Gunslinger: A Six Guns and Prairie Roses Novel

by Cynthia Breeding

“A good idea.” Luke smiled at her and looked at the dour shopkeeper. “Perhaps John can show the books to both of us.”

  “I don’t take care of those. Bronson did, and then Sayer.” The man shoved a ledger across the counter. “Everything you need to know is in there.”

  Luke flipped it open. “This is a record of sales.”

  “That’s what you need, isn’t it?”

  “Partly. We also need to see monthly financial statements going back a year. Profit and Loss. Things like that.”

  “I never seen them. Besides, they’re confidential.”

  Luke forced a patient smile. “I understand that, but I need to report back to my investors that the store is in financially strong standing.”

  “And since I’m the new owner, I need to see those records too,” Abby said.

  John looked from one to the other and then he shrugged. “I suppose they’re in the back office.”

  “Will you show us?” Abby asked.

  He gave a grudging nod and led them to the back of the store where he opened a door to a tiny room hardly big enough for the desk and two chairs in it.

  Luke managed to repress a grin. He had intended to spend as long as it took to do a very thorough scouring of each entry and every account, but sharing this enclosed space with Abigail would warrant him taking even more time. Much more.

  ♦◊♦

  Even though John had left the door open, Abby was all too aware of the small space that she shared with Luke Cameron. And all too aware of the man, himself. Although he was obviously educated and spoke like a gentleman, everything else about him exuded pure animal strength and magnetism, from his wolf-colored eyes to his black hair that was just a bit too longish, and the dark shadow that was already forming along his strong jaw. He moved with the same litheness of feral cats who stalked rats in the allies of New York. And, dressed in black as he was, he reminded her of a panther she’d seen once in a cage in a traveling show. The animal had looked dangerous.

  A little shiver slid down her spine.

  “Perhaps it’s best if we sit next to each other,” Luke said as he pulled the second chair behind the desk. “So we can both look at the accounts.”

  “I don’t think there’s enough room there.” Criminy. That sounded really stupid. “I mean, I think I’ll be able to see from the side.” That sounded even more stupid.

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “I won’t bite. I promise.”

  She felt her face heat. Of course, he wouldn’t bite. But looking at his wide, full mouth curled in a lazy half-smile made her suddenly wonder what it would feel like to have his lips on hers. Criminy crickets! Where had that thought come from? Since she’d first grown to womanhood, she’d avoided men who wanted kisses. Her mother had warned her that allowing that kind of liberty only led to trouble.

  And now, it felt like a tiny devil sat on her shoulder, prodding her with his pitchfork. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She chanced a look at her shoulder just to make sure it was empty. Silly her. She took a deep breath and went around the desk to perch on the edge of the chair.

  Luke watched her movement, one brow arched ever so slightly, but he said nothing as he sat down as well and opened the first ledger that John had shown them.

  “We might as well start by looking at what’s been selling in the store,” he said. “Have you experience in managing accounts?”

  Abby shook her head and looked at the neat rows of items and prices. “I can do sums, though.”

  “That’s a beginning, then.”

  Several hours later, she realized just how much of a “beginning” doing sums were. The desk was littered with monthly statements of costs and expenses, lists of inventory and vendors, invoices, and a calendar with delivery schedules. Luke seemed to have no difficulty understanding any of it. In fact, he’d dug into one ledger after another with the ferocity of a terrier at a rabbit hole.

  She certainly didn’t need to worry about him biting her. He’d hardly paid any attention to her at all. Which was probably just as well, considering how truly naïve she was about running a business. It would not do to have him—or John—find out. She would just have to come back after hours when no one was here and figure things out for herself.

  Because she was going to make this work. She had to.

  ♦◊♦

  The slight stirring at his side made Luke divert his attention from the paperwork he’d strewn over the desk. Abigail had sat still as a statue while he’d stacked the various documents according to category. He’d never known any woman to be silent as long as she had been. He didn’t know they could be. He’d asked her if she minded him separating and sorting the accounts first before they went through them and she’d nodded her assent. Since then, she hadn’t said a word. It was a bit uncanny.

  “What would you like to go over first?” he asked.

  Abigail glanced over the paper-covered desk. “I’m not sure. What would you suggest?”

  “An actual count of the inventory will have to be taken, which can happen when the storage area is cleared out, but it seems there is enough supply on hand to meet demand.” He shifted through a small stack of papers and took one out. “This is last month’s Profit and Loss statement. It appears the store is financially sound.”

  She gave him a spontaneous smile, one which was natural and without guile and made more endearing by a dimple in one cheek, and nodded. “That is good news.”

  “Yes.” Luke wasn’t ready to tell her at this time that the profit margin over the past year might have been just a little too good. Running well over fifteen percent each month made him think that the money credited to the assets side may not have come only from the general items sold. It smacked of money being laundered…funneled into a legitimate business a little at a time not to create suspicion. It would be easy enough to slip in additional fake sales receipts. He needed to check those against actual inventory. “My investors will be pleased to hear this.”

  “And your investors won’t expect me to use my profits to fund your imports?”

  “No.” It was a shrewd question for her to ask and he was glad she did. “We will make the initial investment of the tea and spices, but the goal is to make those items pay for themselves through the ladies’ investment club, which will also further expand the business.” He gave her a reassuring look. “I don’t expect you to use any of your money until the endeavor can be proved worthwhile.”

  If what Luke suspected was true, he didn’t want Abigail to have any kind of connection to the bogus investment club. He was setting it up strictly to flush out Sayer’s accomplice. Once he’d accomplished that—and consequently forced the sale of the store, if necessary—whatever money those ladies contributed to the club would be returned.

  Although his career with Pinkerton’s mainly involved using his six-shooter “peace-maker” to persuade criminals to see the light—either here in this world or beyond—he’d dealt with enough sham covers to know how they worked. He’d unearth the crook who’d gone to ground and get his grandmother and her elderly friends’ money back.

  He just needed to keep Abigail Clayton-Sayer out of the fray.

  Chapter Four

  “Allow me to drive you home,” Luke said as they walked out of the store later that afternoon.

  Abby looked up and down the empty street. “I don’t see a carriage waiting.”

  “There’s a stable one block over. I keep a buggy there.”

  “Do you live near here, then?”

  He shook his head. “I stay at the Occidental Hotel over on Montgomery Street.”

  Even though she’d only been in San Francisco a short time, she knew it was a really expensive hotel. But, of course, someone who handled investments would stay in a place like that. “That’s in the opposite direction of my boarding house. I wouldn’t want to put you to the trouble.”

  “No trouble. You’d have to walk all the way to Jackson Square to hire a hack.”

  She didn’t want to tell him th
at after the first day when she’d done just that, she realized they cost too much…at least for now, until she had some inkling of what kind of money she was really making. The numbers on all those papers they’d looked at had been confusing. She didn’t relish walking the near-mile to the boarding house. “Well, if you’re sure…”

  He smiled. “I’m sure.”

  They spoke of trifling things like the weather on the short walk to the stables. Abby noticed that Luke walked next to the curb, keeping her to the inside of the earthen pathway that ran alongside the cobblestone street. She’d seen gentlemen walking their ladies like that in New York—Ben always preferred the man be walking to the lady’s left because it made it easier to snatch her reticule and run—but Abby had never experienced such proper manners herself. No man had ever courted her, and when she walked beside Ben, it was as a lookout for a likely target, not because she might get mud on her skirts. Abby frowned. She had to stop thinking of the past. It was over.

  “Are your feet sore?” Luke asked. “I should have offered to bring the buggy around.”

  For a moment she stared at him, uncomprehending. He thought her feet were sore? From walking a block? She wasn’t sure if he was just being a gentleman again—it was kind of a nice thought—or if he thought she was really that delicate. Being thought fragile wouldn’t do at all. Not if she was going to be a businesswoman. “I can assure you I’ve walked miles before without sore feet.”

  One dark brow rose slightly. “I thought New York had hacks everywhere.”

  “Not in the Bowery,” she replied, and then could have bitten her tongue off. She could only hope Luke wasn’t familiar with the city and didn’t know the kind of conditions the area had. “I mean…it was sometimes just quicker to walk.”

  “I see.” Luke gestured as they arrived at the stable. “You won’t have to walk today.”

  Abby felt her eyes widen as a groomsman led out a beautiful animal whose black coat glistened nearly blue in the sunshine. From the well-formed head with intelligent eyes to the flowing mane and tail, even she knew it was pure-blooded. She didn’t need anyone to tell her it was a stallion, either. That was obvious from the way the horse pranced in his traces and tossed his head. His actions reminded her of Luke.

  “This is Diablo,” he said as he ran a hand over the horse’s arched neck as it snorted.

  “He’s beautiful.”

  “Let him get to know you,” Luke said. “Come closer.”

  He’d lowered his voice and it sounded seductive. Surely, he didn’t mean… Criminy. He didn’t mean come closer to him. He meant the horse. That’s why he was talking in that voice, too. It seemed to calm the animal. The tone had a rather opposite effect on her.

  She walked toward the horse and held out her hand like she did to make friends with the mongrel dogs that roamed the Bowery’s allies. Although, she wasn’t sure it worked with horses and this one certainly wasn’t a mongrel. To her surprise, he nuzzled her hand.

  “His nose feels like velvet.”

  “It’s a muzzle,” Luke said, and smiled. “He likes you.”

  She felt inordinately pleased at the compliment. “I like him, too. Why did you name him Diablo? Doesn’t that mean ‘devil’ in Spanish?” She’d heard the dialect—and word—spoken by immigrants on New York streets from the West Indies.

  “It does.” Luke stroked the horse’s neck again. “I came across him at a rodeo in Wyoming a few years back.”

  “A rodeo?” Abby had never seen one, but she’d heard stories of the Wild West. “I thought they used wild horses. Diablo looks like some of the horses in Central Park…like he came from fine English stock.”

  “Belgium. He’s a Friesian.” Luke shrugged. “A rancher wanted to use him to start a new breeding line, but he couldn’t be broken to saddle, so the man sold him to the rodeo circuit.”

  “And you rescued him?”

  For a moment, Luke’s expression changed and became introspective, then he smiled. “You might say he rescued me. Those were low times.”

  Abby felt a sudden empathy. It was hard to imagine Luke having “low times”, but she knew from experience that people didn’t always get to choose their fate. “I’ve had some low times, too.” Then, before he could ask her what she meant, she changed the subject. “So you only use Diablo for harness? You don’t ride him?”

  Luke smiled again. “He lets me ride him.”

  Abby looked at the horse and then back at Luke. “How did you get him to accept a saddle if he wouldn’t before?”

  “I think we’re kindred spirits.” His smile faded. “I never tried to break him, and he didn’t try to break me.” Then it was his turn to change the subject. “Shall we go?”

  As she stepped into the buggy, Abby had a feeling that there was a whole lot of Luke Cameron that lay well hidden beneath the surface of an educated gentleman.

  ♦◊♦

  “Who in the world was that absolutely devastating man?”

  Delia had hardly given Abby a chance to step inside the foyer of the boarding house before she asked the question. Luke had walked her to the door, opened it, and given her a short bow before returning to his carriage. From the way Delia was bouncing on her toes to look out the side pane beside the door as the buggy drove away, Abby suspected she was a lot more than just curious.

  Which annoyed her for no reason.

  “That was my late husband’s cousin, Luke Cameron.”

  Delia sighed and settled back on her heels. “He sure doesn’t look anything like Mr. Sayer.”

  Her conscience niggled at her. Other than the description Travis had given her of himself, she hadn’t really thought what he really looked like. She hadn’t thought much about whether his features were regular or flawed. On the other hand, Luke Cameron’s face was permanently etched into her brain. Not just the unusual wolf-colored eyes, but his high cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose that had probably been broken at some point, the wide, full mouth that she’d spent far too much time looking at this afternoon and the firm jaw that seemed to be perpetually shadowed with stubble.

  “I didn’t realize you knew my…Travis.”

  “Just about every woman around here did.” Delia clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

  Abby raised a brow and walked into sitting room to avoid their conversation being heard by Mrs. Bartlett at the counter. After what the young man at the train station had said, she wasn’t particularly surprised at Delia’s remark. Evidently, her new—and newly departed—husband had been something of a rounder. “It’s all right,” she said once she and Delia were seated near the unlit hearth. “It’s not like I got to know him.”

  “Well, he was right charmin’.” Delia clapped her mouth shut again. “He did stay here for a short time before he moved to fancier digs.”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Abby said

  “Yes, I do. It weren’t like he ever asked a lady out to dinner, or anything.” Delia replied. “Least, not that I knew of.”

  That might explain why he had been with a saloon girl; although, from the account, it didn’t appear he’d been trying to charm the woman.

  Delia went on. “Because of the gold mine tunnel that collapsed a few months ago, there’s a bunch of us who’re newly widowed. Mr. Sayer called on each of us and offered a discount at his store.”

  At least that was something positive. “Did he mention anything about expanding the store?”

  “Didn’t say. Why?”

  “His cousin—Mr. Cameron—has a letter that says Travis planned to expand the store. He has some investors that are interested in the project.”

  “Oooh.” Delia grinned widely. “And you’ll get to work with him?”

  Abby wasn’t sure how successful she’d be at that, considering she’d spent hours practically ogling the man and not paying attention to much else. Although, in her defense, she didn’t understand what all those pieces of paper were. And, it wasn’t her fault, either,
that Luke Cameron had the looks of one of those roguish men on the dime novels she used to pick out of the garbage.

  She gave herself a mental shake. She was a newly-minted businesswoman. She would work with the man. And she would concentrate on business. “I suppose.” She really needed to sound like she knew what she was doing, if only to prove the point to herself. “I’ll have to look into the account books and make sure Travis was making enough of a profit for expanding the store to pay off.”

  “Mr. Sayer did sound right smart,” Delia said. “He offered to help us straighten out any debts or bills we didn’t understand.” She gave Abby a bright smile. “That was kind of him, wasn’t it?”

  She supposed it was. “Did anyone take him up on it?”

  “I don’t know that there was time. He got…well, there was the accident.”

  The one that made her a widow, too. Abby wasn’t sure how much of the details Delia actually knew, but perhaps it was best not to ask. “The shopkeeper said he’d written me about that, but the letter must have arrived after I’d already started out.”

  “You’ll have to meet the other widows soon,” Delia said. “Those of us who aren’t looking to marry right away kind of band together.”

  An idea struck Abby. Perhaps those other widowed ladies might be interested in the kind of club Luke wanted to start. She’d have to tell him about them. She smiled at her friend. “I’d like that.”

  ♦◊♦

  It was late when Abby returned to the store that night. She had to wait until the public room had shut down and those residing at the boarding house had retired to their rooms. She was pretty sure if Delia—or possibly even Mrs. Bartlett—had known she planned to go out this late they would have insisted she take a hack. Right now, she couldn’t afford to do that. She and Ben had spent enough time on the streets in the Bowery that she’d learned certain tricks to avoid being accosted. Besides, she had a set of Ben’s clothes she could use to disguise that she was woman.

  She let herself into the store with the key she’d purloined from the peg on the wall earlier that day. “Purloined” probably was not the correct word, since she owned the store, but John hadn’t offered a key. Since she didn’t want to be antagonistic by reminding him that he was, literally, in her employ now, she felt it easier simply to lift the extra key.