She glanced around to check for eavesdroppers. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I know who the cigarette butts belong to.” He kept his voice low.
Flashing him a smile, she set the empty tray on the veranda steps. “You sure do know how to get a girl’s attention.”
He stepped closer and caught a pleasant whiff of lavender. “Don’t I, though?”
She gazed up at him. “Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”
The way she looked all smiling and warm, he would have told her anything she wanted to know. “They belong to Feedbag. They’re from Egypt. Some of the boys don’t like the strong odor so they make him smoke outside. What I don’t understand is how he can afford Egyptian cigarettes on a ranch hand’s salary.”
“They were a gift from his brother,” she said.
Ah, so she was testing him. “He doesn’t have a brother. Since obviously you’ve checked up on the man, you must know that his real name is Willard Day.”
“Willard R. Day from Indiana,” she said without missing a beat. “His father was a flatboats man.”
“And his mother a teacher,” he added.
“He left home at sixteen,” she continued. “Went to Mexico and eventually wound up in Texas.”
“Where he worked for a time on the King Ranch.” He couldn’t remember enjoying himself more. He didn’t touch her, at least not physically, but it wasn’t hard to imagine her in his arms. Imagine kissing her. He shook the thought away.
She gave her head a slight toss. “He left the ranch under suspicious circumstances.”
“Nothing suspicious about them. He was having an affair with one of the owners’ daughters.”
Her eyes turned the light from the ranch house window into stars. “And was later tried and almost hung for horse theft.”
He shrugged. “But obviously got away.”
“So do you think he’s the Phantom?” she asked.
“Do you?”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Let’s just say I’m keeping an open mind.”
“An open mind is good.” He lifted his hand to her face and ran a knuckle down her silky soft skin. “So where does this leave us, partner?” He lowered his head but stopped short of capturing her mouth with his own.
She pressed her hands against his chest and her touch seemed to burn right through him. “We’re not—”
“Don’t worry,” he breathed. “I’m not going to kiss you. I don’t want to be accused of using you to gain information.” It took every bit of effort he could muster to pull away. “The next time I kiss you—and there will be a next time—there must be no question as to my real motive.”
He turned and walked away. Hearing her quick intake of breath, he smiled. Unless he missed his guess, she craved his kiss every bit as much as he craved hers.
“You’re wrong,” she called after him. Her voice was loud enough for him to hear, but too low to carry much beyond the courtyard walls. “Feedbag does have a brother. A half brother.”
He kept walking. He might have been wrong about Feedbag, but he wasn’t wrong about the lady.
Chapter 25
You can’t take it with you—but an embezzler will try.
On the day of the church bazaar the temperature soared into the high eighties. Despite the heat, Annie enjoyed the festivities.
Held outside on church property, the bazaar’s main purpose was to raise funds for the Children’s Aid Society. It also afforded townsfolk the opportunity to catch up on the latest gossip.
As head of the decorating committee, Aunt Bessie had left no stone, cactus, or telephone pole unadorned. Planks of wood strung across whiskey barrels served as booths and were decorated with ribbons and colorful fabric. Even the church steeple was wrapped in red, white, and blue bunting.
Annie felt bad that she hadn’t been able to talk Miss Walker into coming, but the ranch owner refused to even consider it.
According to Ruckus, it was because some church ladies protested her divorce by refusing to buy her beef. “After that she even stopped going to church,” he’d explained.
What a pity. It would do the ranch owner a world of good to get out of the house and socialize. Since nothing could be done about Miss Walker, Annie concentrated on her own reasons for coming.
Social affairs often proved valuable to operatives. The best way to glean information was when people’s guards were down, and that was usually when they were having a good time. However, it wasn’t the chatter around her that commanded attention—it was Taggert. No matter how many times she pulled her drifting thoughts together, she couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.
A small group of musicians struck up the band and music filled the air, adding to the festivities. She recognized some but not all of the musicians. Stretch played the fiddle, Able the harmonica, and Wishbone a drum.
Annie held her parasol at an angle so she could watch Taggert unseen. He had his disguise down to perfection. Everything from his well-worn boots to his work-stained hat pegged him as one of the many migrant cowpokes who drifted from ranch to ranch taking whatever work was available.
Men ate up his joking banter, women blushed and giggled at his smile, and Annie’s heart ached with envy. God forgive her, but she wanted Taggert all to herself.
He moved from group to group like a friendly puppy looking for a treat. His sharp glances and attentive ear told Annie he was on full investigative alert, though no one would ever guess it by his easy smile.
“The next time I kiss you . . .” The memory of those words filled her with such longing she could hardly breathe.
With a shake of her head she strolled from booth to booth.
She avoided the crowd lined up in front of the baked goods. Able’s cinnamon rolls and macaroons were selling fast. When he wasn’t playing in the band, the affable cook seemed to enjoy swapping recipes with some of the older women.
Spotting Michael, she hurried over to join him. She had to do something to take her mind off Taggert.
The smithy greeted her with a polite tip of his hat. “Miss Beckman.”
“Michael.”
“Do the locks work to your satisfaction?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. They work just fine.” She followed his gaze to a small group. “Your young lady . . . is she here? You must point her out to me.”
Michael’s face turned tomato red. “Yes, ma’am, she’s here.” He cast a worried glance at his aunt before pointing her out. “That’s her over there.”
The object of his affection was a pretty blonde dressed in a blue gingham dress. The perfectly coiffed hair beneath a flower-trimmed hat seemed almost too staid for such lively features.
“I’m going to ask Charity to marry me.”
Judging by the attention the girl was drawing from a bevy of other young men, Michael had better do it soon. “She’s very pretty,” Annie said, bringing a grin to Michael’s face. “You really ought to tell your aunt. She’s going to find out sooner or later.”
“She thinks she knows better who I should marry.” He made a face. “You won’t believe the women she’s picked out for me.”
“Your aunt means well.”
Charity’s high-pitched laughter drew Michael’s loving gaze.
Annie gave him a little shove in the girl’s direction. “I have a feeling she needs to be rescued from that annoying man.” The man in question was clinging to Charity’s every word. “You’d better go and save her.”
After Michael left, she made a valiant but fruitless attempt to ignore Taggert. Accepting defeat, she scanned the crowd and spotted him in deep conversation with the banker. Both men looked serious and she wished she could hear what they were talking about.
Aunt Bessie sidled up to her side. “I’m so glad you could make it, dearie.”
“So am I.” Annie drew her gaze away from the two men and checked out the display of aprons, embroidered linens, and bonnets for sale at one of the booths. “How are you?”
<
br /> “Busy.” Aunt Bessie ran her hand over a quilt. “Now that the telephone has reached the ranch, I hardly have a moment to myself.”
Annie frowned. “But Miss Walker refuses to use the phone.”
Aunt Bessie rolled her eyes. “The ranch hands more than make up for it.”
“Really? I wouldn’t think they’d have that many calls to make.”
“You’d be surprised. That new man, Branch, is always calling the bank. Doesn’t it seem strange that a cowhand would have so much financial business to discuss? And what they discuss never makes sense. It’s like they’re talking in a foreign language. Not that I listen in, of course.”
“Of course not,” Annie said politely.
“Then of course there’s Stretch. He calls twice a day to ask if Miss Winston has a phone yet. Then O.T. is always calling Green’s to see if some order has arrived.”
“Sounds like the town’s going to have to hire a second hello girl,” Annie said.
“They’ve already talked about hiring Charity.” Not even Aunt Bessie’s heavy-handed face paint could hide her disapproval. “What an annoying girl.” She pointed to the object of Michael’s affection. Every last suitor seemed to be mesmerized by the girl, Michael most of all.
“She looks like a very nice person,” Annie said.
“Maybe so,” Aunt Bessie muttered, “but she hasn’t got a brain in that head of hers. I’d sooner spend my days with a dumb mule.”
It appeared that Michael had good reason to worry about his aunt’s opinion. Annie picked up a dime novel, which earned Aunt Bessie’s approving nod. The title of the book was Cactus Joe: Master of Disguise.
“That was written by my nephew’s wife.”
“Oh yes, I met her at church. Is she here?”
“Yes, but she doesn’t plan to stay long because of the heat.” Aunt Bessie pantomimed a rounded belly with her hand. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to sign it for you.” She chose a book from the stack. “This one is better,” she said in a hushed tone. She shoved it into Annie’s hand. The title read Miss Hattie’s Dilemma.
“That’s the one I told you was banned in Boston.” Aunt Bessie fanned her face with her hand and Annie laughed.
Annie reached into her purse for her money. “I guess that explains why it’s so popular. I’ve seen it in the most unexpected places.” The memory of the cave and Taggert’s kiss brought a flush to her already heated face.
“Oh dear, I made you blush, but don’t worry. It’s not that bad. It’s just very romantic.”
“I look forward to reading it,” Annie said, paying the woman behind the counter.
“Oh, there’s that nice-looking man again.” She pointed to Taggert. “The one who’s always calling the bank. Do you think I could interest him in Miss Chase?”
“The one who hasn’t got a brain in her head?” Annie asked.
Aunt Bessie didn’t look the least bit chagrined. Instead she turned her gaze on her nephew in the distance and frowned. “I’ve got to do something to get her away from Michael.”
“I don’t think Branch plans on staying in Cactus Patch for very long,” Annie said, surprised by the sudden surge of emotion that rushed through her upon thinking of Taggert with another woman. Not jealousy. It couldn’t be jealousy. God, please don’t let it be jealousy, because that would mean . . .
Michael had managed to pull the young woman away from the others and the expression on Aunt Bessie’s face looked like a storm cloud. “What on earth does Michael see in the girl?”
“Michael said she reads the stories he writes,” Annie said. “That seems to mean a lot to him.”
“Harrumph. I didn’t even know she could read.”
“It would seem like the two of you have a lot in common. You didn’t know she could read and she doesn’t know what a kind, charitable woman you are.”
Aunt Bessie scoffed. “Like I said, hasn’t got a brain in her head.”
Annie sighed. Michael had his work cut out for him. She tucked her newly purchased book in her purse, excused herself, and made a beeline to the lemonade stand where Taggert had just purchased a drink.
She armored herself with an air of professionalism, but he immediately disarmed her with his smile. “Having a good time?”
She fought for composure. “Not as good as you’re having.”
He turned to the youth in the booth and tossed a coin on the counter. “Pour one for the lady.”
The youth filled a glass with lemonade and handed it to Annie.
“Thank you.” She took a sip of the cool, sweet beverage. They moved from the booth and away from the music where they could talk.
She sensed his disquiet. “Find out anything?”
Troubled eyes met hers. “There was another bank robbery.”
She stiffened. “When?”
“Day before yesterday. Stackman and I decided to keep it quiet for now.”
Thursday. “What do you know? Lightning does strike twice,” she said. “Any ideas?”
“A couple.” He took a sip of his beverage. “Ladies first.”
“Always a gentleman.” She purposely kept him waiting while she took a long drink. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I left the ranch early that morning.” Now that Miss Walker was on crutches, Annie was expected to learn ranching. “Ruckus and I repaired fences and checked the water on the north boundary.”
“See anyone else while you were out there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No one.” She waited and when he failed to volunteer any information, she inclined her head. “Your turn.”
“I saw you talking to Michael.”
Knowing he’d been watching her made her feel all tingly inside.
“I think it’s him,” he continued. “Do you?”
Okay, so he hadn’t been watching her; Michael was his object of interest.
“No!”
Her emphatic response made him draw back. “Me either.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Still, we can’t discount him completely. He wasn’t at morning prayer that day, nor did he show up for work until noon.”
Michael was definitely not an early bird, but for good reason. According to Ruckus, if Michael wasn’t with Charity, he stayed up late writing. She started to explain Michael’s absence but a nearby group of youths playing mumblety-peg yelled out, drowning her voice. Another boy stepped forward to take his turn throwing the knife and the group fell silent.
“Michael has taken a fancy to that young woman over there in blue.” Annie pointed to one of the game booths where Michael and Charity were taking turns tossing rings onto milk bottles. “I can assure you that robbing banks has never crossed his mind.”
“Is that the opinion of a private eye or simply women’s intuition?” he asked, and the intensity in his eyes made her blush.
“Both.”
He cleared his voice and looked away as if the shared moment had been as powerful for him as it was for her. “And I don’t remember seeing Stretch.”
“Stretch drove into town that day for supplies.” She remembered distinctly because he mailed a letter for her. “He likes to get an early start.”
He seemed to weigh her words. “Stretch just happened to be in town during both bank robberies. He’s in town almost as much as Michael. And don’t forget, the day I was attacked, Stretch’s horse appeared to have been ridden.”
Her gaze drifted over to where Stretch danced with a short red-headed woman. Miss Winston, no doubt. The tall ranch hand was practically doubled over to accommodate their differences in height. Was he the one? She fervently hoped not, but she couldn’t allow personal feelings to interfere with an investigation.
“Do you think it’s Stretch?” she asked.
“He did admit to robbing a bank.”
“Accidentally robbing a bank.” She still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she’d missed something. “The time element bothers me. The robberies are getting closer together.”
“I’ve been thinking
the same thing.” Taggert thought for a moment. “He now seems more interested in robbing banks than trains and stages, which means he’s probably working alone.”
“It seems like our guy is under some sort of pressure and he’s starting to take risks.” She took a sip of lemonade. “Do you think all that talk about a Wells Fargo detective being in town has him running scared?”
“If that’s true, he has a funny way of showing it. If I was scared I wouldn’t be robbing banks. I’d lay low.”
What Taggert said made sense.
He finished his lemonade and set his empty glass on a tray. “Stackman is meeting me tomorrow at the bank so I can have a look around.”
“I’ll be there too,” she said, though she doubted they’d find anything.
His brows drew together. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll . . . let you know if I uncover any clues.”
“How very thoughtful of you.” She had no intention of being shut out. “But if you don’t mind, I prefer to do my own investigating.”
She set her glass down on the counter and turned to leave. He stopped her with a hand to her arm.
His eyes caught hers and held. “Annie—”
A high-pitched scream pierced the air and a woman’s voice yelled, “Help! We need a doctor.”
The music stopped and a hushed silence followed as all eyes turned to stare at the home goods booth where a matronly woman frantically waved her arms.
Dr. Fairbanks rushed to the woman’s side and dropped to his knees. That’s when Annie saw the banker, Mr. Stackman, lying facedown on the ground.
Chapter 26
Running a shady business is no way to live a sunny life.
Poison!” Miss Walker’s face turned almost as gray as her hair. “You can’t be serious. Is Robert all right?”
Annie sat on the sofa. “He’s at the dispensary, but he’s going to be fine. Fortunately he received excellent medical care.” Thank God the doctor was nearby, saving precious time.
She took hold of Miss Walker’s hands. The palms were calloused, the nails square cut, and the skin brown as old leather and almost as tough.
Gunpowder Tea (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Page 21
