witches of cleopatra hill 06 - spellbound

by Pope, Christine

  Also, she knew that if she reached out to touch him now, he would be real, and not a ghost. Not that she would ever do something so crazy. She could only imagine what his reaction would be if she sidled up next to him and then poked him in the arm, just to make sure he wasn’t another apparition.

  After that one long heart-stopping second, he offered her a polite smile and returned his attention to the objects on the counter before him, which she realized now were several different pocket watches, most of them silver, but one gold. Danica remembered the gold chain he’d worn, the one that disappeared into his pants pocket. Had he bought that watch and chain here at Brannen’s?

  Far more important than that single detail, however, was the realization that he had looked at her and not shown one ounce of recognition. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d expected him to know who she was. He’d made contact with her more than a hundred years from the present day. So why on earth would he have the foggiest idea who she was here and now?

  Because they’d made some sort of connection, and she’d thought it would carry back to his former life. If time truly wasn’t a river that flowed in only one direction, shouldn’t some echo of their interactions have come to him now?

  But it hadn’t, and Danica’s heart sank a little. She would have to find some way to make a whole new connection, and then guide him away from the Wilcoxes somehow.

  Well, that’s going to be fun.

  “Do you see anything you like?” Clara asked, coming up behind Danica. Over one arm were draped both the green and the black cloaks.

  Danica didn’t quite startle. “Um…yes,” she said quickly. It was so hard to pretend that everything was fine, and that the man standing only a few feet away meant nothing to her. “The black and brown plaid, and that dark green.”

  “I’ll just get those out for you while you take a look at these.” Clara laid the cloaks on the countertop, then glanced past Danica to the stranger. “Have you made a selection yet, Mr. Rowe?”

  The stranger looked up. “Thank you, Miss DeWitt. I believe I’ll take the gold one.” He had a precise way of speaking, almost clipped, though his tone was rich and resonant enough.

  Clara flashed him a brilliant smile. “Then would you like me to wrap that up for you?”

  “Oh, it’s not a gift. I somehow lost mine on the train ride out here, so this is a replacement. Just let me know how much.”

  “Twenty dollars,” she replied, with the slightest flinch, as if worried he would decline once he heard how expensive the watch actually was.

  But he didn’t blink, and instead pulled a pair of coins from his pants pocket and laid them on the countertop. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss DeWitt.” For the slightest fraction of a second, his gaze flickered toward Danica, but she saw only the mildest curiosity in his face. Then he picked up the watch and looped its chain around a button on the front of his waistcoat before dropping the timepiece itself into the pocket apparently designed for that purpose.

  He left then, even as Clara retrieved the gold coins he’d left behind and placed them in her own apron pocket.

  “Who was that?” Danica asked, hoping she sounded only idly curious.

  Clara batted her eyelashes. It was obvious enough what she thought of the stranger. “A very welcome newcomer. His name is Robert Rowe. I believe he came in on the same train you did. Didn’t you see him?”

  “No,” Danica replied. “I think I would have remembered him if I had. He must have been in a different car.”

  “I should say you should have remembered him! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more handsome man.”

  Repressing a grin, Danica remarked, “And just the other night you were saying how handsome Mr. Jeremiah Wilcox is.”

  “Well, they both are, aren’t they?” By that point, Clara had gone back around the counter and had begun to pull the bolts of fabric Danica had chosen down from the shelf. Clara set them down and lifted an eyebrow, clearly expecting Danica to reply.

  “I suppose so, yes.” Pretending to be interested in the cloth, she ran a hand over the top bolt so she could feel the smoothness of the fabric beneath her fingers. It felt very similar to the lightweight wool of her good “churchgoing” outfit. “Do you know why Mr. Rowe has come to Flagstaff?”

  Clara darted a look at Mr. Brannen, but he still seemed to be occupied with helping the two men Danica had noted as she entered the shop. Apparently satisfied that the shop’s owner wouldn’t notice her indulging in a little gossip, Clara said, “Well, it seems that he’s quite wealthy, and is looking to purchase one of the land parcels to the west of here so he can start his own ranch.” She let out a little sigh, then shook her head. “I’d set my sights there, but I think Mr. Robert Rowe is a little too fine for the likes of me. But you, Eliza….”

  “I didn’t come out here to ‘set my sights,’” Danica said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. “I came here to teach school.”

  That reply earned her a skeptical look. “I don’t doubt that you did, but surely you wouldn’t turn your nose up at him, should he show an interest.”

  “Well, he certainly didn’t show any interest just now.” That realization sent a little pang through her. Maybe it shouldn’t exactly have been love at first sight, but surely he should have exhibited a spark of curiosity, of attraction.

  Lord knows Jeremiah Wilcox had.

  Danica repressed a shiver, even as Clara said, “I should think he’d be too well-mannered to stare at a woman he’d just met. And there aren’t that many eligible girls here in Flagstaff, when you get right down to it, so I think you would have an excellent chance with him.”

  “If he’s here because he’s starting a ranch, I should imagine he must be fairly busy. Besides,” Danica added, going cold as a sudden thought came to her, “it could be that he’s already married.”

  “No, he isn’t. Did you see a ring on his finger?”

  Back in the twenty-first century, going without a ring was no indication that a man was unmarried, but Danica decided it was probably better not to mention that particular fact. “No.”

  “Well, then. At any rate, I did ask around, and Beth, the chambermaid at the Hotel San Francisco, said he was quite unaccompanied, and gave no indication of having a wife.”

  Which didn’t mean much. Mr. Rowe could have left his wife behind, wherever he came from. “That’s quite a bit of sleuthing, considering he just came to town on Saturday.”

  Clara flushed. “I’m sure there was nothing improper in my asking. We’re always curious about new arrivals around here.”

  Especially young, handsome, rich ones, Danica thought wryly. On the other hand, Clara’s poking around did seem to have its uses. The fear that this Mr. Rowe might have a wife had mostly subsided. Coming here to start a ranch sounded innocuous enough, but Danica couldn’t help wondering what he might have done to run afoul of the Wilcoxes. Simple trespassing didn’t seem to be a good enough reason for putting a bullet in someone’s chest.

  “I suppose you would be curious, in a town this size.” Danica turned toward the cloaks, which she’d been neglecting all this time, and felt the heavy wool, the smooth silk of their linings. Yes, that would be much better than a thin challis shawl. “I believe I’ll take both of these cloaks, and then however much of the fabric you think I’ll need.”

  Clara appeared somewhat surprised by her request. “Well, are you going to use the same pattern as one of your own gowns? You should know from that how much it would require.”

  Which made logical sense, except that Danica hadn’t been involved at all in the construction of her Victorian wardrobe, except to show up for a fitting and to pay Jackie her fees when everything was delivered. She certainly hadn’t provided the fabric, and she’d only given a token glance at the line items on her final bill. It just hadn’t mattered that much.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m not completely sure how I’ll have them made up. I suppose Mrs. Adams could guide me in that.”

&nbs
p; Luckily, that reply seemed to put Clara off the scent. “True. If I get you ten yards of each, that should be enough. And if it turns out that Mrs. Adams needs more, you can come buy it as necessary.”

  Ten yards sounded like what you’d need to make a set of draperies, not a dress, but Danica had to admit there was a lot of fancy draping going on with these dresses. They probably did take up a lot of fabric.

  She nodded, and Clara went to cut the lengths of cloth and then folded them and put them together with the cloaks. The total bill was quite a lot, far more than Mr. Rowe’s twenty-dollar watch, but Danica handed over the coins to Clara without blinking. After this, she should be set, and anyway, she still had plenty of money left over for any other contingencies that might arise. She had to wonder what Clara would think of the five grand a month she got as her Wilcox “stipend.” The poor girl would probably fall over in a heap, and then start asking what in the world such an heiress was doing, teaching school out here in the hinterlands.

  After everything had been safely wrapped up in brown paper, Clara offered to have Danica’s purchases sent directly over to the boarding house so she wouldn’t have to carry them there herself. That sounded like a great idea, considering how much her feet were aching by that point. Since she’d had to mail-order her boots, Danica hadn’t had the opportunity to really try them on. They’d felt all right for a few test runs around her carpeted bedroom, but now, after standing on bare boards in them for hours and hours, she just wanted to get back to Mrs. Wilson’s house and tear them off her feet as soon as possible. Even seeing the mysterious Robert Rowe wasn’t quite enough to erase her discomfort.

  Well, unless he follows me back to Mrs. Wilson’s and offers to rub my feet for me, she thought with a grin, one she quickly hid so Clara wouldn’t ask what on earth she was smiling about.

  Danica limped her way down the front steps of the store and then into the street. While she couldn’t claim to know the town very well yet, she had noticed that it looked like she could take a shortcut through a little alley between the feed store and the livery stable, and come up on Phoenix Avenue that way, instead of going the long way around by walking decorously on the actual streets themselves.

  That sounded like a great idea. She headed off in that direction, and had just entered the shadows between the two buildings when a tall figure interposed itself in front of her. A gasp escaped her lips before she realized that the man who stood before her was none other than Robert Rowe himself.

  “Miss Prewitt?” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

  10

  Danica was so confounded by this apparition — and by the fact that he knew her assumed name — that she could only blink up at him for a few seconds. Then she managed to pull herself together enough to ask, “I beg your pardon?”

  He smiled, but the blue eyes regarding her were cold. “At first I thought you must be one of the Wilcoxes, but I was informed by my innkeeper that you’ve just lately come here from Missouri. Are you one of the Landons?”

  He knew she was a witch. How could he know that? Was he a warlock himself? But no, Danica hadn’t gotten any sort of ping from him, hadn’t felt that weird resonance she always experienced when she first met another of her kind.

  Somehow she managed to recover herself enough to say, “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Rowe. Who are the Landons?”

  His brows, straight and expressive, drew together, shadowing his eyes. “If you’ve truly come from Missouri, then you know very well who the Landons are. There’s no use denying it, Miss Prewitt — you are a witch. Just as you know the Wilcoxes are witch-kind as well.”

  Crap. Crap. “Very well, yes, I am a member of the Landon clan. And clearly you were able to sense who I am. But why can’t I sense that about you?”

  “We all have our peculiar gifts, we witches and warlocks. One of mine is being able to block my nature when the situation calls for it. Since I’m now in Wilcox territory, I thought it only wise to make sure they could not tell I was not an ordinary mortal like everyone else in this town.” He paused then, eyes flicking over her dispassionately. Under that cool gaze, Danica found herself hoping that she didn’t look as tired as she felt. “Well, everyone else except you, it seems.”

  “Am I supposed to be happy that you don’t think I’m an ordinary mortal?” she retorted. Yes, he was gorgeous, but she sure as hell wasn’t seeing anything in this cold-voiced man of the sorrowful ghost she’d met up at the cabin. Right then she thought she liked the ghost a whole lot better.

  As for his talent, well, she’d never heard of it before, but that didn’t mean much. Talents disappeared, or seemed to die out, only to appear generations later. Damon had supposedly created a spell to hide a witch’s “tell” from others of their kind. For all Danica knew, he’d been inspired because he’d read of other people, like Robert Rowe, who possessed that gift naturally.

  “You’re more than that, Miss Prewitt,” he told her. “You’re something of a mystery. You’re not a member of the Wilcox clan, and yet I observed you in quite close conversation with Jeremiah Wilcox yesterday. So he must also know that you’re a witch.”

  “You were spying on me?” This just kept getting better and better.

  “As I said, I was observing you. Or rather, I was observing Mr. Wilcox, and noted that you were with him.”

  “Why would you be spying on Jeremiah Wilcox?”

  Robert Rowe’s mouth tightened at her use of the word “spy” once again. Right then Danica had to tell herself not to focus too closely on those lips, the ones that only a few short days ago she’d thought looked just about perfect for kissing. Well, she sure as hell didn’t feel like kissing him now.

  Mostly.

  After sending a quick glance past her, as if to make sure no one was walking by on the street who might overhear their conversation, he said, “I would not call it spying, Miss Prewitt. I was sent here for a reason.”

  “What kind of reason?” she asked, feeling unaccountably annoyed. Misplaced familial loyalty? Maybe. Jeremiah Wilcox didn’t know who the hell she was, but she knew he was connected to her, even across all those years and down all those generations. The thought that Robert Rowe had come here on some sort of mission which involved the Wilcox patriarch wasn’t sitting particularly well with her at the moment.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Oh, of course you’re not.” Danica crossed her arms and glared up at him. “But now that you’ve determined I’m a witch, and have also determined that I am not a Wilcox, I don’t believe we have anything further to say to one another.” Maybe that wasn’t the best reaction, but right then she felt as if she needed to get away from him, if only to sort out her muddled thoughts.

  She shifted, as if to brush past him, but he moved as well, blocking her way. Although she doubted that he intended her any real harm, the irritation she felt was tinged with worry. Just what the hell was he doing here?

  Not buying a ranch, that was for sure. Unless he was using the ranch purchase as a convenient cover.

  Crossing her arms, she said, “Mr. Rowe, you do know that if I screamed right now, things wouldn’t go very well for you.”

  He didn’t appear particularly distressed by that threat. “Possibly. They might not go very well for you, either. You know how we all must do our best to avoid attracting attention.”

  Son of a — “What is it you want from me, Mr. Rowe? Clearly you have business here with the Wilcoxes, but that should have nothing to do with me.”

  “If I may ask, what precisely are you doing here, Miss Prewitt? If you’re truly from St. Louis, then you’re quite a long way from home.”

  I’m here to save your skin. Although at the moment, I’m beginning to wonder if you were worth the effort.

  But no, that wasn’t true. Even if he was doing his best right now to annoy her, that didn’t mean she had any intention of standing by and letting him get shot down by one of the Wilcox clan.

  She gave him the same
answer she’d given Jeremiah Wilcox. “I’m here to teach school.”

  “There were no schools in St. Louis that needed teachers?”

  “I needed to get much farther away than that.”

  Although she certainly wasn’t a mind reader, Danica didn’t need that ability to see he wasn’t at all convinced by her reply. But he said nothing, only stood there and surveyed her with those frosty blue eyes of his. Funny how they had seemed so much warmer when he wasn’t actually alive.

  Right then, she would have welcomed someone coming down the little alley. The interruption would have been awkward, but at least it would have broken up this tense tête-à-tête. But while there were certainly people passing by on the streets to either side, no one seemed particularly interested in the narrow, shadowed space she and Robert Rowe currently occupied.

  She planted her hands on her hips and said, “If you must know, I’m here because I’m avoiding a very unwelcome match my parents tried to force on me. It was better to come to the wilds of the Arizona Territory than to be married off to my awful cousin Alfred. So please, Mr. Rowe, feel free now to lecture me on my irresponsibility and lack of loyalty to my clan.”

  To her surprise, his expression softened, and his eyes lost their frosty glint. “My apologies, Miss Prewitt. I fear you have formed rather the wrong opinion of me. I would certainly never presume to lecture you about something like that. I assume you had a very good reason for not wishing to make the match.”

  “Oh, well — ” Danica floundered for a second, trying to decide how she should reply. His words had mollified her, but they’d also knocked her off balance a bit. She’d assumed he was going to get all sanctimonious on her, but that didn’t seem to be his intention. “That is quite all right, Mr. Rowe. But you see now why I’ve come all this way.”

  Much farther than you would probably ever believe….

  “And Jeremiah Wilcox knows of this? I understand that he’s one of the trustees of the school.”