by Cat Cahill
Deputy Wright didn’t speak. Instead, he reached a gloved hand over, covered her clasped hands with his and squeezed. It was the most natural, comforting thing he could have done, and it took a few seconds for Edie to realize that it shouldn’t be done. He seemed to come to the same conclusion and drew his hand away quickly, leaving her feeling strangely alone.
She forced herself to breathe as she listened to the girls talk behind her. No one said anything, and at no point did their conversation pause to indicate they’d seen the deputy reach for her hand. She let out a shuddering breath.
Deputy Wright cleared his throat. “I was the only boy my parents had. My father wanted me to take over his farm, but I never much cared for it. I was always more interested in my uncle Mark’s stories of chasing down outlaws and breaking up saloon fights. After he died . . . Well, I was lost for a while. But then I made up my mind to follow in his footsteps and set out for the Colorado Territory in the hopes of finding work as a deputy somewhere. I don’t think my father has ever forgiven me.”
“But surely he’s proud of you, even if he doesn’t say it,” Edie replied. “All fathers are proud of their sons.” Her own father certainly was, even when they acted up. Of course, they’d all followed the path he’d laid out for them, and joined up with him as soon as they were able to shoot straight and ride for hours on end. And as soon as Mama would let them go, of course, which seemed to be later and later with each boy.
Deputy Wright didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he sat straight up on the bench, his jaw set and his eyes on the horses. In the soft glow of dawn, she could see the faint shadow of the beginnings of a beard. She couldn’t imagine anyone thinking less of this man. He was brave, kind, and terribly good looking. He could easily reach over and pull her closer to him on the bench without even slowing the horses. A rush of heat flooded Edie from her face to her toes as she imagined such a thing.
She was getting carried away with herself. She needed to force herself to treat him just as she treated every other man who came into the hotel restaurant. That was safe. That was reasonable.
But she was beginning to think she’d somehow already strayed far from the safe and reasonable path. And, when she glanced up at him, she wasn’t certain she could find her way back—or if she even wanted to.
Chapter Eleven
They reached Cañon City just before eleven o’clock. As they’d grown closer, James dreaded the end of the ride. And this time, it had nothing to do with the scenery or rocking of the wagon. Instead, it had everything to do with the petite woman sitting next to him.
He could barely look at her as the sun had risen in the sky. The way it illuminated the ivory of her skin and the bright strands of her hair made him want to stop the buckboard, grab her hand, and go running off to the mountains with her.
By the time they’d reached town, he thought he might be losing his mind.
James climbed down from the wagon at the livery stables and walked to the side to help the other ladies down. A couple of them blushed when they took his hand, but James only smiled and wished them a good day before rushing back around to Miss Dutton. He held out a hand for her, which she clasped. He marveled at how small her hand was compared to his. Something about it made him feel fiercely protective.
As she went to step down from the wagon, the toe of her shoe caught the edge of the wood. She stumbled forward, straight into him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him. He set her down gently—ignoring the voice in the back of his head that wanted to hold on to her just a moment longer. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. She busied herself with arranging her skirts and shifting the reticule that looped around her wrist. She didn’t look at him, but he thought he caught a slight smile as her head ducked to examine the hem of her coat. “Thank you,” she added, still not looking at him.
“Shall I escort you to the church?” he asked.
Her head jerked up and her eyes flickered to the others in their group—the McFarlands, other waitresses, some maids, and a few male employees of the hotel—before returning to land on him again. “Thank you, Deputy Wright, but I’m not certain that would be proper.” She gave him the sweetest smile even as she turned him down.
“I understand.” He did, a little, but what he really wanted to do was take Miss Dutton’s arm in his and tell McFarland to stuff his rules.
She moved in front of him, skirts swaying under her coat as she joined a couple of her friends. James trailed behind, his emotions running in what felt like six different directions as they walked down the plank sidewalk and into the church. He sat at the end of one pew, Miss Dutton a few seats down in front of him. She knelt and bowed her head, reminding him he should do the same.
But he didn’t know what to pray for, beyond guidance in his work. Praying for Miss Dutton felt self-serving, even more than if he prayed for himself. So instead, he quickly sat back down and tried to parse through his thoughts before the service began.
But even that seemed beyond his abilities right now. He felt restless and agitated. His eyes kept wandering to Miss Dutton, even after the service began. She was beautiful, but more than that, she possessed humility, and that made her even more attractive. Each moment he spent with her brought her even further into the forefront of his thoughts. How could he work if he was thinking of her all the time? It was dangerous. Uncle Mark had fallen head over heels for a woman who had brought him to his death.
Edie isn’t like that. The thought echoed over and over. And it was true. Edie was no snake, sent to lure him into a trap the way Uncle Mark had been. But wouldn’t the end result be the same? If he was so distracted by thoughts of her, he wouldn’t be able to focus on everything else around him. And he had to remain vigilant if he was to keep peace in Crest Stone and prove himself worthy of being town marshal.
But at the same time, how could he ignore the obvious connection he felt with Miss Dutton? He hadn’t expected them to have such similar backgrounds. When she told him about her family, he knew immediately that she understood how he felt. It was a terrible thing, to carry around the disappointment of the people who raised and loved you before anyone else did. At times, he felt as if he were some sort of traitor, or as if he’d done his father an irreparable wrong by leaving to pursue his own ideals. Even though she hadn’t said it out loud, he could sense Edie felt the same.
He couldn’t believe he’d reached for her hand in the buckboard. He hadn’t even thought about what he was doing; it was as if the action were out of his control. If anyone had seen it, she could have lost her position. It was a foolish action. He needed to ensure it didn’t happen again—even if he wanted it to.
The sermon seemed to drag, and when it finally ended, James hadn’t the slightest notion about what the preacher had said. While others in the congregation waited to speak with the preacher and shake his hand, James pulled his hat on and slid out the door as quickly as possible. He needed to move, to do something, and to stop thinking.
He strode in the direction of the sheriff’s office. The exercise, chill air, and the scent of horse dung cleared his head some, as did nodding and greeting passersby who recognized him. He had a couple of hours before he needed to return to the livery stables; McFarland told him the hotel employees always enjoyed taking time to shop and have lunch in town before returning home. He’d speak with Ben about the men from Kansas, give him an update on what was happening in Crest Stone, and find out about anything new happening in Cañon City.
James wiped the mud and dung off his boots before turning the doorknob to enter the sheriff’s office. He found Ben locking up a sputtering, scarred man in one of the cells in the rear of the building.
“What’d that one do?” he asked, keeping a wary distance from the man after seeing him spit once through the bars of the cell.
“Tried to make off with a horse tied up out front of Murray’s,” Ben said, pocketing the key to the cell.
&
nbsp; “Weren’t no one using it!” the man yelled from behind the bars of his cell.
Ben ignored him and shut the door that separated the cells from the office. “Didn’t expect you back up here so soon,” he said to James.
“McFarland needed another man to drive one of the wagons to Sunday services.” An image of Edie sitting next to him, the orange glow of the sun making her look like some kind of angel, came to mind. James had to shake his head to make it disappear. “Thought it might be a good opportunity to check in with you. Anything new happening around here?”
“It’s been more quiet than usual,” Ben said, tossing the cell keys onto the desk and taking a seat behind it. “I can’t help but think it’s the quiet before the storm.”
James sat in the chair opposite. “That sounds dire. You expecting trouble?”
“Not expecting it, but there’s something in the air. I can’t place it.” Ben leaned forward in his chair and sorted through a small stack of papers.
James sat forward too, elbows on his knees. “Anything to do with those men from Kansas?”
“Might be.” Ben pulled a few wanted posters from the stack of papers and handed them to James. “There’ve been rumblings of trouble east of here. Still a ways off, but enough to make me take notice. I heard yesterday about a stage robbery southeast of Pueblo. And this morning, Old Jack over at the telegraph office told me the Huerfano County sheriff’s been up to his ears in reports of stolen horses and brawls in out of the way places, moving westward across the county.”
James scanned through the posters, recognizing old names and faces. Levi Fletcher. Tell Fletcher. Jonas Beaumont. Ty Beaumont. Nick Ford, related in some way to the Beaumonts through marriage. The faces and the names lit up a caged fire deep down inside. What were they doing in Colorado?
“You ever run into them in Kansas?” Ben asked.
“Not directly.” James pressed his lips together as the old anger—the one he’d thought he’d dealt with when he became a deputy here—coursed through him again. He rolled up the posters and forced the feeling down. “Does anyone know which family it is?”
“Can’t say as I’ve heard,” Ben replied. “Is one worse than the other?”
James grimaced. “Not particularly. The Fletchers are more prone to violence, but the Beaumonts are more devious. Neither one of them is easy to catch.” He should know. He’d spent far longer in Kansas than he meant to after Uncle Mark’s death, trying to do exactly that. It got him nothing but dust and frustration.
“I wonder what they’re after.” Ben tapped his fingers on the stack of papers.
“Could be anything. Could be that it’s gotten too hot in Kansas for them and they’re here to bide their time.”
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground and wire you if I hear anything new. How’s it going in Crest Stone?”
“Good,” James said as the front door to the building opened. “Been busy.” He turned to see who’d come in as Ben rose from his seat.
“You didn’t miss much,” Mrs. Young said, waltzing in to give her husband a kiss on the cheek. A trail of ladies—all waitresses from the hotel in Crest Stone—followed behind her. James stood to greet them. The last woman in shut the door behind her, and James froze in place.
There was no mistaking the soft yellow dress and the sheer joy that seemed to radiate from her face. She was quieter than the other girls, but more striking than any of them. Miss Dutton spotted James and gave him a smile. He stood rooted to his place and only just barely heard Mrs. Young speaking to him.
“I heard you were quite the gallant gentleman, offering to drive the girls up from the hotel to church,” she said. “We’re going to have a visit. You’re both welcome to join us.”
“I’m afraid I’ve some correspondence to catch up on, and then I have rounds to make,” Ben said.
“James?” Mrs. Young turned to him. “Would you care to join us?”
He had to tear his eyes away from Miss Dutton—only to find Mrs. Young glancing back and forth between him and Miss Dutton, and Ben giving him a curious look.
One of the girls giggled and whispered into the ear of another one beside her, and James had the urge to run.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. Got to help . . . I have to go.” He scooped up his hat and coat and pushed past the group, purposefully not looking at Miss Dutton as he passed her, even though it seemed as if he could feel her presence separate from that of anyone else.
The door shut behind him and he strode down the plank sidewalk, not even pausing as he shrugged on his coat.
His distraction was becoming a preoccupation.
Chapter Twelve
“Edie, wake up. You’re going to miss breakfast.”
Edie opened her eyes to see Beatrice standing over her, already dressed. She sat up, feeling as if she’d slept for days. “I’m sorry. I must have been exhausted from yesterday.”
Beatrice glanced at the small clock that sat on the vanity table. “If you hurry, I’ll wait for you.”
Edie leapt out of bed and went through the motions of preparing for the day as visions of all that had happened yesterday filled her head. The ride to Cañon City, where she’d discovered she and Deputy Wright had more in common than she ever could have thought. The church service, where she struggled to pay attention to the sermon because he sat behind her. Running into him again at the sheriff’s office. The way the other girls teased her about him after that uncomfortable moment where it seemed he couldn’t take his eyes off her. How Penny had pulled her aside afterward and insisted upon every detail, which Edie had given only sparingly. The ride home, in which she sat in a different wagon but seemed acutely aware of Deputy Wright’s every movement in the wagon behind them. And then being unable to fall asleep until late last night because of these exact thoughts.
Despite the chaos in her mind, Edie was ready to leave for breakfast in record time. When they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she paused, looking out over the people who had begun appearing in the lobby. It was early, so there weren’t many yet.
“Searching for someone?” Beatrice asked with a teasing smile.
“No.” But it was a lie, of course. She desperately needed something else to occupy her mind. Something that didn’t have piercing green eyes or a smile that seemed only for her.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Beatrice said. “If it makes you feel any better, there’s a gentleman who always seems to sit at one of my tables, not at all by accident. And I don’t mind one bit.”
“I didn’t know you were such a flirt!” Edie teased.
Beatrice laughed. “I’m not! All I’m saying is that it’s not so terrible if you have a man who takes an interest in you. So long as Mrs. Ruby doesn’t find out.”
“That’s what I’d fear,” Edie said. That, and Deputy Wright learning her true name. She wasn’t certain which would be worse.
“Well, I think you should enjoy it. Don’t get carried away like Millie, but there’s no harm in it otherwise.”
“Poor Millie. I don’t think this new gentleman she has her sights on is going to turn out much better than any of the other men she keeps falling for,” Edie said. Millie was quite adept at getting her heart broken. How she’d had a string of beaux without losing her position was something Edie couldn’t figure out.
Beatrice led the way downstairs, and together the girls walked toward the kitchen—until they came upon posters nailed to the wall beside the front desk. Posters Edie normally would’ve given only a cursory glance as a reassurance, but that today, made her freeze.
“Are you all right?” Beatrice had stopped a few feet ahead.
“I . . .” She tore her eyes from the wall and forced herself to look at Beatrice. “I’m fine. I only forgot my . . . hat.” Indeed she had forgotten her hat in her rush to leave for breakfast, even if that wasn’t the reason she stopped.
“Well, I’m famished. I’ll see you in the kitchen.” Beatrice disappeared quickly around the corner into
the hallway that led to the kitchen door.
Edie stood a moment, searching the few people in the lobby to ensure she saw no familiar faces. And then she turned slowly back to the posters. She pushed her glasses into place and scanned all five of them. Two of the Fletchers were pinned up top, but below that, sketches of faces she’d known her entire life stared back at her. Jonas Beaumont. Ty Beaumont. Nick Ford.
Pa. Ty, her oldest brother. Cousin Nick.
Edie’s stomach rolled and she gripped the edge of the front desk to keep from toppling over. It was them. Her family. The ones she thought had no idea where she was.
But clearly they did. And they were coming for her.
Her heart racing, Edie moved toward the stairs as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself, only to stop short again when she overheard a snippet of a conversation happening at the front desk. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, pretending to retie her apron as she willed her heart to stop pounding so hard.
“What did they get?” the desk clerk was asking the rough-looking man standing at the counter.
“Bunch of nothing, so far as I heard. Broke a window at the company office, though. The foreman is steaming mad.” The man leaned against the desk, his dirty coat swaying around him.
“Those miners don’t know a good thing when they’ve got it.”