And what was that supposed to mean? She gazed out the window to ponder all the improbable events of the past hour: robbers had attacked, knowing full well these were Spade wagons—maybe knowing this was a pay run—yet Bobby had tried to play dumb. And how could everyone, including four outlaws and six company employees, go through all that gunfire without getting shot? Even with the dust obscuring their aim, somebody should’ve made some chance hits.
Madigan’s appearance only confounded her more…unless he’d arranged this little skirmish, to get even for the way she’d lit out on her journey without asking his advice or inviting him along. As she stole glances at the tawny, dust-covered bookkeeper across the coach, she knew they’d have to have a serious talk, when other ears weren’t hanging on every word. And it couldn’t come too soon to suit her.
After the coaches and wagons stopped at the way station, Madigan watched with interest. He’d heard Horatio’s accounts of numerous overland trips; but this was his first journey, and seeing everything in person fascinated him. The passengers had immediately headed for the low log building to splash their parched faces, or to the privy behind it, while the three station keepers were hitching fresh, matched teams to the two coaches with practiced precision. All the talk was about the holdup, yet the men worked quickly, until the lathered Morgans were pastured and the mules on the freight wagons were exchanged as well. He let his own palomino go to the grass along with the outlaws’ mounts, telling the hostler he’d reclaim it on the return trip.
Fergus McGee was informing Mrs. Pruitt and Jenkins that they might wish to leave with the regular stage, which was almost ready to depart. To Madigan’s chagrin, neither seemed pressed to stay on the published schedule—safety in numbers, they were saying—which meant he and Sahara would have no privacy to discuss some very pressing matters. Not only did he need to confront her about the letters and photograph he’d found in the barn, but the young, impulsive Mrs. Spade was completely unaware of how badly she could damage her new reputation with her ignorance…and unaware of a potentially dangerous situation he’d suspected since he followed her from Atchison.
Yet watching her now, he felt a pang of pride despite the way she’d hurt him. Sahara bubbled as she introduced herself to her three station keepers, rough-hewn men who were immediately won over by her charm and enthusiasm. She’d done the right thing, increasing their meager supplies and pay, and he ambled closer to listen while Luther Bean doled out their wages from the strongbox.
“Is there anything else you’re short of? Anything we can wire to Atchison for?” she was asking. Her green eyes sparkled, and to these men, so isolated on the prairie, she probably looked like a fairy princess come to grant their fondest wishes.
They accepted their pay with surprise and thanks, sincerely grateful to have more rations, as well. When the bulky bags of coffee, beans, flour and other foodstuffs were stacked inside the building, she shook hands all around and excused herself.
When she turned toward the royal blue wagon and saw him, a thoughtful expression stole over her face. “Are the Pruitts and Mr. Jenkins aboard the regular coach?”
“No, I believe they’re sticking with us. There’s the boy, running like a prairie chicken around the corral.”
“Oh. Had I known you were coming—”
“Don’t let me inconvenience you, Mrs. Spade.” He hadn’t intended to sound so high-handed, and he regretted it when the smile fell from her golden face. “There are things you should know about, though.”
“So I gathered.” She glanced toward the red stage as it was pulling out, waving at the driver. Then she looked up at him again, her jaw set. “I can’t ask the others to ride up on top, so I guess you and I shall. If we talk in quiet, civil tones, perhaps McGee and Bean won’t hear us.”
“Sahara—”
But she was walking quickly toward the royal blue coach, beckoning the burly Scot, who was all too eager to do her bidding, Madigan noted. The driver vaulted neatly up into the box and then to the roof, where Sahara’s trunk was tied on, and after a brief discussion he opened it and dropped down pants and a shirt. Never let it be said that Mrs. Spade let her gender—or her status—keep her from having her way, he mused.
Dan wandered over to where Charlie Oswald was checking his canvas-covered wagons, joined in tandem and loaded with supplies. “So what do you think of the new boss?” he asked nonchalantly.
Charlie, who’d hauled for Spade several years, grinned knowingly. “Once she got it straight how these shipments work, she was a real peach. Better looking than the old man, too.”
“So why, considering all the drinks we’ve shared in town, have you never mentioned a certain Tom Underwood, who’s been delivering half the supplies to the army?”
Oswald straightened slowly, his expression guarded. “I figured you knew about him. Wasn’t my place to speculate about how Spade set his loads up, or who was on his payroll. I just do my job and mind my own business, Madigan.”
Dan held his gaze for a moment, waiting to see what else he’d say.
The man adjusted his broad-brimmed hat. “I recall Sahara being upset about that little detail, too. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Tom. Far as I can tell, he’s just another man earning a living, and he’s a damn good mule skinner. Must’ve suited Spade, as far as keeping his supplies and money in order, or he’d have been replaced long before now.”
That part was true enough, and Madigan sensed no good would come of quizzing this tanned, muscular driver any further. He was about to have a chat with Underwood, but then Sahara emerged from the log station in her pants and shirt, her ruffled dress bundled under her arm.
“Are we ready?” she called out. “By the time we make the next station, it’ll be time for chow. Let’s go!”
Before anyone could offer her a boost, Sahara clambered up to the driver’s box and then swung her legs over the luggage rail. Noting the variety of expressions on the others’ faces, Dan climbed up onto the roof behind her and chose a bench facing to the rear of the coach. “I believe you’ve shocked some of the men, and left poor Roxanne to Mr. Jenkins’s devices,” he said quietly.
She looked back from opening her trunk, smiling. “We’ll all learn a lot about each others’ devices on this trip. And if my men shock so easily, well—they’ll just have to adjust.”
When she leaned over to refold her dress into the trunk, he found himself riveted by the way her shapely little behind filled out her denim pants. She looked lovely and fragile in her new gowns, but they did hide certain features from a man’s view.
“Is she always so straightforward?”
Dan turned to find McGee studying the same female scenery he was, while Luther Bean pretended he wasn’t interested. “Always. And having seen the way she handled Horatio Spade, I have no doubt she’ll be as merciless with the rest of us. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Spade needs to be informed of a few business matters.”
As she sat down on the wooden bench beside him, giving McGee the nod to proceed, Madigan thought of a different sort of business he’d rather be discussing. The driver clucked to the horses, the stagecoach lurched forward, and they were off, watched by the three waving station keepers.
In fresh clothing, with her hair pulled into a ribbon at her nape, Sahara made him forget the harsh words he had for her. A few wisps of cinnamon-gold escaped in the breeze to tease him, and he was aware of subtle wildflowers working their magic again. Was the honey-skinned imp beside him truly the naive temptress he wished her to be? Or was Sahara Spade torturing him deliberately?
She looked up from her own musings, and in a low voice she asked, “Well? What can be so important that you’ve followed me all this way? Surely you don’t need my advice about handling Jennifer.”
Madigan suppressed an impatient remark. “Miss Jenny is being her usual peevish self. She’s going to the house in St. Louis for a while, to play girl games with her socialite friends there.”
“Girl games?”
<
br /> “You know—buying clothes she doesn’t need, and gossiping, and going though money as though it were air. And leading unsuspecting men astray with promises she never intends to keep,” he replied. “It’s how rich young women amuse themselves when they have no higher cause. It’s what they do to annoy men when they don’t play by female rules.”
“Ah.” She knew better than to laugh, but Madigan always looked and sounded so hurt when he’d been abandoned by a woman. “Am I guilty as charged, too? Your opinion of wealthy women isn’t terribly flattering.”
“You?” His eyes were a deep, probing brown. “You’re the most purposeful young lady I know. More like Spade than his daughter, in that respect.”
She sensed Madigan meant that as a compliment, and that by airing his criticisms of Jenny he was blowing smoke around what he really wanted to discuss. “So how have I annoyed you?” she asked cautiously. “I’m glad you’ve come after me rather than following Miss Spade, but I know damn well this is no social call.”
Madigan glanced over his shoulder. McGee and Bean were quiet, probably straining to hear what the coach’s creaking didn’t drown out. He looked into Sahara’s questioning eyes again. “I found those papers in the bottom of the gilt-edged lockbox. And when I realized why you took off like a shot for Atchison, I thought I’d better follow you, to straighten things out.”
Thank God she’d removed those letters about his mother! She shifted slightly on the hard wooden seat. “Was I right? Was Spade using express company funds to cut some lucrative deals with the army?”
“Yes. And in this case a little learning was a dangerous thing.” He was itching to lay into her about the other documents he’d found, but by following her lead, he could save the most painful arguments for last. “While talking with Ira Lewis, I got the idea you’d made quite an impression as Spade’s widow and successor. What you didn’t know was that you own that general store, Sahara.”
She scowled, and then her error made her cheeks flare with embarrassment. “So you’re saying that when I threatened to buy my supplies down the street, I was cutting my nose off to spite my face?”
“Something like that. Only I hope you never try it... such a dear little nose,” he murmured, and then he caught himself. How could a few freckles on her sun-kissed face turn him into such a babbling idiot? Why did her blush bring to mind their first kiss, when they were alone in the buggy?
“Lewis must think I’m terribly stupid,” she mumbled.
Little bitch should stay home and sew samplers. No proper widow would be making such an ass of herself, was what the gangly storekeeper had said, but Dan didn’t have the heart to repeat it. Sahara looked like a wilted flower beside him, yet he had to be sure she understood the rest of the story.
“Ira’s the least of your worries, honey,” he said gently. “Some of your other shopkeepers would’ve raised a lot more eyebrow about your attitude, but at least you covered well.”
“What else do I own?” she asked in a plaintive whisper. “Spade never elaborated, and I was too scared to ask.”
He felt eyes on his back and caught the express messenger watching them. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said as he scooted closer to her. “The main thing is that you don’t storm the forts like you did the store. The army’s contract for supplies and horses turned out to be perfectly legitimate—”
“I know that now. It’s Spade who was double-dealing with the accounts,” she insisted near his ear, “and I intend to right his wrongs without bankrupting the stage line to pay for it. Surely the military can find some other shyster who wants to make a fortune hauling their supplies.”
He had to admire her thinking, as far as it went. “Don’t forget, though, that long after the railroad makes overland staging obsolete, the cavalry will always need good horseflesh. You’re in a position to supply that, being the biggest breeder near their forts.”
Why did being rich have to be so complicated? Sahara sighed and glanced away from the handsome accountant, whose presence was so much more…unnerving than his purpose. “So where else have I blundered? We may as well cover all these embarrassments while we’re on the subject.”
Dan swallowed a chuckle, but while he couldn’t forget the most pressing topic they had to discuss, he wanted Sahara to be her usual feisty self rather than the forlorn little girl he saw now, when he brought it up. “Did you notice anything odd about the holdup?”
Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t see a damn thing for those curtains, but after all the shots that got fired, I thought it was mighty strange that nobody even got nicked! Do you think—”
Madigan’s finger shushed her, and with a quick sideward glance he warned her that McGee and Bean might be eavesdropping. “We’ll discuss that later, too,” he said, pleased she was all guns-and-thunder again, “but there’s something else I have to know, Sahara. Answer carefully, because this answer’s the most important you’ll ever give me.”
His finger ran lightly along the outline of her lips, a most provocative gesture, yet his tone and his narrowing eyes warned her he was broaching a very serious subject. Was he going to propose? Or had he found an even more blatant error in her dealings with Spade’s employees?
“Why did you leave the ranch, Sahara?” he asked somberly. He let his question soak in, watching her face for telltale emotion—or lies. “Was it because you wanted to right Horatio’s financial wrongdoing, or because you found out who I really am? It hurt like hell that you didn’t tell me to my face.”
The acrid taste of getting caught flooded her mouth. “How did you—where—?”
“You left a couple of incriminating documents in the barn for me,” he said in a low, bitter whisper. “I expected more consideration from a woman I’ve shared my love with.”
There was that word “love” again, but she was too stunned to protest about his use of it. She saw the daguerreotype clearly in her mind, along with the cold, clinical letter from the sanitorium and the words of betrayal from his mother’s own hand. She’d been so intent on cornering Lewis and Underwood that she hadn’t realized the papers weren’t in her camisole when she got to Atchison. “I—I never meant to—”
“You were hiding those things from me. And you had no right to!”
She felt Fergus watching them and blinked away tears. “We’ll discuss this later, too,” she said in a quavery voice. “I—”
“We’ll discuss it now.” It was obvious he’d caught her off-guard, and that she was sincerely upset about this matter, but there was no delaying the truth any longer. Over and over the lines of those letters had run through his mind while he hurried into Atchison, and as he followed her coach to protect her as well as to hold her accountable for this very personal crime against him.
Damn her for being so beguiling, yet so treacherous! Madigan put an arm around her to keep her from squirming away, and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me, Sahara. You must’ve had those papers on you, and they came out of your pocket when we struggled in the haystack—didn’t they?”
She swallowed hard, nodding. Never had she seen Dan Madigan so incensed, yet the torment in his eyes frightened her more.
“So—how would you feel if you found out your mother was Spade’s whore, and that all the wealth around you went to someone else because you were the bastard he never owned up to?” he demanded in a fierce whisper.
“Awful,” she gasped. A tear was dribbling down each cheek, but she didn’t dare brush them away. Dan’s fingers cut into her jaw, and the arm around her waist was anything but romantic. “I—I didtn’t mean to deceive you, but—but I didn’t want Jenny to find those papers, either, so I—so I—”
Jenny. Lord, had she found those letters, she’d have used the information in unspeakable ways to destroy him. He probably wouldn’t have learned about his real bloodlines until it was too late, so the shuddering little woman in his arms at least deserved the benefit of the doubt.
“Were you going to tell me?” he a
sked quietly.
“Yes. But I wanted time to consider all the angles…a chance to see what Spade left me, before I had to share it with anybody, or listen to Jennifer whining again because everything didn’t go to her.” Sahara took a deep, sniffling breath, hoping he believed her. “Maybe my motives weren’t the most honorable, but just once I wanted to have something, all to myself. You know?”
Madigan knew very well. He, too, had grown up in a meager household where they bowed to those whose wealth “controlled his family, and his future. And as he gazed at Sahara, he hoped this wasn’t one of her heartrending ploys to soften him, because he wasn’t going to answer to her and Jennifer for the rest of his life!
He loosened his grip and was about to stroke the wet streaks from her troubled, endearing face, when McGee’s voice interrupted him.
“Not to intrude, Mrs. Spade, but do ye want me to stop the stage? We’ll put him off if he’s posin’ any threats.”
Sahara cleared her throat. “Thank you, Fergus, but I believe Mr. Madigan and I have reached an understanding.”
She shrugged out of his embrace and scooted away, dashing the tears from her face like a defiant little tomboy who detested such a lapse of fortitude. Dan could see that her misery wasn’t all of his own making, that her conscience was smarting as badly as his pride was. And he wished he’d found a better place and way to settle this.
“Sahara, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should’ve trusted your intentions.”
She glanced at him, determined not to hint at a smile. The express line and numerous other businesses were still hers until she decided if she wanted to share them. And this tawny, muscular man beside her wasn’t going to trick her out of anything by acting so penitent!
“I accept your apology,” she said simply, “just as I offer my own for the way I hid those papers. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to kiss and make up.”
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