by Cat Cahill
The man shrugged. “Heard it was some newcomer that got them all riled up. Started a brawl in the saloon, then went off and tried to get rich.”
Edie grabbed hold of the banister and dug her fingers into the wood. Her mind sped in circles. Nothing made Nick happier than a brawl, though the rest of her kin preferred to stay on the edges of things like that. But the Fletchers . . . They were on that wall too. And everyone knew how given they were toward a fight. It could be them. Or it could just be miners.
Or it could be Nick. And if was Nick, her father and brothers were nearby.
Edie pulled herself up the stairs. She could stay put. Stay here and hope for the best. After all, no one here knew Edith Beaumont. They knew Edie Dutton. But if Mr. Adkins had called her bluff and given her location away to her family . . . They would be coming for her.
And unless she wanted to return to Kansas, she’d need to run.
Chapter Thirteen
It was just about the edge of dusk when James let the horse he’d borrowed from the hotel into the corral at the mining camp’s makeshift livery. He didn’t much trust leaving the saddle and other tack behind in this place, but he couldn’t very well carry it about the camp. He settled for stowing it in a dark corner of the livery, under some moldering blankets.
The horse taken care of, he strolled out into the camp. The place consisted of a few patched-together buildings, sheets of dirty canvas held up with poles that acted as shelters, and a lot of churned-up mud. It didn’t take long to spot the mine company office and its attached marshal’s office. They were the nicest buildings in the camp, although that was still saying a lot about them.
After speaking with the camp’s marshal, a short, burly man who’d once been a Texas ranger but found private work to be more lucrative, James emerged onto the main thoroughfare with an air of relief. The trouble he’d heard of happening last night had been nothing but a bunch of drunken miners fighting in the saloon and then attempting to break into the company store. When they couldn’t get in there, they broke one of the rear windows in the office. Sheriff Tate then promptly arrested all seven of them and stowed them in his jail. James took a moment to speak with them, but it quickly became clear not a one of them was connected in any way to the Kansas gangs.
This knowledge made it possible that the rumors of the Fletchers or the Beaumonts coming into Colorado were still only just rumors. If he were honest with himself, nothing would make him happier than to put every last Fletcher into prison—or a noose—for what they’d done to his uncle, but he’d put the thirst for vengeance behind him a long time ago. He’d spent a year of his life searching for those men. An entire wasted year, until he realized his uncle would have hated that. When he left Kansas, he not only left his parents and sisters behind, but also the desire to see the Fletchers brought to justice.
He refused to let those old feelings derail him here.
Night in the camp brought out men eager to part with their meager earnings, and James dodged miners in all states of drink and mood on his way back to the livery. He wasn’t but twenty feet away from the corral when he spotted a large man hulking over a boy, his finger in the kid’s face, and yelling at the top of his lungs.
“I know you took it. I ain’t had it set down for but a minute, and you’re the only one who was in there.” The man’s voice carried the telltale slur of one too many swigs of whiskey.
The boy backed up against the rough wooden wall of the stables, his eyes searching left and right for a way out.
“You ain’t gonna give it back to me, I’ll find it myself.” The bigger man reached for the boy’s pocket, pressing his other hand against the kid’s throat when he tried to squirrel away. The boy let out a startled gasp and clutched the man’s arm with his hands, seemingly trying to push him back. But the bigger man held tight and thrust his hand into the boy’s pocket, looking for whatever item he’d lost.
The boy began banging frantically on the man’s arm, and that was when James had seen enough. It was one thing to search the kid’s pocket, but another entirely to put his life in danger.
“Hey!” he shouted as he strode toward them.
His voice startled the man enough that he slackened his grip on the boy, although not enough for the kid to make an escape. “What do you want?” the man almost growled at him.
“Just making sure you aren’t hurting this boy.” James took another step closer as the man’s eyes landed on the badge pinned to James’s coat.
“You work for Tate?”
“I don’t.”
The man studied him a second longer before turning back to the boy he still held pinned under his bear paw of a hand. “This kid took my Bowie. I set it down inside. He was the only one in there.” He must have squeezed the boy’s throat because the kid let out a squeak.
“You take the man’s knife?” James asked the boy.
The kid shook his head under the too-large hat he wore.
“How about you turn out your pockets to satisfy Mister . . .” James looked to the big man to fill in his name.
“Ayers. This is my place of business.”
Judging from how drunk the man was, James was glad he wasn’t leaving his horse here overnight. He nodded at the kid. “Turn out your pockets.”
The boy immediately reached down and pulled out the pockets sewn into his coat. They were empty.
But the bigger man didn’t let go. “How’s I know he didn’t stick it down in his boot? Or in his trousers?”
James doubted the poor kid would do a whole lot of stealing after this, provided he even took the knife to begin with. More than likely, the man had kicked it under some straw. “I’ll tell you what. Suppose you just buy yourself a new one? If this kid took it, he probably needs it.” He gave a side glance at the boy, who now, upon closer inspection, looked familiar. James couldn’t quite place it, though. He pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed them out to the man. “It’s all I’ve got, but should be more than enough to get you an even better knife.”
The man wrapped his meaty hand around the money and tucked it into his pocket, grinning at James. “This here is good service. You oughta put Tate out of business. Take over. I like your kind.”
“I appreciate that. Now how about you let the kid go?”
The boy’s face was turning a shade of red James could see even in the dim light that shone from the battered lamp hanging nearby.
“Right.” The man glared at the boy before spitting onto the ground and drawing his hand away. “Good for nothing kid,” he muttered as he stumbled back into the building.
The boy had already started off without a word, slinking down the side of the building toward the darkness beyond when James took a few long steps and grabbed hold of his arm. “I wasn’t done with you yet.”
The kid came to a quick halt, letting out a high-pitched squeak when James’s hand closed around his arm. Higher pitched than a boy this age ought to have. And the familiarity . . . It was the eyes, and the shape of the chin . . .
James drew the kid around to face him. It couldn’t be.
He plucked the hat from the boy’s head, and a long copper-brown braid tumbled out.
Miss Dutton.
Chapter Fourteen
Edie froze as Deputy Wright uttered her name. He wasn’t supposed to know she was here. No one was. Her mind churned as she searched for a way to explain her presence in the camp. Up this close, she could see him without her spectacles on, and his eyes swept up and down her trousers and shirt-covered form. She wore her usual coat unbuttoned, thinking it was plain enough to pass for a boy’s coat, but under no circumstances could she have a believable explanation for wearing men’s clothes that she’d filched from the hotel laundry.
At least it was dark this far down, and he couldn’t see the bright flush she felt sure covered her cheeks at being caught in such a state. The last time she’d worn such clothes was years ago, back when Pa would take her out hunting with her brothers. She hadn’t thought t
wice about it then, especially since she’d only been with her family, but out here, on a public street, clad only in trousers, a shirt, and a coat, she felt almost naked.
“I don’t know where to start,” Deputy Wright said, his hand still on her arm.
“How about you begin with letting my arm go?”
He glanced at his hand, almost as if he’d forgotten he was holding her. He released her arm, and she hurriedly buttoned her coat, feeling at least halfway decent now that it was closed. She pulled her glasses from a pocket sewn into the trousers and replaced them on her nose.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” she said, still not entirely settled on what she’d tell him but figuring it best to offer the explanation herself rather than wait for him to ask.
“That, and why you’re dressed in . . .” He waved a hand at her clothing. “What possessed you to come to such a place?”
She pushed her shoulders back and held out her hand for the hat she’d worn. The deputy returned it silently, presumably still waiting for her answer. She took her time tucking the braid back underneath it. “That is precisely why I’m wearing men’s clothing. I hoped not to draw attention to myself. Of course, I didn’t plan for the livery owner to think I stole his knife.”
A couple of men strode across the yard of the livery, and they were both quiet until the men had passed.
“You can tell me the rest when we’re on our way,” he said under his breath, even though there was no one around to overhear.
“I can’t leave. I haven’t accomplished what I came to do.” Edie crossed her arms. She didn’t sneak out of her room without waking Beatrice, take clothes that didn’t belong to her, and ride all the way out here only to be ordered back.
“You will leave. Or I’ll tie you to your horse.” James’s voice was low, almost a growl.
She took a step back from him. He was absolutely serious. He hadn’t struck her as the sort of man to be so demanding, and yet here he was, insisting on his way just like every other man she’d ever known.
He softened some and reached for her hand. “Look,” he said. “I’ve been around this camp tonight. Anything you want to know is likely something I already know. And if I don’t, I can return and find out for you. But right now, you need to get out of here. I’ll see you home.”
Edie glanced down at her hand in his. It made her feel as if nothing in the world could ever harm her, just as it had when he’d taken her hand in the wagon on the way to Cañon City.
She pondered her options. It had been no small undertaking to get here, but she didn’t much relish the idea of wandering into a saloon, hoping to catch wind of the names of the men who’d caused trouble the other night. And she especially feared the possibility that, if it were her family, some of them might still be here, ready to spot her even through her disguise. “All right. If I can hold you to your word.”
“I don’t take promises lightly. Wait here, in the shadows. I’ll return with the horses.”
Edie did as he said. She shoved both hands into the pockets of her coat, trying to forget the feel of his fingers around hers. She needed to concentrate, to figure out a way she could get the information she needed without giving too much away. If Deputy Wright ever found out she was related to the Beaumonts . . .
She shivered in the night air, imagining the look of disgust that would cross his face. She didn’t think she could bear it. Even if everything pointed against her growing any closer to him, she never wanted him to think any less of her.
He returned with the horses saddled. “Would you believe Mr. Ayers is fast asleep in a pile of straw?”
Edie grinned in spite of herself. “I do believe it.” He held out cupped hands for her to step into. It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture, and one she didn’t need at all. Instead, she gripped the saddle horn and swung herself up, leaving Deputy Wright looking at her in equal amounts of curiosity and awe. To his credit, he neither remarked on that or on the fact that she sat astride.
“I grew up on horses,” she said. “As soon as I was strong enough, I could get myself into the saddle.”
He stood up straight and caught his own horse’s reins. “You had a more interesting childhood than I imagine most ladies do, Miss Dutton,” he said.
Edie was thankful that he rode out in front of her at that moment, because the look on her face might have betrayed her. “I suppose I have,” she said quietly.
They said nothing more as they rode through the camp. Edie searched the passing miners for any familiar faces. Deputy Wright, she supposed, scanned the same faces for potential trouble.
Once the camp was far behind them, he slowed his horse to allow Edie to pull up alongside. “Now, are you going to tell me what brings an otherwise upstanding Gilbert Girl out to a mining camp after curfew?”
Edie bit her lip. He must have spoken with Mr. McFarland to know about the rules the waitresses lived by. Although if he had, he’d also know she’d lose her position if either the McFarlands or Mrs. Ruby learned they’d spent any time together, alone.
“Edie?” he prodded, his voice as smooth as the dark, clouded sky above them.
Edie shifted the reins in her hands, trying not to think on how he’d just used her given name. As if he knew her well. As if they were something more than just a sheriff’s deputy and a lost woman. She hadn’t told him her name. He must have learned it from someone else, which meant he’d been speaking about her to . . . whom? And why would he be talking about her? Her heart thumped hard as she considered the possibilities. Clearly he hadn’t learned anything about her thefts from the hotel or Mr. Adkins, or else she doubted he’d be speaking to her.
“You don’t need to fear telling me anything,” he said.
She looked up at him, expecting to see that same look of pity others often wore. But it wasn’t there. All that looked back at her was an open, kind, and decidedly handsome face. It was as if he thought her something special, something more than Jonas Beaumont’s daughter, something better than the girl who’d stolen from the hotel. It was disconcerting. His eyes held hers until she thought she’d forgotten how to breathe.
“I’m not who you think I am,” she finally said, her voice barely audible over the quiet breeze and the crickets’ song.
“What do you mean?”
What had she said? Edie squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on the back and forth motion of the horse beneath her. What had possessed her to say such a thing?
When she opened her eyes and glanced over at him, he wore a kind but serious expression. He wanted an answer, and she couldn’t dance around it. As close to the truth as she could get seemed again the best way forward.
Edie buried her chin in her coat as she spoke. “Only that I don’t always make the best decisions.” She pushed forward in the hopes that he’d forget she hadn’t thoroughly answered his question. “I’d heard word that one of my brothers might have just arrived in camp. If he’s there, I wanted to see him. I miss my brothers dearly.”
“What is his name?”
Name. Thinking quickly, she blurted out, “Tyrone Dutton.” It was, perhaps, a little too close to the truth, but surely there were many men named Tyrone. And she hadn’t used his nickname.
“I can’t say I’ve heard word of a man by that name, but I’ll ask around.”
“I’m grateful.” He wouldn’t ever find a man by such a name—not that she’d want her brother to know where she was, as much as she did miss him—but the kindness of Deputy Wright’s offer touched her heart. “I—”
Deputy Wright drew up short. “Stop,” he said, a finger against his lips.
She did as he said, halting her horse while raising her eyebrows in question. But he said nothing else as he turned around to face the direction from which they’d come.
And then she heard it. Off in the distance, likely toward the camp though it was hard to tell out here in the valley, came the unmistakable sound of hooves pounding the ground.
Had someone follo
wed them? It might be that livery owner, awake and angry that she’d gotten away. Or worse, someone she’d actually been searching for.
She needed to go. Now. Before whoever the person was caught up with them. Just as she was about to nudge her horse into motion, Deputy Wright rode into her line of vision. He pointed silently to the north, where an expanse of trees guarded what was likely a small water source.
Breathing so hard she thought for certain the man on the horse a distance away could hear her, Edie followed Deputy Wright to the trees. As soon as they were hidden from view, he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree. Edie followed suit and then scurried after him back up to the last few trees that sat back from the path between Crest Stone and the mining camp. The moment the man came into view on the far left, Deputy Wright drew a revolver from his hip with his right hand. With his free hand, he pressed her back behind him.
She tried to peer over his shoulder and finally settled on looking around him. His strong arm held her back, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, as he tracked the man and his horse across what felt like the width of the entire valley. Even when the man was out of sight, he stayed poised just like that for a few moments longer before finally lowering his gun and letting go of her arm.
She shivered in the cool air, wrapping her arms around herself while he stepped out beyond the trees. When he returned, he stopped in front of her. His face was impassive, but something in the air felt different. Edie hugged her arms tighter around herself.
“I’m curious about something,” he finally said. “One thing that doesn’t quite make sense.”
Her mind raced. Had she misspoken at some point? Had she given too much away? All of these falsehoods made her head spin. Her fingers dug into her arms, and she wondered if she might tell him everything. Perhaps being truthful wouldn’t be so terrible.
The temptation was so strong it almost made her forget why she’d kept so much from him to begin with.
He took a step forward, his eyes narrowed.