by Carol Finch
Hanna planted her fists on her hips and stared him down like a gunfighter at twenty paces. First off, she wanted to help him bring down this murdering thief who’d destroyed Cale’s family. Second, she wasn’t ready to give Cale up. She’d mentally prepared herself to part company with him in a few weeks, but she wasn’t ready to do so now. She hadn’t had time to talk herself out of these tender feelings that mushroomed with each passing day.
And, of course, there was the phenomenal passion that she would never experience again. She intended to be married only once, and she already had the perfect husband, so there was no point in settling for a disappointing substitute. And lastly, her need to feel useful compelled her to help the citizens in town regain control of their community.
No, she definitely wasn’t leaving until she was good and ready.
“I’m not leaving you alone in this hornet’s nest of trouble and that’s that,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “I know I don’t have your impressive skills, but I can be an asset to this investigation and I demand to be included.”
“You could get hurt, Magnolia,” he told her bluntly. “Or worse. Dead is worse. I want you to realize your dreams, starting now.”
She didn’t confide that he was becoming as important as her long-held dreams. She refused to clutter up his scheme by blurting out that if she wasn’t in love with him already, then she was perilously close. He didn’t want to hear that, didn’t need that. And certainly, that wasn’t part of her original plan to locate the perfect husband. But this rugged bounty hunter and marshal had turned out to be too perfect. Perfect enough to draw her interest, her admiration, her trust and her affection.
True, the qualities and traits she saw in him were in direct opposition to the portrait society usually painted of him, but she cared deeply for Cale. He’d complicated her plans and tangled up her dreams, but she couldn’t help the way she felt about him.
“No, you’re stuck with me, so you better get used to the idea, my dear husband,” she insisted. “I’m going downstairs to start unloading the wagon. You can stay here and argue with the wall, if you wish, but I have work to do.” Head held at a determined angle, Hanna veered around him and marched across the room.
“Stop right there,” Cale commanded in his best marshal voice.
Hanna didn’t even glance back or break stride. She sailed from the room and heard Cale mutter, “Stubborn woman,” before she closed the door behind her.
Cale worked side by side with Hanna to unload their supplies and spiffy up the shop. For now, he’d given up on persuading her to leave town. But the discussion wasn’t over, not by a long shot. This situation was potentially lethal and Cale refused to let Hanna be injured if things turned sour. And there was a strong possibility that they might. Otis Pryor definitely had a hired army at his beck and call, plus he had informants strategically placed around town to keep constant surveillance.
“I don’t see the need for this,” Cale grumbled when Hanna, with writing tablet in hand, tugged him out the door and down the boardwalk.
“I do,” she insisted. “I’m the social expert here. This is my forte. We need to meet and greet our business associates and form an alliance of sorts. It’s called social connections. Now paste on a smile and mind your manners.”
Cale marshaled the semblance of a smile and tried to remember the gentlemanly nuances Hanna had rattled off during their trek to Cromwell. She took the lead, winning over the proprietors in every shop they entered.
Cale could easily visualize Hanna flitting around a formal soiree, making friends left and right. She had the charm and the knack. He also noted how differently people in Cromwell responded to him, simply because of his association with this bewitching female. She opened doors for him that were usually closed and locked. For once his reputation hadn’t preceded him, and his change in appearance and behavior would allow him to make an attempt to fit into society.
Each time Hanna exited a shop, she jotted down the proprietor’s name and any background information she’d gleaned—such as a wife’s name, number of children and previous residences. According to Hanna, the easiest way to win friends and fit into society was to show an interest in all things important in someone else’s life. By the time they made the rounds she had several pages of notes and had placed an ad in the newspaper, announcing the opening of their new shop.
While Hanna industriously set the upstairs to rights, Cale made a discreet exit from town to survey Pryor’s headquarters. He’d tried to leave Skeet for Hanna’s protection, but she insisted that he was the one riding into a viper’s nest and needed an extra pair of eyes and ears.
Using the cover of the trees along the river, Cale made the two-mile jaunt, then retrieved his spyglass to pinpoint the location of each posted lookout station—and there were several of them. He also noted the evidence of caverns in the sandstone cliffs that towered over the ranch headquarters. Pryor had certainly picked an impregnable fortress to defend against intruders.
Frowning curiously, Cale watched four men—heavily armed and dressed in chaps—gallop south. Off to rustle cattle, was Cale’s guess. Judging by the size of the herd of young calves that were pinned at one end of the pasture, Pryor was making preparations for a cattle drive to the nearest railhead. Apparently he planned to steal more livestock to sell for straight profit.
Cale moved from one hiding place to the next to keep close tabs on the goings-on at the ranch. He noted the excessive amount of whiskey bottles that were passed around during the changing of the guards. No doubt Pryor had taken over the local saloon to provide an endless supply of liquor to his men. Cale made a mental note to thank Hanna for dragging him all over town to acquaint himself with the locals, because he recognized the scroungy-looking bartender from the saloon who was presently driving a wagonload of liquor to the ranch. Definitely one of Pryor’s informants, he mused.
While Cale kept watch, the four rustlers returned, herding two dozen calves, which were hurriedly pinned in the corral. More whiskey bottles changed hands.
A wry smile pursed Cale’s lips as he and Skeet circled around to take a closer look at the two-story ranch house. Cale planned to send Hanna to the local apothecary for laudanum to spike these renegades’ drinks. Otis would think his hired guns were falling asleep on the job. Nothing like internal conflict to undermine the workings of an outlaw gang.
Cale waited until after dark—immediately after the recent changing of the guard—to make his move. With the stealth and cunning he’d learned from the old Cherokee warriors, he slithered through the grass toward the corral gate. When the guards sank into their drunken stupor, Cale reached up to unlatch the gate, allowing the cattle to wander off to graze. Pryor and his men would have to make a mad scramble the following morning to regather their livestock and drive them to the railhead.
The timing couldn’t be better, Cale thought. There wouldn’t be as many men on guard for the next week. That would lessen the odds against him.
Two hours later Cale was walking up the steps to rejoin Hanna. He tapped a quiet signal on the door, then waited for her to let him in. When the door swung open Cale’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Hanna had arranged and decorated their living quarters and purchased linens and a quilt for the bed. Frilly curtains covered the windows. The crude furniture had been polished to a shine. The place looked like a real home.
Home. The word never had any meaning to Cale—until now.
“Where the devil have you been so long?” Hanna fussed at him. “I was on the verge of setting off to track you down.”
He smiled at her anxious expression. He rather liked the way she fretted about his welfare. It was definitely a first and it made him feel wanted, needed. “It’s good to see you again, too, dear,” he said wryly.
Hanna’s breath came out in a huff and her amethyst gaze narrowed on him. “What took you so long?”
“Scouting requires considerable time.” He cast another approving glance at the living area.
“This place looks great, Mags. You really knocked yourself out.”
“I had to do something to occupy my time while worrying about your safety.” She snatched up the lopsided mass of brown yarn and shook it in his face. “And I have discovered that I don’t have any talent whatsoever for knitting. This was supposed to be a mat for Skeet.”
Cale swallowed a chuckle. Hanna had obviously wasted time and money on yarn and knitting needles. He kept telling her that she excelled in people skills, but she never wanted to hear that. She was searching for other talents in her never-ending quest to find herself.
“Well?” she demanded, casting her knitting in the trash. “What did you find out during your long hours of skulking and snooping?”
His amusement vanished in a heartbeat. “Pryor has surrounded himself with a legion of hired guns who rustle cattle in their spare time.…What are you doing?” he asked when she reached for her tablet and pen.
“Keeping a journal that will serve as evidence for Pryor’s illegal activities,” she said as she hastily jotted the time, date and brief account of tonight’s findings. She cast him a somber glance. “Just in case neither of us is around to point an accusing finger at the scoundrel, we’ll have documented notes for his trial.”
“And that’s another thing,” Cale said as he came to loom over her. “You need to leave, the sooner the better.”
Hanna thrust up her hand in a deterring gesture. “Don’t start. I told you this afternoon that I’m staying to the end—bitter or otherwise—because we made a pact.”
Cale knelt before her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Damn it, Mags, you have a future awaiting you, and the incoming stage can take you wherever you want to go. You could stay with Mary Watkins at Fort Griffin until you decide on your destination. This is my personal battle. You’ve laid the groundwork with your presence. It’s enough.”
She took his callused hands in hers and got that determined look in her eyes that he’d come to recognize. She said, “For an intelligent man you can be deliberately obtuse sometimes. I plan to stay because I want to stay and help you deliver justice for your family. My father never let me be useful. I need to matter. I need to make a difference. It feeds my soul.”
Another corner of Cale’s heart crumbled like a rock slide. He’d come to understand her, knew what motivated her and drove her. He knew what inspired and moved her. He wanted to provide what she needed, but he was still torn between giving her what she wanted and this awful sense of impending doom that lurked in the back of his mind. Keeping her safe and protected had become vital to him because she’d become an important part of his life. She mattered to him—too damn much for his own good.
When she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, as if he mattered greatly to her, too, Cale lost the ability to reason. Wanting her had become such a constant thing that one kiss sent desire twisting through him like a tornado. He tugged her into his arms and filled his hands with her luscious body. She yielded instantly to him and Cale struggled to his feet, determined to christen their bed instead of taking her in a heated rush on the floor.
They tumbled together, tangled in each other’s arms, impatient to be rid of the barriers of clothing that separated them. Cale sighed in masculine appreciation when he finally got his hands on her silky flesh and heard her quiet moans of pleasure.
When passion overtook him, he came to her, marveling at the satisfaction he derived from being surrounded by her, buried deep inside her. Being with her like this made him wonder how he could possibly exist when she went her own way. Life without her would never be the same, because she had changed him. She’d touched his carefully guarded emotions.
The uneasy thought that his life would become empty, and that loneliness would become his constant companion, prompted him to clutch Hanna desperately to him. Cale savored each rapturous sensation, each heady moment of pleasure in her arms. And as always, her shimmering release sent him plummeting over the edge into oblivion.
In the aftermath of mind-numbing passion, Cale nestled against Hanna and made a solemn vow that no matter what else happened, no matter what personal sacrifices he had to make, Hanna would remain safe to embrace her future. He would not permit her to become the sacrifice he had to make to avenge his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths. That was one promise he vowed to keep, he mused as he fell asleep with Hanna cocooned protectively in his arms.
Walter Malloy glanced up from the ledger on his desk when the butler announced the arrival of a guest. He eased back in his chair as his deceased wife’s attorney entered the room. Walter didn’t care much for the straitlaced old goat, who was a stickler for rules and legal regulations.
“What are you doing here?” Walter said impolitely.
He was in no mood to be sociable when the last two telegrams he’d received from the Pinkerton detectives could do no more than report where Hanna had been, not where she was. He failed to see how his citified daughter could elude a passel of men who were hailed as the best detectives and bloodhounds in the country.
Without invitation Benjamin Caldwell stoically seated himself in the chair across from Walter’s desk. Typical, thought Walter. The aging lawyer was definitely on a mission and refused to be deterred, no matter how unwelcome he might be.
“I have a legal duty to inform you that your daughter has met the requirements of the trust fund Clarissa left to her,” Benjamin announced as he adjusted his spectacles and glanced down at the document in his lap.
A sense of impending doom settled over Walter and he slumped in his chair. He had the unmistakable feeling that Clarissa’s by-the-book lawyer was informing him after the fact that Hanna had taken control of her inheritance.
“As requested, I have wired the funds to your daughter,” Benjamin continued in his no-nonsense voice. He folded the document and rose from the chair. “You have been officially informed, Malloy. My work here is done.”
“Wait!” Walter shouted when the lawyer spun around and strode off. “Where is she? Where did you send the funds?”
Benjamin looked down his nose at Walter. “To Texas.”
“It’s a big state. Be more specific,” Walter demanded.
Benjamin smiled faintly. “Under the law, Malloy, I have conveyed all the information necessary. Miss Hanna requested that I keep an official copy of the wedding certificate filed in my office…just in case. Good night, Malloy.”
Walter gnashed his teeth as the attorney made his regal exit. He was one of the few men Walter had never been able to maneuver or control. Well, at least Walter knew Hanna was somewhere in Texas. That was a start.
Bolting to his feet, he breezed out the door to have his carriage readied. He intended to send off a message—even if he had to drag the telegraph agent out of bed—to inform the Pinkertons to stop dallying around in Indian Territory and hightail it to Texas. Now that Hanna had control of her inheritance she could be blazing a path to who knew where! He had to find her, to bring her home, and he was running out of time before Louis Beauchamp backed out of their shipping merger.
Damnation, if a man wanted something done right he had to do it himself. And that’s what he’d do, Walter decided. If he wanted Hanna back then he’d turn Texas upside down to find her.
Chapter Thirteen
Hanna hiked off down the street to purchase another supply of the sedatives Cale had requested, while he added more weapons to his displays at the shop. She was well pleased with his scheme to leave Pryor’s guards asleep on their watch, and his clever plot to sabotage the outlaws’ trail drive.
Stealth and cunning always served Cale well, she reminded herself with a smile. She’d previously noticed that, despite his formidable reputation with weapons, her husband wasn’t bloodthirsty or trigger-happy. No, he disarmed and incapacitated criminals without relying exclusively on deadly gunplay. But she suspected that, when it came to a last resort, Cale would indeed be the last man standing in a firefight. She sincerely hoped that apprehending Pryor wouldn’t come to that because
the odds weighed heavily against Cale.
The unnerving thought sent Hanna across the street to the telegraph office. Impulsively, she decided to contact Julius Tanner, who would still be convalescing at Bennigan’s Trading Post. If it was remotely possible for Julius and Pierce to lend a hand in Cromwell, Cale could use the help. Since he would never ask for assistance, she had to take matters into her own hands.
Hanna smiled at red-haired Arliss Fenton, the telegraph agent she’d introduced herself to earlier in the week. “I’d like to send a message,” she requested politely.
“Certainly, ma’am.” The young agent glanced cautiously toward the door, then said confidentially, “I don’t know what message you plan to send, but keep in mind that the town marshal reads all telegrams before I’m allowed to send them.”
Hanna wasn’t surprised by the news and she was grateful for the information. Keeping that in mind, she wrote: “My dear brothers, my husband and I need help setting up shop in Cromwell. Could you return the favor my husband did for you recently? Love, Hanna.”
She handed her message to Arliss and was startled when he handed a telegram back to her.
“This came in a few minutes ago,” he reported, smiling warmly. “The marshal hasn’t seen it yet.”
Hanna quickly read the message from Benjamin Caldwell. The attorney had informed her that her trust fund had been sent to the local bank. Now she had the financial means to control her destiny.
To her dismay, Hanna realized that she wasn’t quite as thrilled with the news as she’d anticipated. Her dreams had altered since she’d begun her exodus to her personal promised land. Leaving Cale behind wasn’t going to be easy, not easy a-tall.
Hanna bid Arliss good day, then headed to the bank to open an account and deposit her trust fund. Once she’d made the necessary transactions she headed for the apothecary shop to pick up more laudanum. When she returned to the gunsmith shop she was pleased to note Cale was waiting on two customers.
