by Anna Schmidt
Thank you for purchasing this eBook.
At Sourcebooks we believe one thing:
BOOKS CHANGE LIVES.
We would love to invite you to receive exclusive rewards. Sign up now for VIP savings, bonus content, early access to new ideas we're developing, and sneak peeks at our hottest titles!
Happy reading!
SIGN UP NOW!
Copyright © 2017 by Anna Schmidt
Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover art by Judy York
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
www.sourcebooks.com
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
About the Author
A Sneak Peek at The Last Outlaw
Prologue
One
A Sneak Peek at A Match Made in Texas
Two
Back Cover
With love and appreciation to the amazing trio—Natasha, Mary, and Melody—you know who you are and what you have done for me and this story!
One
Arizona Territory, Spring 1883
Amanda Porterfield gazed out the window at the endless landscape where cattle grazed and wildflowers were in full bloom—this beautiful place where she had spent the entire twenty years of her life so far. Even with all this natural beauty surrounding her, she was quite sure she would go stark raving mad unless something exciting happened to break the sheer monotony of her days.
Practically everyone else in her family had found love, or at least adventure, but here she sat with no prospects, either romantic or adventurous—preferably both—in sight.
Amanda sighed and drifted toward the sounds of her mother and the family’s housekeeper, Juanita, talking as they sat in the courtyard. “I think I’ll go into town,” Amanda announced after pouring herself a cup of coffee and flopping into a high-backed chair.
“That’s a good idea,” her mother replied, setting aside her mending. “I’ll come with you.”
Amanda swallowed another sigh. The point had been for her to be off on her own. If adventure did not find her, then perhaps she needed to seek it. But with her mother along for the ride, it was unlikely Amanda would be successful in her quest.
“It’s been weeks since we went shopping,” her mother added with a sly smile designed to let Amanda know that she understood exactly what was behind her daughter’s sudden announcement. “Perhaps a new dress is in order for the fandango the Johnsons are hosting next weekend?”
“Perhaps,” Amanda agreed, and she couldn’t hide the smile she gave her mother in return. As much as she tried to mirror her sister’s maturity and sophistication, the truth was that Amanda loved shopping and parties. And who knew? There might just be someone interesting to meet at the Johnson gathering. It was spring in Arizona, and ranches were hiring to handle the branding and other tasks involved in getting the cattle ready for market in the fall. She felt her spirits lift.
“Perhaps we might visit the Wilcoxes as well,” her mother continued. “It occurs to me that you need something meaningful to occupy you. Doc Wilcox mentioned a friend of his in Tucson—a banker whose wife died several months ago. The man is looking to hire a tutor for his children. I think you would make an excellent candidate. We could stop by and speak with him about how you might go about applying for the position.” As usual, Amanda’s mother was planning her life for her.
“I don’t want to be a teacher, Mama.”
“And I didn’t choose to be a widow,” her mother replied bluntly. “We make the best of our lives, Amanda, and right now, you need to find some direction for yours. So go fetch your bonnet—that sun is going to be fierce today. And ask Chet to hitch up the wagon.”
Reluctantly, Amanda did as she was told.
Amanda’s brother-in-law was a quiet man and a good listener. “Mama thinks I should apply for a position in Tucson tutoring some rich man’s children,” she groused as she stood by the corral and watched Chet select a team of mules and lead them to the wagon. “She thinks I need direction in my life.”
“And what do you think?” Chet asked.
“I think…” What did she think? “If it were up to me…”
Chet quirked an eyebrow as he harnessed the mules. “If you got that job, it just might lead to something more to your liking.”
“I don’t see how. I mean, how would spending my days going over spelling and reading and such, and my nights preparing lessons and exercises, possibly lead to—”
“Of course, you’d have to move to Tucson,” Chet interrupted, as if she hadn’t spoken. “That would be a big change from living out here with a bunch of rough cowboys and your family.” He wrapped the reins around the brake and gave her a hand up to the seat. “Sometimes, Amanda, what seems like nothing special turns out to be just what you didn’t know you were looking for in the first place.”
She grinned. “Like you winding up here and married to Maria?”
Chet winked at her. “Exactly like that.”
Amanda snapped the reins, and the wagon rolled forward toward the house. Why couldn’t she find a man like Chet? Smart and strong and good-looking as all get-out. Of course, in the time Chet and Maria had been married, Amanda had realized that looks weren’t everything when it came to being happy. Chet was content to be a rancher and had settled into a routine. He had little taste for adventure. While that suited Maria, Amanda was pretty sure she wouldn’t last a year as a rancher’s wife. On the other hand, there was much to be said for a handsome cowboy. If only she could find one who shared her urge to try new things.
It was nearly noon by the time they reached Whitman Falls. The ever-efficient Juanita had packed a full lunch for them to share with Eliza McNew, owner of the town’s general store. “No need to go spending money eating at the hotel restaurant,” Juanita had said as she set the hamper in the back of the wagon.
Of course, Amanda had been looking forward to eating at the hotel. But with the prospects of shopping for a new dress and a visit with Eliza and possibly her best friend and sister-in-law, Addie, if she wasn’t busy helping her father see patients, Amanda couldn’t help but look forward to the day. She might even reconsider that tutoring position.
* * *
Seth Grover was growing weary of his double life. On the surface he presented himself as a man to be watched—a quiet, soft-spoken stranger who was good with a gun and who had no visible means of support other than being very good at playing poker. That combination mad
e most folks believe he was probably operating on the shady side of the law, which suited his purposes most of the time. The truth was that he was an undercover agent for the Wells Fargo Company, hired to go wherever he was needed to foil outlaws targeting the company’s wealth. Most recently, he’d been charged with doing whatever it took to stop the string of robberies that had cost the company close to half a million dollars over the last few years.
As a youth, he’d sown enough wild oats to earn his reputation as a rebel. In his first months undercover, he had quickly established himself as a man good at poker and handy with a six-shooter. The combination gave him the right to travel under his own name, for many outlaws had been brought up in good families with strong moral values before they turned to lives of crime.
For several weeks now, he’d been hanging around the small town of Whitman Falls—a place the railroad had bypassed, but a thriving town nevertheless. Fort Lowell was near enough that the stagecoach carrying the monthly payroll for the soldiers garrisoned there came right through town on its way. That delivery was one of the reasons Seth had decided to take a room above the local saloon and stay for a spell. The fact that the saloon’s owner—Lilly Goodspeed—was a friend and one of the few people who knew his true profession helped make his stay in the small town more tolerable.
An outlaw gang run by the notorious Stock brothers and thought to be responsible for a couple of bank robberies and stage holdups in northern Arizona was rumored to be moving south. Seth had a hunch that they planned one more big strike—possibly the payroll—before they headed out for the border and Mexico. It was a pattern he’d seen before, and it was his job to make sure they didn’t succeed—hopefully without revealing his true identity.
He also had a personal reason for foiling this particular robbery. He’d gotten word from his mother that his youngest brother had run away from the family’s Chicago home around the time that the gang had been operating farther north. He knew his brother, knew he was reckless and always seeking adventure. The latest reports Seth had received from his supervisor had mentioned a kid—fair-skinned and blond, with a missing finger—who appeared to be working as a lookout for the gang. The description was broad, but it fit Sam—a boy who had spent years in the city and one who knew little about life on the frontier.
It was certainly possible that Sam could have joined the gang—a long shot to be sure, but if he was that kid, this might be Seth’s last chance to save his brother from spending his life on the run, rotting in prison, or getting killed.
As he walked from the shadows of the livery stable where he’d left his horse, he squinted into the sunlight and watched a wagon creak its way around the plaza that anchored the town. He spotted two women, the younger woman driving the team. Seth stopped next to a hitching rail and watched as she pulled to a stop in front of the mercantile.
He kept watching, telling himself that it was out of boredom. The higher the sun rose, the quieter and more deserted the streets seemed. A few people had sought the shade of chestnut trees, but other than that there was little activity.
The older woman climbed down while the younger woman set the brake, wrapped the reins around it, and jumped down as well. She was talking the whole time, waving her hands to make her point, and when she pushed her sunbonnet off her head and allowed it to hang down her back, held by thin ties, he saw that she was a redhead—strawberry blond, his ma would say.
Either way, in Seth’s experience, women with red hair, and the lively temperament that seemed to go along with it, could be trouble. It was as if something in their blood made them high-spirited. Still, there was no doubt she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in some time, and he was far from immune to the natural desires of a man in his prime.
He forced himself to look off to the opposite side of the plaza, toward the saloon. He mentally reviewed the information he’d picked up the night before while playing cards with a couple of strangers and a local by the name of Gus Abersole, who seemed to be a fixture in Lilly’s saloon. One of the strangers had asked Gus about the garrison at Fort Lowell, how many men were stationed there and such. The man kept his tone casual, but Seth was practiced enough to know when somebody was fishing for information. Abersole’s tongue had been loosened by the three shots of rye the man had bought him. He’d babbled on about troop numbers and routines until Seth had wanted to clobber him.
His thoughts were interrupted by a feminine squeal of delight, and he looked back toward the mercantile in time to see the store’s owner greeting the new arrivals, and then leading the women inside. As the younger woman held the door, Seth got a better look at her. She was a beauty all right, and there was something about the way she carried herself that made him want to move closer.
It wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself. After all, he’d been working hard for weeks now. On the other hand, why tempt fate?
Against his better judgment, he pushed himself away from the hitching rail and headed for the store. He’d been meaning to buy some jerky to have with him on his nightly rides to survey the area as he looked for possible places where a gang just might choose to ambush a stagecoach or the wagon carrying the payload.
Once again, the change in light from the strong sun to the shadowy, cooler interior of the store took some getting used to. Seth was aware that the women had all been talking when he entered, and now, as he shut the door and the bell above it went silent, all conversation had stopped.
“May I help you, sir?” The proprietor stepped forward, but he heard the wariness in her tone that he’d grown used to over the last couple of years. He knew she had seen him around town, but this was the first time he’d come to her store. Whitman Falls was a small place, and his way of dressing all in black—from his hat to his boots to the sack coat he wore to cover the pistol he carried—was hard to miss. Further, it sent a message for folks to keep their distance.
“Yes, ma’am. I could use some jerky.”
Eliza McNew led the way toward the back of the store past the two women. Seth tipped his hat and waited at the counter. “Ladies,” he murmured.
The younger one let out a gasp that had the older woman looking at her with surprise. She stared at him, her hand fluttering around her mouth, her eyes wide with recognition. But Seth felt certain they’d never met—he would remember meeting a woman as beautiful as she was. Still, there was something about her.
The older woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name is Constance Porterfield, and this is my daughter, Amanda. And you are?”
“Name’s Grover, ma’am.” He accepted the handshake and was surprised at how firm and strong it was. Porterfield. The local marshal was a Porterfield—couldn’t be a coincidence. “I met Marshal Porterfield when I first came to town—any relation?”
“My son. He’s planning on running for district sheriff,” she added with the obvious pride of a mother, and, perhaps, the need to impress Seth with the fact that this family had the law on their side.
Seth and Jess Porterfield had come to an understanding a couple of weeks earlier when the marshal had confronted Seth and suggested he move on. He had decided to take Porterfield into his confidence without revealing that his true concern was the fort’s payroll. The marshal had agreed to give him the time he needed to foil the gang on one condition. “Stay away from my sister.”
Seth had laughed and told him that wouldn’t be a problem since he didn’t know the man’s sister. But now that they’d been introduced and he’d gotten a good look at those cactus-green eyes and plump, rosy lips that could stop a man in his tracks, Seth was pretty sure he might have trouble keeping the bargain he’d made.
“It’s been some time since we’ve had anyone move to Whitman Falls, Mr. Grover. Are you thinking of settling here with your family?”
He ducked his head to hide the smile that curved his lips. Mrs. Porterfield was clearly good at gatherin
g information. He was well aware that she was really inquiring about his marital status and intentions for making Whitman Falls his home. “No, ma’am. Just passing through.”
The shopkeeper wrapped the jerky in brown paper and handed it to him. “On the house,” she said. “My way of welcoming newcomers.”
Seth doubted that. The way Eliza McNew’s hand shook slightly as she presented him with the package, it was more likely that free jerky was her way of letting him know she would be obliged if he didn’t cause her any trouble or rob her store.
“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am.” It wasn’t the first time a business owner had offered him free stuff hoping that he would leave them alone. It meant his cover was working.
But Mrs. Porterfield did not seem intimidated. “Exactly what is it that you do, Mr. Grover?” she asked. The daughter remained silent, but she looked directly at him—in fact, it was a little like she was looking him over, trying to come to some decision.
“At the moment, I need to check on my horse, ma’am.” Seth tucked the package of jerky in the patch pocket of his coat and saw the daughter’s eyes widen with interest when his action revealed the gun he wore strapped on his hip. He tipped his hat. “You ladies enjoy your day,” he said as he set his hat lower over his eyes and left.
It occurred to him that Amanda Porterfield had not exhibited the usual female reaction to seeing a gun. Her eyes had widened, to be sure, but with excitement, not alarm. She had been unable to look away.
“Another sign she’s trouble,” Seth muttered. If she had the sense God gave her, she’d surely be a little more wary. After all, she didn’t know him, and he was totin’ a six-shooter and refusing to answer simple questions.
Stay away from my sister, the marshal had warned.
“Good advice,” Seth said as he crossed the street to the livery, where he could hear the clang of metal on metal as the blacksmith pounded a new shoe into place. Of course, from the way she was studying him back there in the store, he had a feeling that Amanda might have other ideas.