To raise Josie as her own.
A breeze rustled up against her and waltzed with her skirt. She should have brought a sweater of some sort. Oregon’s personality was moody, and chill bumps rose on her arms in reaction to the cool wind.
Or maybe it was the thought of having a family. Though her heart ached for Josie, knowing the child’s mother might pass soon, Mr. Langdon had assured her that there were no living relatives, no one to claim Josie. Without him, she would be put into an orphanage. Mary couldn’t abide such a thought. Perhaps her own childhood had been unstable. Constantly moving, a father who was in and out of her life physically, a mother who was emotionally in and out, but there’d been many times of love. There’d been food and clean clothes.
She’d seen orphanages, but worse, she’d heard tales of them. Many of the prostitutes her mother worked with came from these places. Many had been more girl than woman.
A shudder swept through her.
No. Mr. Langdon and the orphanages wouldn’t get her sweet girl. His plans for Josie were vile enough to let her know that when Josie’s mother died, the girl would be in harm’s way. Mr. Langdon’s wicked plan had to be an answer to prayer. God could use evil and turn it to good. Perhaps that was His plan for her.
She stopped at the corner and waited for the coming streetcar. She wrapped her arms firmly around her ribs. A year or less. If she could make it through that, then both she and Josie would be okay.
She’d agreed to show up in the morning for the job, which meant she should find somewhere to sleep this evening.
“Mary!”
She whirled to see Lou sprinting toward her. His broad frame filled her with a restless longing, an unfair yearning. She closed her eyes, pressing them to block out his image.
He reached her, his breaths short and shallow. Perhaps his scar still ached.
“You shouldn’t be running,” she said, opening her eyes.
“I’m fine. Look—” he swiped a hand through his hair “—I really am sorry. I’ve got no business telling you what to do. The past few weeks have been crazy for me. Getting shot, seeing Josie, which brings back all sorts of memories... Let’s just say I’m trying to make things right and I feel like I’m failing.” The words sounded strained as he said them.
A streetcar rumbled to a stop in front of them. She stepped onto it, and Lou followed. They held the railings as it picked up speed. What could she answer him? Seconds turned into minutes. He let her think, for which she was grateful.
Finally, she turned to him. He still wore that pained, uncomfortable expression. It pulled at the creases of his eyes and made him quite attractive. Stifling a smile, she said softly, “I suppose you’re not used to apologies.”
His lips tilted. “I’m used to being in charge. Giving orders and having people obey.”
“Perhaps there was a time for that in my life, but being by myself so much at the ranch has taught me to make my own way.” She hesitated, then reached out and touched one of his hands. His skin was tanned and scarred, rough beneath her fingers. “Your desire to protect me is noble, but I must be free to make my own choices. To control someone is not loving.”
His throat worked. His eyes were such a clear blue, penetrating and serious. “The last thing I want is to hurt you or treat you less than what you deserve. I’m going to try to trust your judgment, but I need you to trust me, too.”
“When it comes to my life, I reserve trust for myself.”
“What about God?” he countered.
The jab stung a bit. “Perhaps my trust in Him is not perfect, but I’m working on it.”
“I guess that’s the most anyone can do.” The streetcar jolted to a stop. They shifted closer to allow a woman laden with bags to squeeze past. Lou’s cologne and minty scent enveloped Mary. She was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her hair.
As soon as the woman passed, she shifted away, ignoring every impulse to stay near him. The car started up again.
“So...truce?” Lou asked.
She faced him, taking in his sober look. “I suppose so.”
“Great. Let me help you, then. What’s the plan? What can I do? I have resources you can only dream of.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
She reciprocated, thankful the tension between them had ebbed. “For now I must find a hotel to stay at. Tomorrow I will begin my new job.”
“Your ma know yet?”
“I’ll send a telegram once I’m settled.”
“You don’t think she’ll worry?”
Mary quirked a brow. “Do you?”
“A little.” He rubbed at the light stubble at his chin. “Truth is, she’s a hard one to pin down, but I can usually see when someone is up to no good. She’s about spent all her no-goodness, I think.”
“I’m not sure whether you just complimented her or if that was an insult.”
“Call it the truth.” He winked at her, then his face went stiff. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t move,” he said softly.
“What?” She turned to look where his gaze had fastened, but he was already shifting, putting his body between hers and whatever he saw. She swallowed. Holding still this way made her more aware of the rapid pump of her pulse and the dryness of her mouth.
“There’s a hotel at the next corner. Small but nice. You mind staying there?” He swung her a quick glance, questioning.
“No, no, that’s fine.” She swallowed hard. “Is everything okay?”
He hesitated.
Suddenly the need to know overwhelmed her. The need for him to share with her more than the curious oddities or the amazing inventions he’d seen on his travels. She wanted to share in his struggles and perhaps even his adventures. An unfamiliar prickle crawled across her skin.
“Please tell me,” she said quietly.
He looked around and then bent his head forward, blocking her view of everything but him. “The man behind me sought me out to parlay information right before I was shot. I believe he followed me onto this streetcar, or maybe it’s just chance, but I’ve got to talk to him.”
“But first you need to see me settled?”
“Yes.” His eyes searched hers.
“That’s not necessary. I can do it myself.”
He was already shaking his head. “No. Not in this city, not at night.”
The streetcar shuddered to another stop.
“Really, I’ll be fine. Surely a reputable hotel like you’ve suggested will be a safe place.”
“Maybe so, but it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”
And there it was again, that urge to wrap herself in his arms and to never let go. The feeling struck her with such force that she couldn’t speak, could only lose herself in the intensity of the moment.
Movement grabbed her attention. Bowler Hat disappeared out the door. She pointed.
Lou blinked, spun around. He grabbed her wrist. “Will you come with me? It’s dark, dangerous... I’ll try to keep you safe, but you’ll need to trust me.”
Indecision rooted her feet and each second passed in agonizing slowness. The engine’s gears ground, propelling her into action.
She moved forward. Slipped her hand into his and let him lead her into the night, after the mysterious man.
Chapter Twenty-One
Their breathing melded with the sounds of evening as they dropped from the streetcar to the cobbled road. Lou’s hand tightened around Mary’s smaller one. He couldn’t believe she’d come with him, that he was actually going to bring her with while he interrogated this guy.
Her hand was warm in his as they stepped near a brick building. The light was waning, turning into a smoky dusk. He searched for the bowler hat. People still lingered outside, some going to work, others leaving after a hard day.
Businesses lined this street. Women clicked down the sidewalk in heels. Me
n in suits and eyeglasses who’d stayed longer than expected locked their offices for the night. Still no hat. The man reached medium height. He’d blend in well.
Lou groaned. Mary’s fingers flexed in his.
“He went that way,” she whispered. Her chin nudged to the right.
He followed the direction of her gaze and spotted a dark alley ahead, hidden between two narrow buildings. He strode forward, releasing her hand. When they reached the crevice, he turned to her.
“Stay here.”
“I should go with you.” Her eyes shone black in the encroaching night.
“Nothing can happen to you.” That knowledge resounded through him. No matter what, she had to stay safe. “You can keep an eye out. Stay here, in the shadows.” He moved her inside the alley, up against the wall. “No one will see you, but you’ll see them.”
Gut tight, he left her there, clutching her dress and looking nervous. It couldn’t be helped, though. The man waiting at the end of the alley had something to impart. He wouldn’t have followed Lou otherwise.
He edged against the wall, reaching for his revolver. Nothing stirred in the alley. The light from the street only reached so far. A dank, putrid smell pervaded his senses. He blocked it, focusing on the barely discernible shadow at the end of the alley.
Flattening his back, he peeked at Mary. He could barely see her. That was good. He whipped his gaze the other way.
“You wanted to talk,” he asked, keeping his voice low, letting the natural echoes carry his words to the other party.
A clatter punctuated the stillness. Then rustling. Finally, Lou’s eyes adjusted and he could see the outline of a hat as the man moved near. He adjusted his gun, keeping it low at his hip and aimed lower. His trigger finger flexed against the revolver’s hilt.
“Took you long enough.” The Irish lilt in Bowler Hat’s words confirmed Lou’s thoughts on his identity. The guy sidled up, hands in the air. “I’m not armed, so you can lower your weapon. I just need to talk.”
Lou kept his revolver aimed. “Come closer.”
“I’m coming, mister.” Scuffling ensued, and then the man stood opposite him. The odor of fish guts clung to him. Dusk had settled long ago, marking the way for darkness to creep in. Lou wanted to see his face, but the crescent moon left a lot to be desired for light.
“That your woman over there?” the man asked.
“Who wants to know?” Lou countered.
“No sirree, I’m not stupid enough to give my name. I just wanted to pass on some information and I’ve heard you’re to be trusted. You don’t take bribes.”
“Go on.” Things were getting interesting, and not in a good way.
“There’s been talk about shady characters in the bureau. It’s been a few weeks, but I didn’t have anyone else to give my information to.”
“Why me? Besides all your jabber and flattery, you’ve got no need to pass this on.” Besides, Lou had one use for the guy. “Tell me who shot me, and you can go your way.”
The man let out a short laugh. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t say. I’ve my reasons for singling you out, and they don’t include a shooter. When I tried talking to you last month—”
“You got me shot,” Lou interrupted, feeling his patience grow thin. “If you’ve something important to say, then let’s go down to the station and write it down legal-like.”
“I told you, mister, there’re eyes. This is for you and only you.” The man scuffled again and then moved to the center of the alley. “Wasn’t my fault what happened last time. I’m telling you the truth. This time I was careful, though. Followed you and made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.” He took a step toward Lou. “I’m handing you the correspondence, and you can decide what to do with it. As for me, I’m leaving town and don’t want you searching me out.”
Lou swallowed his scoff. As if he’d really let this bootlegger slide through his fingers.
The man swept the bowler off his head, closed the distance between them and handed it to Lou. “The information is in the seam. Before I go, I need to know this lady friend of yours isn’t going to be in the way. Distractions get a man killed real easy. Even when it’s just the messenger.”
Lou grabbed the hat, his blood thundering through him at the guy’s proximity to Mary. Messenger or not, he didn’t know who this man was or what he was capable of. His number-one priority right now was to protect Mary. He placed the hat on his head and stepped into the light.
“Whoa, mister...” The man backed up, hands in surrender.
“The lady means nothing to me.” He jerked his head to the alley opening. “Make sure whoever sent you knows I’ll take care of the situation. No distractions.” He waved his gun. “Now, scram.”
* * *
“What a disappointment,” Lou muttered.
Mary flinched when he took her by the arm. The mysterious man had faded out of the alley and disappeared onto the street, but her limbs still felt paralyzed both by the situation and the words exchanged. Somehow she set into motion next to Lou, her lips like cotton and her heart pattering an uneven rhythm.
They found a streetcar still operating and settled in a corner. The people around her looked tired and bedraggled, no doubt from a long day’s work. They would never guess the drama that had just transpired.
Bribes in high places. Strange stalkers. Unknown assailants. She almost wished she hadn’t followed Lou off the streetcar, and yet the experience had given her a different perspective of her former employer. That carefree smile he wore masked so very much. In the alley he’d sounded completely in control, powerful. Not lighthearted in the least.
How many times had he faced such danger? She chanced a glance at him and the hat upon his head, which supposedly contained the secret missive.
Gracie would find this all very exciting, but Mary was only conscious of exhaustion. She longed to be home, kneading bread, breathing in the delicious aroma of yeast and flour and milk. She wished to listen to Josie’s chatter and to feel the sage-scented breeze upon her brow, not to ride a loud streetcar filled with odors and stares. Adventure wasn’t for her.
Home and hearth. Family. Those filled her heart.
“Are you okay?” Lou’s brow crinkled, and Mary flushed. He’d caught her daydreaming while still looking at him. Did he think she’d been ogling? The thought quivered through her.
“I am fine,” she said.
“You look shaken,” he persisted.
“Really, all is well. I am simply tired.” And heart worn. Not only had the experience been exhausting, but Lou’s words still echoed in her head. The lady means nothing to me.
“We’ll get you to the hotel, then. Are you sure you want to go through with tomorrow? I don’t trust Langdon.”
The one thing she felt for certain was that she didn’t feel like arguing. Tiredness weighted her very bones. “You shouldn’t spend time worrying about him when it sounds as though you have something wrong with your Bureau of Investigation.”
He snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Why so certain? The government has a long history of deceit and underhanded methods.” She’d heard the stories of her maternal grandmother and grandfather. How they’d been forced to march. Offered land only to have it rescinded. And more tales of blood and lies. No, Lou might do much good, but that didn’t mean all men in government were like him.
“You’re right about that, but in this case, I have a different feeling.”
“Feelings are not a solid guidepost for life.” She crossed her arms.
“Right again, but the gut never lies.”
She grimaced, and he laughed.
“Instinct and feelings are two different animals,” he continued. “One to be trusted, the other to be wary of.”
“At last we agree.” She felt the corners of her lips lift unexpectedly.
They ar
rived at the hotel too soon. After situating her in a room, Lou said an unnervingly brisk good-night, and she shut her door.
Alone at last.
The room smelled a little of mildew, but she trusted the bed to be clean. The space looked sparse, filled with only a dresser, a bed and one nightstand. A lone lamp stood in a corner. She set her bag beside the bed, and then went to check the tub. The hotel had running water, thank goodness.
She cleaned up and even rinsed her dress, hoping it would dry by morning. Sending it down to be laundered seemed a waste of money when she must leave in the morning. As she worked, Lou’s words revolved in her head.
The lady means nothing to me.
Deep down, she knew she meant something to him. Something more than a friend. But to hear him so casually dismiss their relationship to the bowler-hat man sent apprehension through her. The words had left his mouth without effort. Whatever he felt for her, it wouldn’t impede his job or change his life.
And did she want it to? The memory of his kiss tingled her lips. She rubbed at them and climbed into bed.
No, she had never wanted a husband. Kisses were one thing, but everything after could only stir memories she’d long healed from. Or at least suppressed. The thought nagged at her. She pulled the blankets up and rolled to her side, staring at the wall.
Hadn’t Miss Alma helped her? Years ago she’d told the kind lady everything that had transpired when Trevor’s mother had arranged for her to be kidnapped by a gang of evil men. They’d planned to sell her, and though there’d been rough talk, handling that still gave her chills, and countless leers, no one had assaulted her.
The emotional impact had still been traumatic.
Memories traipsed through her mind, rolling silently like one of those new films they showed in theaters lately. Only her memories were in both color and sound, and she couldn’t turn them off with a flick of the reel.
Restless, she rolled to the other side and plumped her pillow. Things that had happened so long ago shouldn’t keep hurting, but they did. Granted, the fear had subsided and now she felt only an uncomfortable knot of tension.
Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range Page 41