by Karen Kirst
The kids spilled from the tent and gaped at her.
Setting her basket and lamp on the ground, she removed an old tablecloth she’d unearthed in Aunt Mae’s pantry and smoothed it on the grass. “I’ve already eaten, but I’d like to keep you both company. I’ve never had a moonlit picnic.”
Lily inched forward. “Did you bring more cookies?”
Deborah smiled. “I brought something better. Dried apple and walnut cake.”
“Did you hear that, Liam?”
The boy stood silent and still, his fists bunched at his sides, his expression unreadable. The sight broke her heart. Someone had acted atrociously toward these kids to engender such distrust.
Acting as if her welcome was assured, she unloaded the shallow pails and thin dishes. “I hope you like beef. Aunt Mae made a roast with carrots and potatoes.”
Someone’s stomach growled. Ignoring it, Deborah continued in a cheerful tone. “There are yeast rolls, corn on the cob and pickled okra. I’m not sure if you like pickled okra. Personally, I prefer to eat it coated in cornmeal and fried.” Once everything was arranged, she sat back on her haunches and regarded them with a smile. “You don’t have to eat everything. Just take what you want.”
Lily fell to her knees on the cloth and snatched a roll. “This is so good!” she groaned. “Liam, you have to try one.”
“Why are you helping us?” he said.
She got more comfortable and clasped her hands atop her legs. “Because, like you, I’m far from my home and family. I didn’t plan to come here. I found a discarded ticket and used it for the same train you were on.”
Lily polished off her roll. Deborah handed her a plate and spoon. After initial hesitation, she took them and eagerly dished out hefty portions. Liam didn’t move. Beneath the messy fringe of his hair, his big eyes were fixed on Deborah.
“Unlike you, I have a nice room to call my own. I have plenty of food. And I have friends. I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll let me.”
“My sister and I don’t need nobody but each other.”
“You’ve done a good job taking care of her.” Reaching across, she chose a roll, tore off a small bit and popped it in her mouth. “That tent’s a great shelter for summer. I once slept in a tent with my sister. I was nine.” She smiled in remembrance. “We begged our parents to let us sleep in the garden. My mother agreed, even though my father was against the idea. We had the best time.” They’d spent the night in relative comfort, having toted their bedding outside, along with books and dolls. Their mother had asked cook to prepare an assortment of treats. Deborah recalled her father’s ill mood and frowned. “That was our last summer with her. She passed away a couple of months later.”
Lily stopped midchew and tossed a glance at her brother. “Our ma’s gone, too. She and Pa died of the sickness.”
It was as she’d expected. They were orphans. But what had led them to hide on a train to Cowboy Creek? “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Liam trudged closer until the tips of his boots met the blanket. “Why did you run? Was someone mean to you?”
“No. I had a disagreement with my father.” It sounded ridiculous put like that. And immature. “Instead of staying and sorting it out, I bolted.”
“Does he know where you are?”
“Um, no. I’ve been in communication with my sister, however.” She picked up the second plate and held it out. “Eat up, Liam. Before your sister eats it all.”
To her surprise, he did as she suggested. Her heart softened like room temperature butter as he gobbled down the meat and vegetables.
“You know, that tent is great during summer. Once it turns cold, it won’t be enough to keep you warm.”
“We’ll manage somehow,” the boy replied.
“How long have you been on your own?”
The pair’s forks ceased moving, and they shared matching expressions of foreboding.
“I want to help you,” she told them. “I can’t do that if you refuse to tell me what brought you here.”
“Do it, Liam.” Lily looked at Deborah with eyes full of hope.
“You won’t turn us in?” Liam asked.
“I’ll promise not to go to the sheriff if you promise not to run away again.”
Emotions warred on his face. He didn’t trust her. Not completely. “Okay.” The boy’s head dipped, and he set his plate aside. “We’re Liam and Lily Quinn. After our parents died, our great-aunt and -uncle took us in. They didn’t really want us. They made us clean from dawn to dusk and wouldn’t let us go to school.” His hands balled. “I overheard them making plans to ship us off to new families who’d pay handsomely for us.”
“They were going to separate you?” Sell them off like prized cattle? Her dismay leached into her voice.
He lifted his gaze, swirling with fear and fierce determination. “I couldn’t let them.”
“Of course not.” Her spirit heavy, she studied their disheveled appearance. “How long ago was this?”
“A little more than two months.”
This boy had been forced to shoulder adult responsibility, to lose his childlike innocence far before his time. “So you left your guardians and found your way onto the train.”
He nodded, guilt pinching his features. “I know we did wrong, not paying for the ride. But we had to get away from there.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Deborah was quiet as they finished their meal. Inside, her mind was spinning. What should she do? She’d made a promise not to involve the sheriff. She couldn’t tell anyone about her discovery until she’d formulated a plan.
* * *
Adam had snuck into countless hotel rooms and private homes during his Pinkerton career. Not once had his conscience balked. Being in Deborah’s room without her knowledge was having a strange effect on him, however. He felt dirty, as if he was a criminal himself.
It’s because you like her. You’ve developed feelings for her. Deep down, you believe she’s innocent.
If she was innocent, where did she go at this time of night?
“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered.
Calling forth his professional training, he lit one wall sconce and began his search. The hulking wardrobe opposite the bed contained nothing more than dresses, blouses and skirts. Her floral scent surrounded him, distracting him. Quickly moving on to the walnut dresser beside the window, he skimmed the drawers’ contents and pulled them out to check for items adhered to the inner panels. There was nothing.
His relief was hampered by the fact that he was in here in the first place. She’d be horrified if she knew. And hurt.
He glanced at the dark night visible through the patterned curtains. Was she with Ogden at this very moment? Denial warred with worry. Was she safe?
Beneath the bed, he spotted a large black trunk and maneuvered it onto the oval rug. The house’s occupants were in their rooms, having retired over an hour ago. Occasional creaks and groans echoed through the space. Grateful there was no lock, he eased open the lid and received a shock. He choked back an indelicate exclamation.
With unsteady hands, he lifted the white silk and lace creation and laid it atop the maroon bedcovers. A wedding dress. Deborah’s wedding dress.
Adam’s gut churned. While he’d heard of her bride train attire, he hadn’t fully entertained the ramifications. All sorts of crazy thoughts assailed him. Deborah had her quirks, it was true, but she was a rational woman, and rational women didn’t hop onto a train wearing an immaculate wedding dress.
Had Zane Ogden proposed marriage as a way to enlist her aid? His gut churned. Perspiration dotted his forehead. Were they already married?
No. She couldn’t be that good of an actress. Could she?
He was personally vested in this case’s outcome. Russell was right. He’d become obsessed with discovering what truly
happened to their father. Was his judgment trustworthy?
Adam was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t at first hear the approaching steps. By the time they registered, he had mere seconds to stuff the dress into the trunk, shove it into place and duck into the wardrobe. His heart throbbed against his chest as Deborah entered the room.
If she discovered him, she’d scream the walls down and never speak to him again.
Through a pencil-thin slit, he watched as she sank into the desk chair, removed a parchment and began scrawling a message. She sniffled. Swiped at her eyes. Witnessing her distress and not being able to offer her comfort bothered him.
What if she’s crying over Ogden?
He’d heard rumblings of a former Pinkerton agent who’d gotten entangled in a suspect’s web. Adam couldn’t let a failure like that sully his reputation and cancel out the good work he’d done until this point. He couldn’t let Ogden ruin this part of his life, too.
Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed. Perspiration dotted his skin. His legs and back started to protest his hunched position. Lord, let her realize she’s hungry and needs a late-night snack. I have to find a way out.
She dropped her writing utensil and folded the missive with clean, even lines, then stood and arched her back, reaching behind to massage the stiff muscles. What now? Would she cross to his hiding spot in search of her nightclothes? He considered his options. Wait here in this spot and give her a fright she’d never forget? Or abandon his hiding place and attempt to curtail her scream in order to deliver a believable explanation?
The only believable one was the truth. He could imagine how well that would be received. Trust me, Deborah, I don’t make a habit of hiding in women’s rented rooms. I’m simply here to spy on you and ascertain whether or not you’re colluding with the enemy.
To his amazement, she curled onto her side atop the bedcovers without bothering to snuff out the lamps. Time slowed to a crawl. Any minute now, she was going to get up and prepare for the night.
Her deep, rhythmic breathing reached him after some time had passed. He gripped the wardrobe door’s edge. She’d fallen asleep?
Adam waited another interminable amount of time to be certain before easing the doors open. The waft of cooler air was most welcome. Moving stealthily, he righted the wardrobe doors and started for the entrance to the room. But the letter beckoned him. The single bit of parchment could unlock her secrets.
Changing course, he was at the desk when he made the mistake of glancing over at her. Every misgiving receded at the sight of her in repose. Sleep enhanced her innate air of vulnerability. Her beauty ensnared him, lured him closer. Almost before his steps registered, he was at her side, his fingers outstretched to test the softness of her cheek.
At the last second, he snatched back his hand. What he was he doing?
He had to leave. Now.
Snaring the thin blanket from the footboard, he laid it over her and left her room, wondering if he would ever regain his professional footing or if this case would prove his downfall.
Chapter Ten
“Can we, Uncle Adam?”
Adam set his glass between his plate and the basket of dwindling biscuits. He looked at the mischievous-eyed boy seated directly across from him. “You’ll have to forgive me, Harper. My mind was elsewhere. What is it that you’re keen to do?”
The five-year-old glanced uncertainly at his new parents, Seth and Marigold. Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to apologies from adults. There’d been a couple of young drummer boys in the war. Other than that, Adam hadn’t spent much time in the company of children. He was fascinated and—dare he say it—slightly intimidated by the three little brothers whom Seth had “inherited” from a former friend.
“I’m new to this uncle business. I’m counting on you and your brothers to guide me.” His smile encompassed the boys as well as Violet, Marigold’s young niece. The child had recently lost her only living parent and come to live with Marigold before being adopted by the couple.
The oldest and most serious of the boys, Tate, nodded sagely. “You can count on us, sir.”
Little John, the three-year-old, leaned into Marigold’s side and hid his face. Marigold curved her arm around his thin shoulders and hugged him close. Adam caught the affectionate smiles she and Seth exchanged and experienced a stirring of longing.
Thoughts of Deborah taunted him. His mouth went dry. He couldn’t stop thinking about that wedding dress. After that close call in her room Sunday, he’d kept busy the past three days, spending as little time in her presence as possible. If she’d noticed, she’d made no indication. In fact, she’d been more distracted than usual.
Contemplating the food remaining on his plate, he wondered how he’d manage to finish it.
Seated beside him, his mother tapped his wrist. “Is everything all right, Adam?”
All right? No. Nothing had been right since he’d arrived in Cowboy Creek and encountered a woman who’d upended his world.
“The meal is delicious. I’ve simply lost my appetite.”
Evelyn’s hazel eyes communicated concern.
He patted her hand. “I’m fine, Ma. Out of sorts, that’s all.”
“What are sorts?” Harper looked to Seth for an explanation. “Did he lose them? I can help you look, Uncle Adam.”
As Marigold chuckled and Seth’s eyes twinkled, Adam replied, “Marigold will explain it while you help your grandmother wash the dishes.”
The meal ended soon after, to Adam’s relief. His brother invited him out to the barn. The sun was an orange-yellow ball hanging above the horizon, yet the stifling heat lingered. Seth stopped at the corral closest to the barn and offered a small carrot to the sorrel mare who ambled over to greet them.
“What’s troubling you, Adam?”
Propping his arms on the top fence rung, he gazed across the verdant fields. “This case. I paid a visit to the newspaperman, Sam Woods Mason. He proved too discerning for me to get anywhere.”
“Not surprised. He’s a professional through and through.”
“I’m not making progress with the ranchers, either. I’m an outsider.”
Seth nodded. “It was the same way in Missouri, remember? We didn’t welcome strangers with open arms. Not until we took their measure.”
“I remember.”
Being on this ranch was bringing memories to the forefront. While this spread was considerably smaller than their previous holdings, it was a prime spot to ranch and raise a family. For a brief moment, he entertained thoughts of the future, beyond the capture of his most elusive prey. He hadn’t even heard of Cowboy Creek two months ago, but it was growing on him. He’d lived apart from his family for too long.
“You’re part of the community,” he told Seth. “The locals trust you. Would you consider asking around to see if anyone can give a good description of the Maroni brothers?”
“Of course.” His jaw firmed. “I want Ogden behind bars as much as you do.”
“I know. I’m sorry for the things I said all those years ago.”
“No more apologies or lamenting the past. Let’s focus on the present.”
The horse nudged Adam’s elbow. Straightening, he rubbed her neck and mane. “I don’t have any treats for you, old girl.”
Seth crossed his arms. Beneath his battered Stetson, his eyes assumed an indiscernible gleam. “Now that you’ve told me about the case, why don’t you tell me what’s really put that glum expression on your face?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve never known you to turn away Ma’s cooking.” One brow inched up. “Is a certain baker giving you problems?”
“You’ve spoken to Russell, haven’t you?” Adam let out an exasperated sigh. Confidentiality hadn’t ever been their strong suit. “He told you about my suspicions.”
�
��He was upset that you suspect Deborah.”
“How can I not when she keeps slipping out of the boardinghouse after dark and acts jumpy if anyone questions her?” The frustration he’d wrestled with for days leaked into his tone. Never before had he yearned for someone to be innocent.
“You could tell her the truth about why you’re here. Gauge her reaction.”
“And risk destroying my biggest case?”
His face wreathed in sympathy, Seth said, “You’re not getting paid. No one hired you. The Pinkertons aren’t counting on you. If you’ve developed feelings for this woman, I wouldn’t blame you for being tempted to give up the chase.”
“Give up?” The notion was foreign to him. “And let Ogden go unpunished?”
“You’ve devoted years of your life to hunting him. He’s the inadvertent reason you joined the army. When will it end, Adam? When will you cease letting Ogden dictate your decisions?”
“I’m not doing this just for me. I’m doing this for you and Russ and Ma.” His gut churned. “Pa deserves justice. We all know he didn’t run off in shame. Ogden murdered him. He hid the body, cheating him of a proper burial, and spread lies that tarnished the Halloway name. I won’t stop until Ogden is either behind bars or six feet under.”
His brother looked torn. “I respect your commitment to our family’s legacy. I admire your grit and single-minded determination. And I know that as long as he’s free, other innocent people are at risk at falling victim to his schemes. But you’re my little brother. I hate to admit this, but I wish someone else could assume responsibility. I’m afraid this worthy cause has become an obsession.”
Overwhelmed, Adam’s mind emptied of rational argument. Seth’s praise meant a lot. Before he could protest the obsession accusation, a lone rider appeared on the lane leading from town.
“You expecting company?”
“No.” Seth squinted into the distance. “I see the glint of a badge. Must be the sheriff. Can’t imagine what would bring him here.”
Alarm skittered along Adam’s spine. “We’re not supposed to know each other.”
