by Jillian Hart
She’d heard about justice in the West. Dreadful prison sentences. Public hangings.
She crossed the room, pacing fitfully.
If she somehow managed to escape prosecution, she’d surely be sent back home in disgrace. She’d been lucky when Aunt Sadie had stepped in and saved her from humiliation in Richmond, but no one else was going to do that. What would her father do this time? Send her to a convent? Marry her off to some distant relative in Maine?
Brynn froze and clasped her palms to her cheeks. She had to leave. Now. Tonight. She had to escape Harmony before Travis Hollister ruined the one chance Aunt Sadie had given her to salvage her future.
She flung her belongings into her valise, stuffing in everything she could fit. The trunks that had accompanied her from Hayden were filled with her aunt’s books; she’d leave them with instructions for Mrs. Millburn to ship them back to Hayden.
Opening the door, Brynn heard voices floating up the stairwell. She ducked back inside and closed the door silently.
She’d have to wait until it was late, very late, and the hotel was quiet. She would hide the jewelry case in the hotel kitchen, then slip through the alleys to the train station. She’d board the next train bound for—well, she didn’t care where she went, as long as she got out of Harmony. She’d find her way back to Aunt Sadie somehow.
A feeling of calm swept over Brynn. Her plan was a good one.
It would work. She’d be away from this town and, more important, she’d never lay eyes on that terrible Travis Hollister again.
Chapter Three
Maybe she wouldn’t show.
Travis leaned against the side of Holt’s General Store, invisible in the darkness. The alley that ran between the store and the hotel gave him the perfect spot to keep watch. He’d seen no one on Main Street for a while now. Lights in the windows had been extinguished some time ago. He waited with nothing to do but think.
And all he could think about was Brynn O’Keefe. She’d occupied his thoughts since this morning when he’d boarded the train in Hayden, trailing Hiram Smith.
She was pretty. Different from the young women he usually encountered, dressed in fine clothing, with that little hat tipped forward in her dark hair. She’d been easy on the eye as he’d watched her from across the train aisle.
Warmth grew inside Travis as he recalled the curve of her chin and those big blue eyes of hers, which he’d glimpsed when she’d dared to look his way.
Innocent. That’s how she looked. Innocent.
Travis shifted and checked the alley in both directions, but saw nothing.
Miss Brynn O’Keefe looked innocent, all right, but did that mean she was innocent? She’d had a guilty expression on her face when he’d said the word jewelry to her earlier in the hotel lobby. He’d seen that look before, many times. He knew what it meant.
Travis tried to picture her as an accomplice to a jewelry thief.
A possibility, certainly. Maybe that innocent demeanor of hers was what had won over that old Houston couple.
He’d know soon enough.
Hiram Smith had taken a room at Fletcher’s Boarding House.
Travis had given her son two bits, and the boy had promised to come find him if Smith left the place. Travis had decided to watch the hotel himself. If Brynn or Smith made a move to leave town tonight, he’d know whether they were innocent or not.
So all he had to do was wait.
His thoughts drifted back to earlier when he’d confronted Brynn in the hotel lobby. He’d been harsh with her, but he’d found that was the easiest and quickest way to get a confession out of a criminal. She’d surprised him by speaking just as harshly to him. Her cheeks had turned pink and her eyes had sparked, causing something to flash inside him, too.
He fought off the feeling that claimed him again and forced his thoughts back to tonight’s task.
Dread pooled in the center of his belly. He didn’t want Brynn to show up tonight. He didn’t want her to be guilty of stealing those jewels, and he especially didn’t want her to be involved with Hiram Smith. What he really wanted was—
Movement off to his left drew his attention. A figure dashed across the alley and disappeared behind the general store.
“Damn,” Travis muttered.
There was no mistaking that shape, silhouetted in the moonlight.
Short, curvy, a bouncing bustle weighed down by a heavy valise.
Heaviness pressed down on Travis. Brynn O’Keefe was heading toward the train station. That could mean only one thing: she was guilty.
Brynn dashed across the rear of the general store, staying in the shadows. She was almost there. She hadn’t paid much attention when Pete had driven her to the hotel earlier, but she was certain the train station was just a little farther, and once there she’d—
A man stepped out in front of her. Brynn screamed. He lurched toward her. She swung her valise. He ducked but she caught the side of his head. His hat flew off.
“Damn!” he swore.
Brynn took off running. She’d only gone a few steps when a strong arm looped around her waist, lifted her off her feet and pressed her against the side of the building.
“Settle down,” he commanded.
Her heart raced. That voice. It was familiar. She’d heard it before.
Brynn leaned her head back, looking up. Gracious, he was tall.
And wide. Huge. Towering over her, blocking her escape by his mere presence.
His face materialized out of the darkness. She gasped as she recognized Travis Hollister.
Of all people to run into! How dare he jump out at her, frighten her so!
Why on earth was he lurking in the alley in the middle of the night?
Anger boiled inside Brynn, and she was about to demand an explanation when reality hit her like a pail of cold water.
Wouldn’t he ask the same question of her?
Brynn’s heart thundered harder now. She couldn’t let him know what she was up to. How would she explain her presence?
“Oh, Mr. Hollister,” she said, forcing a calm, conversational tone into her voice. “This is a…surprise.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet it is.” He glared down at her, his gaze harsh and unforgiving.
Brynn eased her valise behind her.
“I was just…just going for a…a stroll,” she said.
He didn’t say anything, just kept staring.
Brynn drew in a deep breath. “Just taking in the air.”
“Carrying your valise?” Travis asked. He scrubbed the tip of his fingers against his forehead where she’d hit him. “What have you got in that thing, anyway?”
Brynn didn’t answer, but he didn’t give her a chance. He fetched his hat from the ground and clamped it on, then planted himself in front of her again.
“You’re heading for the train station,” he said.
She couldn’t deny it, especially after he’d seen her valise. But she still didn’t want to tell him the truth. Her mind raced. She had to come up with something believable.
“Actually, you see, despite the warm welcome I’ve received from the ladies in town…” Brynn gulped. “Well, the truth is, I’m frightened here in Harmony.”
“Of what?” he demanded.
“For one thing,” she said and gave him a pointed look, “a strange man jumping out of the shadows and scaring me half to death.”
Travis gave her a rueful look. “So let me get this straight,” he said. “You’re so frightened about staying here in Harmony, you slipped out of your hotel in the dead of night and headed for the train station alone? ”
She knew her explanation sounded ridiculous, but she couldn’t reverse herself now.
“I didn’t want to offend the ladies of Harmony,” she said, lifting her chin in a way she hoped presented an air of authority.
“The mayor’s wife has been very warm and welcoming, and I couldn’t possibly insult her. It simply isn’t done. “
Travis kept glaring. “You’re t
elling me that it’s better to slip away in the middle of the night, with no explanation to anyone, than to just tell Mrs. Kimball that you’re leaving?”
Obviously, he didn’t believe a word she was saying. She tried another tactic.
“And you, I suppose, are an expert on manners?” Brynn challenged.
“I’m an expert on criminals,” Travis told her. “And I know you’re up to something.”
“I’m not a criminal,” she told him. “I’m here as an invited guest to deliver lectures on the perfect way to run one’s home and conduct oneself.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard some tall tales in my time, Miss O’Keefe, but that’s about the biggest one I’ve come across.”
“I’ll prove it to you.” Brynn yanked open her valise and pulled out her aunt’s book. “See? It’s all right here.”
Travis took the book and stared at the cover. “Planning Perfection?”
“Page thirty-two,” Brynn said, wagging her finger at the book.
“‘Upon entering a room, a woman should walk with moderate steps, head up, and a composed expression on her face.’”
Travis stared at her for a few seconds, then tilted the book to catch the moonlight and flipped the pages. His frown deepened.
“That’s what it says,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t mean anything. You could have memorized that passage.”
“‘Chapter Four—Setting the Perfect Table,’” Brynn told him, then quoted from memory when he’d found the correct page. “‘A table set to receive guests should reflect the personality, taste and mood of the evening perfectly. The perfect hostess should take care to select the perfect china and silver pattern. Complementing the table linens is a must and will ensure a perfect foundation for the occasion.’”
Travis looked up from the book, a deep groove between his eyebrows.
“That’s what it says,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t prove—”
“‘Chapter Nine—Selecting the Perfect Stationery,’” she said.
“‘Quality stationery is the perfect way for a woman to convey her station in life through correspondence.’”
Travis flipped the page, but she rushed on. “‘Chapter Thirteen—Selecting Perfect Attire. Dressing to perfection is a must for every woman. There’s no excuse not to look perfect, no matter the circumstances.’”
He turned more pages.
“‘Chapter Twelve—Planning the Perfect Outing—’”
“Enough,” he told her, and snapped the book shut.
“I can go on,” she told him.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Surely that proves that I’m telling you the truth about who I am and why I’m here,” Brynn said. “Isn’t it perfectly clear?”
He pushed the book back at her. “Let me make something perfectly clear, Miss O’Keefe. When I questioned you about a jewel theft, you refused to cooperate. Then, at the first possible moment, you tried to sneak out of town. I might not know how to set a perfect table, but I do know when someone looks perfectly guilty.”
A knot hardened in Brynn’s stomach. She had to admit he was right, she did look guilty.
Travis glanced up and down the alley, then huffed irritably.
“There’s only one thing I can do about this tonight,” he told her.
Brynn gasped. “You’re not taking me to…to jail, are you?”
He gestured to the book. “Is there a chapter that covers selecting the perfect cell?”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t possibly— You wouldn’t really— You—”
“I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said, and picked up her valise.
Brynn nearly collapsed from relief and she was about to thank him, but his expression was harsh, and somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
He leaned down until his face was even with hers. His scent washed over her, soap and cotton. She saw the dark shadow around his chin, a day’s growth of whiskers.
An odd desire claimed her, held her in place. For a moment she thought he would kiss her.
Kiss her? Brynn gave herself a mental shake. Why on earth would she have thought such a thing?
Travis didn’t seem to notice, thank goodness, because he said,
“You’d better stay at the hotel tonight. Don’t even think about running again. I’ve been with Pinkerton a long time. I’ve worked the railroads for years. I know every stationmaster, every lawman up and down the line. I can find you in a matter of hours, and you won’t like it when I do.”
What she didn’t like was being threatened, but thought it wiser to keep her mouth shut. Travis Hollister did, in fact, seem capable of keeping that promise.
He caught her arm, his fingers loose around her elbow.
Warmth spread up her arm. Brynn jerked away, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like being led as if she really was a criminal or because of the odd feeling his touch brought.
They followed the alley and entered the hotel through the rear door. In the kitchen, Brynn willed herself not to look at the shelves where she’d hidden the jewelry. They passed through the dining room. In the lobby, wall lanterns burned low. They stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Which room are you in?” Travis whispered.
“I’ll see myself upstairs,” she told him. “I’ll not have my reputation ruined by being seen with a man outside my door.”
He seemed to accept her concern, though she could tell by his expression it didn’t suit him. He handed her the valise.
Brynn hesitated, somehow reluctant to leave. Something about this man pulled at her. Something she didn’t understand.
“I want your word you won’t leave this hotel tonight,” he said.
His voice was soft, not demanding as it had been. His expression had softened as well.
“It’s not safe,” he said.
“You needn’t worry,” she told him, surprised to hear her own voice had softened, also.
“Promise me.” He caught her chin and turned her face up to his.
The depth of his eyes drew her in. She couldn’t turn away—
she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. He seemed to hold some power over her.
Travis eased closer. His scent washed over her. Brynn’s heart rate picked up.
“Promise me,” he said again, his warm breath brushing over her lips.
Before she could say a word he kissed her. His lips covered hers gently but with a heat she’d never experienced. Slowly he moved his mouth over hers. His arm circled her shoulders and drew her closer. He deepened their kiss.
Brynn melted against him. She couldn’t stop herself. His hard chest sank into her softness, sending her thoughts reeling.
Then, too quickly, he pulled away. Travis gazed down at her for a long moment and stepped back.
He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, as if giving himself a mental shake. He nodded toward the stairs.
“You’d better go,” he said.
Heat bloomed in Brynn’s cheeks. “But—”
“You’d better go,” he said, a little more forcefully this time.
She headed up the stairs, her feet heavy and her mind racing.
She hardly knew what to make of this. First, he accused her of being a criminal, then he kissed her.
She turned back. Travis waited at the foot of the stairs staring up at her.
“So you believe me now?” she asked. “You know I had nothing to do with stealing those jewels.”
He bristled. “Nothing’s changed. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a prime suspect.”
Chapter Four
“You’re acting like a half-starved dog chasing after a dry bone,” Rafe said as Travis took a seat across the desk from him in the sheriff’s office. “Let it be.”
Travis sat back in the chair and shook his head. He’d come by Rafe’s office to talk over a few things. The office was quiet this morning, no sound of prisoners in the cells at the rear of the building. Th
e room was sparsely furnished with a desk, a couple of chairs and racks of rifles on the wall alongside a dozen wanted posters. The place smelled of gun oil and coffee from the pot simmering on the stove in the corner.
“Miss O’Keefe is involved, somehow,” Travis said.
Rafe gave him a hard look. “You’d better come up with some proof.”
“If I could have searched her luggage at the hotel yesterday, I’d have all the proof I need.”
“Not your best move,” Rafe told him. “I’ve had the mayor’s wife and nearly every woman in town in my office, complaining about you.”
Travis was ready to tell Rafe how unconcerned he was about upsetting the ladies of Harmony when the door swung open and Pete Millburn hurried inside. He helped out with the hotel his mother ran and did odd jobs all over town, including the express office.
“Morning, Sheriff,” he said, holding out a large envelope.
“Packet just came for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking it from him.
“And this telegram came for you, Travis.” He fished a small white envelope from the stack of mail he carried, and handed it to him.
Travis shoved it into his shirt pocket without opening it. Most of his instructions from the Pinkerton headquarters arrived by telegraph. If he was being given another assignment, he didn’t want to know about it yet, not until he had a handle on the jewel-theft case.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Travis,” Pete said, “you might want to avoid Holt’s General Store today. Place is full of ladies and, judging from what I overhead a little while ago, they’re none too happy with you.”
Travis nodded his thanks and Pete left the sheriff’s office.
Rafe shot him an I-told-you-so look across the desk.
“She’s up to something,” Travis insisted. “One mention of the word jewelry and she nearly fainted. Looked guilty as sin.”
Rafe pulled a knife from his desk drawer and sliced open the envelope.
“That’s not proof,” he said.
Travis hesitated a moment. He knew he had to tell Rafe everything if he expected his help, but he wasn’t that anxious to mention last night in the alley. Because what followed in the hotel lobby made him feel guilty as sin.
