by C. A. Asbrey
“Science books?” Abigail changed the subject. “Are you trying to give up crime?”
“Nope, just trying to be more efficient at it. I’m a modern man. You have to move with the times, you know.” Nat’s cheeks dimpled. “But look who I’m talking to. You’re a veritable pioneer for females. You know how it is. I bet you’ve got all kinds of modern detective tricks. I’m looking forward to seeing those. When do they start? Are you doing it now?”
Abigail sighed. “I’m sorry I asked. Never mind. You have a Dickens? Which one?”
“Charles.” Nat’s eyes warmed as he relented at her exasperated glare. “Sorry, just having a bit of fun, but you’re too tired for it. You’re getting bored. I understand. I’ll dig out the book for you. Oh, and I found you a brush. It’s Jake’s, but I’ve cleaned it real well. I even soaked it in carbolic.”
Her eyes lit up surprised by his thoughtfulness, only to be quickly dampened by suspicion. “Thank you. My hair is getting knotted.”
He walked in, holding it behind his back. “I’ll help. You’ve got an arm injury and your hair’s real tangled.” His cheeks dimpled and his beguiling eyes danced with charm to ward off the objections about to tumble from her mouth. “Come on. Let me sort that out for you.” She paused and the dimple deepened. “You’re not fit to travel yet, but there’s no need for us to be enemies. Truce?”
She sighed. “Fine. A truce.” She sat, gathering her limited clothing about her. “It is a mess. You won’t tug at it, will you?”
“I have brushed hair before. I’m not a savage.”
She sat. “Women’s hair?”
He pulled over a chair to sit behind her, running his long fingers through the mad dark curls. “Do I look like I go around offering to brush men’s hair? Jees, your hair is thick.”
“Yes, it’s like my mother’s, but hers is red.”
She relaxed, enjoying the pleasurable sensation of his hands in her tresses, loosening the strands and identifying knots and tangles before working on them.“You were a mess when we found you.” He finished attending to an obstinate knot. “There.”
He ran the brush through her hair from root to tip marveling at the length as the ringlets unraveled and stretched. “Beautiful, just beautiful. As long as you are tall.”
She sat, luxuriating in the hypnotic strokes and the gentle caress of the brush as it travelled through her hair over and over again, reminding her of her childhood, and how much she missed her late husband’s soothing, sensual touch. Her heart broke yet again, just as it had a million times before. She was used to piecing it back together. Nobody touched her anymore. Nobody cherished her. Nobody cared.
Nat worked through the shock of hair with a soothing, reviving pressure. Somehow, his relaxing light-hearted chatter made this abnormal situation seem less stressful. She dropped her guard and allowed herself to unwind, settling into a luscious melting frame of mind, sinking further and further into indolent compliance.
The long fingers swept her neck with a feather-like touch as he gathered her hair and her lips parted at the exhilaration which rushed through her. Did he know the nape was one of her most sensitive areas?
She arched against the deep strokes of the brush and the delicate touch across her neck and shoulders. Stresses and strains melted away, and she lived in the delicious, delectable moment. The growing warmth deep below reminded her of her forgotten primal need for intimacy, growing until she suppressed the growing moan.
“There, that should do it,” he murmured in her ear as though under the same yielding spell of surrender. He pulled his chair alongside hers and brushed a few wisps from her face.
“You are exquisite.” Crooked fingers pulled her around to face him with a gentle tug. He leaned in, touching her lips with his own, a velvet caress which released an exhilarating rush. The hand slipped into her newly-brushed hair, gathering a handful in a gesture which promised power but delivered tender restraint. His teeth caught on her lip, tasting her, before pushing on into a full hungry kiss.
He pulled back, looking into her eyes. “This is so difficult. I don’t even know who you really are. You might have a husband or lover.”
“I told you who I am.”
“No lovers? No men?”
Her eyes narrowed and she shook herself back to reality. “What was I thinking? This is just another ploy isn’t it? You worm your way in and try to seduce information from me when I’m at my weakest?”
“I’d never—”
“No?” she snorted. “You don’t want to know about me, just men I’m connected to?” She stood. “Well, I’ll tell you once more. I am a Pinkerton Detective, and the only man I’m connected to is Alan Pinkerton. You can question me as much as you want. It’s all you’re going to get. Sooner or later, you’ll have to accept it and let me go.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Oh, save it. You were dismissive earlier, now this?”
Her eyes widened as they fell on the brush on the table behind him. “Is that a horse brush? You used an animal brush on me.”
He fought the smile tugging at his lips. “I washed it.”
“A horse brush! You were so desperate to soften me up with this tactic you used a horse brush? You’re unbelievable.” She scratched at her scalp like a mad thing. “I’ve probably got fleas.”
“Hey! We look after our horses.”
“Look after?” Nat ran for the door as she grabbed the brush. “I’ll show you looked after.”
Jake sat on the porch, his eyes lighting with amusement as the door opened. His nephew ran out. Nat turned, pointing a finger and opened his mouth to say something in the face of the tirade of impenetrable gibberish filling the air behind him. He ducked. A missile flew, right where his head had just been, and the brush clattered to the ground.
Nat squared his shoulders, his voice hardening. “That’s enough. Put that down—” His eyes widened and he slammed the door, just in time for Jake to hear the metallic clatter of something against the other side.
“So, your seduction technique didn’t work, huh?” Jake swung back on his chair. “It’s good to know her throwin’ arm’s good and healthy, though.”
“What the hell language is that?”
Jake shrugged. “She’s Scottish, so it’s probably Gaelic. It ain’t quite the same as the Irish my grandpa taught me, but I think she just doubted your parentage.”
Nat propped his hands on his hips and scowled. “She insulted my mother?”
Jake’s smile stretched into a full grin. “Your ma was my sister. If anyone had used an animal brush on her hair you’d have heard all about it. I think you got off real light.”
“So what now?”
Jake shook his head. “Keep me out of it. You’re the criminal genius. I’m only the muscle. You’ll just have to try somethin’ else.”
♦◊♦
She slept off and on for the next two days, and her strength continued to rally as her arm healed under a regime of salt and honey, but she still had nothing to wear other than a shirt and a bed sheet. Her anger grew, seeing through their deliberate tactic to keep her off balance and increase her reliance on them. So much for not holding her against her will. How could a woman set off through the wilderness barefoot and half-naked?
Nat had questioned her intently on her identity, who she knew in the agency, the information she had on them, and who had sent her; but Abigail refused to tell him anything, confirming only that they could contact the Chicago office to confirm her identity. He was getting as frustrated with her as she was with them. He had tried all kinds of techniques ranging from sympathy, anger, and bribery, until today when he walked in and sat on the side of her bed. His brown hair was neat and brushed and his just-shaven skin looked smooth, pink, and temptingly touchable. He dropped his head, his open-necked shirt providing a glimpse of the strong, thick musculature reaching into his square shoulders.
She averted her eyes, only to find herself staring at his fine hands and delicate, long finger
s. Those talented fingers which were so sensitive they could feel every click of a tumbler as he cracked a safe. She sighed and turned away.
He smiled, his face etched with resignation. “This can’t go on, Abi.”
“I’m glad you’ve realized that, too.”
He paused. “You’re a very beautiful woman. This isn’t easy for me. I noticed you as soon as you bumped into me at the station. I remembered you.”
She raised her guard at the first sign of a compliment. “You noticed a hot potato pressed into your belly.”
Pique fluttered in his eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t been in such a rush, I’d have had the chance to talk to you, perhaps even get to know you in normal circumstances.”
“Normal? You held up a train. You were probably at the station checking out those carrying payrolls.”
The puppy-dog eyes feigned even more innocence. “Maybe if I knew someone got a really good look at me I wouldn’t have?”
“I’m not an eejit. What makes you think I’d have talked to you anyway?”
He arched a brow. “The way you were looking at me, for a start.”
“I look at everyone. It’s my job.”
He narrowed his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I saw you. You looked away in embarrassment. We had a moment. You know we did.”
“And now we’ve had a week. When does it end, Mr. Quinn?” Her brow furrowed. “Let’s just go our separate ways, huh? Your manipulation isn’t working. I’m immune.”
“Tell me what I want to know and it’ll happen right away.” He reached out and grasped her hand. “I promise.”
She caught her breath at the electric jolt of his touch and pulled her hand away. “I’ve told you everything I’m going to. Everything I have. There’s nothing else to add.”
“There’s more. We both know it.” He leaned forward, his hot breath hitting her face. “Please, we both know there’s a man behind this. I just want to know who sent men to kill innocent people so they could give me a death sentence. He needs to be exposed.”
“If he exists at all?” Her jaw firmed. “Mr. Quinn, has it occurred to you this gang was just a coincidence and that it popped up independently of a Pinkerton operation to bring you in?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences any more than I believe in female Pinkertons,” his brow furrowed. “I’m trying to protect you. I need the name of the man who put you up to this. It had to be someone pretty special to have you wear disguises and mix with men like the Pattersons.” He grabbed her hand again. “Work with me, Abi.” She pulled her hand back, but he held firm this time, staring straight into her eyes. “Come on, talk to me. Please. I can’t keep Jake from questioning you forever.”
She stiffened. “Jake?”
“Yes. I really am trying to protect you. Just tell me what I want to know and it’ll all be over. He deals with anything which affects the security of the gang. If you were a man he’d have dealt with you long before now.”
“I work for Alan Pinkerton,” she repeated, tugging her hand free. “There’s a Denver office, too, but I don’t report to them. Send them a telegram. They’ll confirm who I am.”
His brows gathered. “So he’s a Pinkerton? You’ve got that covered and he’ll answer for you? He wouldn’t be the first corrupt lawman.” He paused deep in thought. “I understand he’ll have told you all kinds of things about us, but we aren’t savages and we treat people well. These people have been prepared to kill innocent bystanders. We never do that. We’ve treated you with kindness, haven’t we?”
“Until now.” She glowered, “Horse brush excepted.”
“So help me to help you. The railroads and the banks have put an incredible reward out on us. I’m guessing it’s not working fast enough for someone and they set up the Pattersons to dirty our name. They told me he was called Smitty. Please, Abi. What’s his name? Who is he?”
“Alan Pinkerton.”
His mouth formed into an irritated line. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ve tried my best.” He stood and strode over to the door. “I’ll go tell Jake.”
“What do you want me to do? Lie to you with an invented name? I’ve never heard of Smitty.”
“We’ve had enough false names from you, thank you very much.” He closed the door firmly behind him and strode over to his uncle on the porch who raised questioning blue eyes.
Jake swung back on his chair. “Anything?”
“Nope,” he shook his head. “She’s as obstinate as a temperance spinster at a barn dance.”
Jake arched his brows in question. “So? What now?”
“I guess we’re gonna have to scare her a bit.”
The older man’s eyes widened with disapproval. “Nat—”
“I know,” Nat rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t like it, either. I kinda like her, you know. She’s different. She’s smart and dumb all at the same time.”
“Yeah. She’s just your type. What other woman would be in this mess?”
“She‘s loyal is all, probably in love with that damned Smitty. We need that name, though. Whoever it is’ll set us up again if they’re desperate.”
Jake nodded. “So who deals with her? Who gets it out of her?”
“I told her you would.” Nat’s innocent smile only peeved his uncle more. “What? You’re the scary one. I’m charming. Everyone knows that. It’s in all the dime novels.”
“Nat, someday I’m gonna swing for you. We just let her go and walk away. Fast.”
“No. We need that name. Someone’s framing us for a hanging.” Nat took out a coin. “I’ll toss you for it.”
Jake dropped the two front legs of the chair back on the floor. “With you? You’re as crooked as a snake with colic. You always make sure you win a coin toss by switching it for your double-headed nickel.” He ignored Nat’s faux innocence. “And yeah. I know about that. Fine, I’ll do it. You’re gettin’ nowhere anyway, but I ain’t hurtin’ her, and we’ll leave her to dwell on what might happen first. If it doesn’t work, she goes. Got that?”
♦◊♦
The impasse needed to be broken and the time had come for her to take control of the situation as the gunman’s blue eyes were chilling her to the bone.
His powerful and menacing presence simmered in the background, while their tolerance for her wore thin. It was only a matter of time before they turned over her questioning to him, and that had to be avoided at all costs. There was something frightening and unpredictable about the gunfighter who looked at her as though he hated every fibre of her being.
“I’m gettin’ supplies.” Jake pulled on his gloves. “Need anything?”
“Clothes. Any kind of clothes.” He stared right through her with eyes like a Mediterranean storm. “I’m goin’ for food. I know nothin’ about women’s clothes.”
“Men’s, then; working clothes, trousers, anything. You can’t keep me like this.”
He darted a glance at Nat, a discreet smile playing around his lips. “You’re fine. We can’t see a thing improper. The sheet is long and you have a long-sleeved shirt on. You’re almost a nun.”
She let out an impatient huff. “When are you planning on letting me go? You must see by now I’ve have got nothing else to tell you.”
Dark eyes glittered at her from across the cabin. “When you’re fit to travel, Miss MacKay. We don’t want to harm you by setting out too soon.”
“I’m fine now. Stop this masquerade and take me back, right now. I’ll go with him, dressed like this, if I have to.”
“You ain’t ready.” Her stomach lurched at the rawness in the blue eyes. “We agreed I make that call. When I get back, we’ll have a chat, just you and me. I’ll do whatever it takes to find out what I need to know. Nat’s been far too soft on you.”
Both men registered the brief flicker of fear before she pulled herself back together. “It’ll be no different.”
“That’s for me to find out, ain’t it, Abi? It’s up to you to decide if we do it the hard way or the easy w
ay.” The gunman strode over to the door. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
♦◊♦
Jake’s words still rang in her ears when Nat left the building to tend the animals, so she had to move fast. She rummaged around until she found a pair of navy suit trousers. They were huge, but the gray ones were broader and would have been even worse. She slid them on and fastened them with a rope around the waist, and folded the ends back multiple times.
Shoes were pointless. She would have to go without as there was nothing even close. Why would they burn her shoes? Did they ever intend to let her go?
She stood behind the door with a huge earthenware jug in her hand, her heart pumping so hard she felt sure it could be heard as far as the barn. No way was she going to let a man like Jake Conroy interrogate her.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open. She raised the jug, the handle feeling warm and slippery in her nervous, sweating palm as the adrenaline pulsed through her system.
She brought it straight down on Nat’s head just as he appeared through the door. Her hand slipped, as her injured arm let her down, and it bounced off the door decreasing the impact on her victim, but the cry and the trickle of red confirmed she had made her mark. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head.
She bolted out the door. A quick reconnaissance had her heading toward the barn, where she grabbed a saddle and threw it on the horse which nickered and flicked his ears at her as though he wondered what all the fuss was about.
Without warning, she felt herself grabbed around the waist and lifted off her feet. “Goin’ somewhere?”
She twisted around and stared into a pair of angry face of the gunman. “Jake?”
“Thought I’d gone? Thought wrong, huh?”
Her heart sank. There was no point in trying to defend herself against this furious man. One look at his partner would confirm her actions, and he was dragging her back to the cabin to face the consequences. Jake swung her inside, where Nat sat clutching his head with a trickle of blood spreading its way down his pale face as his bleary eyes darted up to greet their entrance.
“Look what I found.” Abigail glanced at the enraged face before she swirled round in surprise at the other voice behind her.
