He knew the voice even before the man appeared. “About time you showed, Crede. If you’d gotten here a few days earlier, it sure as hell would have helped.”
The Arapaho half-breed continued chuckling. “If I’d gotten here earlier, that little filly wouldn’t have left in tears, I can guarantee you that.”
Max swore under his breath. He’d thought he was doing the right thing contacting Abby’s father. That was before he found they had the wrong man in custody.
Regardless, it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work with her around. Seeing her shot had caused a hurt deep inside him. His thoughts and feelings were all tangled up where she was concerned, and he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What do you know?”
Crede grinned. “About handling spirited fillies?”
Max scowled. “Leave off, Crede.”
The man’s brows rose, but he apparently thought better of making another wisecrack. “The man in jail is Joe Morgan. He’s wanted for several robberies along with card cheating. Thing is, everything we know about him says he’s never been east of the Missouri River.”
“That means he’s probably not the same man Monty played against in Chicago.” Max usually didn’t jump to conclusions, but apparently this time he should have waited to get all the facts. “Where’s Monty?”
Crede slouched against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t know. He came through here, but didn’t leave much of a trail. I wired Hickory in Denver to keep an eye out for him.”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “How hard is it to find one citified man who’s totally out of his element on the prairie?”
“Maybe you’re underestimating your brother. Preferring the city doesn’t mean he can’t survive elsewhere.”
He understood what Crede didn’t say. The Indian had had to do just the opposite, adjusting to civilization as the railroad came through. Towns sprang up, taking away his hunting ground and forcing him to live a totally different life.
“Okay, so we know who the captured man is, but we still don’t know who we’re chasing.” Max paced to the window. From where he stood, all he saw were wide-open spaces. Tall prairie grass swayed in the breeze, nothing to distinguish this area from most of what had once been the Kansas-Nebraska Territory. On the other side of the car, the wood frame train station blocked any view he had of the small town. “Stay in town. We’ll meet you for supper at the hotel.”
“You know I go no farther. I’ll meet you at six.”
* * *
It didn’t take Max long to decide on a plan. It took a little finagling, but soon he had what he needed and went in search of Abby. That wasn’t difficult, since there weren’t too many places to hide in First View. Falling back on his experience with his sisters, he’d decided to give her some time alone to get over her snit. He’d only done what he thought right and she made it sound like he’d violated some basic rights she had.
He stepped behind her in the small mercantile. “Excuse me, would you perchance be a lady in need of lunch?”
She whirled and he was pleased to see the panic in her gaze disappear when she recognized him. Then her eyes narrowed and he knew she was still angry.
“Abby—”
“I am twenty-four years old. You have no business telling my father to come get me.”
He hadn’t put it exactly that way, but thought it prudent not to argue. “You’re right.”
“I have the right to make my own life.”
“Yes, you do.” He noticed her hesitate when he kept agreeing with her.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Well, now, there I beg to differ,” he countered, holding up his hand to forestall the objection he knew was coming. “As your employer, I certainly believe I have the right to—”
“You still want my help? Why?”
Damned if she wasn’t going to make him say it. Max shifted from foot to foot. “You were right about the man in jail. He’s not the one.”
Abby crossed her arms. “Ah-ha.” One brow lifted in further question.
“You were right and I should have listened to you.” He waited for another smug comment.
“Were you offering me lunch?” With no further ado, she accepted his apology and moved on.
He should have known Abby wouldn’t hold a grudge, at least not for long. “Right this way.” He took her elbow and led her to where he had a small, rented rig waiting.
Abby looked around while Max drove the rig the short distance out of town. “Since leaving Boston, I’ve learned to appreciate the variety of land formations in this great country. I must say, Kansas is by far the flattest territory I’ve seen.”
“There’s not much to First View. This is the only hill within fifty miles.” Max reined the carriage to a stop by a grassy knoll where a lone tree stood sentinel against the clear blue sky.
Abby grabbed the blanket at the same time he reached for it, and their heads bumped. His hand shot out to steady her, but she stepped away. Her behavior was curious, but when she didn’t speak, he lifted the picnic basket and followed her through the prairie grass to the shade of the tree.
“Why do they call it First View?” She settled on the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her. She wore a simple skirt and white blouse, a single ruffle down the front. Even with her arm in a sling, she was quite fetching.
He watched her reach into the basket for an apple, then take a bite. She quickly touched her hand to her jaw as juice dribbled down her chin. Her tongue flicked out to catch the sweetness, and Max mentally groaned.
He was infatuated with her, something no woman had managed. Abigail O’Brien kept getting herself into trouble and she spouted feminist gibberish Max didn’t want to understand. Even so, her laugh caressed his senses and her delight in the world around her made Max a little less cynical.
“Hello, anyone there?” Her voice brought him out of his musings. He did that a lot when he was around her.
He leaned back on one elbow. There wasn’t much more he needed than a beautiful woman and a beautiful day. He grabbed an apple of his own and rubbed it on his shirt.
“On a clear day, this is where you can first see the mountains. That’s why they call it First View.” He chewed a bite of apple. “I was just thinking that few days are this peaceful. Thank you for giving me that.”
Her gaze shifted away from his. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Friends?”
Her brow furrowed. “We are friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes…friends,” he answered, although he wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that with regard to his feelings for Abby.
“I love spring, when the flowers are in high bloom, but before it gets too hot,” she said brightly.
He wondered at her change of topic. She seemed guarded, something he’d never noticed before. Usually she was spontaneous and very open, both with her thoughts and her emotions. However, he was happy she wasn’t mad anymore, so he decided to go along with her mood.
“At least you chose a good time to run away from home. Early spring and winter are notoriously unpredictable.”
She threw him a stern look. “I chose to be an independent woman. I did not run away from home.”
“Why is independence so important to you?”
Abby scooted around to face him squarely. “Why, look at you. You can go where you want, do whatever pleases you. You wear trousers and can smoke and drink.”
Max had to smile. “You have a penchant for a good cigar?”
“Of course not, but you know what I mean.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but along with all that freedom comes responsibility, honor and work. After all, who do you think protects the weak and the very young? It’s not an easy thing having the burdens of the world on your shoulders.”
Abby laughed, and Max reveled in the sound. “I know you work very hard at your job, but you have no one
to protect.”
“Why is it I’m continually surrounded by females, none of whom ever think they’re in need of protection? And some of whom find themselves in constant trouble?”
Abby looked around at the open, empty fields. “Who are they?”
Max ticked them off on his fingers. “Janice, Josephine, Jacqueline, Jillian, Jessica…”
“My goodness, that is a lot of women. But for being constantly surrounded by females, you always appear like you’re not quite sure what to do with us.”
“Let’s just say I’m continually amazed at the female logic, but I have learned to be leery.”
“All right, I can understand that. So tell me about all these women in your life.”
Max munched on a ham sandwich, thinking about his sisters and step-mother. He missed them dearly, just as he always did when traveling.
“I call my sisters the Blue Jays. Janice is fourteen, Josephine twelve, Jacqueline ten, and Jillian is only eight.”
“My, four girls, and they’re all so much younger than you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, I mean, you seem so much older. I mean mature…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m thirty-two years old. Does that make me a decrepit old man in your eyes?”
“Of course not. I’m twenty-four and considered on the shelf. I wonder why no one views a man’s age in quite the same way?” She asked the question, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Why are there so many years between you and Janice”?”
“Mother died when Monty and I were young. Later Father married Jessica and they were able to have more children.”
“You don’t sound like you resent her place in your family.”
“Of course not. Besides, it happened a long time ago and she apparently adores my father, though I don’t understand why.”
“You and your father don’t get along?”
“Let’s just say as the eldest, I never quite measure up to his standards.” Max tried to keep the resentment out of his voice.
“My family is quite the opposite. My father and I are extremely close, while my mother and I never see eye to eye.” She handed him a peach turnover before she continued. “Now I know who the Blue Jays and Jessica are, what about Monty?”
“Monty is married to an adorable woman who tolerates his shenanigans for some unknown reason.” He paused. “And now he’s disappeared.”
He watched her dust the crumbs from her hands, then settle so she faced him fully. “We’ve done a lot of assuming about what’s going on. Why wouldn’t Monty have telegraphed your father? Or let you know where he is and why?”
Max shook his head, for once not understanding his twin’s reasoning. “That’s another part of the mystery. Monty was always Father’s favorite, and though frequently in trouble, he never was very good at keeping secrets. Besides, his wife is expecting their third child, and it isn’t like him to up and leave without a clue.”
“You’re an uncle?” Abby’s voice turned soft and her look made his heart beat a little quicker. Just the tone of her voice got to him.
“Is that so hard to believe? I’m really not an ogre, you know.”
“You yelled at me the other night.”
“Of course I yelled at you. A female has no business in the middle of a damn gun fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not liking the turn in their conversation.
“Mary Wollstonecraft says women are not inferior to men by Divine Ordination.”
Max gaped at her, then sputtered. “What? I never said they were. I was trying to protect you.”
Abby sat very still, her head lowered, and he hoped she wasn’t going to cry. In a very quiet voice, which he strained to hear, she said, “But you said you didn’t need me. You telegraphed my father to send me home.”
He had muddled it again. He rose, then squatted on his heels in front of her, taking her hands. “It was my fault you were hurt, Abby, and the thought it might happen again tore at my heart. Women are meant to be protected, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re in any way inferior.”
He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her head until she looked at him. He lost himself in her emerald gaze and felt doomed, knowing he wanted something he didn’t deserve.
“Perhaps I feel the need to protect because you’re more precious than gold.” He leaned forward to kiss her trembling lips.
“Hello, got any lunch left?” The rough male voice came from nowhere. With lightning speed, Max turned, his gun in his hand long before he came face to face with the intruder.
“Whoa, partner, I don’t want to get shot just asking for a meal.” Crede grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
Max considered shooting him anyway for interrupting his moment with Abby.
Chapter Six
“Drat,” Abby fumed under her breath when Max turned away from her. Of all the times to be interrupted. He had said he didn’t need her anymore, but he still would have kissed her. And she would have been very willing. It seemed theirs was a rather confusing relationship. She rolled her eyes at her lack of reason—wanting a man who didn’t want her. She wondered what Lucy Stone would say about that.
During her somewhat limited time with Maxwell Grant, she had come to know him as a man of control, authority and responsibility. Apparently this was a time when his control slipped, and he didn’t appear to like it.
Looked at in that light, she saw how his actions were simply caused by what he thought was right for her. He probably felt responsible for her like he did for his sisters.
She frowned. Being treated like a sister wasn’t exactly what she wanted from him. Of course, trying to put into words what she did want was equally hard. She wondered if an easy answer to her dilemma even existed.
Her attention was drawn back to the men who quietly conversed a short distance from where she sat. They were both tall and dark-headed, though the stranger had braids hanging down his chest. The man gestured with his hands, the movement rhythmic, telling a story with motion rather than words, a story that flowed with musical grace.
He looked familiar. She recalled nearly running into him when she rushed off the train earlier. She watched first one then the other look her way before returning to their conversation.
“You might as well come out of the sun,” she said. “I know you’re talking about me and I mean to discover what you’re saying.” She was tired of Max doing things behind her back. “If you expect me to keep working for you, I have to know what it is we’re doing.”
She turned her attention to their visitor, smiling sweetly and raising her hand when he stepped close. “Hello, I’m Abigail O’Brien, Mr. Grant’s assistant.” If the man was surprised at her announcement, he hid it well, taking her hand and bowing gallantly over it.
“My name is Crede.” His glorious smile lit his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was rough and deep, with an accent foreign to her ears. “Miss O’Brien, it’s a pleasure to meet anyone who claims some relationship with this man. Does he have some terrible secret he’s using to hold you captive?” His eyes twinkled as he teased both her and Max.
She glanced Max’s way and saw him scowling. It was no more than he deserved. “He does grumble quite a bit and is far too controlling. What can I say…he needs me.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
Crede doubled over laughing. “Grant needs—”
“All right, you two. I’ve had quite enough of you poking fun at me. We should head back to town.” Max continued to scowl while he helped Abby to her feet and began to pack away their picnic.
She watched Crede shake his head in resignation before offering his arm to walk her to the small rig. “Let him stew a little,” he told her softly. “I’ve never seen him quite so…taken.”
“He is very intense about his work,” she agreed.
Crede grinned. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He might have said more, but Max joined them. He stowed the basket and blanket in the back and helped her onto the seat. He app
arently had decided their visit was over.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow, before we pull out,” Max said to Crede. He joined her on the seat and picked up the reins.
His friend grinned and winked at Abby before he spoke. “I thought I was to meet you for supper at the hotel?”
Max didn’t reply. Abby looked from one man to the other, not exactly sure what caused the tension she felt in the air. Max’s jaw was clenched and he stared straight ahead.
“We’d love to have you join us, Mr. Crede.” She added a smile to the invitation. She poked Max in the side with her elbow for his rudeness.
Instead of answering, he slapped the reins against the horse’s flanks and they rolled down the hill.
She turned to the front after giving a small wave to the man left standing on the hillside. “You might have offered him a ride to town.”
“It’s not that far,” he countered, his jaw hard.
* * *
There was no reason to be jealous of Crede, Max thought later that evening. The man had a way with women, true, but the operative wasn’t Abby’s type. He snorted, thinking he wasn’t what she needed, either. Still, he’d wanted to kiss her this afternoon; had ached for the touch of her lips even when he knew it could lead nowhere. Although he’d grumbled about meeting Crede for supper, it was probably for the best. If nothing else, the man would act as a buffer.
As he walked Abby past the small train station on the way to the hotel, his mind kept revisiting the picture of her on the hillside that afternoon. The smell of her got to him; the way she licked her lips before she spoke made him want to kiss her senseless. And how on earth did a simple shirtwaist and skirt make her look so damned appealing?
He held the hotel door open and breathed in her scent she walked past. It was a good thing they were only a day from Denver. He would deposit Abby with his Aunt Elizabeth where she would be safe while he continued his investigations. If he located a man fitting the description, he would let her identify him this time. Other than that, she had no business getting involved. And distance, even across the city of Denver, would allow him to put her from his thoughts.
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