“Do you mind?” she enquired sharply, pulling her skirt to the side for the third time.
“Not at all,” the man replied with a grin. “Thanks for moving it aside.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Suzanna drawled. “I would appreciate it if you would keep your feet on your side of the coach.”
“That’s kind of hard to do, ma’am. I got me some pretty long legs here and there’s not much I can do with them except stick them out,” he explained with a smile.
“Well, kindly keep them away from me. I don’t want to arrive at my destination all dusty and dirty.”
“Where is your um… destination, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Portland, not that it’s any concern of yours,” she replied lifting her chin and staring out the window.
“What are you going to Portland for?”
“I’m meeting my fiancé,” Suzanna informed him, appalled at his rudeness. “He’s a very wealthy and well known man,” she continued, obviously set on putting him in his place.
“Is that so?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“Good grief,” Suzanna cried as the road became rougher. “Is it always like this?” she demanded as she grabbed hold of the seat with one hand and her hat with the other.
“Depends on the weather. We get a lot of pot holes.”
“Well, why don’t they slow down,” she cried. “Are you trying to kill us?” she shouted out the window trying to signal the driver.
“They won’t hear you, ma’am,” the cowboy advised as he watched her bounce around like popcorn on a hot skillet. “I could come over there and sit next to you, sort of hold you down,” he offered with a crooked grin.
“No thank you,” Suzanna replied, horrified. Wedging herself as tightly as she could into the corner of her seat, she tried to brace herself with her feet. The heavy man had no trouble sitting still, he was a giant lump. The cowboy’s long legs reached clear across the aisle and he seemed to be managing, but she almost ended up on the floor several times before the man rose and moved across to her.
“Try hanging onto my arm,” he suggested with a smile. “If that doesn’t work you might have to sit on my lap.”
Suzanna looked at him doubtfully, but did take his arm. It helped some, but she feared her neck would snap right off before they got to Portland. As it was, by the time they pulled into the stage depot, she was firmly ensconced on his lap and sound asleep.
Dalton enjoyed nearly the entire trip.
Chapter Nine
Taking the emerald green feather that made him want to sneeze for the last fifty miles, Dalton bent it lower and tickled her nose. She batted it away and opened her brown eyes.
“We’re here, Miss Jefferies, although perhaps I could call you Suzanna since we’ve become so well acquainted,” he teased.
Scrambling off his lap, she scooted as far away from him as she could on the narrow seat.
“I ah… I don’t think… oh mercy, what is your name anyway?” she cried, brushing the dust from her new suit as best she could.
“Dalton.”
“Well, Mr. Dalton,” she began.
“Not mister, just Dalton,” he offered with a smile.
“Well, whatever, it doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll be moving in the same social circles, so the likelihood of us running into each other is slim.”
“You never know about those things, ma’am, you just never know,” Dalton replied. Opening the door, he stepped out and lifted her to the ground. He kept his hands around her small waist as long as he could before releasing her. “Where are you staying in Portland?”
Suzanna ignored him.
“Driver, leave my things inside. I’ll let you know where I want them delivered.”
“Miss Jefferies, you didn’t answer my question. Where are you staying?”
Looking up at him, he could see the doubt in her eyes and waited.
“I’m not sure yet,” she hedged, moving away.
“Well, I’d like to know,” he insisted, taking her arm and pulling her back. “I need to know that you’re safe and being looked after.”
“I can look after myself, Mr. Dalton,” she snapped looking desperately up and down the dusty street. “There, I’m staying at the Palmer House,” she said, pointing at a three story building across the way. “No need to concern yourself about me any longer.”
Dalton released her and scratched his head. She certainly was an opinionated little thing, and bossy too. Maybe Marshal Hadley was right about some women needing to be taken in hand. Watching her pick her way daintily across the street, he sighed and looked up and down the street until he noted the location of the telegraph office. He had a feeling that eventually his boss would want to know what his fiancée was up to.
It was three days before Cole made his way to Hugh’s to see Suzanna. There was a pile of paperwork waiting on the desk in his office to be dealt with and several arguments he had to straighten out between townsfolk before shots ended up being fired.
Each night when he returned home he could tell she’d been there adding finishing touches to the house, but he never saw her. He wondered if she was holding a grudge about the other night, but that just plain didn’t make any sense to him. She’d had the opportunity to stop him and didn’t take it. Why should she regret what they’d done now? On the other hand, women were funny creatures and she might be stewing because he hadn’t been to see her.
Giving a brisk knock, he forced what counted for him as a smile to his lips.
“Good evening, Marshal Hadley,” a pretty brown haired woman said.
Cole wracked his brain to come up with her name and finally grasped the first one he could think of.
“Good evening, Marta, isn’t it?”
It’s Martha, Martha Jonas. Come in, won’t you please,” she offered, holding the door wide. “We’re just finishing up supper. Would you care for something or did you come to see Mr. Jordon?” she asked politely.
“I came to see, Suzie, I mean Miss Suzanna,” he stated after clearing his throat. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other until Martha relieved him of it and hung it on the hook by the door.
“Perhaps I’d better get Mr. Jordon,” she suggested, nervously.
Cole took in her wringing hands and red face. Suddenly he was all business.
“That won’t be necessary. Just tell Suzanna I’m here.”
“Amelia,” Martha bellowed, backing away to the dining room door. “Can you come out here please, we have company. I think you’d better sit down, Marshal,” Martha suggested, indicating the couch.
“Miss Jonas, what in tarnation is going on around here?” Cole demanded.
“What is it, Martha?” Amelia asked, hurrying into the room with Hugh hot on her heels.
“Cole,” she gasped. “Oh, I see,” she continued, looking at Martha. “Cole, why don’t you sit down?”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want to know why the hell everyone is acting so surprised to see me?” he ground out. “I don’t think it’s so unusual for a man to visit his intended.”
“Well, it’s sort of a strange story,” Amelia sighed, wringing her hands.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Hugh said, slipping an arm around his wife.
Jane, Mary, Clara and Ellie slipped into the room and stood behind the couch watching. Cole took note of their apprehensive expressions and rolled his eyes.
“Look, I don’t know why all this hand wringing nonsense is going on, but somebody better start talking,” he ordered.
“Suzanna is gone, Cole,” Hugh said.
“What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”
“Just gone, no one knows for sure. All we know is that she was with us at the wharf when we were seeing my sister-in-law’s parents and three of the brides off, and then she wasn’t.”
“Well, she didn’t just disappear,” Cole snapped. “Something must have happened to her!”
“No, she left, Cole,” Hugh said, letting his frustration show for t
he first time. “When we returned to the house, all of her things were gone.”
“And some of ours,” Ellie piped up sarcastically.
“What does that mean?” Cole asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Well, in my book that means she’s a thief,” Ellie shot back, planting her hands on her hips.
Cole sank onto a chair and the women finally filed around the couch and seated themselves. All except the small dark haired one who’d slipped in quietly as though trying not to be noticed. She remained behind the couch her hands gripping the cushions so tightly her knuckles showed white. She was a pretty little thing, southern like Suzanna and for the life of him Cole couldn’t remember her name. Charlene… Caroline… no, Charlotte, that was it.
The more he watched her, the paler she became until she turned and fled from the room and up the stairs. Cole shook his head.
“What’s missing, besides Suzie?” he asked.
“Some jewelry, nothing terribly expensive but all of it treasured by the owners nonetheless,” Hugh replied. “I think there were some hair combs, and she got me for three hundred dollars,” Hugh admitted gruffly.
“You gave her three hundred dollars?” Cole asked with a laugh.
“Yes, I did,” Hugh replied defensively. “She said you were going to give her money to put your house in order but you got called away before you gave it to her,” he accused.
“So you gave it to her,” Cole said thoughtfully. “Well, at least she used the money for the house. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and get the money to you.”
“That’s just it,” Amelia said softly. “She didn’t use the money on your home. She used it for new clothes and to pay her fare out of town.”
“That can’t be,” Cole insisted, a confused look on his face. “There have been many improvements to my house.”
“We know, most of the materials came from hand-me-downs and cast offs.”
“Who did all the work then? Surely Suzie did something?” he asked, looking around the room.
Martha shook her head.
“As far as I know Suzanna never lifted a finger to help with your house,” she said sadly.
“Then who did?”
His question was met with silence as the women looked at each other and slightly shook their heads.
Cole frowned. Stubborn little cusses. He’d find out one way or another.
“When did she disappear?” he barked out
“Friday,” Amelia replied, “and you don’t need to be so intimidating, Cole.”
“The hell I don’t,” he shouted getting to his feet. “It seems as though someone should know something. Martha, Suzie said you and she were friends.”
“We were until I found out how untrustworthy she was. I didn’t want to believe she was the one taking things that didn’t belong to her, Marshal. Truly I didn’t, but it was Suzanna.”
“How do you know that?” he demanded.
“I searched her things,” Martha admitted, her head down. “I didn’t take them back because I was hoping to convince her to return them. She was gone before I ever got the chance.”
“And not one of you will tell me which one did all the work on my house?” he snapped, putting his hands on his hips and glowering at them each in turn.
Each woman shook her head, no.
“I should turn the lot of you over my knee, one at a time,” he said sternly, watching as each woman blushed and lowered her eyes. “Amelia, do you know?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say, Cole,” she smiled. “I wouldn’t want to break a confidence.”
“Naturally you darn females all stick together. Well, I guess I’m off the hook as far as getting married,” he said. “I can’t be expected to chase my bride all over creation now can I? Tell me, was Suzanna here in the house all Thursday night?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, yes she was,” Mary spoke up.
“How do you know? Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his mind reeling.
“She slept with me that night. We still had a houseful and she was forced to sleep with me because Lucy, Sarah and Lydia were so fretful about going back east that Mrs. Lane decided to stay the night to soothe them. She didn’t want any of them getting sick before their voyage. Amelia asked Suzanna to sleep in my room so Mrs. Lane could have hers. She didn’t like it very much and kept me up most of the night with her complaining.”
Cole sat back down and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. His fingers drummed against the arm of the chair as he thought things over.
It hadn’t been Suzie in his bed that night. More than likely he’d surprised whoever spent so much time working on his house, but which woman was it, he wondered, eyeing them one at a time.
Ellie was too tall. He would have noticed that. No, the woman in his bed was small, petite. Jane had a mature figure and she definitely wasn’t a virgin, she had two children back east. Martha was taller too and far curvier than his mystery girl. Mary just said she was home all night suffering Suzanna’s fit of temper. That left Clara who seemed much too timid to be out all alone after dark.
Mrs. Lane was tending to the three younger girls, so he doubted they could have slipped away from the house. It had to be Charlotte, pretty little Charlotte, with her long dark hair and wary blue eyes. As he recalled she’d said, “Ya’ll quit hoggin’ the bed.”
She wasn’t going to call him on his behavior, that much was certain. She was probably too much of a lady to ever mention the things they’d done outside the bonds of matrimony. Charlotte had run upstairs as if the hounds of hell were after her, so he could probably go on his way, maintaining his bachelor status with no one the wiser.
Except him, he was wiser he realized. He liked going home to a well-tended house. He liked that there were curtains on the windows and that his sheets smelled like the outdoors. He even liked the pretty little flowers she’d planted along the front steps and in two wooden boxes attached to the porch railing. But most of all he liked how she smelled that night, the feel of her warm body next to his, the noises she made when he fastened his lips on her nipple and suckled. Damn, he was not giving that up, no way, no how. Rising he strode toward the stairs.
“Charlotte!” he bellowed. “Get down here.”
“Hugh,” Amelia gasped, taking her husband’s arm. “Do something.”
“What would you have me do?” Hugh asked with a smile. “Our good and clever marshal has obviously figured it out.”
“Charlotte! If you don’t come down here, I’m coming up to get you.”
“Hugh, please,” Amelia repeated.
“Now, Cole…,” Hugh began.
“Shut up, Hugh,” Cole snapped. “If you want to be of some use, go and get the preacher.” Watching the landing he thought he saw a tiny corner of a blue dress.
“The preacher?”
“Have you suddenly gone hard of hearing, man? Yes, the preacher. Charlotte, this is your last chance,” Cole warned.
Charlotte suddenly appeared at the top of the landing and Hugh kept one eye on her and the other on Cole as she stiffly descended the stairs.
“Did ya’ll want me for something, Marshal Hadley?” she asked quietly from two steps away.
“You might say that,” Cole replied with a grin as he leaned forward and snatched her wrist, pulling her smoothly over his shoulder. “As a matter of fact, I want you for everything. Hugh,” he asked, turning, “would you mind if this young lady and I use your office? I think she and I had better have us a private little set to.”
“Help yourself,” Hugh replied with a grin as he got his hat and moved to open the door. “Ladies, it might be a good idea if you all got busy preparing something a little special. It seems we’re having a wedding.”
The women all looked at each other in shock before Martha started issuing orders and they scurried away. Amelia sat on the couch watching as Cole strode into Hugh’s office with a wiggling Charlotte over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him.
; Jane was grinning as she hurried to the kitchen to make some vanilla icing for a cake she’d baked for tomorrow. So, it was true. Charlotte had dreamed of marrying Marshal Hadley while sleeping on a slice of Effie and Sam’s wedding cake. Tonight she just might have to try it out for herself.
“Someone should ride over and tell Tempest,” she suggested as Mary and Clara got out the punch bowl. “She’ll be offended if she misses out on a wedding.”
“I’ll go,” Amelia said as she came into the kitchen. “I’ll take the small carriage.”
“Mr. Hugh won’t like you going out alone after dark,” Jane warned. “I’d better do it.”
“I’ll be fine, Jane,” Amelia assured her. “Besides, I’m the only one in the house he can’t spank,” she crowed as she took a shawl from a hook by the back door.
Cole turned and locked the door, pocketing the key before he set Charlotte on her feet. She immediately hurried to place Hugh’s large desk between them. He didn’t move, but his gray eyes spoke volumes as they flashed in anger.
“Tell me something,” he asked, placing his big hands on the desk and leaning toward her as she backed closer to the wall. “Were you going to tell me?”
There was no sense in pretending she didn’t understand his question.
“No,” she replied softly.
“So you were going to let me marry Suzanna?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Even though you knew she was a liar and a sneak? Even though you knew I thought she made my house a home?” he continued, his voice growing louder.
Charlotte didn’t reply. She looked around the room seeking another way out and found none.
“You were going to let me think it was Suzanna who gave herself so passionately to me that night, weren’t you? Weren’t you?” he yelled when she didn’t reply.
“Yes,” she shouted back, moving forward and slapping the desk. Her blue eyes flashed with temper. “What was I supposed to do? Suzanna was your intended. You were pledged to her. It’s not like you loved me, even though we did those things,” she snapped.
“I didn’t love her either,” Cole said sharply.
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