by Stacy Henrie
She followed Ms. Glasen toward a pair of armchairs. Perhaps it was also a way to help out an unmarried female entrepreneur like herself. As she took a seat beside the dressmaker and watched the woman’s face brighten with enthusiasm, Maggy felt a glimmer of satisfaction that surprisingly had nothing to do with detective work this time.
* * *
With his left foot resting on his right knee, Edward hoped he looked the picture of casualness, though inside, he felt only agitation. He didn’t like being idle, at least not during the workday, even if it was important to outfit Maggy for her role as his fiancée. The other reason behind his uneasiness was the two ranchers seated near him on the long porch of the Sheridan Inn—the younger of which, Gunther Bertram, happened to be one of the ranchers Maggy suspected of sabotaging the Running W.
“Did you enjoy that equestrian book?” Edward asked as he swiveled to look at Bertram. “The one I loaned you a while back?”
While Maggy was busy with her new wardrobe, Edward had opted to walk over to the inn to see if he could get a head start on their investigation. It was more than fortunate that Bertram happened to be one of the men seated out front when he’d walked up.
Bertram cleared his throat. “It was good, real good.”
“You’re welcome to borrow another.”
Did he only imagine the slight paling of the man’s face? “Real nice of you, Kent. I’ll...uh...” Another clearing of his throat filled in his pause. “I’ll have to do that.”
“How are your horses this year, Kent?” Nevil Druitt, the other rancher, asked.
Edward threw him a confident smile, one that wasn’t forced. Between the Cavalry’s interest and Maggy’s help, he was feeling more assured. “The ranch is doing well. And yours?”
“Never better.” Druitt swiped a bandanna across his brow and balding head, his vest pushed to its limits by his rounded middle. “Heard from Harry at the livery that some woman came to visit you. A relation of yours?”
Bertram smirked. “Who else would it be? It isn’t like Kent is interested in settling down. Not that I blame you one bit,” he added. “Women are just plain trouble.”
“Now, hold on there, son,” Druitt said in a placating tone. “When you find the right woman, you’ll think differently.”
Edward lowered his foot to the porch floorboards. “Actually the young woman who came to visit is my fiancée. Her name is Maggy Worthwright.”
He wasn’t sure who looked more shocked at his news—Bertram or Druitt. The latter recovered more quickly, though. “Well, look at that. What’d I just say about finding the right woman? Kent here apparently has. Where’s your little lady from?”
“Colorado.” That was where the Pinkerton office was located, and he thought he remembered Maggy saying something at dinner last night about living there.
Druitt’s eyebrows shot upward. “How’d you meet then? Is she one of those mail-order brides?”
“No.” Edward shook his head. “We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance, which was followed by a rather whirlwind courtship.” Of one and a half hours, he thought wryly as he recalled Maggy’s shocking proposal and then his own to prevent them from living a lie.
Bertram regarded him as if he thought Edward completely mad. Time would only tell if that proved true. “What’d you go and get engaged for, Kent? I didn’t think you’d be sticking...” He shot a look at Druitt and let the rest of his question fade out.
“You didn’t think I’d be sticking to what?” Edward asked.
Shaking his head, his face now inflamed instead of colorless, Bertram jumped to his feet. “I just remembered I promised the saddle maker I’d take a look at some of his new saddles. See you boys on Saturday.”
“See you Saturday,” Druitt echoed. “Suppose I’d best be getting on myself if I want to avoid Dolphina’s scolding.” He stood, as well.
Edward nodded; he could easily imagine his late father saying something similar about his mother. At least nagging wasn’t something Maggy seemed inclined toward. She might be satirical and stubborn, but she wasn’t badgering.
“Will you be bringing your fiancée to dinner on Saturday?” the older rancher asked.
Edward rose to his feet. “Yes. I believe she might also like to join that ladies’ club.” He pretended to try to recall more information. “I think it’s the one that the other ranchers’ wives and sweethearts are members of.”
“I’m sure they’d welcome her warmly.” Druitt pocketed his bandanna. “A prosperous ranch and a wife-to-be? Congratulations, Kent. You’re doing well for yourself.”
The words sounded admiring, but Edward wondered at their sincerity. “Thank you,” he acknowledged with a nod. “I’m looking forward to what the future holds and seeing the ranch prosper even more.”
Druitt smiled. “Wonderful to hear. We’ll see you and Miss Worthwright on Saturday.”
Watching him slowly walk to his horse, Edward frowned. Bertram had definitely acted strangely, but Edward couldn’t say for certain about Druitt. He didn’t know the older rancher well. How many men were involved in the plot against his ranch? Who were the real culprits and who weren’t? His jaw clenched with frustration at not knowing the answers, but he fought to relax it. One way or the other, he’d figure things out. Or rather, he and Maggy would figure them out. Because the alternative, where the wrongdoers won, was unthinkable.
* * *
Maggy tightened the twine she’d used to secure her pile of hatboxes and packages in the shallow compartment behind the buggy seat. She eyed her handiwork with satisfaction as she brushed her hands free of flecks of string and dust.
“We might have procured some rope for you at the livery stable or the saddle shop.”
She turned to face Edward, her hands settling on her hips. “Now why would we do that when I figured out my own ingenious solution?” She moved toward the driver’s side of the buggy. “Besides, if I have to enter one more shop this morning, I’m liable to scream.”
“That miserable, huh?” He moved to stand next to her, his hand rising to lightly grip her elbow. Instead of helping her up as she’d expected, though, he tugged her back to the ground and steered her around the buggy.
Maggy frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you into your side of the buggy,” he murmured before offering a polite smile to some passerby.
“What do you mean my side—”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “It wouldn’t look proper for you to be driving me around town, Maggy.”
“No?” It came out far more yielding than she’d wanted, but Edward’s nearness had a sudden and peculiar effect on her ability to think or reason. Standing this close, she could see his eyes weren’t entirely gray in color. There was a slight blue hue to them as well. She could also smell the pleasant scent of soap and grass that clung to him.
Summoning her fortitude to stay focused and unaffected, she pulled her arm free and scaled the buggy herself. “Fine, you can drive,” she muttered, though loud enough that he would hear.
Edward chuckled as he circled the vehicle and climbed onto the seat beside her. Did his laughter mean he thought her amusing, or was he entertained by the affect his close proximity had on her?
“I’ll let you drive once we’re out of town...” He held up his hand when she started to thank him. “But only if you can act with decorum until then.”
Maggy smiled fully at him and linked her arm through his. “Why, I’m the picture of decorum!”
His laughter came again as he guided the horse and buggy into the street. “Of course.”
“I am,” she countered, nodding cordially to a woman and her young daughter walking along the street. “I got everything I needed for my wardrobe and some new information to boot, too.”
He flicked his gaze to hers. “What did you find out?”
“Well...” Maggy let the word hang there to draw out the suspense. “I learned from the dressmaker Ms. Glasen that the wives’ club is run by a woman named Dolphina Druitt. Ms. Glasen also confirmed that as your fiancée, I can join.”
Edward gave a thoughtful nod. “I was doing a bit of investigating myself.”
“You were?” She stared at him in surprise. Even in cases where people desperately wanted something to go their way, they typically still left everything up to Maggy—the questioning, the disguises, the clue gathering. This was the first time in her career that she’d worked with a partner, so to speak. “What did you learn?”
“Well...” he said, letting the word hang between them as she’d done.
She elbowed him in the side. “Very funny. What did you find out?”
“All right.” Frustration replaced the amusement on his face. “It wasn’t so much what I learned as what I observed.”
Maggy couldn’t help throwing him an admiring glance. “That’s something even new detectives don’t catch on to soon enough.”
“Are you admitting I’m proficient at sleuthing, too?” A rather attractive smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
She glanced away, her answering laugh a bit forced. “I don’t know about that. I think it all depends on what you observed.”
“I went by the inn and one of your—our—suspects was there. Gunther Bertram.”
“Ah-ha.” She sat up straighter. “What did he say?”
Edward shifted the reins in his grip. “It was more his mannerisms that struck me as odd. I asked him about the book I had loaned him. When I suggested he could borrow another, he appeared uncomfortable.”
“What do you mean?” More details might help them understand if Bertram’s behavior was truly suspicious or not.
“His face went a bit white and his whole demeanor was quite uneasy.” He threw her a quick look. “Did I only see what I wished to see?”
She understood what prompted his question; it was one she’d asked herself often her first year as a detective. “Were there any other signs that he was uneasy?”
Edward appeared thoughtful. “At the end of our conversation, I mentioned that I was engaged and he was clearly surprised to hear it. He started to say something. He said he didn’t think I’d be sticking.”
“Sticking?” she repeated. “Sticking to what?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure—he cut himself off. Though I wondered if he meant sticking around—as in staying on the ranch.”
“That would make sense, given he wrote one of the notes meant to scare you into leaving.” She reviewed in her mind all that they now knew about the man. “I don’t think he’s the one behind everything. Someone else is pulling the strings.”
His brow creased. “Why do you think that?”
“Because the person behind all of this is likely too crafty to let something slip out like Bertram did.”
“Then we are right back where we began.”
Maggy could relate to his discouragement, but unlike with her other clients, she wanted to reassure Edward. She gave his arm a friendly squeeze, telling herself it was as much to encourage him as it was to play her part as his fiancée. “Not necessarily.”
“Why not?” he countered, shooting her a questioning look.
“I think we can confidently rule out that Bertram is our man. He’s being manipulated by someone else—probably someone too clever to use their own handwriting on the notes. Which also means it’s likely that Winchester isn’t our man, either.”
He nodded slowly. “I also spoke with Nevil Druitt.”
“Is he married to Dolphina Druitt?”
“Yes.”
Maggy brightened. “Perfect. How well do you know him?”
“Not well. He’s never been to the ranch, though I’ve seen him every time I’ve dined at the inn on Saturday evenings.” Edward cast a glance at her. “He asked if you would be accompanying me this Saturday.”
The reminder that they had more to do as an engaged couple than Edward simply driving her about town and being seen arm in arm made her stomach twist with fresh nerves. She had no worries about pulling off her part while meeting with the women’s club. But playing the part of a loving bride-to-be in a mixed group, with Edward right beside her?
“Is something wrong?”
His question sliced through Maggy’s apprehension and jerked her back to the present. She glanced around to find they’d left the last of the buildings behind them. “Only thinking,” she said as she pulled her arm from his. “And now it’s time for me to drive.”
Edward wordlessly studied her, but she refused to let him see her concern. After all, being his fiancée had been her idea. Instead she simply smiled and held her hand out for the reins.
After a moment, he passed the reins to her. “As promised.”
“Thank you.” She slid over on the seat as he climbed down and moved around the buggy. An urge to tease him nearly had her driving away. But she suppressed the desire with a mental shake of her head. She had to be careful. Edward wasn’t arrogant or rude, but he was still a client—and a man.
He took the spot she’d vacated, and Maggy guided the buggy forward. “I think you should try to get to know Mr. Druitt better,” she suggested, “and any of the other ranchers whose wives are in Mrs. Druitt’s club.”
“Very well.”
When she glanced at him, she found him frowning. “We’ll weed out our man, Edward. I know it.”
“On that score, I’m feeling more confident.” He gripped the side of the seat with one hand. “Returning to the ranch hale and whole is something I feel less assured about.”
Maggy laughed. “Too fast?”
“Not if we’re in a chariot race.” He grimaced, but she saw his gray eyes flash with teasing. “Be advised there is a rather large rut in the road a quarter of a mile ahead of us.”
She slowed the conveyance a little. “This isn’t nearly as fun as galloping on a horse.”
“You ride?” He appeared to relax slightly.
“I love riding.”
He shifted to face her on the seat. “Then what do you say to lowering our speed to something more conducive to a leisure ride through the country, and I’ll take you riding this afternoon.”
Could she afford to take a break in the investigation to go riding? But then they had spent all morning gathering information and securing their role as a couple. It had been ages since she’d last ridden a horse, especially over acres of unbroken land.
It was too appealing a suggestion to ignore, even if it meant a meandering ride back to the ranch for now.
Glancing at Edward, Maggy tugged back on the reins to slow the horse. “You have a deal, darling.”
Chapter Six
Leaning forward in the saddle, Edward urged Napoleon faster. They were in the lead, but a glance over his shoulder confirmed that Maggy and her horse weren’t far behind. The tree they’d selected as the finish line for their race drew closer and closer. A rare grin pulled at Edward’s mouth. It had been far too many years since he’d last raced someone on his horse—and even then, it had likely been one of his brothers or school chums, not a woman.
He wasn’t surprised Maggy had suggested the challenge, though. Her insistence in swapping her dress for her men’s clothes for the ride hadn’t shocked him as much as before, either. She was the most unconventional woman he’d ever met, and at the same time, he rather liked that quality about her. Especially if it helped them solve his case all the sooner.
The tree loomed up ahead. He was going to win! Edward kept his horse at a gallop. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this free, this satisfied. Grinning all the more, he let his concerns about the ranch slip to the back of his mind.
He and Napoleon were nearly abreast the tree, when Maggy came thundering up alongside the
m. Edward’s jaw went slack with astonishment that she’d caught up to him—then tightened with determination. Something about her compelled him to meet her challenges head-on as if she were a friend or a business partner.
Napoleon still had the lead by a nose, but the lead was narrowing. The two mounts vied back and forth for first until finally they raced past the tree, side by side.
Edward let his horse have its head as he sat up straighter. Turning, he saw Maggy doing the same with her horse. After another minute or so, he circled Napoleon back the way they’d come.
“Well done,” he said with sincerity as he rode toward Maggy.
She threw him a smile that outshone the afternoon sunshine. “You too. I wasn’t sure we’d beat you, at least not until right at the end.”
He stopped his horse. “You’re saying you won?”
“I do think Persimmon’s nose was an inch or two ahead of Napoleon’s.” She patted the neck of her horse.
Edward shook his head in disbelief. “Preposterous. That was a draw if I ever saw one.”
“I don’t know...” Maggy’s forehead creased in thought, then she laughed. “All right. Fine. We tied.”
His sudden thought slipped out his mouth. “You don’t want to admit that you might not have won.”
The lightheartedness between them shattered like glass. Maggy’s open expression disappeared, too, replaced by a frown.
“There’s nothing wrong with liking to win,” she said as she climbed to the ground. “Why do men think they’re the only ones who do? The only ones who should win?” She seemed hurt, though she was trying to hide it behind her prickly demeanor.
As she stalked forward, leading Persimmon by the reins, Edward dismounted, as well. He led Napoleon after them. “My sister was quite competitive.”
Maggy shot him a surprised look. “Your sister?”
“Yes,” Edward said with a nod. “Perhaps that was inevitable, given she was the only girl in a family of three boys.”