Gabe hid a little smirk. Sounded like the colonel did have a soft spot for pretty faces after all.
He packed his few things quickly. He didn’t own much, and he always traveled light. No point in bogging himself down when he never knew from one day to the next where he’d be. Topeka had been good to him so far, but that wasn’t to say he’d be here forever. He wanted to see California—not for the gold or anything like that, but for the wild expanses of unexplored territory, and he wanted to see the ocean. His mother had been born right on the East Coast, and she’d tell him stories of lying awake at night and listening to the water lap up against the rocks. She had missed her home dearly, and died without ever getting a chance to go back. Gabe wanted to see such vast expanses of water for himself, but he’d rather go west than east. East held nothing for him.
He set his bag on the chair by his bed. In the morning, he’d be set to grab it and go. With that done, he decided to go walk around town for a little bit. The sun was beginning to set, and soon the men would be making their way to the saloons. He liked reminding them of the presence of the law in case things got out of hand—which they often did when liquor and card games were in the same place at the same time.
Up ahead, he saw Abigail Peterson coming out of the general store, a few bundles in her arms. He looked down at the ground, trying to fight back his irritation. Confounded women and their meddling.
She had just passed the first saloon on her way back to the hotel when someone inside let out a whistle. Seconds later, a man strolled out and began following her, and Gabe couldn’t ignore her any longer. He straightened and put his hand on his holster, watching to see what would happen next. The man said something to her, and she shook her head, her pace quickening. Gabe didn’t need more than that. He strode toward them and caught the man by the throat.
“I suggest you leave this young lady alone,” Gabe hissed into the man’s face, then shoved him back in the direction of the saloon. “Are you all right, Miss Peterson?”
“I’m quite all right, Deputy. I’m not sure that was called for.” She nodded over her shoulder toward the saloon doors, which were still swinging. “He just asked me if I’d like a drink.”
“He may have said drink, but that’s not what he meant.” Gabe reached out and took her bundles without asking, then fell into step beside her. She seemed miffed.
“I think you’re being presumptuous.”
“And I think you’re being naïve. I work in this town, Miss Peterson. I’m regularly called in to break up fights in that very saloon, and I haul men off to a jail cell when things get out of control. I hear what comes out of their foul mouths, and I know what they’re thinking. It’s not safe for you to be walking past the saloon after nightfall, and I’d advise you not to do it anymore.”
“I can’t always find time to do my shopping between trains, Deputy. I have a job as well, with a schedule to keep.”
“Then I suggest you ask Tom or Mr. Brody to accompany you.”
She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not entirely sure I appreciate your tone, Deputy. For someone who just stepped in to protect me, you’re certainly not acting very chivalrous right now.”
“Why? Because I’m making suggestions you don’t want to hear?”
“Because you’re acting like … like . . .”
“Like a law enforcement officer in this town?”
“Like you have any right to be telling me what to do.”
“I do have a right, Miss Peterson. I’m wearing a badge. This badge entitles me to make pronouncements and edicts and all sorts of other things if I feel it’s in the best interest of the citizens I’m bound and obligated to protect. But since this bothers you so much, you might be glad to know that I’m leaving town tomorrow and I won’t be here to protect you, so you can feel free to walk around after dark as much as you like.”
“Leaving town? Where are you going? When will you be back?”
“To Wichita. I’ve promised to look into Margaret Smith’s case, and I’ll be gone as long as it takes. And now here we are at the hotel, so I’ll bid you good night.” Gabe thrust her packages back into her arms, spun on his heel, and began to walk away.
“Deputy! Wait!”
He took a calming breath before turning back around. “Yes, Miss Peterson?”
“May I come with you?”
“What?” How could she even be suggesting such a thing? “You want to come with me on an official investigation?”
She walked toward him slowly, now looking a little unsure. “I might be able to help.”
He put his hands on his hips and scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground. He didn’t have the patience for this. “Miss Peterson, were you deputized at some point in the last five minutes, and no one told me about it? Because I don’t see a badge, I don’t see a gun, I don’t see any sign of authority on you whatsoever. You are not coming with me on this trip. That is final.”
“But . . .”
“Final. Good night.”
He spun on his heel again, trying not to overreact. This woman had his insides so tied up in knots, he couldn’t think straight, and that wasn’t acceptable at all. He had a job to do, and if she kept infuriating him like this, he might as well hand in his badge and be done with it.
***
Gabe had only been able to sleep the night before after completely blocking Abigail Peterson from his thoughts. He’d spent the first hour lying awake trying to decide whether she was more exasperating or enchanting. He had decided that it didn’t matter how enchanting she was—she was so exasperating that nothing else mattered. Then another thirty minutes had been wasted as he tried to decide exactly which of her qualities was the most exasperating. Then, realizing he had to sleep at some point, he banished her to the dark recesses of his mind.
Now, standing on the train platform and watching her approach, he gritted his teeth. He was never to be rid of her, it seemed. Why was she here . . . and why was she carrying a satchel?
“Hello,” she called out gaily. “It’s a beautiful day for a train trip, wouldn’t you say?”
“It will be for me,” he replied. “I thought we decided that you weren’t going anywhere.”
“No, that’s what you decided. I had other ideas entirely.” She set down her satchel, opened her reticule, and pulled out a badge. “This might interest you.”
What . . . Gabe took a deep breath and tried to steel himself. “May I ask where you got that?”
“From Colonel Gordon. I was on his doorstep bright and early this morning. I explained to him that I’d like to go with you, but you felt it wasn’t appropriate unless I was a deputy. He agreed that I should go along, and he deputized me on the spot. This is temporary, though—just for this one case.”
Gabe was so incensed, he couldn’t even see straight. He marched over to the ticket window and barked at the station master, “Mr. Hoover, how long until the train leaves?”
“Oh, let’s see now.” Mr. Hoover pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “It should be here in about ten minutes, plus thirty minutes to refill the water and so forth, so you won’t be on your way for about forty minutes or so.”
Gabe took Abigail’s satchel from her hand and picked up his from where he’d set it. “Will you hold these for us? We’ll be right back.”
“Of course, Deputy. Anything I can do to help.”
Gabe grabbed Abigail’s arm and began marching her up the street.
“Where are we going? And you’re hurting me.”
He loosened his grip, but only slightly. “We’re going to see Colonel Gordon.”
“But won’t we be late for the train?”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time for the train.” He refused to say one more word to her until they were standing in front of Colonel Gordon’s desk.
“Colonel, I understand that you deputized Miss Peterson.”
The colonel leaned back and laced his fingers across his stomach. “I did do
that. However, it’s temporary, just for this one case.”
Gabe clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I wonder about the . . . wisdom of taking a woman along with me, sir. She’s untrained, inexperienced, and this is a murder investigation. It might be too dangerous for a civilian’s involvement.”
“The murder has already taken place, Deputy, and I doubt another is about to occur. Our main suspect is hiding away in a church building. If she’s not guilty, the real culprit is doing everything possible to cover their tracks, and won’t be committing any further crimes. And I feel that having Miss Peterson along would be very beneficial. She stated her reasons quite plainly and convincingly.”
“And just what were those reasons?” Gabe turned to Miss Peterson, his fingernails now digging into his palms. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper right in front of his commanding officer.
“Because a woman is the suspect in this case, I thought that having a woman’s perspective might help in the investigation. I might see things that a man would naturally overlook,” Miss Peterson said, giving him a little smile. “In addition, murder is a crime of passion, and who better to understand the depth of a woman’s emotions than another woman?”
“Miss Peterson is therefore authorized to act as a deputy for the city of Topeka for the duration of this case, after which she will hand in her badge.” Colonel Gordon picked up his pen and began writing a letter, as if all this was settled and there was no more to discuss.
Gabe turned to Miss Peterson. “But what about the hotel? They’re already understaffed, aren’t they?” Perhaps appealing to her sense of duty would make her see reason.
She smiled, more sincerely this time. “Olivia agreed to come back and work in my stead, and the pastor was agreeable to it.”
Gabe looked at the ceiling for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “Sir,” he said at last, addressing the marshal, “is this an order?”
Colonel Gordon looked at him with surprise. “Do I need to make it an order, Deputy? You’ve never questioned your assignments before. Why are you starting now?”
Gabe opened and closed his mouth a few times, then said, “Never mind, sir. I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it work. Come, Miss Peterson. We don’t want to miss our train.”
Once out on the street, Gabe strode back to the train station, his boots pounding the dirt. Miss Peterson trotted alongside him, reminding him very much of a small dog wanting attention. “I really think I can be of use, Deputy. And I promise I won’t get in your way.”
“You’re already in my way, Miss Peterson.”
“Then I’ll try to get out of your way. I promise—you won’t even know I’m there.”
“Then what is the purpose of you coming along?”
“That’s true.”
Gabe was taking one step for every three of hers. It wasn’t intentional—his legs were long, and he was angry. He always walked fast when he was angry.
“Please don’t be upset with me. It just felt . . . I just thought . . .”
“You thought you could get your own way by going over my head and speaking to my commanding officer, who then made it an order for me to go against my better judgement. That is what you thought, Miss Peterson. No matter how many good intentions you throw into the mix, you chose to disregard my counsel, which comes from years of training and experience, and do whatever entered your pretty little head.”
He finally stopped and looked at her. “This is not an exciting story told in twelve parts in the newspaper. A murder has been committed. A life has been taken, although at this point, I don’t even know whose. This is not a game or an adventure. Holing Mrs. Smith up in the church isn’t a funny way to thwart the big, bad deputy—it’s keeping me from doing my job. And now you want to come along and get underfoot every time I take a step? If I had my way, Miss Peterson, I’d be bundling you up and depositing you right back on the hotel’s front steps, but what I want doesn’t matter anymore. It’s up to Colonel Gordon—you saw to that quite nicely.”
He resumed walking, and a few seconds later, he heard her follow. They collected their bags from Mr. Hoover and waited for the conductor to call the “all aboard.” They took their seats in silence, and as the train pulled out of the station, Gabe thought he might have seen Miss Peterson wipe a tear from her cheek. At that moment, he didn’t care. He just didn’t care.
Chapter Five
Abigail stared out the train window, watching Topeka disappear into the distance. She wouldn’t let Gabe see her cry. His words had hurt, quite a lot, but every single one of them were true. She’d had no right to go over his head and talk to the colonel. She’d had no right to press the issue. Gabe had said no, and that was a no she should have accepted.
She couldn’t explain why she wanted to go to Wichita so badly. Was it just to help investigate this murder, or was there something more? Part of her had to admit that the prospect of spending so much time alone on the train with Gabe was appealing. Who wouldn’t want to be in his company? But now she feared that she’d ruined everything, that he’d never want to speak to her again, let alone have any sort of romantic chat. Romance seemed the furthest thing from his mind right now, and her foolishness made her feel anything but romantic as well.
They rode in silence for quite some time. The air in the passenger car grew stuffy, and Abigail stood and walked to the back to the car, opening the door and stepping out onto the observation platform between cars. Beneath her feet, she could see the tracks as they whizzed by, and she held on to the railing just a little tighter. If she were to lose her balance, her chances of survival would be very slim.
She took several breaths. It was just as hot out here as it had been inside the car, but the air was fresher, untainted by the aromas of sweat and cigars and basic humanity. She squeezed the railing a little tighter, trying to give herself the will to go back inside, but she couldn’t manage it. Not quite yet.
A moment later, Gabe stepped out on the platform. She couldn’t decide if she was happy or sad to see him. She’d come out here not only to escape the stuffy air, but his condemning presence. On the other hand, she liked having him near.
He pulled the door shut. The platform wasn’t large, so he was forced to stand close. The sleeve of his buckskin jacket brushed against her arm, creating a tingle that ran all the way down her back.
She wanted to speak with him, to apologize, to try to break down this barrier that had been created between them, but it was so loud, anything she said would be carried off in the wind or ground under the wheels of the train. She would save her words until they were somewhere quieter. But she had to do something. He had taken the first step by coming out here to be with her. Now she had to reciprocate.
Telling herself to be brave, she slid her arm through his where it rested on the railing. She sensed his sharp intake of breath, but then he placed his hand on top hers and patted it. That would do for now—a momentary truce until they could talk things over. She sighed, happy with whatever she could get.
***
Gabe looked down at Abigail’s hand resting confidingly on his arm. What was she thinking? Did she really believe that she could play with his emotions like this? He wanted to pick up her hand and kiss it, but at the same time, he wanted to pull away. He needed time to sort through all this. His feelings were kept at a low simmer, ready to boil over at any moment, and he worked hard to retain control over them. Now, here she was, yanking the lid off the pot, throwing another log on the fire, and waiting to see what happened without the slightest thought for the explosion that could result.
But that touch on his arm, that gentle peace offering—he couldn’t ignore it. Finally, he laid his hand on top of hers, trusting that the train would go straight several hundred more yards and he wouldn’t be pitched to the side while he wasn’t holding on.
A moment later, the train did rock, and they both let go to clutch the railing again. Gabe instantly missed her touch, even though he didn’t want to admit it to hims
elf. He didn’t need this distraction in his life, and he certainly didn’t need a distraction that fought him every chance it got.
Chapter Six
By the time they stepped off the train in Wichita, Abigail was sure that every inch of her was covered in dust. She pulled out her handkerchief and wiped her face, dismayed to see the crisp white fabric come away smudged with dirt. She was glad she didn’t have a mirror. It was best not to know some things.
“I need to go straight to the marshal’s office and report in,” Gabe told her after he’d collected their bags. “You’ll probably want to go to the hotel and get cleaned up, won’t you? I can meet you there later.”
It was so tempting to send him ahead while she rested and cooled off, but she was a deputy now. “No, I’ll come with you,” she said, clearly surprising him.
“All right. Let’s go.”
When they reached the marshal’s office, they left their bags in the care of the man at the front desk while they met with Deputy Wyatt Earp. He greeted them cordially, his eyes only betraying the slightest curiosity at Abigail’s presence.
“This is Miss Peterson, my associate,” Gabe introduced. “She is a temporary deputy for the city of Topeka and will be assisting me on this case.”
“Welcome, Miss Peterson. Will you both please be seated?” Deputy Earp motioned to two wooden chairs across from his desk. “So, you mentioned in your telegram that Margaret Smith has sought asylum in a church building in your town. Is that correct?”
“It is, Deputy. When she arrived in Topeka, she had a bad bruise on her forehead and couldn’t remember anything about herself, including her name. When I received your telegram and recognized her from the description, I spoke with her, and that triggered most of her memory, but not all. She recalls everything that happened up to a point, and then nothing until she woke up in Topeka.”
“Interesting. Was a doctor brought in?”
“Yes. His name is Phillip Wayment, and he stated that the injury to Mrs. Smith’s forehead could very easily have caused her memory loss.”
A Clear Hope (Kansas Crossroads Book 5) Page 4
