by Craig, Emma
“Your aunt doesn’t seem to think so, Miss Sophie.” He kept his voice soft, but pitched it at a level calculated to instill shame.
It didn’t work on Sophie. She huffed and fed Tybalt a piece of buttered muffin.
“Oh, Mr. Caine, Sophie doesn’t mean it. She only thinks she does.”
Giving up on Sophie, who appeared as invincible as a mountain, Gabriel blinked at Juniper. “You mean there’s a difference, ma’am?”
She nodded hard. “Oh, my, yes, Mr. Caine. Why, if Sophie’s unpleasant experiences hadn’t hurt her so badly, she’d know—ow!”
Juniper turned the face of a chastened kitten on her niece.”There was no need to kick me, Sophie. You know I would never reveal anything you prefer to keep to yourself.”
“It didn’t sound like it to me, Aunt Juniper. I’d prefer it if Mr. Caine knew nothing at all about me, thank you very much.”
She was as mad as a wet hen. Gabriel was nettled with her for hurting Juniper. “Miss Sophie,” he said in his sloppiest, honey-and-magnolia-blossom Virginia accent. “Even though I’m just dyin’ to learn every little thing there is to know about you, I reckon I can forego the pleasure if your auntie’s silence will keep her safe from your sharp pointy toes.”
Giving him a smile that would have stricken a lesser man dead on the spot, Sophie said, “Good. That’s a wise course to follow, Mr. Caine. I’d hate to have to place the family curse on you.”
“Sophie!” Juniper looked like she might burst into tears.
After several seconds, during which Gabriel attempted to decide between giving Sophie Madrigal the spanking she deserved or trying to make peace between Sophie and her aunt, he said, “So, tell me, ladies: Why are y’all headed to Tucson? Do you plan to tell some fortunes there?”
It seemed an innocent-enough question to Gabriel, but from the look of terror Juniper shot at her niece, he guessed it wasn’t. He repressed a heavy sigh. “I’ve got business there myself,” he said, hoping to clear the air of whatever seethed in it.
Oddly enough, it was Sophie who spoke next. She sounded almost polite, too. Maybe she was feeling penitent because of her miserable behavior. Gabriel hoped so, because she should.
“We have business in Tucson, as well, Mr. Caine.”
“Yes, yes,” Juniper said quickly. “Yes indeedy, we do. Dmitri will see to it that we have plenty of business, in fact. He’s good at that, you know.”
“Is he now?” Interesting. So Dmitri was going to have to drum up business for them, was he? In other words, they hadn’t already been booked to perform at any of the venues in Tucson. Most interesting. Gabriel caught himself wondering why and frowned. What the hell did he care what these women planned to do in Tucson?
“What is your business in Tucson, Mr. Caine?”
He looked up to find Sophie watching him. She had an ironic expression on her lovely face, as if she expected him to admit he was traveling to Tucson in order to commit a felony. He decided to tell a portion of the truth because it might shock her.
“I’m after a man, Miss Sophie. A criminal. I’m going to bring him to justice.”
He had the satisfaction of watching her sit up straight and open her eyes wide, giving her an almost innocent appearance. He didn’t buy it for a second, but he appreciated it. When she sat up that way, she displayed her considerable bosom in a manner of which Gabriel approved. Heartily. She was quite something, Miss Sophie Madrigal. Quite something indeed.
“A man?” Her voice was shrill, and it rang with something Gabriel pegged as anxiety. Curious, although not so very curious as to trouble him.
“Yes, ma’am. I reckon the fellow’s got himself a pretty black history. The man who hired me to find him indicated he’s an unsavory individual who’s perpetrated more petty crimes and outright felonies than most folks even know exist.”
“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Caine,” cried Aunt Juniper. “Are you one of those daring Pinkerton men we read so much about these days?”
He couldn’t help but grin at the thrill in her voice, and wished he could tell her the truth. But he was on an undercover assignment with the Pinkerton Agency, and he wasn’t about to give himself away. “No, ma’am. Sorry to disappoint you. The man who hired me—” He’d started to elaborate on his sorrow when Sophie broke in.
“What’s his name?” Her voice was as sharp as the expression on her face. Indeed, her interest was apparently so avid that she forgot to glare at him or show him, by her expression, how much she loathed him.
Amused, wondering why people were so interested in criminals and the people who hired other people to find them, Gabriel said, “McAllister, Miss Sophie. Franklin McAllister. From Abilene, Texas.”
Sophie seemed to deflate. She sagged in her chair, reached for her teacup, and downed a gulp of what must have been disgustingly cold tea. Gabriel cocked his head, curious again. “Do you know a criminal in Tucson, Miss Sophie? You seem mighty interested in my job.”
“Your job?” She smiled slightly and looked him up and down as if he were a specimen in a scientist’s laboratory. “I must admit to a certain fascination with bounty hunters and their ilk. I’d always heard they were a hard, rather disreputable lot. But no, I don’t know any criminals in Tucson.”
“Bounty hunters?” Although he knew his reaction was foolish, Gabriel was offended. “I’m not a bounty hunter, Miss Sophie. I was hired to bring a criminal back to face justice in Abilene. I’m not claiming a bounty on him. He killed one man and wounded the man who hired my firm in the perpetration of a robbery. The dead man’s widow, the wounded man, and my employer want him to stand trial for it.”
Actually, what McAllister—who was mad as hell about having been shot—wanted was to beat the living stuffing out of Ivo Hardwick before he tarred and feathered him, rode him into Abilene on a fence rail, and dumped him off in front of the sheriff’s office. Whatever McAllister aimed to do with Gabriel’s quarry was all right with Gabriel.
McAllister was paying the Pinkerton Agency a king’s ransom to bring Hardwick back, and Gabriel aimed to oblige. This was particularly true since Hardwick was reputed to be a cowardly individual and one not normally given to violence or devious thinking except in reaction to a perceived threat. Gabriel wasn’t a fool, after all.
“I see.” Delicately sipping her tea this time instead of gulping it, Sophie eyed Gabriel over the rim of her teacup. Her green eyes proclaimed a cynicism at stark odds with her tender years. Gabriel pegged her as a female of no more than twenty-two or twenty-three. A mere pup, actually, and much too young to harbor such bitterness in her heart.
Although he imagined it was useless to try to educate her in these matters, he said, “There’s a big difference, Miss Sophie. Bounty hunters track down men for posted reward money. They’re like hunters of game, and take in their prey dead or alive. They’ll go after anyone for money. I’m looking for this fellow as a job of work, and my company was hired to do it by an individual who was hurt by the man. The aim of my mission is simple justice. That’s all. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? I must confess I’m unable to perceive one.” Her smile would have curdled cream if there’d been any on the table. It irked him a lot.
“Well, there is.” Dammit, what was the matter with this woman, anyway? Gabriel had an urge to shake the nastiness out of her, she was so irritating.
“I see.” She honored him with one last smirk before she resumed paying attention to her silly dog.
Seething inside, Gabriel wondered what in holy hell was the matter with him, to get upset over the derision of one frigid female. He took a deep breath to calm himself and turned his best smile upon Juniper. She appreciated him, even if her witchy niece didn’t.
“I’d take it as a kindness if you were to show me some more about your cards today, Miss Juniper.”
“I’d love to do that, Mr. Caine.”
Juniper twittered and colored up as if she were a princess and he a gallant knight. If he lived in a just world, Ga
briel knew Juniper’s reaction to him would have been housed in Miss Sophie’s body. Miss Sophie’s coldness wouldn’t have been out of place in a female of Miss Juniper’s years, but it was unconscionably hard to take in a woman as young and glorious as Sophie Madrigal.
Because he figured it would annoy her, he eyed Sophie slantways and grinned at her. He had the satisfaction of watching her cheeks bloom with color, but couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or anger.
To hell with her. She was so damned mean, he’d take it as a challenge to break down her defenses—if they were defenses, and not merely the manifestation of a rotten personality. He’d met one or two people before in his life who were flat-out mean. Maybe she was one of them.
Suddenly Sophie sat up straight and looked at him strangely. “I’ll tell you something, Mr. Caine.”
“Yes?” He smiled sweetly.
“I shall offer you a prediction, actually.” She gave him a glittering smile that made Gabriel a little nervous.
“Sophie!” wailed Juniper.
“I predict,” Sophie Madrigal said, ignoring her aunt as usual, “that the end of your life—”
“So-phie!” Juniper’s hands flew to press her cheeks in patent desperation.
“—will be actuated in this present endeavor of yours.”
“Sophie!” Juniper stared at her niece, horrified.
Gabriel blinked, unsettled and faintly horrified himself.”Damn, Miss Sophie, that’s right unkind of you.”
She blinked back and shook her head once abruptly, as if she wasn’t sure what she’d just said. “I—” She swallowed, lifted her chin, and regained her composure. “It’s a mere prediction, Mr. Caine. You may disregard it if you wish.” She waved a hand in the air as if the end of his life was nothing to her.
Which it probably wasn’t. It took Gabriel a long time to soothe Miss Juniper’s fidgets. His own, while less overt, took longer.
* * * *
After Sophie, considerably rattled by her recent prediction—what in the world had propelled her to say such a thing?—took Tybalt to the newspaper-covered area in the baggage car which Dmitri had fixed up especially for him, she went back to the sleeping compartment she shared with her aunt. Since she held Tybalt on a leash and it wouldn’t hurt him, she slammed his wicker carrier down on the floor. It made a less-than-satisfactory bang, and she wished she had something to hurl.
“Damn him!” she said to make up for the basket’s refusal to cooperate. Tybalt paid no attention to her as he inspected the sleeper, searching for food, snuffling into all the corners and under the benches with dogged determination. He found nothing to eat, but appeared undiscouraged. Sophie had always admired Tybalt for his tenacity. It was a quality they shared.
She’d almost fainted when Mr. Slick-as-an-Oiled-Snake Gabriel Caine said he was after a criminal in Tucson. But the person he’d named had been a Mac-something. At least he wasn’t after Ivo Hardwick, which spared her the problem of eliminating Gabriel.
Sophie would relish killing Ivo Hardwick. She didn’t fancy having to kill Gabriel Caine first, no matter how much she didn’t like him. Maybe her prediction would come true.
She pressed a hand to her heart and felt it thundering wildly. Good heavens, how could she have said something like that, even to a man like him? How could she have felt it so keenly? And why had that vision come again, seconds before her prediction popped out of her mouth? She’d never had precognitive thoughts before. Why now? Why with him?
And why, in the name of all that’s holy had it been such a dreadful one?
She had no answers to any of her questions, and her insides churned with disquiet for hours.
By the time the train finally drew close to Tucson, Sophie was sick to death of desert scenery, Saguaro cacti, barrel cacti, a million other kinds of cacti, bleached bones, dust, jackrabbits, and buzzards. For several days the train had chugged them through the driest, most desolate country she’d ever seen in her life, interspersed with long, breathless, stifling stops along the way, including a longer-than-normal stopover engendered by repairs needed to the train’s engine. It had run into a cow somewhere in New Mexico Territory and damaged itself.
Sophie had felt sorry for the cow. She also figured Tucson would be a suitable place in which to dispatch her prey since it was already halfway to hell.
She and Juniper had made a bit of money telling fortunes for passengers, although business hadn’t been what she’d call brisk. She didn’t care much; she had other things to think about and telling fortunes bored her. People were so unbelievably stupid. And they had the gall to look down on her. Sophie would never understand so-called respectable society as long as she lived.
She was sick to death of train travel, too. Her legs felt cramped, her shoulders were stiff, and she needed a good long walk, preferably in some cool morning air. Which was a pity, since there didn’t seem to be any available here.
Tybalt, too, appeared almost restless, although it was difficult to tell with Tybalt. His was not a nervous disposition.
He did seem to be sighing more than usual, however, and his eyes looked sad. Of course, his eyes always looked sad, particularly when other people ate in his vicinity. Sophie imagined, however, that he wouldn’t object to a long walk, especially if a juicy bone awaited him at the walk’s end.
She’d also come to the reluctant conclusion—and then only when she couldn’t ignore the truth another second longer—that no matter how much she resented him and knew him to be a bounder, and no matter how much her dire prediction about his fate still bothered her, Gabriel Caine was about the most charming, good-natured, pleasant traveling companion a body could have. As if it were nothing more nor less than what he’d been accustomed to doing all his life, he’d kept Aunt Juniper occupied and happy since the train left Laredo. He’d even made Sophie laugh a time or two, something she’d believed herself no longer capable of.
Of course, he didn’t know that in occupying Juniper’s time, he’d spared Sophie hours of frustration, since it would have been her task to entertain her aunt if he wasn’t around. She didn’t tell him, either. She’d been so unpleasant to him, she figured that if he knew he was helping her, he’d go away again.
He’d seduced Tybalt into adoring him, as well, drat the man. For all that she wouldn’t trust Gabriel Caine to cross the street if he said he would, Sophie had to admit that he knew the secret of getting animate beings to like him. He was just like her father in that regard. He was also like another man she’d known once. Sophie decided, as long as she didn’t forget that, she’d be safe from succumbing to his practiced charm.
At the moment he and Juniper were studying his palm as if it were the most fascinating thing on the face of the earth.
“Now you see here, Mr. Caine. Your hand is a rare combination of the conical and the spatulate. This is very significant.” Juniper was dead serious.
“Is it now?” Gabriel Caine, on the other hand, wasn’t. His smile was as sweet as spun sugar, but Sophie saw how his eyes danced, blast the man.
He was kind to Juniper, though, and Sophie didn’t hate him as much as she used to. She considered her changed attitude a serious flaw in her character, especially since she’d begun to experience very strong precognitive impulses and visions whilst in his company. This problem had never assailed her before, and she didn’t like it. Perhaps she needed one of Juniper’s restorative potions.
“Yes indeed,” continued Juniper. “The significance, of course, lies not in the shape of your hand itself, but in its shape when read in conjunction with the lines.”
“I see.”
Juniper wiggled Gabriel’s left pinkie. “You see how long this finger is compared to the rest of them?”
“Yes.” He drew the syllable out, and Sophie wondered if he was trying not to laugh. She’d hardly blame him if he did.
“Now, if it were only a little bit longer, it might indicate that you were an untrustworthy person, or one who possesses a devious nature.”
“But,” Juniper continued, “the counter-indications are so strong that the length of your little finger tends to indicate that, rather than deviousness, you possess a sensitive, intuitive nature. If one couples that with your other lines and the Mounts of Venus, Mercury, and Apollo which we discussed earlier, then we can clearly see that while you have yet to achieve your potential, you have the capacity for doing great good in the world and also of achieving devoted happiness in love.”
“My, my. You see all that, do you?” Evidently, even Gabriel Caine himself wasn’t so skillful an actor as to hear all those things said about himself and not succumb to irony. Sophie heard it in his voice.
Juniper did not. Naturally. “Oh, my, yes, Mr. Caine. Why, I do declare, yours is one of the most intriguing palms I’ve ever read. Yours and Sophie’s.”
“Mercy, ma’am, you almost frighten me.”
Juniper giggled like a little girl. She’d been doing that for days now as she and Gabriel pored over the cards and various people’s palms.
Sophie shook her head slightly, wondering for the first time if her aunt had both oars in the water. Except for her insistence on trusting in the cards, palms, and tealeaves, Juniper was a sensible enough woman. But this transcendentalist folderol . . . Well, Sophie could appreciate it for financial reasons, but she couldn’t quite believe in any of it. Not any longer, she couldn’t.
She shook her head as recent events flooded her mind. Bother. As soon as she dosed herself, she’d no longer be troubled by visions or predictions. She was sure of it. Almost.
As for herself, while Gabriel and Juniper discussed the lines on Gabriel’s palm, Sophie’d been pretending to reread The Lady or the Tiger. Her eyes kept blurring the words together as she listened to Gabriel twist her aunt more securely around his ever-so-slightly-longish pinkie finger.
Damn the man; he was a blasted expert. She wished she could manipulate people the way he could. Sophie, however, unlike Gabriel Caine, was not charming.