Her brows scrunched low, and she squared her shoulders, pulling her jacket snug across her breasts. “I feared for my very life, sir, and you think I should have noticed their saddles?” She inhaled deeply, and then her whole body stilled. “Yes, I do remember something about the saddles.”
He watched the movement of her chest—in particular, how the buttons strained their closures. The rhythm of his heartbeat kicked up and a bead of sweat trickled on his forehead. Lifting his gaze to her face, he leaned forward, forcing himself to concentrate on what she might share. “What’s that?”
“Each man sat in one.” Her body rigid, she raised the mug to her lips and waited, an eyebrow arched high.
As prickly as a wild rose. Quinn slumped in his chair and ran a hand over his face. He deserved that comment. He was pushing her too hard. This wasn’t the first time he’d stepped all over someone’s sentiments, digging for the truth that would bring a criminal to justice. Sometimes he wondered if he’d forgotten all the manners of his ma’s upbringing.
“Blue bandana handkerchiefs covered their faces from just below their eyes down.” Her lips pressed tight before she continued. “Their hats were pulled low. I can verify each man had guns, and at one instance or other, the vile things were pointed directly at our chests.”
The flat tone of her voice heaped on the guilt. “I apologize, ma’am, for sounding callous. In frightening circumstances, witnesses often pick one particular thing to concentrate on. Something that distracts them from what is really happening. That one clue often leads to an arrest.”
“I see.” She relaxed her posture. “Well, I can tell you the guns looked huge. I had no doubt they would use them if we stood in their way.”
“Okay.” Hands braced on the table, he readied to leave. His thoughts raced ahead to how much daylight remained, and to what he might find on the road south of town. A final thought surfaced. “Did they say anything to the man they removed from the stage?”
Fingertips rubbing at her temple, she spoke, her voice husky with fatigue. “They knew him by name. I thought that was strange.”
Might be the clue he needed. His heartbeat quickened, and he stilled. “How so?”
“This was a robbery, so obviously they took all the valuables in sight.” Her brow wrinkled as she relayed her thought. “If they used his name, shouldn’t they be worried that he’ll identify them later?”
How to answer that question? She did seem calmer than when they’d first sat. Without knowing what type of life she’d led, he hesitated to speak frankly and send her into a swoon like her traveling companion. “Robbing the passengers may not have been the main motive. I’ll know more when I talk with the driver.”
The mug landed on the table with a thud. “I know when I’m being robbed. They took billfolds, watches, and jewels.” Her eyes rounded. “My money! How will I pay for my lodgings or food?” Head bent low, she covered her face again. “I have stolen this tea and have no resources with which to make restitution.”
Her obvious distress tightened his chest, and he gently touched her arm. Miss Morrissey was so slight, his grip could have encircled her forearm.
The muscles in her arm stiffened at the contact, but she kept her face hidden.
Hand still in place, he fought to ignore the heat radiating from where their bodies touched. He refused to let the most intriguing female he’d met in years distract him from his duty. Especially if she was just traveling through. “Don’t worry, Miss Morrissey. Arrangements will be made. First, I’d feel a whole lot better if the doctor looked you over. You still appear shaky.” He glanced out the front window, hoping to spot a townswoman to sit with her, but the crowd had dissipated. “By now, Doc has taken Pete and Miss Fairchild back to his office. I’ll escort you there.”
Quinn stood and laid several coins on the table. He waited for Ciara to stand, and then he moved ahead of her to hold open the door. Once outside on the sidewalk, he grasped her elbow and guided her to the left. She stumbled on the first step, and he shifted his hold, an arm circling her waist.
“I am not normally in need of such rigorous support, sir.” Her voice softened. “My…my legs seem uncommon…” As her words slurred, her steps faltered, and she swayed hard against his side. Her head dropped against his chest.
For a moment, he wished for different circumstances that would bring them into such an intimate position. His side warmed where her curves pressed against him.
Stick to the business at hand, Riley! When he bent to scoop her into his arms, he inhaled the scent of lemons. The fresh and tangy fragrance fit what he knew about the woman. Within moments, he reached the doctor’s office and stooped to open the door. Miss Morrissey slipped lower in his arms and he shifted his hold. The soft mound of her bottom was firm and ripe for a man’s touch, and he willed himself not to tighten his hand. Afraid she’d rouse and discover this compromised position, he slid his hand to the backs of her legs.
Through the open doorway, the doctor called out, “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Doc, Sheriff Riley here.” He lowered her to a chair and clamped a hand on her shoulder to keep her from sliding off. “Toss me a bottle of smelling salts. I can take care of Miss Morrissey.”
The curtain parted, and the doctor poked out his head, glancing between Quinn and the woman. “She’s just fainted?”
“Yeah, one minute she was walking and talking, the next she was out cold leaning against me.” He stretched to grab the bottle the doctor placed on the desk. “How’s Pete? Can I talk to him?”
Doc’s gaze passed quickly over the woman’s face. “He’s lost a fair amount of blood. I’ve given him a draught of laudanum, so he’ll be sleepy. But he can talk.”
“How about the other one, the female passenger?”
“I revived her once. She took one look at Pete’s injury, screamed to high heavens, and fainted again. I figured she’ll sleep a bit and wake up on her own.” He cast a sheepish look at the curtain and shook his head. “No use bringing her around just to deal with hysterics again.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” Turning to face the chair, Quinn pulled the stopper from the jar and waved it under Miss Morrissey’s nose.
A gloved hand swatted at the bottle, but her eyes remained closed.
Damn, he had other problems to attend. He lifted the jar closer to her nose. This time, her whole body jerked and a foot kicked, catching him high on the inside of his thigh. Unprepared for the sharp jolt, he staggered backwards. “Ow! Watch your foot, lady.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her face. “Take away that vile jar. I am awake.”
Quinn capped the jar and set it on the desk. He leaned over, massaging the tender spot dangerously close to his groin, and peered into her face. “Let me see your eyes.”
She lowered her hands and opened her eyes wide. “I am quite all right.” Her gaze dropped to where his hand rubbed his leg. “Oh, did I do that?”
“Next time I’ll stand to the side when administering smelling salts.” He straightened, arms at his side. “Guess everyone’s reaction is different.”
As pinkish color rose in her cheeks, she dipped her chin. “Sheriff Riley, I am sorry. I hope there will be no, um, permanent injury.”
“Thanks to your short legs, no harm done.” The woman was candid—another quality he admired. A grin touched his lips. “I’d hate to think what would have happened if you were three inches taller.” Before he took the conversation in an even more improper turn, he excused himself and stepped behind the curtain. With a quick glance, he scanned the room.
A blonde woman dressed in a faded brown dress that had seen more prosperous days sprawled on the padded examination table.
Pete rested on a cot against the opposite wall, his wiry shoulder bandaged, and a sheet pulled up under his arms. His face was pale beneath his tanned skin, and his eyes were closed.
“Pete?” Quinn waited, and then nudged the man’s good arm. “Pete, wake up. I need informat
ion.”
The man roused, but his eyelids drooped at half mast. “Hey, Quinn.”
“What can you tell me about the men?”
“Three men…well armed.” He swallowed hard. “Plugged the coach…a couple shots then team stopped.” His mouth drew into a tight line. “Told passengers to cooperate.” He shook his head and fought to lift his eyelids. “A woman screamed. Like a fool, I stood… caught this here bullet.”
Nothing new in that description. “The passenger, Miss Morrissey, gave a similar account of the event.”
“Spunky thing.” His grin drooped sideways. “Just jumped in seat and whipped up team. Not much experience driving, though.” He squinted and blinked hard. “A whole lot of bouncing and then nothing. Guess I passed out.”
So Pete recognized her individuality, too. “Were their horses or saddles familiar? Maybe you heard a name.”
“Nope.” Pete shifted his weight and winced, cradling his arm. “Weren’t there only to rob the stage.”
Quinn tensed at the insinuation in the driver’s words. Just like he’d thought. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t go for strongbox. Takin’ billfolds and jewelry…all for show.” His gaze sharpened. “Pulled out ol’ Judge Stanton…and took off at a gallop.”
“Aw, hell.”
All afternoon Quinn had sensed trouble was brewing.
Now the truth was revealed. “They grabbed my circuit judge?”
Chapter Two
Quinn shoved away from the wall of the doctor’s examining room and paced the tiny space between the patients’ cots. “I’ve been waiting almost a month for Judge Stanton’s arrival. O’Malley’s trial was supposed to be tomorrow. Now I’ve got to gather a posse and search for the judge.”
Pete cleared his throat. “Might not be needed.”
Quinn pierced him with an angry stare. “What do you mean?”
Pete gulped and shifted uneasily on the cot. “They was real intent on the judge. Biggest man told judge… this was his judgment day.”
Blasted vigilantism. Once that wild behavior surfaced, it was hard to control. He had to get out there and check the area for clues. “How far out of town did this happen?”
“Reached top of that long pull south of Misty Falls.” Pete guided his good hand upward. “Hid in the clump of brush there.”
Hand scraping his jaw, he nodded. “I know the place. Smart choice. They were hidden from both directions.” A bold venture in broad daylight. He thought of the strangers he’d seen in town recently, but couldn’t remember any who’d caught his attention.
The doctor stepped up. “Pete needs to rest. Can your questions wait?”
Preoccupied with what he’d heard, Quinn nodded. “I’ll check back later. Doc, how’s Miss Morrissey?”
“She’ll be fine, just shaken. I convinced her to stretch out on a couple of chairs and rest with a cloth on her forehead.”
The image of the green-eyed beauty stretched across his bed flashed in his mind. For a second, he enjoyed the idea of loosening layers of fine woman’s clothing and discovering the lean figure hidden beneath. He shook his head and cursed himself for not concentrating on the business at hand. “When she’s ready to leave, can you direct her to the boarding house? Tell her the bags are there, and I’ve talked with Belle about securing her a room.”
Doc inclined his head toward the other patient. “What about Miss Fairchild?”
Quinn jerked his head around, his gaze settling on the still unconscious woman. “Of course, I’ll arrange a room for both ladies.” Damn, the green-eyed Miss Morrissey was making him forget his sworn duties.
“Will do. You take care, Quinn.” The doctor stepped close and lowered his voice. “From what I’ve overheard, those men knew what they were doing.”
Quinn pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the waiting room. He glanced at the shapely figure lying across three chairs, but cautioned himself not to linger. He needed to concentrate on finding the culprits. Not fill his head with concerns about a petite female who, from the moment she looked into his eyes, had bewitched him.
****
Ciara likened the murmur of the deep male voices from the other room to the sound of far-off thunder rumbling around a small valley. If only she could make out what the men were saying.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she let her thoughts wander. Her long journey from Boston had ended. In this town, she would honor her mother’s dying wish and make herself known to her sole living relative. The urgent tone of her father’s last letter, so different from his other upbeat ones, nagged her thoughts. Enough that she had inexplicably used her mother’s maiden name when answering Sheriff Riley.
No matter. The past three years proved her capable of mastering whatever situation came her way. Add that to an upbringing of reading articles in the Revolution by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony and sitting beside her mother at suffrage association meetings. After a short visit with her father, Ciara Brook Mulcahy would embark on her new life and discover what the big cities of California offered. On her own, her decisions would affect no one, and now, no one could affect the direction of her life.
She struggled to sit up, but sagged back at the heaviness in her limbs and the pounding in her head. That harrowing ride had sapped more of her energy than she’d originally thought…or was she reacting to that handsome sheriff? Never had the simple act of being helped down from a coach created such spark as when the sheriff spanned her waist with his large hands.
Was this the romantic sensation of being swept away she’d only read about?
When she saw him next, she would have to thank him for the cup of tea, and, she suspected, for carrying her to the doctor’s office after she’d fainted. If only she’d come to sooner and experienced being held in his brawny arms… And she would never forget the sensation of looking into Sheriff Riley’s concerned brown eyes under a wrinkled brow. Eyes that reminded her of hot cocoa, rich and sweet.
For the first time in weeks, she’d felt safe. Every movement of this man’s body gave her confidence he was in complete control of his surroundings. Observing the townspeople as they scattered to comply with his orders confirmed that impression. This tall, broad man was one to be reckoned with.
Heavy footsteps reverberated along the floor, through the chairs, and into her very being, imprinting his movements on her body. The footsteps paused, and her whole body tingled, as if a light breeze excited her skin. He must be watching her. Ciara lay still with the cloth covering her eyes, hoping to appear asleep. What good did starry-eyed emotions serve? She was an independent woman and would have figured out something on her own. She always had.
Slow footsteps moved to the door, and she heard it close with a click. The tingling sensation on her skin dissipated, and she let out a pent-up breath.
She removed the cloth and levered herself into a sitting position, raising a hand to her aching temple. The desk across the room wavered for a moment, and then came back into focus. Eating a little something before she set out to find her father would steady her. How much time had passed since their noon meal at the last stage stop?
On instinct, she reached for her reticule, her throat tightening as her fingers touched an almost empty bag. Her grandma’s pendant watch was gone. Stolen. Along with most of her money.
The sheriff was the logical person to help her seek restitution from the freight company. If her father was away for very long checking on his mining ventures, she might be in a precarious financial position.
Like she’d read somewhere, no use worrying about the milk souring until the cow’s been milked.
The doctor walked through the curtain from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes lit up when he spotted her upright. “Feeling better, are you?”
“A little. Could you tell me what hour it is, sir?” Frowning, she spread her hands. “The thieves stole my watch.”
The older man pulled on the chain attached to his vest and sprung open the cover
of his pocket watch. “It’s almost half past five.” Holding his watch in hand, he crossed the room in a few strides.
Goodness, did everyone in the west move with such long strides? Ciara was accustomed to the more refined gait of people living in eastern cities, where men adjusted their steps to accommodate the confines of ladies’ fashions.
Doc sat in the chair next to hers and with a gentle touch grasped her wrist, concentrating on his timepiece. He gave a short nod and raised his gaze to her face. “Turn your head this way and let me make sure your eyes are clear. Hmm. Your pulse is still a little fast.”
“I believe it may remain so for a few more hours. I am not accustomed to such vigorous activities as being robbed at gunpoint and driving a stagecoach.” Nor to being near a devilishly handsome man with soulful eyes such as the sheriff.
“Take your time to gather your strength.”
She scooted forward in her chair. “Time is what I do not have, sir. Much needs to be done. I must set about retrieving my bags and finding a room for the night.”
“No need to trouble yourself.” He spoke in a soothing tone. “Sheriff Riley took care of the arrangements.”
She stiffened. “What arrangements?” The idea of another person, especially a man, making decisions for her riled her free-thinking spirit.
“Rooms for you and Miss Fairchild are reserved at Belle’s boarding house. Sheriff took your bags there, too. The owner’s name is Belle Renato, and she’ll see to your comfort for the night.”
The smile he offered was kind and caring, but her mind raced. “I can’t possibly accept the sheriff paying for my lodgings.”
“Miss, you’ve had a terrible scare. You need to rest and eat a nourishing meal.” He peered at her and added, “I’m sure the freight company will cover Sheriff Riley’s expenses.”
Ciara’s thoughts warred over the details of her predicament. “Oh, that changes the situation. Under those circumstances, I can see no impropriety in taking the room. I intend to contact the company tomorrow morning and see what can be done to improve passenger safety.” She tried to straighten the sleeves of her jacket and smooth the wrinkles in her skirt. She certainly did not want Mrs. Renato to think the sheriff had arranged for ladies of low birth to stay in her house. “If you’re sure about the finances.”
Dreams of Gold Page 2