by Karen Kirst
“Why wouldn’t the agency celebrate his success?”
His eyes darkened. “He made a fatal mistake, that’s why. Peter caught a case that would prove his undoing. While trying to find a horse rustler who was causing problems for several Texas ranchers, he interviewed family members, neighbors and associates. One of his sources of information was the rustler’s younger sister.”
Adam guessed where the tale was headed. He ceased eating and set his fork aside. “He developed feelings for her and bungled the case.”
“He married her in secret, believing she was on his side. He misjudged her loyalties. Peter paid for that mistake with his life.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Miss Frazier has impacted your current case, has she not?”
Adam gritted his teeth. If Doc knew the details, he’d rake him over the coals.
“You’re an asset to the Pinkertons,” he went on. “I don’t want to see another good agent fail like Peter did. Distractions like her can become a weakness you can ill afford.”
Deborah wasn’t a distraction. In the beginning, maybe. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.
Doc curved forward, his eyes intense. “Help me convince her to return to St. Louis and settle her affairs. Both our problems will be solved.”
Adam passed his crumpled napkin over his mouth and, fishing out his wallet, tossed enough coin to cover both meals on the table.
“Deborah is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. If and when she’s ready to speak to her father, she’ll do it on her own terms.” Standing, he grabbed his Stetson from where it dangled on the chair. “I will inform her of your agenda.”
Doc’s mouth thinned with displeasure. “Let’s hope she doesn’t hop on the next train out of here.”
* * *
“He found me.”
Deborah slumped against the side of the post office building, the words of her sister’s telegram blurring as tears smarted. The well-known Pinkerton agent sent to find her, Lyle Canton, had sent word to Gerard last evening. Even now, her father was probably riding the rails to Cowboy Creek. According to Lucy, he was determined to fetch her home and continue with the wedding as planned. Deborah’s feelings didn’t matter. They never had.
Glad she’d sought privacy in the alley, she let the rough wall support her while she tried to regain her composure. As she’d feared, Doc and Lyle Canton were the same man. Her thoughts returned to yesterday afternoon and their one and only encounter. He must’ve identified her right away. Still, there hadn’t been the slightest flicker of recognition in his steady gaze, no flare of victory. He’d acted completely unaffected. How did Pinkertons learn that particular skill?
She sucked in a sharp breath. Doc and Adam were colleagues. Had Doc told Adam his true reason for being here?
A stray cat meowed and rubbed against her legs. Reaching down, Deborah stroked the feline’s soft fur. When he realized she didn’t plan to feed him, he trotted toward the boardwalk.
She hadn’t seen Adam return last evening. Lily had developed an upset stomach, so Deborah had ushered her upstairs earlier than usual. After getting her in bed, she read to her for a while. She’d thought perhaps the reason he didn’t stop by their room to say good-night was because he didn’t wish to disturb Lily.
This morning, she’d been helping Aunt Mae prepare breakfast when Sadie returned from posting a letter with the news that Deborah had received an urgent telegram.
The thud of heavy footsteps approached from farther down the alley. Suddenly, a rough hand seized her elbow. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you, Dora. Where have you been?”
The telegram she’d been gripping so tightly, along with a thin stack of bills her sister had mailed, fluttered to the ground. Looming before her was the man she’d encountered twice before—once with the woman who bore a striking resemblance to Deborah and once in front of Hannah’s shop. He was the type of man whose very presence turned her body cold with dread.
“Y-you’ve got the wrong person.”
His black bowler hat cast a shadow across the top half of his craggy face. His irate gaze burned into her. “Who are you?”
“I—I’m not the woman you’re looking for. I don’t know her.” Her arm ached where his clamp-like fingers held her fast.
His upper lip curled. With a disgusted puff of air passing through his fleshy lips, he bent and scooped up the money, all without releasing her.
“Never mind. I’ll find her myself.” He waved the bills near her nose. “You should be more careful with your money.”
Deborah couldn’t move. She got the feeling he was taunting her.
“What’s going on here?”
Adam’s harsh demand was like music to her ears. Angling toward him, she was stunned by the sheer hatred marring his handsome features. His brown gaze had darkened to black murder and was affixed on the stranger before her.
She opened her mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak. The stranger shoved her with enough force to send her sprawling to the hard earth. His retreating footsteps filled her ears. She started to get up, fully expecting Adam to rush to her aid. But he sprinted past her without a second glance, his gun drawn.
Confusion mingling with fear, Deborah scrambled to her feet. Should she follow them? Or would that distract Adam? She shivered in the morning heat. He had been almost unrecognizable.
After brushing the dust from her layered skirts and straightening her bonnet, she crossed and retrieved the telegram. She folded the paper and stuck it into her reticule. She was scouring the dirt for the few remaining bills when Adam bounded down the alley.
“You lost him?” she said, her attention switching between the deadly weapon in his hand and his black, black gaze.
Panting, he holstered his gun and shoved the hair off his forehead with an impatient flick. “I did.”
“Who is he?” His anger was a palpable thing. It unsettled her. It almost felt as if some of his anger was directed at her, but that was crazy. And that’s when it hit her. The thought ricocheted in her head. “Wait, was he the man you’ve been hired to find?”
Stalking close, he made a point of scrutinizing the money in her hand. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Deborah. You’re a fine actress. The best I’ve ever encountered.”
She took a step in retreat. “Actress? I don’t understand your meaning.”
His features twisted in derision...directed at her or himself? “Your lies slide out like sweet honey. And your pretense where the kids are concerned? Brilliant.”
“What pretense?” Exasperation bubbled up inside her. “Adam, you’re talking in riddles. Please, explain yourself.”
“The money Ogden gave you.” He nodded toward it in her hand. “What exactly did you do for him?”
“I don’t like your tone.” Now she was angry. “I’ve never heard the name Ogden before. He didn’t give me this money. My sister did.”
“Oh, yes, the flawless Lucy Frazier. That’s a convenient excuse.” He snorted, his gaze snagging on something near his boots. He bent and retrieved her reticule. Instead of handing it to her, however, he loosened the ribbon drawstring.
“Adam!”
Ignoring her outrage, he sifted through the contents and removed her handkerchief. He examined the embroidered square. His shoulders slumped.
“It was you at the Gainses’ ranch, wasn’t it?” When he lifted his gaze to hers, the sorrow and accusation and betrayal knocked her back another step. “Sam and I discovered this out at the destroyed windmill.” He held up the handkerchief, embroidered with purple flowers. “He was keeping it at his office for the time being, since he doesn’t trust the sheriff. But guess what? It was stolen a couple of nights ago.” He swallowed hard. “How could you hurt an innocent man, Deborah? You’ve heard Gains probably won’t walk again. He’s fortunate to be alive
. If he had died, you’d be charged as an accomplice to murder.”
“Murder?”
“Zane Ogden doesn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. How could you associate with a blackguard like him?” he said hotly.
Deborah could hardly breathe as the meaning behind his words penetrated. This Ogden fellow was a terrible person who’d committed horrific acts, and Adam thought she was in league with him. Her heart throbbed. Physical pain arrowed through her chest. It felt like someone was severing it in two with a blazing hot blade.
Snatching her reticule from his grasp, she turned to leave. His hands found her shoulders and spun her to him. He looked to be in agony.
“Help me capture him,” he implored. “You’ll serve a lesser sentence. I’ll hire Russell to defend you—”
“Let me go!” Shoving his chest, she scrambled out of reach. “I don’t need you or your brother’s help because I’ve done nothing wrong. I thought you were the one person in this world who actually understood me. I thought you cared—” Her voice broke.
Adam scrubbed his hands down his face. “I do care, Deborah. Too much.”
“It’s my turn not to believe you.”
Spinning on her heel, she picked up her skirts and bolted for the boardwalk, desperate to find a private spot where she could release the grief mounting inside. The man she loved thought her a soulless criminal.
“Deborah, wait!”
She quickened her pace. If he caught up to her, would he haul her to jail?
Intent on crossing the street, she miscalculated the distance between her and the approaching creak of wagon wheels and jangle of horses’ harnesses. She stepped into the direct path of a two-horse team. Too late to duck out of the way, she braced herself for impact.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adam reached Deborah with mere seconds to spare. Clamping onto her arm, he jerked her back against him. The wagon driver cast them a baleful glare as his conveyance clamored past. The spinning wheels were so close, it was a wonder her bell-shaped skirts weren’t caught in the spokes.
For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. Then she lurched away from him.
“Let me go!”
With onlookers nearby, he had no choice but to free her. He ground his teeth. “We have more to discuss—”
“I have nothing of import to say to you.” Her brilliant eyes had dulled with misery. Her pallor alarmed him. Even her lips were white. “You’ve already made up your mind about me.”
She backed away from him, one arm aloft as if to ward him off.
A cowboy intervened, putting his body between Deborah and Adam. “Is there a problem here, ma’am?”
“N-no, thank you.” With one final glance, she hurried past Zimmerman’s Lumber and Longhorn Feed & Grain.
The cowboy shot Adam a warning glance before joining a friend on the opposite street corner. They appeared to be discussing him, but he paid them no heed. Adam watched Deborah melt into the crowd, his blood still hot with the aftermath of her treachery. He was angry and hurt and wrecked. Yes, she’d helped his enemy. Worse than that, she’d betrayed the bond they’d built, broken his trust and destroyed any chance they’d had to be together. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to lock her in a cell until she explained how she’d arrived at this low point. He wanted this to be a cruel illusion, a nightmare from which he’d soon wake.
The condemning handkerchief stuffed in his pocket, he returned to the alley and retraced the path Ogden had taken. He roamed the streets of Cowboy Creek for hours in a circuitous path, his mind replaying the shocking scene of Deborah and Ogden standing inches apart. The money Ogden had handed her was even more incriminatory than the handkerchief. It was an obvious exchange—his money for her cooperation.
He’d been played for a fool. Peter’s sad tale remained fresh in his mind. If Doc or any of his fellow agents found out, Adam would never hear the end of it. His reputation would be shot, and his career possibly ruined. Not that that mattered when he’d lost the only woman he’d ever cared about, a woman he’d started to consider his best friend.
His stomach roiled. He might possibly lose his breakfast.
Focusing on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, he managed to avoid that humiliation. Still, he felt as if a fever ravaged his body.
“Why, Deborah?” he murmured aloud, earning a suspicious glance from the businessman passing him.
Her reaction to his charge bothered him. There hadn’t been a hint of guilt. Not one. She’d been adamant about her innocence.
He walked until the soles of his feet ached. Spying a couple of sawed-off logs arranged in a semicircle beneath an old, gnarled tree in a vacant lot, he took refuge from the heat.
“What am I supposed to do, God?” he moaned, resting his elbows on his thighs and burying his face in his hands.
His gut insisted she was telling the truth. But how to refute what he’d seen?
He shouldn’t be wasting time. He should be scouring the prairie, checking every house, barn and stable for Ogden. Adam couldn’t be certain that the other man had recognized him. He couldn’t anticipate whether he’d hunker down or skip town.
At this point, he didn’t care.
He groaned aloud. That he was more concerned about Deborah proved he’d made a mess of everything. He’d overestimated his professional competence.
Since the day he met her, he hadn’t done what he was supposed to do. He’d lost his way, his pride and his heart.
* * *
Deborah had a blinding headache caused by holding tears at bay. Afraid to return to the boardinghouse for fear of another confrontation with Adam, she’d sent word to Aunt Mae to watch the kids until that evening. The proprietress wouldn’t mind. While she probably wouldn’t admit it aloud, it was obvious their company pleased her.
Thoughts of Liam and Lily brought another wave of sorrow. Would Adam convince Russell to block her petition for guardianship?
“Deborah?”
The man himself hailed her from his law office entrance, jarring her to a sudden halt.
“Watch out, lady,” someone grumbled from behind.
“Excuse me.” Shuffling out of the flow of foot traffic, she reluctantly greeted Russell, searching for signs his brother had paid him a visit. Apparently not, considering the lack of condemnation in his eyes.
“You don’t look well.” He stepped closer. “Would you like to come inside and sit for a while?”
Her legs were tired and her body fatigued, but there’d be no respite for her battered spirits, especially with Adam’s brother.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” she murmured. Still, she didn’t move to leave.
His face a mask of concern, he touched her sleeve. “Please, come inside. I’ve got a jar of ginger tea on my desk. You’re welcome to it.”
Deborah nodded, thinking more about her parched throat and throbbing feet than anything else. She would sit and rest and regather her wits, then she’d thank him and—
What would she do? Return to the boardinghouse and perhaps find Adam and the sheriff waiting for her?
Inside the office, Russell motioned her to the supple leather seats grouped beside the large window. While he retrieved the tea, she situated herself on a chair with a view of the street. She scrutinized each person, half hoping, half dreading one of them would be the man who’d evoked such fury in Adam.
Russell held out an elegant crystal glass three-quarters full of amber liquid. “Would you like me to fetch Adam?”
“No,” she burst out. “I have no wish to see him.”
His brows drawing together, he lowered himself to the seat opposite and propped his elbows on the armrests. “Did you and he quarrel?”
“You haven’t seen him today?” she countered. “I thought this would be one of his first stops.”
“I’ve
been busy with clients and paperwork.”
Deborah sipped the spice-laced tea. “Who’s Ogden?”
Russell’s knuckles went white. “Someone dangerous. Did Adam tell you about him?”
“He told me nothing,” she said bitterly.
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Deborah. What exactly occurred?”
Gripping the glass in both hands, she stared into the remaining liquid and relayed that morning’s events, as well as her hasty flight from St. Louis and the reason for her sister’s telegram and letter.
Russell, who’d been silent throughout, handed her a crisp, white handkerchief.
She lifted her gaze to his, stunned to see sympathy and understanding. “You believe me?”
“I do.”
Fresh tears threatened. “Why doesn’t he?”
“In order to answer that, I’ll have to start at the beginning.” Standing, he poured himself a glass of tea, his gaze far-off. “Did Adam tell you we had a ranch in Missouri?”
“In Big Bend?”
He nodded. “We weren’t wealthy by any means, but we led a comfortable life. We worked hard, went to church every Sunday, helped our neighbors, exasperated our ma with our frequent spats.” A sentimental smile curved his lips, then faded away. “As you probably know, ranchers are dependent upon the weather. In the year 1860, we faced a drought. A long one that strained our resources for both beast and man. When Zane Ogden arrived in Big Bend with full pockets and grand promises, many of our neighbors accepted his offers of assistance. Our father, Gilbert Halloway, had serious reservations about the money Ogden was lending the ranchers. His warnings went unheeded. The ranchers agreed to loans with ruinous interest payments and stiff penalties. When they couldn’t pay, one by one, our friends lost everything.”
“How awful,” she murmured.
His eyes sad, he returned to his seat and gulped down his drink. “Seth, Adam and I were grateful Pa hadn’t taken out a loan. Our ranch was our home, our legacy. We couldn’t imagine having it ripped away. Then one night, he decided to go to speak with Ogden. I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish.” He shrugged. “Maybe persuade him to be lenient. We won’t ever know, because Pa never returned.”