A Wanted Man

by Susan Kay Law

  “I’ve been here a long time.”

  “You must like it here.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” she asked, and slipped out the door.

  Laura wriggled her shoulders, adjusting comfortably against the covers, and waited.

  “Nice lungs,” Sam said.

  She’d been expecting him. His voice startled her just the same, for he’d appeared at the window without a hint of sound, a breath of warning, slipping through in an instant.

  “Thank you for noticing,” she said softly. “You do have a way with windows.”

  “They’re very useful.”

  He sauntered over to her, an innate creature of the night. If one of Haw Crocker’s men saw him just then, he would recognize Sam instantly.

  He sat down on the edge of her bed, which made her brows lift.

  “Can’t be too far away,” he told her. “Gotta talk softly. Don’t want anyone to hear us.”

  The walls were at least half a foot thick. Haw Crocker had built the house to stand long after he was gone. “Uh-huh.” The mattress dipped beneath his weight, causing her body to sway his way. If she relaxed, she’d roll right into him.

  “Where were you? You got here awfully fast.”

  He hooked a thumb in the direction of the window. “Only a little way out in the yard. Watching the comings and goings. It’s a busy place out there, for the middle of the night.” There was a hint of strain in his voice that gave her pause. Was he as unsettled to be on her bed as she was to have him there? And would it be wiser to ignore it or confront it?

  “Oh?”

  “Yup. The mill supervisors must live here instead of closer to the mines. Saw them all come back around midnight. Not to mention a whole fleet of guards. Seems strange that they’d need that many people to watch over the miners.”

  “Maybe they’re a rambunctious lot.”

  “Perhaps.” Half of Sam was attending to the conversation, shifting through the bits of information he’d gathered and the implications of someone breaking into her room. The other half was simply admiring. Her hair was braided, and her nightgown had more in common with a sack than a negligee. But her eyes sparkled with life, her mouth soft and animated. The line of her jaw was lovely, the curve of her ear pink and tempting. The fact that such simple things could stir him so deeply made him believe that, were he ever to see more than her gown revealed, maybe even touch more, he’d be captured more thoroughly than he’d ever intended.

  And she was distracting him enough to allow him to remain in the room. He felt the strain of it, a hitch in chest, a pressure in his lungs. But if he concentrated on her, thought of possibilities and wants and yes, most of all, sex, he didn’t feel like the walls were going to crush him.

  “I know vaguely which direction the mine is now, at least,” he said.

  “Any sign of Mr. Judah?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  “I don’t know what I thought I’d find.” He’d never really considered the possibility of failure. Sam Duncan never failed. But what if there really was nothing to find?

  No, there had to be. Men did not just vanish, not without a shred of evidence left behind for a diligent and motivated investigator to discover. “It’s not like somebody’s going to be wearing a jacket labeled with his initials.”

  “You’ll find it,” Laura said, with such absolute faith in his abilities that his worry eased. “How about the woman in the shed?”

  “Ah. She’s a busy woman, that one. Has a lot of very friendly visitors.”

  “Visitors.” Realization dawned. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” If she were…entertaining…all the men on the Silver Spur, she’d be a busy woman indeed. “And one more thing. She looks to be Chinese.”

  “Chinese?” She frowned in concentration. “That’s rather a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would indeed.”

  She seemed so comfortable with him beside her on her bed. Oh, there’d been a moment of surprise at first, but she’d quickly accepted it, as if having him there was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn’t quite decide whether he should be worried about that or insulted, because he was anything but comfortable there.

  “Now. Tell me about your thief.”

  “You think he was a thief?”

  “What else? You’ve got plenty to steal. And he’d have a helluva time kidnapping you from beneath all of our noses.”

  “You managed quite nicely.”

  “Yes. But very few people are as good as I am.”

  “Well, aren’t you modest.” She grinned at him, a flirtatious little curve of her mouth. He felt it settle into his gut, a warm kick of desire that left him a bit woozy, like he’d just downed a good slug of whiskey.

  “Not a terribly useful virtue, I’ve discovered.”

  “What other virtues have you found useless?”

  He wondered if she had any idea of what she was doing. Tempting him beyond reason, driving him beyond sense, with just some banter and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  He stood up, turning his back to her while he struggled for control.

  “Sam?” she said, her soft voice a spur to senses excited to a fever pitch, attuned to the slightest stimulation from her.

  “So tell me about your intruder,” he managed. And sounded almost normal.

  “I…” He heard her confusion at the change of topic, then she quickly rallied, businesslike and composed. Always quick on the uptake, aren’t you, my girl? “He was big. I couldn’t tell you much more about him than that. It was dark.”

  “That doesn’t narrow it down much. Half of the guys who work for Crocker look like they were circus strongmen in a previous career.”

  “I don’t think he was a thief,” she said thoughtfully. “At least, he wasn’t going through my wardrobe. He was over there. By my work supplies.”

  “Maybe he just hadn’t found the good stuff yet.”

  “No. The armoire’s right beside the door. My jewelry case is on that table. He had to pass them to get to the corner where I stored all my supplies.”

  “Well, let’s see what might have interested him. You got a lantern?”

  “Right here.” She groped for the matches, lit it. He heard the creak as she climbed out of bed and should have anticipated the danger. Instead, he turned automatically at the sound.

  She swayed by the side of the bed, the covers peeled back, white and inviting. A nice big bed, one made for a long night of loving. That, he thought, he’d stay inside for, and happily, too.

  Her nightgown was summerweight, a sheer drift of white. Completely demure, but in the golden glow of the lantern he could catch hints of her body: the sharp indent of her waist, the slight curve of her hip, the long length of her narrow legs, and he had to close his eyes to tamp down on his passions, for it certainly wouldn’t happen while he was looking at her. But it didn’t help, for the image of her was burned behind his lids, imprinted in his brain.

  She, however, apparently had no such problems. She brushed beside him—if she had any idea of how near the edge he hovered, she’d never have dared to come so close—and bent to the stack of books and canvases, the rolls of paper and cases that held brushes and pots of paint.

  “Here. Let me.” He took the lantern from her so she could search with both hands. Her shadow trembled on the cream-colored wall behind her, a graceful curve.

  “It’s silly, really, or he’s very stupid. The jewelry’s worth far more than any of these. In fact—” She snapped upright. “He took the sketchbook.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes. It was right here.”

  “Maybe it just got lost in the shuffle as he was rummaging through things.”

  “No. It’s really not that jumbled. I’ve got a smaller, blank one right here, and most everything else is still packed away. It’s gone.”

  He knew how much work that sketchbook contained. He’d watched her crea
te most of it. “I’m sorry, Laura,” he said. If he hadn’t lured her into helping him she wouldn’t have lost it. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged, unconcerned. “So why did he want my sketchbook? Even an idiot must know the necklace I wore at dinner’s worth more than all the work I’ve done in my entire life.”

  She looked so delicate in the lamplight, her skin so fine as to be almost translucent. Oh, she didn’t belong here, with men breaking into her room while she slept and stealing her work.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said. “I’m taking you back tomorrow.”

  Laura was still pondering the theft, and his words penetrated slowly. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m taking you back tomorrow.”

  “You most certainly are not.” Hands on her hips, she glowered at him, a fierce and threatening creature.

  “I’ll find another way,” he said. “Now that I’ve seen the lay of the land, I’ll find another way back in.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “I know it might be difficult, with that reflexive protectiveness kicking in, but listen to me. I do not wish to go back. I clearly was not in any danger—for heaven’s sake, I screamed once, and there were enough people in my room to have a party. Not to mention I have utmost faith in your ability to keep me safe. And even if I did not, it is still my choice to make. Not my father’s, not Mrs. Bossidy’s, not yours. Mine. And I choose to stay.”

  “Laura.” When did the most reasonable of women suddenly become rock-damn stubborn? “It’s settled. I’m taking you back.”

  “And just how are you planning to do that without my cooperation? Chloroform me again and sneak me out without anybody noticing?”

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind, no,” he said with only a twinge of guilt. “I could do it.”

  “I’m sure you could. But you’re also going to have to stay with me and play jailor, or I’m going to come running back and ask Haw Crocker what happened to Griff myself.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She merely raised one brow, coolly confident. “Try me.”

  “I’ll sic Mrs. Bossidy on you,” he warned her.

  She laughed. “Darlin’, do you think I’ve learned nothing in the past dozen years or so? If I really want to, I can get around her like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  She was so delighted with herself, humming with anticipation and freedom, that he couldn’t bring himself to haul her off and lock her up. Which was obviously what it would take to keep her completely out of trouble, now that she’d set her mind on it.

  “All right,” he said. Not because she’d badgered and threatened him into it, but because when it came right down to it he wanted to keep her around, though he was unwilling to examine that too closely yet. “Then get into bed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you’re going to stay, I’m not going to have you collapsing from exhaustion.”

  The woman wisely decided not to push her luck. She meekly turned—ha! Like he was going to buy that now, after all her threats and temper—and climbed into bed.

  She pondered the corner where her supplies rested. “So what do you think it all means?”

  He dragged over a heavy chair, fashioned of dark Spanish-carved wood and plush red cushions, plopped into it, and kicked his feet up on the foot of her bed. “It means,” he said, “until we figure out why you’re having midnight company, you’re going to have more. Because I’m going to have to stay by your side day and night.”

  Chapter 17

  “They tried awfully hard to keep us from the mines this afternoon,” Sam said the next night as he helped her through the window. “So let’s make a trip over in that direction tonight, hmm?”

  She swung her second leg over and gave a hop to the ground. His hands rested at her waist, and she was wearing…“What in God’s name are you wearing?”

  Lifting her arms, she gave a little spin. A loose black shirt swallowed up her torso, neck to wrist. “Bloomers,” she said brightly. “Like ’em?” They sprouted from her waist, black—no, navy, huge gathering folds of fabric that billowed over her hips, thoroughly hiding her legs before gathering abruptly at her ankles.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “Once upon a time I had visions of bicycling,” she told him. “I thought it best to be prepared when my father finally said ‘yes.’ She leaned forward, drawing him into her conspiracy. “It’s best not to give him time to change his mind about such things.”

  “Understandably so.”

  “I thought so.” She looked utterly ridiculous, swathed in as much fabric as a Bedouin, her face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. Without a doubt she was the most adorable thing he’d seen in his entire life. “I brought them along thinking they might come in handy. It seemed appropriate for tonight.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He struggled not to grin. She was too pleased with herself, too proud of her clandestine-operation clothes, and she would not take kindly to being the source of his amusement. “Very appropriate.”

  “So.” She rocked back on her heels, an impatient gesture. “Where are the horses?”

  “Tethered over by the corral. I saddled them already. But first—”

  She sighed deeply. “Can we just skip this?” She turned and headed for the corral at a determined clip. He fell into step beside her.

  “Skip what?”

  “The obligatory attempt to convince me that the best solution would be to allow you to tuck me away someplace safe while you go on about your business.”

  Blasted perceptive woman. “No, we can’t skip it.”

  She stopped halfway across the yard. All the outbuildings clustered in a broad, precise semicircle around them, blocky shapes in rigid alignment. No lights glowed in any of the windows, for they’d waited until past one. The second shift of mine guards had returned at half past midnight, and Sam had given them time to pitch into bed.

  “Sam.” She laid a hand against his jaw. Oh, she touched him so easily now, as if it were entirely natural. As if she’d touched him a thousand times and would do so a thousand more. And every time his stomach tightened and his breath seized and desire slammed into him like a cannon blast. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. “I understand. I really do. I even know that perhaps you’d be more efficient without me. But I have a good eye. And, if we happen to be discovered, I can help you cover it up by pretending a lover’s tryst.”

  “That’ll surprise them,” he said wryly.

  “It’ll probably relieve them.” She smiled. “And the truth is, Sam, no matter what situation we go into, I’d feel safer by your side. I’d go crazy waiting here. And if someone stumbled upon me, if there’s a snake or a cougar or an outlaw or whatever…I’d rather be with you.”

  I’d rather be with you. He was almost dizzy with it. He understood she meant under his protection, with his arm and his gun by her side. The weight of the responsibility pressed down upon him, substantial but not entirely unwelcome. And the sound of those words, that promise of trust, was heady.

  “And I have an interest of my own here,” she continued. “If I do not discover what truly happened to that poor man, I don’t think I’ll sleep properly again.”

  “Don’t believe that tale about the crazy worker and Crocker’s kind generosity, hmm?”

  “Not for a moment.”

  He stepped back, gaze sweeping the length of her, her bright face and pulled-back hair and those ridiculous clothes. “I am such a bad influence on you.”

  “Yeah,” she said, and grinned. “Isn’t it great?”

  She dropped her hand and headed for the horses. And for an instant he considered grabbing her hand and pulling her back, saying the hell with it all and asking her to ride off into the sunset with him, leaving everything and everyone behind. It didn’t sound nearly as absurd as it should.

  But the world was never made of two people, no matter how much one might wish it was. And what would he do when he lost her, too? To her fath
er, to her old life, or, God forbid, something worse? She’d almost died once, and, while she certainly seemed strong enough now—and would have kicked him within an inch of his life for suggesting otherwise—there was always a chance the damage was more severe than they realized.

  He wouldn’t lose her after having her. He couldn’t. And since he couldn’t ensure he’d never lose her, then he just couldn’t have her.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, and stopped in her tracks. “We’ve got company.”

  He tensed, preparing for action, his hands flying to his holsters. And then he relaxed again, for this couldn’t pose much of a threat.

  The Chinese woman who inhabited—worked?—in the tiny cottage stood perhaps fifteen feet from them, her hands folded in front of her, waiting. Her hair, dark as the night, was swept straight back and pinned. She said nothing, merely watched them with eyes so black as to give nothing of her thoughts away.

  They took each other’s measures across the small space, like gunfighters waiting for the signal to fire.

  And still the woman made no move, said nothing, just stood there in her simple dark dress and impassive expression.

  “Well. At least she hasn’t cried an alarm yet,” Laura said.

  “Unless she signaled someone before we noticed her and now she’s keeping an eye on us until they arrive.”

  “You’re such a suspicious sort.”

  “You say that like that’s a bad thing.”

  “Does she speak English?” Laura asked.

  “How would I know?”

  “I thought you investigated last night.”

  “She and her…friends weren’t doing a whole lot of talking,” he informed her. “And frankly, darlin’, I’d think you’d be happy that I didn’t investigate her that closely.”

  Laura tsked in disapproval. “Well, then. Enough.” She smoothed the fabric gathers at her waist and took a step toward the woman.

  “You’ll never make a good investigator,” he told her. “Not enough patience.”