chapter Nine
Trace squinted at the invoices and yawned. As tired as he was, he needed something to keep his mind off the tactical display Mary Rose had staged in her parlor yesterday. He blew out a deep breath and rubbed his hand across his face. Unable to shake the image of her defiance, he gave a growl and pushed his chair from the desk. He stood and stretched before crossing over to the front windows.
The shadows from early morning had yet to dissipate, lingering just a bit longer before the heat of the day overruled their existence. Across the way, he could see her house, the door still closed. Trace wondered if she’d slept any better than he had. The thought of her in a bed conjured up the image of that glorious hair, a gossamer gown, and little else. His body stiffened as his mind played with erotic images.
Still lost in his thoughts when the door opened, he scrambled from the window to pick up a mug as Rand Weston walked in. Rand’s footsteps paused at the door, and Trace mentally drew the familiar image of him hanging his hat upon the peg. His friend’s gaze burned a hole in the center of his back.
“Pour me a cup of that substitute you call coffee,” Rand said.
Trace filled a second cup with warm coffee from the pot he’d made earlier that morning. Turning, he watched Rand amble across the floor to his desk and, with a grunt, settle behind it. The sheriff picked up the information lying there and stared at it.
Trace placed a cup beside the sheriff’s right hand and took his seat. “Did the freight wagon get an escort?”
“Yep, sent the bouncer from the saloon along. Thanks,” he replied without looking up as he slid his fingers into the handle, then pulled the cup to his lips for a drink. “Anything I should know?”
Trace took the time to sit in the chair across from him, then shrugged. “Not much,” he replied. “The usual supplies, flour and tobacco for the fort store. Some female doodads, things you’d normally see.”
“Then what is it we’re not seeing?” the sheriff asked, setting his cup beside the papers and lifting them up one by one for perusal.
“It’s the very last page. About a third of the way down,” he said. The papers rattled as Rand sifted through them. “I nearly missed it.”
He watched the sheriff put his fingers on the last invoice page and run his hand down the column of descriptions. He paused abruptly and looked up.
“Guns!” His widened eyes stared at Trace.
“Not a good thing, amigo. With what is going on in Mexico at this moment, it could only fan the fires along the border.”
“But it doesn’t seem that Daniel is hiding the fact,” Rand observed with a bit of surprise.
“No, but then again, why? Why didn’t he ask for an army escort? Why take his sister? Did he plan on selling them?”
Rand shook his head, his face a mask of bewilderment. “How many rifles?” He glanced back at the papers.
“Twenty-five in each case.” Trace replied. “Two cases in all, so at least fifty rifles.”
“That’s a lot of uncertainty.”
“Underneath you will find a note from the Adjutant General of the State of Texas, asking the major to put the cargo into the field.”
“Into the field,” the sheriff repeated, flipping the invoices over and reading the notes. “This shipment is not a good thing to fall into the wrong hands.”
“No, it isn’t. Every citizen along the border of the Rio Grande and Mexico should worry about their safety.”
Rand sat up and thumped the papers with his index finger. “I think I’ll telegraph the fort. They have a new commander. A spit-and-polish from back east. I want to let him know what’s going on. Come on, son. We’ll send the telegraph, and then breakfast is on me.”
Trace placed his cup on the desk and followed Rand out the door and across the street to the hotel. Stepping inside, he blinked after the brightness and adjusted to the shadows.
“Morning, Sheriff,” a silken female voice called from the front desk.
Looking up, Trace watched Rand move toward a brunette in a sedate blue dress.
“Elaine, I need to send a message to the fort.”
“’Course.” She nodded and flipped the latch, lifting the edge of the counter up so she could pass through. “Follow me.” They fell into step, moving toward a small room just off the main entryway. Trace noted the word “Stenographer” carved on the plaque on the door.
“Here you go,” she said, and shoved a pad toward Rand. As he scribbled his note, she moved to the seat behind the desk where the telegraph sat secured.
“Elaine, I’d like you to meet Marshal Castillo.” Rand gestured with a jerk of the pencil over his shoulder.
“Marshal.” She smiled.
Rand shoved the pad back.
“You want to wait for confirmation?” she asked, her fingers tapping out the message.
“I’ll wait.”
She completed her task and tore the message from the pad, handing it back to the sheriff. “How’s Mary Rose?”
“Holding up,” Rand replied.
Trace’s mouth soured and the woman chuckled. He gave her a sharp glance, and she raised a hand in defense.
“Pardon, Marshal, but you just look like you got a mouthful of something you didn’t like.”
“Don’t mind him, Elaine. Seems Mary Rose’s announcement yesterday about the freight company put a burr under his blanket.” The sheriff grinned and stuck the paper into the pocket of his vest.
She grew sober. “I heard.” Trace watched her turn toward him, her eyes laden with sympathy. “I was a bit surprised,” she said. “But look at me. I’m no one to talk. You’d best either find something to occupy your mind or take a job with the freight company.”
Before he could reply and defend himself, the key began to strike. She grabbed the pencil and sat down to copy the message coming through the line. With a sigh, she pulled the reply from the pad of paper and handed it to Rand.
His mouth formed a thin line. “They’re sending someone down. This might complicate things.” He looked at the woman across from him. “I need to keep this quiet.”
She nodded. “My lips are sealed.”
“You’re a good woman,” Rand remarked.
She gave him a knowing glance. “Took you long enough to find out. Shall I put an order in for your breakfast?”
“Sure,” Rand nodded. “Make it two. The marshal will be joining me, but give us a few minutes. I want to go over to the bank.”
“Not a problem.” She nodded and walked back to the other room.
Trace waited as Rand took a deep breath, then asked, “Something goin’ on between you two that a man should know about?”
The sheriff cut him a hard look and a single brow arched. “No, and not from the lack of trying. Elaine Harmon is a strong woman. It’s gonna take the right man to bring her back to marriage.”
Before Trace could follow up with another question, Rand walked past him to the front door.
“You’re not that man?” Trace asked, joining him beneath the shadows of the porch.
“Nope.” The sheriff slapped his hat onto his head. “Like you, I’m married to the law.”
The words rang hollow to Trace’s ears. He’d asked himself that very question when his eyes opened that morning. Across the street, a flash of bright copper-colored hair caught his attention. He stood transfixed as Mary Rose waltzed across the street. If she knew of his presence, she didn’t acknowledge him. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the proud tilt of her chin. Her face focused straight ahead to her destination, and she strode with purpose, her skirt swinging with the sway of her hips.
The urge he could only describe as want crawled down his spine and took hold of his lower anatomy. His skin tingled as if he’d kissed her all over again. It was all he could do to control the desire to march across the street and take possession of her lips, run his hands through her hair, and brand her for his own.
“Infuriating female,” he growled beneath his breath. Glancing over at the lawman, he caught Rand’s bemused expression.
“Yep, you best find something to occupy your mind, or I might have to arrest you for indecent thinking.”
Trace gave Rand a murderous glare as he stepped into the sun.
“You coming?” Rand called over his shoulder.
Taking one last look at Mary Rose, he followed the sheriff in the direction of the bank.
****
Just keep your eyes straight ahead, Mary Rose told herself. She’d no sooner rounded the corner of the street than the marshal’s figure came into view. She could feel the goose pimples rise on her arm as she walked through his line of sight. Her heart beat like the big kettledrum Doc Martin played when the town band got together. She wondered that Trace didn’t hear it.
Even the hair on the back of her neck rose as he stepped into the street. Would he come over and demand that she go back home? Lord, what she’d give for two good hands to put her hair up in a more attractive manner. “Keep walking, keep walking,” she mumbled and focused on the corner of the building where she’d turn to head to the freight office.
“Morning, Miss Thornton,” Gentry called out. He stood in the center of the side street, waiting for her.
Mary Rose paused and cut her eyes in the direction of the marshal, but the street lay empty. An odd sense of disappointment washed over her.
“You said you’d be here at noon.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “I believe you’re a bit early.”
“I wanted to get a look at the files on Daniel’s desk today before we opened,” she hurried to say.
“Of course,” he nodded, slipping the watch away. “May I?”
He offered her his arm.
She looked back once more at the empty street before she stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. “Lead on.” She smiled.
They paused as he unlocked the front door and stood back so she could enter. The building looked the same as it had the day they left, only now the mound of crates and backlogged freight seemed to mock her. She walked toward the mess and placed her hand on her hip. “I suppose the first order of business is to get this sorted.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it,” she heard Mr. Gentry reply. With a glance over her shoulder, she waited as Caleb placed his hat on the rack and put the apron over his clothing.
“How do you want it sorted?”
“Sort it by runs. Short runs to long. We can get the short runs done in the next few days. I’ll need to interview two drivers for long hauls. Until they find out who did this, I want no long hauls without someone riding shotgun.”
“Yes ma’am.” The clerk nodded and started on the packages.
Seeing him occupied, she turned away and moved toward her brother’s office. Unlike her desk, his was in the back of the gated area. Daniel had constructed a small room where he could work in silence and view the employees from windows that lined the walls. She paused at the door.
Without thinking, she brought her good hand up and rubbed the outside of the sling. She wanted to push open that door and find him. But, no amount of yearning would allow her brother to rise from the ground. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she placed her fingers around the brass knob and turned.
The smell of the cigars her brother was so fond of lingered bittersweet in the warm air. She went to the desk, placed a finger on the edge, and traced the outline around to the back, where the chair sat ajar as if he’d just left it. Her lips trembled.
There it was, his throne. Evidence of his life lay scattered everywhere—files upon the desk, some haphazardly askew with their contents spilling from the edges, his pens at the edge of the blotter, not placed into the holders. With a shake of her head, Mary Rose reached over, picked one up, and slid it home. Grabbing hold of the chair, she turned it around and sat down. There was much to learn and little time to do it.
Pulling the files together, she made a nice neat pile to go through later. Then she opened the desk drawer and found the journal he used to list the runs completed and those that needed to be finished. She flipped it open and ran her finger down the list. Odd. There wasn’t a mention of the last run. Perhaps he’d planned to fill it in later, when he returned.
Now she must do it. She reached for the pen and wrote the date, noted the loss of the supplies and employees killed in the line of duty. She took care to sign her name. She stared at the entry and wondered if Moe had any family. If so, she should write to them. They deserved to know what happened.
The sound of boxes being moved drew her eyes to Caleb’s movements. Rising, she walked to the door and called out to him, “Mr. Gentry, did my brother keep information on our employees?”
He turned around and wiped his hands on the apron. “I’m not sure. If he had something, it would be in the file cabinet.”
With a nod, she moved to the four cabinets standing below the windows at the back of the room. Opening each drawer, she scanned the contents until she came across a file with Moe’s name. She pulled it out, sat down, and thumbed through the papers. There wasn’t a mention of any wife or family, which wasn’t surprising, considering how people had been displaced after the war. With the papers inside in neat order, she put the folder back where it had been found.
Returning to the desk, she stared at the mess. Daniel must have been in a hurry to leave things in such disarray. She stacked the papers together, then leaned to pull closer the wooden box at the corner of the desk. “All right, let’s get this filed away.”
As she placed the correspondence into the bottom drawer, the files fell backward and she reached her hand in to pull them forward again. Her fingers collided with an envelope wedged against the side. “What’s this?” she murmured, tugging. The envelope stayed put. Pushing the chair back, she dropped to her knees and peered into the shadows. With a yank, she pulled the drawer out farther and tilted it enough to slip her fingers behind the paper. The edge held tight. She frowned and pulled hard. The envelope tore, and the drawer landed with a bang on the floor of the office.
“Miss Thornton, are you all right?” Caleb called out.
A flash of gold caught her eye as a coin rolled from the torn end of the envelope.
“Fine,” she replied, rising on her knees to look over the desk. “I just dropped something.” Dismissing the clerk, she sat down and peered into the torn packet. “What in the world?” she whispered, and picked up the coin.
Skimming her finger beneath the fluted edge, she studied its markings. A Mexican coin, from the looks of it. One side was engraved with an eagle, its wings outstretched, and on the other side was the image of Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico. “How interesting,” she said, wondering where her brother had picked up such a keepsake. Maybe he received it in change and thought it was odd enough to keep.
Turning it over, she could feel the significant weight of the metal. Then, for no other reason except it belonged to her brother, she slipped it inside the cloth of the sling before she returned to the desk. Once seated, Mary Rose shoved the drawer back in place and picked up the envelope, noticing it wasn’t addressed. “You must have gotten busy and forgotten,” she said with a sad smile.
Pressing it open, Mary Rose peeked inside, expecting to find correspondence. Instead, folded in half were several pages ripped from a ledger book. With her shake, they fell onto the desk. Stunned, she unfolded the sheets.
The columns contained odd amounts of cash payments. Written across the margin of the paper in Daniel’s bold hand were the words “Find out what this is about.” What could it mean? She sat back and stared. An uneasy feeling stole across her shoulders. Dampening her dry lips, she slipped the papers back into the envelope and placed them on the desk.
Across the way, Caleb was shifting boxes, his back to her. Would he know? Mary Rose opened her mouth to call out, then thought better of it. No. Until she found out what this meant, it might be better to keep it a secret. She looked around for some place it could be kept hidden. Deep down, she knew these papers couldn’t fall into the hands of the sheriff or his friend the marshal, not until she had answers. But, where to hide them?
Her eyes roved over the room, searching for some secret place as she tapped her fingers upon the desk. Nothing seemed to come to mind. Maybe she needed to remove them from the office. A knock on the door caused her to jump and glance up. Seeing Caleb at the door, she gave a weak smile and rose while, at the same time and without drawing attention to her action, she pulled a fresh piece of paper over the pages before motioning for him to enter.
“I hate to bother you, Miss Thornton, but you wanted to see this.” He stepped forward and handed her a file. “The company copies of the invoices from the wagon.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, my mind...”
“It’s quite understandable.” He nodded. His gaze ran over the desk.
Mary Rose placed the file on top of the stationery.
“You’re finding things without trouble?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. I…” She looked away and paused. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“Well, if you need me, I’ll be right outside.”
She held her breath until he left, then made a great pretense of looking at the invoices. It had to have been the longest few minutes of her life. She waited, her heart hammering, before glancing up to see his attention drawn elsewhere. Head in her hand, she pretended to be reading and pulled the envelope into her lap. Glancing up, she pulled another file to her and shifted the papers inside. Caleb seemed busy at his desk. She swirled the chair around and slid the papers into the sling, positioning them beneath her arm, next to her body.
Then, standing, she picked up the stack of folders from the desk and made her way over to the doorway, where she glanced at the clock. It was not yet noon, but she needed to go home, where she could safely give this some thought. The clerk looked up, and she gave him another small smile. “Mr. Gentry, I’m going home. I, I’m a bit overwhelmed.” She shifted the files against her chest. “I’ve got some of the invoices to read, and Daniel’s notes. I’ll be back tomorrow at nine to do interviews.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll put an ad in the paper.”
“Good.” Her head held high, Mary Rose left the freight office. She needed answers, a lot of answers.
Her heart continued to race a mile a minute as she moved from the side road to the wider Main Street. The gold coin beneath her arm made her whole body grow cold. Her mind kept returning to one central question: Where would Daniel have gotten such a coin?
Crossing in front of the general store, she didn’t slow down as she went from shadows to the bright sunlight. Blinking, she heard a door open and the familiar roll of a spur before a figure barreled into her. With a gasp, Mary Rose staggered to the side. She would have fallen if a strong hand hadn’t grabbed her good arm. The coin slipped from its hiding place and fell, along with the papers, onto the wooden boardwalk. In horror, she watched the coin roll on its edge and come to rest against a dark, square-toed boot. She closed her eyes tightly and knew exactly who she’d run into.
“Are you all right?” he inquired.
She wanted to slide through the crack between the boards. Opening her eyes, she looked straight into the U.S. Marshal’s face. “Fine,” she managed to squeak.
She could feel her cheeks fill with heat as embarrassment crept up her neck. “I was in a hurry.” She flashed an apologetic lift of her lips. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
She heard him grunt. “That is obvious.”
Hold your temper. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giving him a good tongue-lashing. As she watched, he bent down and picked up her things from the boardwalk. He handed her the papers, then stooped and picked up the coin. Her eyes grew round. She stared at his hand as he rolled the money through his fingers. “What have we here?”
“It’s mine,” she said reaching out to snatch it away.
Trace pulled his hand away and glanced down at the coin. “A Mexican twenty-dollar gold piece,” he replied. His eyes were dark and full of questions. “Where did you get this?”
She licked her lips and told a half-truth. “It was in my brother’s desk.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t dispute her. “So are you putting it in the bank?”
“No.” She reached out and dragged it from his palm. Her fingers tingled from the contact. Gripping the coin tight, she felt her nails dig into her skin. “Like you, I find it interesting. I plan on keeping it.”
His dark eyes searched hers, staring so intently she couldn’t look away.
“Excuse me, I, I must be going.” She looked from Trace to Rand, who had joined them, and back again, noting their suspicion. Her eyes flared as a sudden burst of anger rushed through her. They shouldn’t be confronting her. She was not the villain. “I hope you are moving forward in your investigation. I want my brother’s killer found.”
“We’re working on it now,” Rand explained.
She glanced up and noticed the building. “At a bank?” she questioned.
Trace glared at her, his nostrils flaring. “Well, it would come to money, wouldn’t it, if someone was stealing or selling things.”
Her head tilted. “I know you’ve read the manifest. Does the law always jump to the easiest conclusions?”
“Now, Mary Rose,” Rand said. “It’s part of the job to talk to Gentry.”
“We know he was carrying rifles. Did your brother travel to Mexico often?” Trace asked.
“Are you saying Daniel was in on this?” Mary Rose demanded, her temper flying hot. “My brother lost his life.”
She followed his glance to the coin she held in her hand. “No honor among thieves,” he murmured.
She glared at him with renewed vengeance. “Excuse me,” she hissed.
Rand stepped aside. She stared at Trace, who refused to move. With a toss of her head, Mary Rose turned sideways. Careful not to let her skirts touch his boots, she hurried past. Stepping off the edge of the boardwalk, she risked a glance back at the marshal who turned her world upside down.