlemen in their wagon train—a man named Chet Devlin who had joined them in Ft. Laramie at the same time Leopold had—striding toward him. He wore a friendly smile, eyes flashing in the light of sunset.

  Gideon didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him.

  “Lovely weather we’re having,” he said, eerily similar to the way Charlie had just spoken the same words.

  Gideon’s brow knit in a frown for half a second before he recovered and said. “Yes.” He paused, then held out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Gideon Faraday.”

  The man’s smile grew, and he reached out to take Gideon’s hand. His handshake was like a dead fish. “Chet Devlin.” He let go of Gideon’s hand, then rocked back on his heels. “Say, you haven’t seen a man by the name of Charlie Garrett around here, have you?”

  Cold prickles raced down Gideon’s back. What was this all about?

  “Not recently,” Gideon answered. He lowered his head, let his shoulders round, and thanked heaven he knew how to give the appearance of being a shy, slightly mad, scientist.

  “Huh,” Chet went on. “I coulda sworn I saw him come out this way.”

  Gideon shrugged. “Nope.”

  Chet gave no indication that he thought Gideon was lying. “Well, if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him, will you?” There was a mercenary flash in the man’s eyes, then he turned and marched on.

  Gideon turned back to his wagon and went through the motions of sorting his remaining chemicals. Only when he was certain Chet was gone did he let himself frown. “What was that all about?”

  Charlie had shifted positions during the brief encounter. He crept out from the center of the wagon. His right hand was closed around something. “Old friend,” he explained. “One who I’m pretty sure wants me dead.”

  Gideon’s brow flew up. “Dead?” He swallowed hard.

  Charlie peeked around the edge of the wagon, and when he was certain the coast was clear, hopped out. “Long story. We used to be, uh, in business together.”

  There was a story behind that. Likely one that would thrill Lucy and make Gideon wary for the rest of his days.

  “By the way, I found this in your wagon.” Charlie opened his hand to reveal a small, silver locket carved with filigrees. “I bet Lucy dropped it when you two were… visiting in there.”

  Gideon blushed scarlet and took the locket. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you,” Charlie said. He thumped Gideon on the back, then hurried off toward the rest of the wagons.

  Gideon shook his head, then studied the locket in his hands. He hadn’t seen Lucy wearing anything like it. It was a fine, heavy piece. Perhaps a little old fashioned. He knew nothing about jewelry, but it looked expensive, like a keepsake. A tiny clasp on the side held it closed. He couldn’t resist popping it open.

  As soon as he did, his heart dropped to his stomach. On one side was a tiny photograph of a young man in a Union soldier’s uniform. He looked strong and determined and so young. On the other side was a stately portrait of Leopold Diver.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This just proves it,” Lucy said, clutching the silver locket tight in her fist. “Mr. Diver is the one who destroyed your chemicals.”

  Gideon sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at Lucy’s fist. “It looks like it.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it. Lucy straightened, narrowing her eyes at him. “You don’t look happy. This is a good thing. If we know Leopold is guilty, then we can go to Pete, have him take action to bring Mr. Diver to justice before something worse happens.” It was obvious to her. She didn’t understand why Gideon wasn’t jumping for justice.

  “I just wish there was some way to handle things quietly,” he said.

  In a flash, the urgent need for action that had fired Lucy’s blood calmed. She relaxed, leaning against the tailgate of Gideon’s wagon. Ahead of them on the western horizon, the sun was making its final descent, bathing the plains in warm hues of orange and gold. The light made Gideon seem younger somehow, as vulnerable as Alvin.

  “It’s because of why Mr. Diver wants to hurt you, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Gideon met her eyes, guilt drawing deep lines in his face. He shifted to lean against the wagon bed next to her. “I just keep thinking that if I was in the same position as him, if it were my son who had been murdered so cruelly—”

  “Stop using that word,” she insisted. “It was a death, not a murder. You’re not a murderer.”

  He sent her a doubtful look, but nodded. “If it was my son who was killed that way, with no one explaining what happened, I might go to extremes to seek justice too.”

  “But you wouldn’t,” Lucy went on. She reached for him, hugging his arm, her heart thumping with a passion. “You’re a good and gentle man, Gideon Faraday. You care about helping people. Isn’t that the whole point of coming west and bringing all that chlorine?”

  He lowered her eyes. “Partly. And partly I was running away.” He paused, swallowing and laying a hand over Lucy’s on his arm. “I won’t blame you if you decide you can’t love a coward.”

  Lucy huffed in frustration. “That’s enough of that from you. You are no more a coward than I am. A coward would have pretended nothing had happened and distanced themselves from anything having to do with science. A brave man would take the very thing that was used to cause destruction and turn it into something that saves lives. Why, just think of how fortunate the wagon train is to have you and your knowledge with us when those folks came down with dysentery. Your quick thinking might have saved dozens more
lives."

  “I suppose,” Gideon sighed.

  In spite of herself, Lucy laughed. She hugged Gideon’s arm tighter. “I don’t know if you’re being too modest or too blind to the good parts of yourself. You should be chastising me for speaking out of turn and to the wrong people.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Gideon insisted.

  “And it wasn’t entirely your fault either,” she was quick to remind him. “Bad things happen. What matters is how you face them and what you do afterwards.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, filling his eyes with affection. Gideon shifted so that he could slide his arm around her back, drawing her closer. “I can’t imagine what my life would have been if I hadn’t met you, Lucy Haskell. I don’t want to imagine.”

  “Chances are it would be a lot less exciting,” Lucy chuckled. She let herself relax against him, pulled close in an embrace that had the potential to heat in a hurry. “But I don’t want to imagine it either. I’ll just be grateful that the two of us found each other. Because no one else could handle either of us.”

  She was halfway to closing her eyes and leaning her head against Gideon’s shoulder when he turned her to face him fully, closing both arms around her. Their chests and stomachs pressed together with an intimacy that took her breath away.

  “I love you, Lucy,” he said, bringing his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips. “I love you, and I can’t live without you.”

  Sweeping pulses of light and heat blossomed through her. She closed her arms around his waist, reveling in the heat and hardness of him. “I love you too, Gideon. And I didn’t think I would ever find anyone to love, or anyone who would love me.”

  “You’re the most lovable person I’ve ever met,” he said, then underscored his beautiful words with a kiss.

  His arms tightened around her, and she let herself melt against him. It didn’t matter how many times he’d kissed her, each new press of his lip against hers, each exploration was a revelation. She loved the way he tested her by drawing the tip of his tongue against the line of her lips before entering, as if asking permission. She loved the way he tasted her as if she was a delicacy, humming in the back of his throat without even realizing it. But most of all, she loved how quickly his body came to life—the way one hand spread across her back while the other cradled the side of her breast, and the urgency of the growing hardness between his legs.