Clenching her hands into fists, Sylvia reminded herself they were having supper, nothing more. If he tried to take liberties, she’d stop him, let him know she wasn’t like the women at Ruby’s or the other saloons. From what she’d learned from Malvina, Mack wouldn’t try to take advantage. The thought depressed her, which was ridiculous.
Unable to put it off any longer, Sylvia picked up her reticule and shawl, then left her room. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she gripped the rail, steadying herself. She refused to be cowered by a tall, gorgeous man with a smile that lit his face and caused her heart to jump.
She was Sylvia Maria Pietro Lucero, only daughter of Antonio Lucero, cattle baron and a man others respected. Lifting her chin, she straightened her back. This would be a night she’d always remember, and Sylvia meant to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter Four
Whiplash, Texas
Antonio Lucero slammed his fist on the desk, a stream of curses erupting through his lips. “It’s been nine months. Nine months,” he shouted. “How is it these men cannot find a trace of my daughter? Sylvia is out there somewhere.”
His oldest son, Cruz, sat across from him while his other son, Dominic, lounged on the sofa. Neither flinched at their father’s outburst. They’d grown used to his explosive rants and barely controlled rage since their sister left. Both believed he’d brought it on himself, perhaps Dominic a slight amount more than Cruz.
They likened constraining Sylvia to breaking a wild mustang. It had to be accomplished with a great deal of patience and a soft hand. If not, you’d not only break the animal, but also its spirit. Sylvia leaving may have been the only way for her to maintain her spirit.
“Not even one lead.” Antonio walked around his desk. “We know she left by stage and got off in Abilene, but nothing more.” His face twisted in pain, the same as every time he thought of how he’d lost his daughter. “It’s as if Sylvia disappeared without any trace.”
“She’s a smart girl. I’m not surprised she found a way to vanish without leaving a trail.” Dominic pushed up, walking to a table to pour a drink. Lifting the glass to his mouth, he took a small sip, deep lines showing on his forehead. “What of the Pinkerton Agency?”
“What of them?” Cruz asked.
“They do more than hunt bank and train robbers.”
Antonio studied his youngest son, his gaze narrowing. “Do they locate missing people?”
“I’ve heard they do.” Dominic emptied his glass, setting it down. “A telegram to their offices will give us the answer.” He took a few steps, stopping next to his father. “Are you certain you want to force Sylvia to come home?”
“She’s my daughter, your sister. Her place is with her family.” Walking back around his desk, Antonio sat down. “Dominic, I want you to ride to town. Send a telegram to the Pinkerton Agency and wait for a response. If they do track people, hire them right away.”
Dominic glanced at Cruz, who shook his head, shrugging. Arguing would do nothing to change their father’s mind. They didn’t need to get drawn into an argument when the outcome would be the same.
“Yes, sir. Anything else you want me to do while I’m in town?” Dominic walked toward the door.
Antonio sent a hard glare at his son. “What I don’t want you to do is visit any of the saloons. You’re to take care of hiring Pinkerton, then ride home. Am I clear on this?”
A sheepish smile crossed Dominic’s face. “I’ve no idea what you’re implying. Like many of the men, after my chores are done on Saturdays, I head into town. Have a few drinks, play cards…” His voice trailed off when he saw the amused expression on Cruz’s face.
Antonio shuffled the papers on his desk. “It’s the other days you ride into town after supper, Dom. Perhaps you could refrain from stopping anywhere else and return home today.”
Making a slight bow, Dominic smiled. “Whatever you want, Father.”
Shaking his head, Antonio waved a hand in the air. “Get out of here before I change my mind and send Cruz.”
Dominic chuckled as he closed the door and headed outside. Picking up his pace, he saddled his horse, reining it toward town. He had plenty of time to send the telegram, but he wouldn’t sit around waiting for a response. The clerk would bring a reply to the saloon where he’d already made plans to meet friends for cards.
Thinking of Sylvia, he felt of stab of loss pass through him. They’d been close, much closer than either had been with Cruz. After she’d left, he’d been angry she hadn’t confided in him, hadn’t trusted him to keep a confidence. They told each other everything. Well, almost everything, he thought as he drew closer to town. There were some things an older brother simply didn’t tell a younger sister, his activities at the saloons in Whiplash being one of them.
Dominic and Sylvia had always been alike. Pushing the boundaries their father set, creating their own dreams, which had nothing to do with the ranch. Both knew they were expected to marry, stay on the ranch, and continue the dynasty their grandfather started after arriving from Spain. Their father had done what was expected and he demanded no less from his three children.
Which they would’ve been more inclined to do if he allowed them to choose who they’d marry. Cruz had no issue with who their father picked for him. He and the neighboring rancher’s daughter had been in love since they were young, and neither wanted anyone else. Plus, their marriage would unite two prominent families.
The woman their father planned for Dominic to wed was pretty, painfully quiet, and quite boring. In addition, she hated ranch life, dreaming of going to school back east. He had no idea what she planned to study and didn’t care. All he knew was they weren’t well suited.
Approaching the telegraph office, Dominic thought of his own dream, the one he’d shared with just one person—Sylvia. She’d supported him, encouraged him to tell their father. He snorted as he reined to a stop and slid to the ground. Antonio Lucero would’ve supported his son’s wishes as much as he’d have supported Sylvia’s. Not at all.
Splendor, Montana
Mack worked to keep his mouth from dropping at the vision coming down the stairs. His throat tightened, forcing him to swallow before holding out his hand to her, feeling a surge of energy when she accepted it.
“Good evening, Deputy Mackey.”
“Adam.”
Her brows knit together as she stepped beside him. “What?”
“It’s my first name.”
“Adam…” She almost whispered it to herself. “It’s a wonderful name. Why does everyone call you Mack?”
He opened the door, escorting her outside. “It started when I served in the Union Army, although I can’t recall who said it first. My father had always been called Mack. I never imagined using it myself.”
She glanced up at him. “So, you were in the war?”
He nodded. “Caleb and I served under Gabe. That’s why each of us came west.”
“You must think quite highly of him if you rode across the country for work. Surely there must have been other jobs closer to your homes.”
“Yes, there were.” He didn’t want to talk about home, what he’d left behind, or the woman he’d lost. “Gabe is one of the best men I’ve ever known. It’s a privilege to serve under him now, as it was during the war.”
They strolled along the boardwalk to the St. James Hotel, Sylvia’s heart racing, afraid he’d notice her excitement. Letting him know how much she’d wanted to accept his prior invitations would embarrass her too much.
A young man Sylvia didn’t recognize smiled as they walked in. “Good evening, Deputy Mackey. Your table is ready.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” He looked at Sylvia, seeing the look of surprise on her face. “Have you eaten here?”
“No, but May says it’s wonderful. She works in the kitchen.” Her gaze wandered around the dining room as they followed Thomas to their table.
“Here you are.”
Mack pulled out her chair, taking the one beside her
. “A bottle of wine please, Thomas.”
She shot a look at him, her eyes wide. “I haven’t had wine since…” Her voice trailed off when Sylvia realized what she’d almost said. “In a long time.”
He stared at her a moment, wondering what she’d been about to say.
“Will this be all right?” Thomas held out the bottle, getting a nod from Mack. They remained silent as he filled their glasses before picking up the handwritten menu from the center of the table. “This is what is being served tonight.” He handed it to Sylvia.
Reading it, her face brightened. “Oh, they have venison. If it’s all right with you, that’s what I’d like.”
“You can have whatever you want, Sylvia.”
Her soft gaze met his. “Thank you, Adam.”
He startled at the use of a name no one had spoken in years.
“Is it all right if I call you Adam?”
Lifting his glass of wine, he motioned for her to do the same. “It’s more than all right.” He held out his glass to hers, touching the rim. “Here’s to a memorable evening.”
She wanted to tell him it already was, but stopped herself, glad when Thomas approached.
“What would you like this evening?”
“The lady and I will have the venison.”
“An excellent choice.”
When he left, Mack leaned toward her. “Where are you from, Sylvia?”
Biting her lip, she tried to remember what she’d been telling everyone. For some reason, being with Mack unsettled her, making simple answers difficult.
“I came here from Philadelphia.” It’s not a lie, she told herself. Pettigrew’s, the company who’d sent the four young women west, was located there. So, in a sense, it was true.
He took another sip of wine, studying her over the rim of his glass. “Before then. Where were you born?”
“Well, I…” Her voice wavered with relief when Thomas approached with their meals.
“Venison for the lady, and the same for you, Deputy Mackey.” Grasping the bottle of wine, Thomas poured a little more into each glass. “Please let me know if you’d like anything else.”
Inhaling the aroma of cooked meat, Sylvia let out a deep sigh. “It smells wonderful.” Picking up her knife and fork, she cut a slice, putting it into her mouth. “Oh, this is wonderful, Adam.”
Mack’s chest tightened, throat thickening at the use of his given name and the way her face lit up as she enjoyed her meal. It had been a long time since he’d paid attention to the small pleasures, such as a good meal or a beautiful woman who looked at him as if he’d given her the moon. The truth was she’d given it to him.
They spoke little as they ate, saying a few words about the food or the setting. Sylvia had only been able to glance inside the Eagle’s Nest restaurant a couple times, never spending more than a minute looking around. Tonight, she noticed everything.
“Did you know Gabe and Lena Evans own the hotel and restaurant with Nick and Suzanne Barnett?”
Lifting her glass of wine, she took a sip, nodding. “May Bacon told me as much. She says they’re all wonderful to her.” Setting the glass down, she once again looked around the room. “She’s been encouraging me to ask about a job here, but…”
“But?”
Biting her lip, she lowered her gaze. “Deborah Chestro cleans rooms in the hotel. That’s the only work available right now.”
A grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “And you’d prefer not to work with Deborah?”
Her face reddened. “It’s not that…exactly.”
“Then tell me what it is…exactly.”
Lifting her napkin, she dabbed the corners of her mouth, her hand shaking enough for Mack to notice. “It’s just…well, Deborah can be a little much sometimes.”
“Such as?”
The example which sprung into her mind had her looking away from Mack, embarrassment flashing through her. What would he think if he knew she’d gone to Ruby’s and talked to Malvina, learning the most important part of Deborah’s story was untrue? No, she couldn’t risk him ever finding out about how she’d gone behind his back, poked into his personal life.
“It’s her stories,” she blurted out, then covered her mouth a moment before lowering her hand. “Deborah embellishes quite a bit. Well, more than quite a bit at times.”
Mack watched her eyes sparkle with a combination of annoyance and humor. “She sounds entertaining.”
“She can be, except she often passes off her stories as true.”
He leaned back in his chair and leveled his gaze at her. “Any you’d like to share?” Mack saw the instant her expression changed from amusement to horror.
“Oh, no. It wouldn’t be right, as they, well…”
“Involve people here in town?” Mack began to put the pieces together, giving him some understanding as to why Sylvia might have visited Ruby’s. He noticed her throat work, her face color once more.
She lowered her gaze, not knowing how to respond. Her mother always said it was best to tell the truth, or at least a close version. Sylvia wasn’t prepared to do either.
Shrugging, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Sometimes she does tell stories about local townsfolk. Other stories are about people she’s met while working here at the hotel. It’s just hard to know how much of what she says is real and how much isn’t.”
Reaching over, Mack placed his hand on hers and squeezed. “If there’s something you want to know, I suppose you could just ask the person.”
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?”
“For instance, if you heard something about me you suspected might be false, you could just ask me. Right?”
Her chest felt as if it were weighted down with lead, causing her to sink under the load. Guilt sliced through her. All Mack had to do was speak with Malvina or Ruby and he’d learn of her visit to the Palace. A soft groan escaped her lips.
He leaned closer. “Pardon me?”
Pulling her hand free, she shrugged, shaking her head. “I was thinking about what you said. It’s not always easy asking someone straight out about something, well…personal. In most cases, it wouldn’t be proper.” Her brow lifted. “Would it?”
Settling back against the chair, Mack crossed his arms. “Well, now, I suppose it would depend.”
“On what?”
“The reason for the questions. Who the person had to speak with to get the answers. If they thought the person would mind them going behind their back and not asking directly.”
Pursing her lips, Sylvia thought about his answer for a few moments. “What if they didn’t know the person well and the questions would be too embarrassing to ask directly?”
Rubbing his jaw, he appeared to be thinking. “Now that would be a dilemma.”
“Exactly,” she whispered, almost to herself.
“We have berry or apple pie tonight. Can I get either of you a slice?” Thomas’s cheerful voice pulled them out of what had become an almost too personal conversation—a discussion at least she would like to end.
“Which one would you like, Sylvia?”
She placed a hand on her stomach. “I don’t believe I could eat another bite.”
“Same here,” Mack added.
Thomas clasped his hands in front of him. “Coffee or tea?”
Mack raised a brow at Sylvia. “I’d love some tea.”
“Coffee for me, Thomas.”
“I’ll take these plates and be right back.” Leaning over the table, he picked up the supper plates before hurrying to the kitchen.
“You never did tell me where you were born, Sylvia.”
Putting it off any longer wouldn’t help. Mack would just keep asking. “I was born in Texas, but we traveled all over.” Again, she’d told the truth from her own point of view. “Where are you from, Adam?”
Again, his chest squeezed at the use of his first name. He found himself wondering why it sounded so right coming from her l
ips. “New York, the same as Gabe, Noah, and Caleb.”
“You grew up together?”
He shook his head. “No. Gabe and Noah did. I met Caleb while in the Union Army serving under Gabe. Just a strange coincidence we’d all grown up within a couple miles of each other.”
Thomas set down the coffee for Mack and tea for Sylvia. “Let me know if you want more.”
When he left, Sylvia picked up the cup, staring into the amber liquid. The mention of the four men growing up so close together reminded her of all she’d left behind. Her family and friends. She hadn’t missed the affluence as much as the people. If only her father would’ve allowed her to marry for love. The wealthy, arrogant young men her father considered suitable never appealed to her. Looking over the rim of the cup, her gaze landed on Mack, the desire she felt increasing with every minute they were together.
“Are you all right, Sylvia?”
Shaking her head slightly, she set the cup down. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You looked a little peaked.” Mack hid a wry grin, already loving the way he could read every emotion passing across her face. What he’d seen a moment before stilled his heart while triggering excitement he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe his luck hadn’t run out after all.
Chapter Five
“I’m looking for the sheriff.” Elija Smith stood in the doorway of the jail, his brother, Ebenezer, behind him. Both were tall, wiry, with short beards sprinkled with gray, and an easy manner which belied their tough nature and unrelenting determination.
Mack stood, walking around the desk to extend his hand to each man. “Good morning, Elija, Ebenezer. Gabe should be back in a few minutes. Can I help you?” He’d been in the office since six o’clock, had gotten little sleep, yet felt better than he had in months.
Resting his hands on the back of a chair, Elija bent his head, letting out a breath. “We found five more head this morning. Slaughtered, the same as the others.”
Rogue Rapids Page 4
