"Let her go, Lane," Chase tried again. "Let her go and ride on out of here. Rachel's never done anything to you."
"No harm will come to her if you just back away and let us leave."
"What am I going to find at the line shack? I heard a yell a minute ago."
Lane's horse shifted, forcing him to loosen his hold on Rachel in order to tighten his hand on the reins. She was tempted to try to jump off, but she feared Chase might make a wrong move and Lane would shoot him. She stayed put.
"Probably just Rachel's brother-in-law lying nose-down in the dirt where I told him to stay."
Chase appeared doubtful. "Is that all?"
"That's all."
Rachel knew neither man would want to make the first move. "Please, Chase," she said softly, "please don't try to stop him. Let us go."
Chase gave them a long, measured look, then turned his horse in the direction of the old shack. Before he rode off, he paused, shifting sideways in his saddle. "If you know what's good for you, you'll let her go before she comes to any harm. The McKennas won't be content until they hunt you down."
Lane nodded, unwilling to leave until Chase rode off in the direction of the line shack. Before he spurred his horse into motion again, Rachel pressed her fingers into the hard flesh of his upper arm. He holstered his gun and sighed.
"Would you please tell me what's going on now?"
When he looked down at her, the familiar warmth was back in his eyes. "First let me get up into the hills, before your brother-in-law rounds up a posse."
He reached out and brushed her hair back off her cheek, then carefully shifted her into a more comfortable position. "I know I'm asking a lot, but trust me a while longer, will you, Rachel?"
She tried to read what was going on behind his fathomless dark eyes.
"Why is it you've always been able to sway me over to your side?"
"Because you're smart enough to recognize the truth when you hear it." He glanced over his shoulder, adjusted his hat with one hand and then tucked the hem of her skirt beneath his knee so that the material wouldn't flap and make Shield any more anxious.
"Ready?"
"Where are we going?"
"Someplace where we can hide. Trust me, Rachel. That's all I ask."
For the second time that day he was asking her to trust him. "I hope I don't live to regret it," she said.
As the big horse started the uphill climb through the pines, Lane mumbled, "So do I."
They rode for two hours. By the time they reached a meadow shaded by tall pines with a rambling brook meandering through it, Lane could tell that Rachel was exhausted. Halfway up the mountainside she had given up holding herself aloof and leaned back against his bare chest. More than once he had been tempted to kiss the crown of her head, but he had resisted the temptation, afraid to take liberties until he had explained himself.
He had to persuade her to go along with his scheme now that his original plan had been aborted. Lane felt sure that, after his recent charade, Robert McKenna would have no trouble believing he was on the wrong side of the law. But now he would somehow have to see that Rachel was safely returned to Last Chance and not get himself apprehended in the process. Boyd Johnson had made it very clear that the Agency would not be there to bail him out while he was on suspension.
The mountain glade was far cooler than the foothills. As he headed for the shade of the tall pines that rimmed the grassy meadow, he watched a jay take flight. The near iridescence of its royal blue wings flashed in the sunlight. He wished for a fleeting moment that he and Rachel could escape the circumstances of their lives just as easily.
They stopped at the edge of the forest, where the ground was dappled with shade. The soft, feathery grass growing along the bank of the stream looked cool and inviting, a perfect place for two lovers to tarry.
But they weren't two lovers—and never would be, unless he was able to make her understand. He dismounted and reached up for her, and was thankful when she put her hands on his shoulders and let him help her to the ground.
He knew a feeling of regret when he recognized the anxiety in her eyes and noticed the shadows beneath them. Her windblown hair had escaped her braid and become tangled. He lifted his hand, intent on gently smoothing a stray curl away from her cheek.
Rachel reached out and caught his wrist, effectively preventing his touch. Her vibrant blue eyes never left his as she demanded in a tone he could barely hear but which spoke volumes, "Explain."
She let go of his wrist and Lane dropped his hand, then turned his back on her, intent on taking a shirt out of his saddlebag.
Rachel watched his swift, efficient movements as he untied the rawhide latigo on the saddlebag and pulled out a black shirt. She couldn't avoid staring at the smooth expanse of his back and the span of his broad shoulders. The two-hour ride in the hot sun had deepened his color and added a reddish tint to his skin. Finally, she forced herself to look away, to take in their surroundings.
Heading up into the mountains, he had pushed his horse steadily, as if he'd been searching for this secluded glen. The reality of her situation was as crystal clear as the brook running through the meadow—there was no one within shouting distance, no one within miles of this isolated spot. She was alone with a man who, for whatever reason, had abducted her.
Any sensible woman would have been scared witless, but Rachel wasn't afraid. Apprehensive, admittedly, but not afraid.
Lane would never harm her, she was sure of it, but why had Robert's sudden appearance at the line shack caused him to carry her off? As he shrugged into his shirt, she waited impatiently. He would explain when he was good and ready, and not before. He fastened half the buttons up the front of his black shirt before he turned around.
"Water?"
She nodded. He reached out for her elbow, and she let him lead her to the brook as casually as if they were walking through the finest salon. Rachel knelt down in the soft grass, leaned over the clear, swiftly flowing water and cupped her hands. Fed from the winter's melted snowpack, the water was so cold it made her fingers go numb.
She took a long drink and then another, as did Lane, who was kneeling beside her. Rachel gathered another handful and bathed her sunburned face, and felt instant relief when she pressed her cold hands to her cheeks. Patting away the excess moisture, she smoothed her hair back with her damp hands and then shifted to a sitting position beside the brook. When she glanced over at Lane, she found him watching her intently.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded. Waiting.
"A few years ago, I met a man who changed my life." He sat back and let his gaze roam over her. Sitting there beside the brook, her outward demeanor serene, her hair windblown and damp around her hairline, she had the quiet dignity of a character in a Winslow Homer scene, Lane mused.
He knew she would let him say his piece without interruption, that she would weigh the truth in his words and question him later.
"His name was Boyd Johnson. He was the man disguised as the drunkard you saw me with in Last Chance. The one I claimed to have run into on the street. The truth is, he's an administrator for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency."
"Is he after you?"
Lane couldn't help but smile as he shook his head. "In a way Boyd is always after me—after me to play by their rules." Lane sighed and reached out to pluck a blade of grass. He toyed with it as he spoke, pulling it back and forth through his thumb and forefinger. "I'm a Pinkerton operative, Rachel—at least I will be again once I'm off suspension."
"What?"
"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. I've been working for the agency for six years…"
"But… I've heard… we've all heard that you—"
"That I'm a no-account gunfighter, a drifter? My cover works, Rachel, and some of what you've heard is true, but I've never killed a man outright if I could help it, and when I have, it has been in self-defense."
He tossed the blade of grass aside and wrapped his
arm around his bent knee. "To make a long story short, Boyd first contacted me in Albuquerque a few years back. He said I was just the kind of man they wanted to train as an operative.
"I balked at first because, as you know, I couldn't read. Boyd knew it, too. The Agency had been watching me for quite a while. I agreed to try and moved to Denver for training. I got a lot more than I bargained for when Johnson had me move in with him. He hired a tutor, who taught me to read, write and cipher. Eventually I was given assignments, various works of philosophy and literature to read and discuss with Boyd when he came home at night. Reading opened up the world for me, and I couldn't get enough."
Stunned by his revelation, Rachel was elated. Where she had failed with him, someone else had succeeded in giving him the keys to a better life. "Go on," she urged.
"When they thought I was ready, I started field training, working with a partner at first. I posed as a drummer selling coffee and teas." He stared off at the pines beyond the brook. "I didn't resurface as myself for nearly a year." He reached for her hand, eased his thumb back and forth over her fingertips and finally found the courage to look her in the eye.
"It was during that time that I met the woman I started to tell you about earlier, the one who made me feel whole again, the one who freed me from the shame of what Auggie had done."
Jealousy ripped through her as it had before, pouncing unexpectedly, digging its talons into her heart. She envied the mysterious, unnamed woman Lane spoke of with undisguised warmth and respect, feelings that obviously lingered after all these years. Unwilling to let him see her reaction, she looked down. His fingers continued to trace hers. She swallowed, fighting back her jealousy, willing herself to listen as he continued.
"After two years of training, I began working as a Pinkerton operative, and I've been one ever since."
"You said you were on suspension."
Lane let go of her hand and leaned back on his elbows. He stretched his legs out full length and crossed his ankles. When he lowered his shoulders to the ground, the back of his hat brim hit the grass and pushed upward, shoving his hat low over his eyes. He laced his fingers behind his head and lay there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to find a way to explain something he would live to regret for the rest of his life, and finally deciding brevity was his best option.
"On my last assignment, I was in Tulsa tracking down a forger. I wired for assistance, but it finally came down to my apprehending the subject alone or letting six months of work go up in smoke. It was a busy Saturday afternoon. The streets were crowded. I cornered the man and it ended in a shoot-out. Two bystanders were wounded. One died."
He had spent enough time going over and over the events of that afternoon, enough time blaming his own impulsiveness for what happened.
"So you were suspended…"
He thumbed his hat brim up and slid his gaze in her direction. She was sitting cross-legged now, her wide skirt tucked modestly over her legs and anchored beneath her. A dark blush stained her cheeks. Her expression was open, expectant, as she awaited the rest of his explanation.
"I was suspended and found myself with time on my hands, but the reason I came back to Last Chance was not because I was at loose ends. I'm doing investigative work that is not sanctioned by the Agency. I've been tracking down a train robber working the area, a man known as the 'Gentleman Bandit.'"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "I just read about him again. He stole a huge payroll in the spring, around the end of March, wasn't it? And he just robbed another train."
Lane sat up. "Was Robert at home in March?"
"Robert? Why, I don't—" She frowned, her mind racing over what he had just said and back again. "You don't suspect Robert of being the Gentleman Bandit, do you? That's absurd!"
"Is it? Think about it, Rachel. Robert comes and goes every few months. There's a robbery, and a day or two later he shows up at home. He's amassed a fortune—"
"How do you know that? I don't even know exactly how successful he is, and I'm in the family."
"The Pinkerton Agency makes it their business to know these things. You can believe me when I say that Robert has amassed a fortune. But that's about all the Agency really has on him right now."
"If he was a prime suspect, why wouldn't they send out someone who isn't on suspension?" She eyed him warily.
"There have been so many train robberies lately that the railroads are clamoring for arrests. Men are on assignment all over the field, and there are few to spare. I originally came to town to clear Chase's name, because until a few days ago, he was the only Bandit suspect they had in these parts. I learned about Robert just the other day."
Suspicion began to grow like a dark, hideous shadow in her heart. Lane had come back to Montana to track down a train robber, and his primary suspect was her brother-in-law. Not only that, but he knew that as a friend of Chase and Eva's, she would have firsthand information about them.
Since his return he had insinuated himself in her life, made friends with Ty, tried to convince her that there was a mutual, heated attraction between them. Just yesterday he had come to her and slipped into her room. He had used her weakness for him to discover that Robert was back in Montana.
"Rachel? What's the matter?" He didn't have to be a mind reader to see that she had weighed everything he said and was taking the truth badly. Her eyes were dark with an angry suspicion he had never expected his revelation to provoke.
"You're after proof," she whispered. "All this time, you've been after information about Chase, and now it's Robert…"
"You don't believe me?"
"Lane, if you had told me you were riding elephants in a traveling circus, I couldn't have been more stunned than I am right now, but oddly enough, I believe your Pinkerton story. It puts a lot of things in perspective. But I'm afraid I also see the truth quite clearly now. What I can't understand is why you wanted Robert to think you were abducting me, and why you let Chase assume the same."
Lane heard the icy tone in her voice. Although she claimed to believe he was an agent, she had a bee in her bonnet over something. For the life of him, he didn't know what.
He glanced over at Shield, who stood nearby, feasting on the lush meadow grass. "I set up a meeting with Robert on the edge of Mountain Shadows where it borders the Trail's End. I was going to tell him I knew he was the Gentleman Bandit and that I was willing to throw in with him, assuring him of my silence and backing him up with my expertise with a gun. If he agreed, I was going to inform the Agency so they could have operatives in place when Robert staged his next robbery attempt."
Lane shrugged and rolled his head around to ease the tension in his shoulders. He didn't like the look in her eyes. "I guess McKenna took it upon himself to track me down early. And maybe it's a good thing he did. After all, what better way could I have found to convince him that I'm a scoundrel than to ride off with my meddling former schoolmarm to teach her a lesson?"
"But now the whole town will be looking for you. Chase was right—the McKennas will be up in arms."
"They'll cool down when you're delivered safe and sound."
"Did you ever stop to think that my reputation would be ruined regardless?"
He eyed her closely. "Tell them that you somehow managed to escape. When Robert's finally in custody, the truth about me will come out."
"If Robert is ever taken into custody."
"What do you mean?"
"What if he's innocent?"
"Why would an innocent man even consider meeting with someone of my reputation?"
She looked him hard in the eye and replied, "Innocent people often do a lot of things they later regret. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he had stopped by my house and was looking for me."
"Why do I get the feeling you're taking his side?"
Rachel ignored his question. Instead she got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. She wondered how Loretta was coping with the scandal of the abduction. And what of Ty? She hoped her in-laws would have
the good sense to keep the news from him.
"Before any more time passes and the damage is irreparable, we're going back," she announced abruptly. "You can drop me off at the outskirts and I'll walk back. I'll tell them I got away."
Lane was on his feet and beside her instantly. As she started across the meadow toward the Appaloosa, he reached out for her arm, intent on stopping her.
Rachel froze. Her gaze dropped to where his hand rested on her arm. "Let go of me."
He did. "What the hell has gotten into you? You said you believed me."
Marching toward the horse, she shot back over her shoulder, "Oh, I do."
"Then what's the matter?"
Rachel paused beside Shield. Lane closed the gap between them. She was so upset she was trembling. "Do you have any conscience at all? Would you use anyone, even Ty, to get what you want?"
He frowned, ran his hand over his jaw and then dropped it to his side. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I may have finally gotten an education, but I guess I'm still thick in the head. What are you talking about?"
"Me!" she yelled, startling herself. She quickly lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Me—and Ty, too, for that matter. You waltzed back into town and made a beeline for me, flirting, complimenting me, doing whatever it took to convince me that I was actually attractive to you—"
"You are! Hell, you always have been—"
"—you kissed me, tried to… to…" Tears had begun to slip down her cheeks. "You used me. All you wanted was information about Robert."
"I realized yesterday that all I've wanted since the moment i saw you sitting at the edge of the dance floor that first night has been you."
He took a step forward. She tried to step back, but found herself backed up against the Appaloosa. The cinch buckle jabbed her in the back.
"Think about it," he said. "When I saw you that night, I didn't even know you had married Stuart McKenna until you told me."
Last Chance Page 16