She nodded and leaned back against the hard seat.
“You’ll get stiff trying to sleep like that,” he said.
“It’s no more uncomfortable than the chair you slept in last night.”
She was right about that, and two nights of no sleep couldn’t be any more appealing to her than it was to him. “Take off your hat,” he said.
After smothering another yawn, she asked, “Why?”
“So I don’t have a face full of flowers.”
When her frown said she didn’t comprehend his reply, he reached up and unpinned her hat. After setting it on the basket near his feet, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. His actions had been quick, and, knowing she’d most likely start struggling, he said, “Just go to sleep, Janette.”
Her head was on his shoulder, her entire side against his, and his arm kept her pinned there. The way his body reacted to her nearness said he was playing with fire. He’d just have to get used to it. Leastwise until he figured out what to do about it. And her. And him. And Ruby.
He waited until Janette sank deeper against him and her even breathing said she’d fallen asleep before he took his own advice and closed his eyes. Sleep, though, was as elusive as it had been last night.
Trying not to think about her, about how good she smelled, all flowery and feminine, or how intoxicating it was to have her body pressed against his, he forced his mind to go elsewhere.
That’s what he should have done five years ago. Gone elsewhere. After Max. Brought him and Anna back to the ranch. But Max wouldn’t have been happy there.
Before long, his mind was back to Janette. This morning, after his sleepless night, he’d gone to the sheriff’s office and had Barnes send a telegram to the sheriff in Kansas City. The sheriff there was Tom Bowling. His reply said he’d meet them at the train station upon arrival and would fill them in on all he knew.
Every business had its troubles, but he couldn’t imagine sewing was a real dangerous occupation. His bet was that Fredrickson had been after her and had used her sewing as a means to get what he’d wanted. When that hadn’t happened, he’d attempted to take another route.
In the quiet of the night, with his thoughts going deeper than they had before, Gabe concluded that though this marriage may not have been his choice, Janette was now his responsibility and he never took any of his responsibilities lightly.
The whistle signaling they were rolling into the Kansas awakened most of the passengers, including Janette. Rather than sitting up, she snuggled closer and groaned slightly, a soft, husky sound that made certain areas of his body throb and ache.
“Wake up,” he whispered. “We’re almost to the depot.”
She rolled her head enough to look up at him through blinking lids and smiled softly. “Already?”
The desire to kiss her struck faster than a rattlesnake. It took all he had to shake it off. “Yes, already.”
She sighed and closed her eyes for a few more seconds before opening them again. “Goodness, I was really sleeping.”
“Yes, you were,” he said, pulling his arm away as she sat up.
She slapped a hand over her mouth before asking, “Was I snoring?”
The mortification in her eyes made him laugh. “No.”
She rubbed her eyes before twisting left and right, stretching in such a way his loins throbbed harder. He had a hell of a time pulling his eyes off how her breasts became more pronounced as she arched her back.
It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or the middle of the night, trains were noisy. The clanging, banging, hissing and whistling had all the passengers gathering their belongings.
While she pinned her hat back in place, something he considered telling her wasn’t necessary—it was the middle of the night—Gabe collected his bag and hers, as well as the food basket.
Noticing the sheriff as soon as he and Janette stepped onto the platform, he directed her in the opposite direction as the other passengers. “This way.”
“We’ll need to hire a wagon,” she said. “It’s a long walk.”
The sheriff was approaching them as Gabe said, “I know.” He then nodded toward the man. “Sheriff Bowling.”
“Mr. Callaway.” Tall, with a thick black mustache and wide-brimmed hat. The man nodded toward Janette.
“This is my wife, Sheriff,” Gabe said.
“Mrs. Callaway,” Bowling greeted, frowning and looking toward him. “I thought Miss Parker would be with you.”
“I am Janette Parker, or was,” Janette said.
“Forgive me, I didn’t realize you were married,” Bowling said. “Mrs. Hanks said you’d gone to Texas to retrieve your niece.”
“That’s correct,” Janette said.
Paying full attention at the thoughtful way Bowling was looking at Janette, Gabe pulled her closer to his side. “Sheriff Barnes said you’d fill us in on what’s happened.”
Bowling nodded. “I rented a wagon for you. Perhaps your wife would be more comfortable waiting—”
“We can talk on the way,” Gabe said. He may not have known Janette long, but he did know her well. She would not wait in the wagon while he and the sheriff talked. Furthermore, he wouldn’t expect her to.
“This way,” the sheriff said.
“Thank you,” Janette said.
Her glance up at him said more. Despite what she’d said earlier about not telling others they were married, she appreciated what he’d just done. He gave her a wink that said he was happy to oblige. Her shy smile was more than an answer, it was a reward.
While the sheriff tied a horse to the back of the wagon, Gabe handed their luggage to the driver and then helped Janette onto the back seat. The wagon was one used to transport passengers to and from the train station. The driver sat up front, and the double set of seats in the back faced each other. There was also an awning that stretched the length of the back, protecting the passengers from the weather.
Gabe climbed up and sat beside her. The padded leather cushion had him saying, “This feels good after those hard seats on the train.”
“Yes, it does,” she answered. “I’ve never ridden in a wagon this nice.”
“I haven’t either.” The backrest was padded, too, and he leaned back against it. “I’ll have to remember this.”
Her eyes sparkled as she said, “I thought you didn’t like the city.”
“I don’t.” Stretching his arm along the back of the seat behind her head, he said, “I could have one of these at home.”
“What for?”
He shrugged but didn’t look away. Her smile was too enchanting. “I could use it for lots of things. Sunday rides through the countryside. Bringing visitors to and from the train.”
“It would be much more comfortable than a buckboard full of wood.”
“You think so?”
She giggled. “Yes.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her back against the padded backrest. “Me, too.”
The sheriff climbed in, bringing a stop to her soft giggles. Which was a good thing because Gabe’s mind was starting to roam to other things. He waited until the wagon started to pull away before he asked, “When did the break-in happen?”
Bowling cocked the brim of his hat back a small amount. “Over a week ago. Mrs. Hanks had been at a revival a new church held that evening. Her neighbor reported it after she got home. One of my deputies, Bill Marcus, investigated it. It appears as if nothing was taken, but someone really tore up the place.”
Gabe cupped her shoulder, tugging her closer as Janette gasped.
“How badly?” he asked.
“Bad.” Glancing toward Janette, Bowling added, “Mrs. Hanks has done a fine job of cleaning it all up.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Janette asked. “And why?”
<
br /> “It’s my understanding, Mrs. Callaway, that you were acquainted with Isaac Fredrickson,” Bowling said. “Is that correct?”
She stiffened. “Yes, but that was five years ago. I haven’t seen him since.”
“You’re sure?” Bowling asked.
Instantly irritated, Gabe leaned forward. “Yes, she’s sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
The icy shiver that gripped Janette’s spine sent a tremor all the way to her toes. Gabe was big and strong and it was comforting to have his support, but he wouldn’t be able to prevent her from going to jail. If Isaac had done what he’d threatened to do, that’s exactly what would happen. That night, while dragging one leg behind him as he left her house, Isaac had shouted that she’d go to jail and rot there for shooting an unarmed man.
For weeks, she’d hid every time someone knocked on the door, coming out only when Thelma told her who it was. That’s when she’d started carrying her gun, and it helped. Eventually, as time went on and no one came to arrest her, and there was no word from Isaac, she started putting it all behind her. The nightmares had stopped and she made herself believe it had all been his fault. That she’d only been protecting what was hers. In fact, she’d become determined to become the most sought-after seamstress in Kansas City, so that if Isaac ever did return, she could prove wrong every nasty thing he’d said that night.
Other than the fact that she had shot him.
“Mrs. Callaway, I need to tell you something.”
The sheriff’s voice shot through her as hotly as a bullet. She didn’t want to hear she was being arrested but didn’t have a choice.
Gabe’s arm around her helped somewhat. Drawing a breath, she lifted her head.
As Bowling’s dark gaze settled on her, Janette’s tumbling thoughts hit rock bottom. What would happen to Thelma? Ruby would be fine with Gabe, but Thelma didn’t have anyone.
“What is it, Bowling?” Gabe demanded rather harshly. “What do you have to tell her?”
The sheriff glanced left and right, as if being cautious about who might hear what he had to say. “The man you knew as Isaac Fredrickson is in fact a man named Sam Bollinger. His father is Ed Bollinger, who was arrested over a dozen years ago for robbing army gold off a train heading west. Ed was in Leavenworth until a few months ago, when he escaped, with the help of his son, Sam, who walks with a limp from being shot in the knee.”
Janette’s entire body shook so hard her teeth chattered together.
“What are you getting at, Bowling?” Gabe asked, rubbing her arm.
“Ed’s cell mate sang like a canary to make sure everyone knew he hadn’t been involved,” Bowling said. “You see, Sam was arrested down in Wichita over four years ago for the killing of a prostitute and was serving time in Leavenworth along with his father. The cell mate said Sam and Ed were on their way here, to Kansas City.”
“Why?”
“The man who moved in next door to you a few months ago is a Pinkerton agent assigned to recover the stolen army gold. Several trains carrying army gold had been robbed back then, and the one Ed Bollinger was imprisoned for hadn’t been his first. The gold from those robberies has never been recovered. Bollinger claimed some of the robberies had been inside jobs. He’d been a soldier back then.”
“And?” Gabe asked.
“Bollinger claimed that his captain was in on it,” Bowling said. “Captain Jonathan Parker.”
Janette’s stomach somersaulted even as she shook her head. “That’s impossible. My father was shot during a train robbery.”
“Other robberies had taken place before that one, ma’am,” the sheriff said.
“Did you know Captain Parker?” Gabe asked.
“No,” the sheriff answered. “I never met him.”
“Well, I did,” Gabe said. “And I don’t believe he would have been part of anything remotely close to stealing gold. The army was his life. He put it before his family.”
“Gold does funny things to people,” the sheriff said. “It’s a temptation some can’t resist.”
Ire replaced the fear that had been consuming her. “Not my father.”
“You think there’s gold at her house?” Gabe asked.
“Bollinger does,” the sheriff said.
The wagon had come to a stop as the sheriff had been speaking, and Janette’s attention had gone to the house. Her house. Lanterns shone in most every window and men stood on the front stoop.
“Who are those men?” she asked.
“Deputies,” the sheriff said. “There are more around back.”
“Why?”
“We will be doing a thorough search come daylight, ma’am,” Bowling said. “Until then, nothing can enter or leave without one of my men inspecting it.”
“Why haven’t you already searched the place?” Gabe asked.
“I just learned most of this today. After getting the telegram from the sheriff in Hays.”
“The Pinkerton agent hadn’t told you?”
“They’re tight-lipped when it comes to their cases,” the sheriff said. “Afraid the law will solve it before them.”
Janette’s concern had shifted. Thelma had walked out the front door. Gabe must have sensed the urgency rising inside her because he jumped out of the wagon and quickly lifted her down.
Thelma had run across the front yard, was opening the gate of the white picket fence that surrounded the entire house. “Oh, Janette, I’ve been so scared,” Thelma said, crying. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t understand. Don’t know—”
“Hush, now,” Janette said, even though tears pressed at her eyes. Wrapping her arms around the older woman, she whispered, “It’s going to be all right.”
“Go on in the house,” Gabe said, gently urging her forward with a hand on her back. As soon as they arrived at the porch, he turned about. “Bowling, I want a word with you.”
“Who’s he?” Thelma asked, wiping the tears out of her eyes.
“Gabe Callaway.” Janette tugged Thelma forward. There was no way she’d explain him with this many ears around. The sheriff already thought her father was a robber. She didn’t need his knowing anything more than necessary about her and Gabe.
Thelma’s questions and her own thoughts disappeared when she walked through the front door. The room was nearly empty. No side tables, no knickknacks sitting about. Even the potted fern Thelma had nurtured until it was the size of a rosebush was missing from its usual stance in front of the window. The cushions of the sofa and chairs had puckered stitches, showing how they’d been sliced, and someone—Thelma, no doubt—had tried her best to stitch the material back together.
“Everything had been broken, smashed,” Thelma said. “I cleaned and bought new lanterns, but...”
Janette held up a hand, not wanting to hear more. Her insides rolled with anger and dismay as she walked through the parlor and into the kitchen. The doors of the pie safe leaned against the cabinet, as did others, the hinges twisted and hanging off the edges like tiny broken arms. Holding back tears, Janette walked back through the parlor and into her sewing room. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of her sewing machines. The wooden cabinets holding both of them were nothing but a pile of broken boards. The black machines sitting atop the boards were marred with scratches and bent.
“I didn’t know how to fix them,” Thelma said. “But I washed all the fabric. Lamp oil had been spilled on all of it.”
Janette balled her hands into fists, fighting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. When solid, strong hands grasped her upper arms, she didn’t fight being turned around.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked.
Everything inside her accumulated and exploded. “No. Look at this place. It’s destroyed.” Tears came then, and she couldn’t stop them. “Destroyed.”
Gabe pulled her against his ch
est. “I know it is, honey.”
She should push away, but she didn’t have the wherewithal. In fact, she wanted him close. As close as possible.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked.
“Upstairs, but I have to—”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “It’s late and you need some sleep.”
He kissed her forehead, which made her heart leap, before he turned her about. Janette didn’t fight his actions. It would be useless. As useless as her machines.
“Mrs. Hanks, will you see that the doors are locked?” Gabe asked as they walked through the parlor.
“Yes, sir,” Thelma answered before she asked, “Who are you again?”
“Gabe Callaway.”
“Oh,” Thelma replied. A second later she asked, “Who?”
“Janette’s husband,” he replied.
“Oh, her husb—Her what?”
Half of her wanted to laugh while the other half wanted to cry, and Janette wasn’t sure which would win.
She will never know which might have won because Gabe said, “Good night, Mrs. Hanks,” while leading her out of the room.
* * *
Gabe would never have considered himself a compassionate man, but Janette’s soft sobs had done something to him. He was angry that she’d been hurt, angry that someone had destroyed her home, but it wasn’t anger that had him wanting to protect her from ever being hurt again.
Her bedroom was easy to find. The door was open and a lit lamp sat on a makeshift table beside the bed. Things in here had been smashed, too, broken beyond repair and stacked in the corner. A carpenter wouldn’t know where to start. Actually, a carpenter would simply discard it all and start over.
The bed was made of iron, so it was still in one piece.
“You shouldn’t have told Thelma that,” Janette said as they stepped farther into the room.
“You’d rather one of the deputies stationed at the doors told her?”
She sighed while taking off her hat. “I guess not.”
At that moment, Gabe knew one thing. He’d rather see her spitting mad than this sad and despondent. Taking off his hat, he crossed the room to hang it on a hook. “You’re going to have to get used to being married.”
Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir Page 18
