Elizabeth had been willing to believe that the first shot was an accident or the work of a hunter who didn’t realize how close he was to the road, but the second shot told her this was deliberate. Her heart pounded in her chest as she jounced along, completely at Cleophas’s mercy—he wouldn’t obey any of her commands.
As they reached the small stand of trees along the way, two men stepped out of the shadows and held up their arms as if to slow down the horse. Was it any wonder that these were the same two men who had been pestering her? Any fear she might have felt was chased away and replaced by nothing but pure anger. Cleophas didn’t pay them any heed, but raced right past them, and she didn’t try to stop him that time.
A short distance down the road, Cleophas threw a shoe, and came to a halt. Elizabeth slid out of the saddle, gathered up the reins, and began to lead him, glancing over her shoulder the whole way. Thankfully, the edge of town was in sight, and she had no idea where the men had gone.
“What on earth?” Tom met her in the yard as she led Cleophas through the back gate.
“He threw a shoe,” she said, a little winded from walking so quickly.
“He threw a shoe?” Tom echoed. “I reshod him just two days ago.”
“What’s the matter?”
Elizabeth turned at the sound of Mr. Brody’s voice. She immediately became aware of her dusty dress, her disheveled hair, her ragged breathing. She must look a sight.
“Miss Caldwell here says that Cleophas threw a shoe.” Tom bent down, took the horse’s foot in his hands, and inspected it. “Well, I’ll be.”
“What is it, Tom?” Mr. Brody bent over to see where Tom was pointing.
“I’d be willing to wager quite a lot of money that the horseshoe nails were loosened. I have a rather particular way of driving the nails, one I picked up from a fellow along the road, and if you look here, you’ll see that the nails were wiggled back and forth a bit. I know full well what these hooves looked like two days ago, and I know full well that these shoes were not loose.”
Mr. Brody straightened and met Elizabeth’s eye. She looked at him for a moment, and then down at the ground. Her heart had calmed down from her fright, but now it pounded again because of the depth of intensity in his gaze.
“Miss Caldwell, why don’t you get a drink of water and refresh yourself, and I’ll see you in my office in ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, bobbing a quick curtsy before scurrying off. Once out of his sight, she pulled out her handkerchief and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She had a terrible feeling about this, a sense that things were about to become much more dangerous.
Chapter Eleven
Adam was incensed. Why would someone sabotage one of his animals? Did they wish to see his hotel fail? Or was this a more personal attack—one on Miss Caldwell herself? He ran his hand through his hair, clenching his fist and tugging on the hair at the roots. Why would anyone seek to harm her? She was such a kind, gentle soul—she couldn’t have an enemy in the world.
At the soft rapping he heard on the door, he called out, “Come in,” and took a seat behind his desk. He could keep pacing his room like a caged tiger, but he didn’t imagine that would do any good.
Miss Caldwell entered, her hair now smoothed, her demeanor less ruffled. “I’m here,” she said needlessly.
“So I see. Please sit down.”
She glanced at the chair he indicated. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay standing.”
“But if you remain standing, then I shall have to stand, and quite frankly, I’m a bit worn out.”
A faint smile brushed across her lips. “Very well, then.” She took a seat, but didn’t look at all more relaxed.
“I’ve been going over and over it in my mind,” Adam said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk. “Why would someone loosen my horse’s shoe? The answer isn’t coming to me, and so I must turn to you, Miss Caldwell. I think you know more about this than you’ve said.”
She studied her hands. He couldn’t read the expression on her face at all.
“Miss Caldwell, we need to discuss this. I don’t know why you’re refusing to be more forthcoming—unless you loosened that shoe yourself.”
At that, her eyes came up and met his, which was precisely what he’d hoped. “I did no such thing, Mr. Brody, I assure you. There are two men who loiter around town, mostly outside the saloon, who enjoy . . . speaking to me as I walk past. Lately, they’ve been waiting for me on the road to my house.”
Adam’s fists clenched. “Waiting for you? Do you mean to say that they know where you live?”
She nodded. “I suspected that they did, but today confirms it. I believe they crept into the yard while I was inside, and loosened the shoe for my ride back. Then they shot their guns—or rather, had someone else shoot their guns—behind me to make the horse run.”
Adam pressed his lips together for a moment, trying to hold back his anger. “And when they speak to you, what sorts of things do they say?”
Miss Caldwell glanced at the window, and Adam wondered if she would answer. “They comment on my . . . person, sir,” she said at length. “They asked if I had come to town to work at the saloon.”
Adam couldn’t contain himself any longer. He jumped up from his chair and began striding around the room. How could any man put a woman through such a thing? Accosting her on the street, questioning her moral fiber, making her fear for her safety, and then willfully trying to harm her? He stopped in the corner and took several deep breaths.
“And how are you now, Miss Caldwell?” he asked as mildly as he could.
“I’m all right, but shaken, sir.”
Adam returned to his desk and noticed that she still looked frightened. He didn’t suppose his angry reactions were helping any. “I’ll speak to the marshal about this,” he said. “You can tell me what these men look like?”
“Yes, I can. They’re very familiar to me by now.”
He blinked. “Just how long has this been going on?”
“Since the day I applied for work here, sir.”
Adam pounded one fist on the desk. “That’s been several days now. Why didn’t you say anything before?”
She lifted one shoulder, her eyes helpless. “I didn’t think it was your problem, sir.”
Adam stood up again. “Don’t you suppose that anything that troubles one of my employees is my problem?” He realized he was shouting and sat down again, trying to soften his tone. She certainly didn’t deserve his anger. “And don’t you suppose that as a decent man, I would hate to see a decent woman be treated in this way?”
She looked down at her hands again, and he noticed that she’d been ramrod straight this entire time. The poor girl was terrified—of what, he didn’t know. He prayed she wasn’t frightened of him—he wouldn’t be able to bear that. He came around the desk and took one knee in front of her, placing his hand on the armrest of her chair.
“Miss Caldwell, let us be friends. I would like you to feel as though you can come to me with any problem you might have, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Friends, sir?”
“Friends, Miss Caldwell. We will attack this situation together, and we shall conquer it. You must promise me, though, that you’ll tell me everything from now on. I can’t help you if I don’t know you need help.”
Her eyes flickered away from his, but then came back, clear and bright. “I would like that very much.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He stood. “I’ll go meet with the marshal now. Please write down a description of the two men on the paper I set on my desk.” As she reached for the pen, he added, “And Tom will pick you up in the mornings and escort you to your home each day.”
She came to her feet so quickly, she almost knocked over her chair. “Oh, no, sir. That’s not needed. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Adam was confused at her reaction, but he couldn’t allow her to have her w
ay in this. “Miss Caldwell, your safety is the most important thing at this moment, and you cannot argue with me.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then clamped her lips together again. She gave a quick nod and then said, “Thank you.”
“Get to work on that description. I’ll tell Miss Hampton what’s going on—she must know, not only for your safety, but the safety of all the girls in the house.” He paused. “There’s no way for you to move into the hotel? Your house is hardly located in a safe place.”
“I can’t leave my mother, sir.”
Adam thought about that for a moment. There was an old caretaker’s cottage on the property, and he knew that Tom planned to fix it up. Perhaps . . . but he was moving too quickly. The first step would be to report the incident to the city marshal.
Miss Caldwell turned and handed him the sheet of paper. Her penmanship was neat and tight, evidence of good breeding and education. And yet she worked at a hotel—what circumstances had brought her here? Girls with her background usually married young and kept fine houses for their husbands. He was almost curious enough to ask her, but then his thoughts returned to the matter at hand.
“I’ll return in a bit. In the meantime, see what tasks my aunt has for you. I’ll speak to her on my way out.” Clutching the paper, he strode down the hallway, willing his anger to subside once again. These men would not get away with this.
* * *
As Adam walked toward the city marshal’s office, he kept alert for two men who matched the description Miss Caldwell had given him. He didn’t see anyone, but that was just as well—if he had seen them, he might have taken off after them himself, and he knew that the best thing would be to let the marshal handle it.
He explained the situation to Colonel Gordon in detail and handed over Miss Caldwell’s note.
“That’s a very curious thing,” Colonel Gordon said, nodding several times. “Very curious indeed.”
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
“I just had a Mr. Wyatt Earp in here not two days ago looking for some men who match this description. He’s the deputy city marshal for the town of Wichita and has been traveling to surrounding towns, asking for help.”
“Just what are these men wanted for?”
Colonel Gordon scratched his head. “One of ’em, not sure which one, shot and killed a saloon keeper in Wichita. There was some kind of dustup about a card game, and things got a little heated. They’ve also got a history of being unkind to the ladies.”
Adam cursed under his breath. If these were the same men, Miss Caldwell might be in even more danger than he’d thought. “Do you know where Mr. Earp is now, what town he was visiting next? I’d like to talk this matter over with him.”
Colonel Gordon shook his head. “I don’t. We could send a telegram to his office in Wichita and tell him we might have more information for him, though. They’d know where to find him.”
Adam nodded. “I suppose that’s our best option at this point. Thank you, Colonel. In the meantime, will you help keep an eye out for these men? I now have five women under my care, and I don’t want anything else to happen to a single one of them.”
“Absolutely. I’ll call my men together immediately and get them on the lookout.”
Adam left the marshal’s office feeling completely frustrated. Colonel Gordon had been nothing but agreeable, but Adam wanted answers, a solution. He looked up and down the street again and decided to pay the saloon a quick visit. If these men were to be found in public, that was probably the most likely place.
He pushed through the swinging doors and was immediately met by a thick cloud of cigar smoke. He’d never picked up that habit—cigars reminded him of a detested great-uncle, and he’d never been tempted to try one for himself. As he glanced around, he noticed a few card games in progress, but the establishment was relatively quiet. It would most likely become busier later in the day and into the night.
He walked up to the bar and rested his foot on the brass rail that ran around the bottom of it. “Afternoon. May I speak with the owner, please?”
The bartender looked up from the glass he was polishing. “Who should I tell him has had the pleasure of calling?”
Adam bit back a smile at the man’s attempt to sound formal. “I’m Adam Brody. I bought the Garrison mansion down the street, and I’m converting it into a hotel.”
“I do believe we’ve heard of you, Mr. Brody. I’ll go get Tim Barton. He owns this place.” The bartender set down the glass and flipped his towel over his shoulder before walking into a back room. Adam looked at the glass without picking it up. For all the polishing it was getting, it didn’t look very clean.
A portly gentleman in a striped vest came from the back room and held out his hand toward Adam. “Mr. Brody, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but fine things about you since you arrived in town . . . when was that, again?”
“I’ve been in Topeka about six months, sir. The pleasure is all mine.” Adam shook the offered hand, noting how fleshy it felt.
“I’ve been meaning to pay you a visit.” Mr. Barton gestured toward a table near the bar, and Adam took a seat. Mr. Barton lowered himself into a chair just opposite him and unbuttoned his vest. “Tell me a little bit about your hotel.”
“Our aim is to serve the travelers on the railroad. We’ll have hot meals ready for them when the train pulls into the station, and if they need a place to spend the night, why, we’ll have those ready for them as well. We realize we aren’t the only hotel in town, but we hope to serve the railroad specifically, and the town too, if they have a need.”
Mr. Barton nodded. “And . . . entertainment?”
Adam understood the concern. “We aren’t in the entertainment industry, Mr. Barton. A hot meal and a clean bed are all we aim to provide. If any of our guests are in the mood for a card game or some other diversion, we’ll send them down your way.”
Mr. Barton nodded. “And likewise, I imagine I could send some of my customers up for a meal from time to time.” He leaned back in his chair and wove his fingers together across his stomach. “What brings you by today, Mr. Brody? Can I offer you a drink? On the house, of course.”
“No, thank you. I’m here on somewhat urgent business, not pleasure, I’m afraid. One of my female employees has been targeted by two men who have been hanging around town, most often near your saloon. One is tall and dark, with a drooping mustache, and wears a gun holster slung low around his hips. The other is shorter, also dark, with a fairly large nose. Both men wear shabby clothes, and their boots are nearly worn through the toes.”
“That’s quite a detailed description,” Mr. Barton commented.
“My employee takes notice of things.”
Mr. Barton looked thoughtful. “I think I might have seen those two men. I did spot a couple of fellows like that out front several times over the last week. I tend to pay more attention to the looks of the ladies, myself.” He chortled. “I haven’t seen the men today, though.”
“Would you please let Colonel Gordon know if you do see them? They’re wanted men—they killed someone in Wichita. In fact, it was a saloon keeper.” Adam didn’t know if this last bit of information would make Mr. Barton more or less likely to help him, but it couldn’t hurt.
Mr. Barton laughed. “I’d best be on my toes, then. Yes, Mr. Brody, I’ll be sure to let the colonel know. I’m not any more eager than the next man to see our town get overrun by outlaws.”
Adam rose and shook Mr. Barton’s hand again. “I appreciate it, and I’m glad we had a chance to meet. Maybe one of these days, when I have a little more time, I’ll come back and have that drink.”
“Any time. You’re always welcome.”
As Adam left the establishment, he caught sight of one of the saloon girls as she came downstairs from an upper level. She waggled her fingers at him, but he did nothing more than tip his hat and walk back out through the swinging doors. He couldn’t help but wonder wha
t had brought her to such a life—had she been orphaned? Left penniless by the death of a husband? He felt compassion for her, even though he had no desire to spend time with her.
Then his thoughts went to Elizabeth—er, Miss Caldwell, rather. How those men could even insinuate that she would ever take a job at the saloon? His anger boiled up inside him again, and he made a decision. He would visit every business along this street and make everyone aware of what had taken place. Miss Caldwell, and every other woman in town, deserved to feel safe.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth sat on Jeanette’s bed up in the ladies’ dormitory, telling her story to her three enraptured friends.
“You must have been frightened out of your wits,” Harriet said, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm. “I probably would have fainted on the spot.”
Elizabeth smiled. “No, I don’t think so. You would have hopped off the horse, driven the nail back in by the sheer force of your will, and then blasted those men across the fields and into the nearest river.”
“I don’t know about that,” Harriet protested.
“You’ve certainly got Tom White afraid of you,” Abigail inserted, and everyone nodded.
Harriet pressed her lips together, trying to hide a smile, but Elizabeth could see it twitching at the corners of her mouth. “All right, perhaps I am a bit of a handful. But I still don’t know how Elizabeth managed to be so brave.”
Elizabeth shrugged. She didn’t know how to answer that question—it had all happened so fast, and she hadn’t given any thought whatsoever to what she should do. “I’d better go. Tom’s going to give me a ride home, and I’m sure he’s waiting.”
“Just watch yourself with him,” Harriet warned. “He just may be the biggest danger around this place.”
“I’m positive I’ll be just fine,” Elizabeth said, telling everyone good night. She shook her head as she went down the stairs to the second floor. Harriet and Tom would have to make peace eventually or things would never run smoothly at this hotel.
A New Beginning Page 7
