Abby knew a moment of panic, for her music was a very private matter. She rapidly shuffled her papers into a stack, clutching them to her chest.
“Mother thought it would make me more marketable in marriage.”
“Ah, to your Mr. Dilbert Crabtree.”
“He’s certainly not my anything, but why should you care?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to see you, an independent-minded woman, become tied to someone who doesn’t appreciate that free spirit.”
She heard longing in his voice and her heart turned over. Was there hope that he really understood her dreams and desires? Libby kept telling her that his feelings ran deep. Would he express them now?
“Do you have an alternative plan?” she prompted.
He didn’t meet her gaze.
“Not at the moment. Perhaps by the time we find Monty and get Dillon to confess, something will come to mind.”
She was disappointed, but clung to his use of the word we.
“Well, I do hope you’ll let me know if you determine a path for my future.”
Max heard a flurry of sound after he closed the door to the music room. He stood just outside and let the music flow over him, soothing his mind and body. The music Abby played was unlike anything he heard in the concert halls back east. There was an underlying sensuality that flowed deep in his soul, following the beat of his heart and opening his mind to thoughts of love and family. A month ago, he would have chastised himself for even having such ideas, but she made him see things differently.
He made excuses about how he wasn’t good enough for her, but according to her, he did no wrong. She kept reminding him how compassionate and giving he was. The constant worry of trying to live up to his father’s expectations faded more each day she interacted with his life. He hadn’t lied when he told her he didn’t have a plan. The only thing he knew for a certainty was that he wouldn’t allow her to marry Dilbert Crabtree. As always when his thoughts turned to Abby, a question surfaced. Did she love him?
It was obvious she enjoyed the kisses and caresses they shared, even if they’d left him wanting more. But did her heart beat out of control when they were together like his did? Were her first and last waking thoughts about him? It would be easy enough to ask, he supposed. He went against killers and thugs all the time. He certainly should not be afraid of a woman, so why did he hesitate now? He knew why, and that was what frightened him. She might say no.
* * *
“What do you mean they’re both gone?”
Max shouted, even when he knew Hickory wasn’t at fault. He paced back and forth before the tall windows in the study, looking out over the street. The morning had been shot to hell, he thought sarcastically. Why should the afternoon be any different?
“Sorry, sir. The orders were to follow them, not detain them, so we’ve got a man on the Colorado Central following Dillon. Since Golden City is the end of that line, we can assume he’s heading there.”
“That doesn’t explain what happened to Monty.”
While it wasn’t been hard to track him down, he had yet to confront his wayward brother. Every time his operative sent a message that Monty returned to Charpiot’s Hotel, he left again before Max arrived. Max had to give Monty credit—he knew someone followed him. Out of worry for his brother’s safety, Max even penned several messages and arranged a meeting away from Garland House. Monty didn’t show. Now he was gone. All he left Max was a single note in his distinctive writing—I can take care of this.
“Knowing that Monty is at least alive and safe for the time being, I believe our best bet is to follow Dillon.”
Max spoke more to himself than to Hickory, but the servant followed his train of thought.
“I’ll visit the train yard to make arrangements. When do you plan to leave?”
A tinkling of music floated from the room above where Abby still practiced. The thought of leaving her here, even protected by Hickory, was unbearable. Max told himself he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on cornering Dillon if he worried about Abby back in Denver.
“Find out how long it will take Miss O’Brien to pack before you decide which train to put us on.”
Hickory nodded and left Max to his thoughts. It was only twenty miles to Golden, but it was a mining town. He didn’t relish trying to find hotel rooms for Abby and himself. It made sense to use the railroad car. He sat at his desk, trying to complete his reports while he waited. It seemed that was all he did anymore. He was a man of action. He relished surveillance and bringing a criminal to ground. He disliked the waiting this game required, and he hated the report writing even more.
“Are you ready?”
Abby stood at the door, dressed to go out.
“For what?”
Her simple question made him ache in places he could hardly control.
Why did everything she said seem to carry a sexual innuendo? No doubt it was just wishful thinking on his part.
“Hickory said we were leaving for Golden.”
He frowned.
“That wasn’t fifteen minutes ago. How are you possibly ready now?”
He’d spent enough time around his stepmother and sisters to know no woman was ready to do anything in fifteen minutes. Abby brought his jacket from where he’d tossed it on the side chair. He stood and allowed her to help him into it.
“You have so much to learn,” she told him, smoothing her hands across his shoulders. He didn’t like the way she said that. He turned and took a step, but she didn’t move. They stood toe to toe.
“This is the nineteenth century, Max. Women can be very independent and very capable. I dare say in a pinch, there are even things I can do that you can’t.”
She gave him that smile that tangled his insides before rising on tiptoe to quickly kiss his lips.
“Are you coming?”
Her voice reached him through a fog.
* * *
All the way to Golden City, Abby asked questions—about the area, the towns, the mining. She had an insatiable appetite for knowledge and though by now it shouldn’t surprise him, he was pleasantly pleased with her interest. The Colorado Central train wound its way around the mountains on a gradual ascent.
With the constant and uneven motion, Max advised her to remain seated in the observation room during the short excursion. Though he’d traveled in Colorado before, he still found the scenery breathtaking.
The mountainside dropped off dramatically from the edge of the rail bed, while on the opposite side steep slopes rose almost vertically out of sight. Wildflowers peppered the ground, and periodically a trickle of mountain water wound its way through the crevices in the rocks.
“I am in awe,” she said, her gaze riveted to the landscape. “It is beyond belief.”
“Yes, I would have to agree,” he replied, but he wasn’t entirely talking about the passing scenery. Abby’s eyes glittered and her skin glowed. Her animated face clearly showed her emotions. She was an emotional and sensual creature, and he was very happy she chose to bestow her attentions on him. He still wasn’t quite used to it, but each day he found himself enjoying having her close, to touch him and be touched in return.
“The last time I was here, the railroad wasn’t even finished this far.”
“Really? We’re so used to them in Boston and the surrounding areas, I assumed the railroad was everywhere by now.”
Max shook his head.
“The mountains are difficult to build around. Every mile has to be blasted and cleared before track can be laid. In fact, the rails aren’t to Central City yet. Seems Golden would like the Kansas Pacific to use the route to Clear Creek, but Boulder hopes to get the bid for the Boulder Valley Railroad.”
“It certainly makes you appreciate the men who labored to give us this convenience, doesn’t it?”
Max was constantly amazed at Abby’s naiveté. He doubted she had any idea of the Chinese labor that was held in such cheap regard by the industrialists who were linking the countr
y coast to coast with the rail system. Even General Palmer, builder of the Kansas Pacific Denver extension, was known for his brutal tactics with labor. He decided some things were better left unsaid.
“It has yet to be seen whether the world sees the railroad as a convenience, what with derailments, robberies and the constant threat of Indian attack still very much a possibility.”
“Well, regardless, it is amazing to think of the speed at which we are traveling and by which supplies or even the mail are also delivered. By the way, did I tell you I received a post from Tess McGuire just before we left Denver?”
“Tess?”
“My friend from Topeka.”
“Ah, yes, the young lady who talked you into picking wildflowers in a pasture with a bull.”
He delighted in teasing her, and she huffed in indignation as he knew she would.
“She is my friend, and forever full of adventure, that is all. She is sitting with a young clerk from the mercantile now, and thinks perhaps he might be serious.”
“Serious about sitting?”
She gave an exasperated little sound then rose from her seat on the sofa and stood before him.
“I honestly don’t know why I try to have a conversation with you some days.”
The train swayed and Max reached to steady her, then decided to pull her onto his lap. He wrapped her arms around his neck and slid his hands to her back, bringing her close so they were nose to nose.
“You love it when I tease you.”
He didn’t give her time to disagree, but slanted his mouth across hers. He watched her eyes flutter shut and felt her relax in his arms. His kiss mirrored his mood—teasing and light—and yet it was as intoxicating as any they’d shared. He continued to study her while he kissed her cheeks, her ear, and her chin. He used the tip of his tongue to trace her lips, and was about to kiss her more fully when she opened her eyes and returned his stare. She blinked twice, then frowned. Pushing against his shoulders, she quickly stood.
“I don’t trust a man who doesn’t close his eyes when he kisses me.”
“What the hell kind of rule is that?” he returned, his voice unintentionally loud.
She straightened her shoulders. “Well, apparently a very good one, from the sounds of things.”
She backed until she stood behind the sofa.
“Is this another of your crazy ladies’ bits of wisdom?”
She appeared to think about that. “I don’t recall reading that in the modern books, but I must have read it somewhere.”
Max stood and began to stalk her. “Are you sure you didn’t make it up?”
“No, why would I do that?”
She sounded nervous now. Max moved closer.
“How the hell do I know? Why do you do most of what you do? Those crazy ladies you quote—”
“Quit saying that. Just because you don’t agree with them does not make them crazy.”
“What do they say about women who don’t close their eyes—like you?” He grinned.
“I did.”
She suddenly noticed his proximity and backed up, dropping right into a chair. He trapped her, gripping the chair arms on either side of her. He brought his head so close they shared the same air.
“No, you didn’t, or you wouldn’t have known my eyes were open.”
“Oh.”
She returned his grin, indicating she was enjoying this little game they played.
“Maybe,” he breathed softly, “we should try it again. This time with our eyes closed.”
“How will I know—if I close my eyes—that you will, too?”
“Trust me,” he whispered, touching his lips to hers. And as he kissed her this time, eyes tightly shut, he entrusted her with his most precious possession—his heart.
* * *
The next morning, Abby arrived alone at the Astor House for breakfast. In the lobby she passed Max, dressed as Jeffery Markham, settled behind the Colorado Transcript newspaper. Though she was getting used to his blonde hair and muttonchops, she still preferred the Max with dark hair and twinkling eyes. He carefully tried to make it appear they weren’t traveling together. It wasn’t until she was seated at a corner table in the dining room that he approached.
“Good morning, Miss O’Brien. Would I sound terribly rude if I invited myself to join you?”
She looked around the room, which was deserted since it was probably considered late in the morning to have breakfast.
“I don’t believe we would be breaking any of Golden City’s ordinances if we shared a table, Mr. Markham.”
He sat beside her instead of across from her and ordered breakfast when the waitress came by. He carefully laid the newspaper between them on the table.
“Appears to be some news today.”
He tapped the paper with a finger then sipped his coffee. Abby picked up the paper and scanned the headlines. Public Warned Against Mining Scandal. She glanced from the headlines to Max before continuing to read the article by George West, co-founder of the Colorado Transcript. He stated there were reasons to believe a new mine stock scandal was being perpetrated south of Golden City in the Leadville area. Several people reported being approached by a stranger trying to get them to invest in his mining company, assuring them two hundred percent profits in six months. Upon requesting to see deeds of the site, the man usually indicated they hadn’t been filed yet. That in itself should have warned people off, since he couldn’t claim the land without a deed filed at the assayer’s office. She glanced around the room before she whispered to Max.
“Was someone doing this in Boston, too far from Colorado for anyone to check the facts?”
She gasped when a horrible thought struck her.
“Is it possible this involves your brother?”
“I wish I knew. There are no descriptions of this supposed stockowner. It could be Dillon or any number of other swindlers. If I stretch my imagination, I can possibly see Monty investing in something like this to make some big money and impress our father. He would have to talk Jerome into releasing the funds.”
“We’ll find him, Max, and get back everything that was taken from your family.”
She gave the hand closest to her a squeeze.
“Jeffery Markham, welcome.”
A man’s voice carried across the dining room and Abby quickly removed her hand. A tall, thin man hurried from the lobby to where they sat. Max stood at the man’s approach.
“Seth, how are you?” He extended his hand.
Abby wondered how Max knew so many people, but she supposed in his line of work he made contacts all over. Apparently Jeffery Markham’s disguise was as well known as Maxwell Grant, although she hadn’t seen it until Max donned it at his aunt’s home. She watched his expression change from cheerful to cautious when the man took a step closer to her.
“Miss O’Brien, I would like you to meet Seth Lake, the owner of this establishment.
Seth, Miss O’Brien and I met on the train from Denver.”
“Mr. Lake.”
Abby extended her hand and he bowed over it.
“Mr. Markham and I just happened to be traveling in the same direction.”
Seth was about Max’s age, she would guess, and his eyes twinkled in good humor.
“In all the years I have known Markham, he always has the damnedest luck in finding beautiful women.”
Abby threw Max a glance. He cleared his throat.
“If you own this place, don’t you have something to do?”
This time Seth actually winked at Abby.
“A well run business doesn’t need its owner underfoot disrupting the flow of things. Besides, I bought this place to house the territorial legislators, and they aren’t here at the moment. I believe that was the last time I saw you, wasn’t it, Markham? You were investigating the last request for statehood, wasn’t it? Well, never mind. Since we’re not busy, I’m free to escort Miss O’Brien around and show off my town.”
The man ignored Max’s
protest and directed his attention to her.
“Did you have any plans for this afternoon, Miss O’Brien?”
She looked from Max to Seth Lake.
“As a matter of fact, I’m interested in mining investments and thought to question Mr. West about his story before I purchase anything.”
She smiled her brightest.
“If you have any suggestions for the investment of my money, I would be most happy to have your advice.”
The man’s chest expanded. Max’s frown deepened.
Abby gave her hand to the hotel owner. “Could I meet you at two this afternoon?”
He took her hand, bowing low. “It would most certainly be my pleasure.”
He nodded at Max.
“Markham.”
When he left, Max dropped into his chair with a huff.
“What the hell was that all about? You can’t go waltzing all over town with strangers.”
“I thought he was a friend of yours. Besides, I believe my smile can acquire more information than your frowns.”
To prove her point, she gave him one of her most dazzling.
“I suppose you’re right, but I’m not crazy about letting you out of my sight.”
She stood since their breakfast was done.
“Then come along, Mr. Markham, for I need to go shopping.”
She left the Astor House without a backward glance. If Max needed to feel protective, she would let him. But that didn’t mean he could interrupt her day.
Chapter Eleven
Abby dressed carefully that night, quite a bit more conservatively than the last time she played poker. The saloons in Golden City didn’t provide the controlled atmosphere of the InterOcean Hotel where she’d met Dillon. She knew Max would be nearby, but he was just one man against a rowdy mining crowd. She’d been disappointed at the end of her day. Neither Mr. West at the newspaper or Seth Lake were able to shed much light on the mining scandal. The paper didn’t have a picture or description of the man they thought was perpetuating the swindle. Seth assured her he would carefully check any property before he mentioned her interest to the owners. It seemed that while he appreciated the fact she had money to invest, he didn’t think her capable of doing so without his expertise. Of course, Abby didn’t actually have any money, but the ruse was workable and would probably net them results if the culprit was in the vicinity.
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