Romancing the Runaway Bride Page 5

  “God preserved your life for a reason.”

  “Did you suffer any injuries?” Anna’s voice jolted Deborah.

  She blushed. They’d completely ignored the other couple.

  Adam’s gaze clung to Deborah’s. “Nothing serious.”

  Had she imagined the strange flicker in his eyes? Was he being forthcoming? Or perhaps glossing over what he might consider alarming to her and Anna?

  The clink of metal against glass was followed by Daniel Gardner’s booming voice welcoming everyone to the fund-raiser. Most days, the stockyard owner favored cowboy gear, but for this occasion he’d donned a nutmeg-brown suit that enhanced his chestnut hair and green eyes. Since he had everyone’s attention, he motioned for Will and Noah to join him at his spot beside the upright piano.

  Comfortable with the spotlight, Will joined him without hesitation. The more reclusive Noah had to be encouraged by his wife, Grace, who gave him a kiss on his scarred cheek and a playful shove. That earned them a spurt of laughter as Noah meekly took his position on the other side of Daniel, who promptly began his speech.

  “When we set out to build a town in the Kansas prairie, none of us could’ve dreamed what the outcome would be. Thanks to God’s grace, and the wise direction of our mayor, Cowboy Creek has become a wonderful place to live. We’ve benefited from Will’s leadership, and now it’s time to share his time and talents with the nation.” Daniel clasped Will’s shoulder. “Please offer your prayers and support to him as he moves forward with his bid for Congress.”

  The fervent applause spoke of the residents’ admiration for their mayor. He kept his speech brief and, after a tear-inducing homage to his wife, Tomasina, urged everyone to mingle and indulge in the refreshments.

  Adam steered her away from Russell and Anna and toward the lone man in the nearby corner. Instead of parading him around the room, she would’ve preferred to go off alone and continue their conversation. She was hungry for details.

  “Mr. Mitchell?”

  The handsome owner of Mitchell Coal & Mining Company lowered his glass and regarded her with barely concealed disapproval. He’d been friendly, even flirtatious when she’d first arrived in Cowboy Creek. But as she’d continued to evade suitors, his manner had cooled toward her.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Frazier?” he drawled.

  Reminding herself that his opinion of her didn’t matter, she said, “I’d like for you to meet Aunt Mae’s newest boarder, Adam Draper. Adam, this is Jason Mitchell. He’s in the coal business.”

  The men shook hands. “What brings you to Cowboy Creek?” Jason asked.

  “I’m looking to buy land and set up a ranching operation.”

  Jason snorted. “You’re a few months too late. Anything not owned by me is being snatched up by the Maroni brothers, land speculators from New York—whom I’ve yet to meet, by the way. Want my advice? Take the earliest train out of here.”

  His pessimistic attitude grated. “Your attitude stinks, Mr. Mitchell,” she blurted. “Your negativity won’t make Adam’s decision any easier, and it certainly won’t help our community prosper.”

  Jason arched a brow. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Miss Frazier, the same as I’m entitled to mine.”

  His gaze slid to Adam, and she got the distinct impression he was wondering if things were romantic between them. Stung by his insinuated rebuke, she wished she’d held her tongue. Echoes of the past intruded.

  Why can’t you learn to hold your tongue, young lady? No one cares to hear your opinion.

  Humiliation zipped along her nerve endings. She’d not only embarrassed herself, but Adam, as well.

  Her gaze on the gleaming floor, she mumbled, “Please excuse me. I’m in need of fresh air.”

  Intent on escape, she ignored Adam’s soft bid for her to wait.

  Chapter Five

  “Tea with a splash of milk.” A delicate china cup entered her line of vision, and the tantalizing aroma of Earl Grey tea teased her nose. “And we can’t forget dessert. Mark my word, you’ll be impressed. The two I had were equally satisfying.”

  Shifting on the wrought-iron chair, she reluctantly met Adam’s gaze. He’d followed her to this isolated corner of the Gardners’ veranda. The shade bathed them in cool relief. Beyond the railing and roofline, a profusion of tall trees absorbed the unrelenting sun. It was a pleasing vista of varying shades of green and vivid blue, broken by patches of purplish blue wildflowers.

  Adam smiled in a gentle, coaxing way, and his dark eyes were kind. She accepted the tea. “Two? Did you sneak another one without telling me?”

  He set the dessert plate on the oval side table beside her. Sinking into the chair opposite, he stretched his legs out and hooked one ankle over the other. He adopted an innocent expression. “In Aunt Mae’s kitchen. I couldn’t help myself.”

  She took a grateful sip of the fragrant brew. “That’s it. You’re fired.”

  “You’re firing me?”

  “Why not? I fired myself from being your guide.”

  Adam’s brows shot up. “Don’t tell me you’re reneging on our deal. You don’t strike me as a quitter.”

  Little ripples marred the hot liquid’s surface as she blew on the tea. “You still want my help? I shouldn’t have reprimanded him for speaking his mind.”

  Uncrossing his ankles, he leaned forward. “He could’ve been more subtle. You were upset on my account. You stood up for me and my plans.”

  “You’re truly not angry?”

  “I’m touched.”

  “I confess to being very curious about you.”

  He laughed off his initial surprise. “I’m not that interesting.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me about your family. Are both your parents living?”

  Sobering, he ran his fingers along the crease in his pant leg. “My mother is alive and well. My father is gone.”

  Dangerous emotion swirled in his eyes and, for an instant, she felt the pure force of it directed at her. She blinked, and the moment was gone.

  “I—I’m sorry about your father. I’m acquainted with the difficulty of losing a parent. Of course, having a sibling to share in your grief can be beneficial. Where are your brothers now?”

  “I’ll be honest, Deborah. I’m a private man. I don’t make a habit of speaking about my family.”

  “I see.” The birds’ song didn’t sound quite as cheerful as it had when she’d first sought solace in this out of the way spot.

  Adam stood and moved closer. “It’s nothing to do with you,” he said softly.

  Deborah plastered on a smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

  His astute gaze roamed her features. “Take your time out here. I’m going to have a word with the reverend. Find me when you’re ready, all right?”

  “All right.”

  She watched him stride the length of the veranda and enter through the side door, then set down her teacup and went to stand at the railing. If there was one thing she’d like to change about herself, even more than her tendency to speak without discretion, it was her sensitive nature. Adam hadn’t been rude or condescending, even though they were recent acquaintances and she’d been poking her nose where it wasn’t welcome.

  With a prayer for courage, she joined him in the Gardners’ parlor and resumed her duties. He remained pleasant, but there was a new reserve about him that puzzled her. His stated preference for privacy had only enflamed her curiosity, unfortunately. Why did he not like talking about his family? Had something tragic occurred? Was there a black sheep in the Draper family?

  Deborah doubted these questions would ever be answered. He was here alone in Cowboy Creek, so there’d be no fishing for clues among his friends. Disappointed, not to mention confused by her interest in the enigmatic cattleman, she focused on guarding every single
word leaving her mouth. To her relief, there were no more mishaps.

  When the event had wound down and it was time to gather the soiled dishes, Sadie and Walter waved Adam away to mingle. As soon as he was out of earshot, Walter cornered her.

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Adam? Very little.”

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Big Bend, Missouri. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m convinced our paths have crossed before, but I can’t pinpoint the particulars. My mind won’t rest until I determine whether or not I’m mistaken.” His brows drew together. “Do you know if he served in the war?”

  “He did.”

  Walter made a considering noise in his throat, then turned to address Sadie. “You know I dislike unsolved riddles. I will send for the photographs I took during those years.”

  Sadie paused in stacking plates. “I’d be happy to help you look through them.”

  “It will be a tedious process.”

  Admiration brightened her eyes. “To you, maybe, but I’m eager to see more of your work. Besides, any time spent in your company is far from tedious.”

  He flashed a rare smile and kissed her hand. “Have I told you lately how delightful I find you, my dear?”

  Feeling as if she were intruding, Deborah left them, carrying empty platters through the kitchen and out to the wagon. While she was thrilled that Sadie had found happiness with the photographer, witnessing their devotion highlighted the fact that she was alone, far from home, separated from her sister and her few close friends.

  She was returning to the house when something in the grass caught her eye. Moving closer for a better look, she realized it was a porcelain doll. She picked it up and brushed the dirt from its clothes and yellow curls. Judging from its decent condition, it hadn’t been exposed to the elements for very long. Daniel and Leah’s daughter, Evie, was far too young to be toting around a doll, and there hadn’t been any children in attendance this afternoon. But there was a doll missing from Booker & Son’s mercantile.

  Deborah ventured farther into the yard, combing the ground for more clues. Were Seth Halloway’s boys telling the truth? Had there been stowaway children on the bride train?

  Holding the doll to her chest, she debated what to do. Children roaming the town without supervision were susceptible to all sorts of threats. They’d need shelter, clothing, food and water. The bride train on which the Halloway boys had traveled had arrived two months ago. Only desperation or fear would keep anyone in hiding for that long.

  Leaving the doll in its original spot in case the owner came searching for it, she made plans to return that night.

  “What are you doing?”

  Deborah whirled. “Adam, I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”

  Her apron in his hands, he studied her with unsettling intensity. “I felt bad for abandoning you in the midst of cleanup. Sadie sent me in this direction.”

  She considered sharing her suspicions, only to dismiss the notion. He’d probably think her naive. If no one else in town had been able to solve the ongoing mystery of the petty thefts, how was she going to accomplish it?

  Perhaps if she knew him better, she could ask him to assist her. They could work on solving the puzzle together, like amateur detectives.

  “There wasn’t much to do.” She accepted the apron and put it with the platters. “Your goal was to mingle with the locals and town leaders, anyway. Would you consider the night a success?”

  Walking to the house side by side, he nodded. “I enjoyed myself, thanks to you.”

  The words sounded forced, his customary charm worn thin.

  “I’m happy to hear it.”

  At the door, he turned to regard the area from which they’d come. His gaze became hooded, and there was a grim set to his mouth.

  For a man in town with a straightforward purpose, he seemed awfully troubled.

  * * *

  An innocent woman didn’t hide fried chicken legs in her reticule and slink off into the night. Adam trailed her along the side street past the school and onto Lincoln Boulevard. For someone with a hidden agenda, she didn’t bother to check whether or not anyone was aware of her movements. The thought that she could be taking food to Zane Ogden made his stomach churn. Not Deborah, his mind protested. She’s too sweet, too earnest.

  Hesitating on the corner across from the Gardners’, where lights blazed in the multitude of windows, she continued at a brisk pace and took a right on Fourth Street. This direction boasted deserted woods that emptied out at the stockyards.

  Use your head, Halloway. Don’t be duped by her innocent act.

  His training had prepared him to consider a problem’s every angle, from the obvious to the far-fetched. He’d learned not to rule out a suspect based on appearance or behavior. Not all villains wore black and twirled evil mustaches. Some were accommodating and downright likable.

  He might not want Deborah to be guilty of aiding a criminal, but in this line of work, disappointments were inevitable.

  She stopped short. Adam used overgrown bushes on the street’s edge as a barrier. Glancing around, she entered the copse abutting Daniel’s property. He unsheathed his weapon and entered at a substantial distance behind. His quarry could be closer than he realized.

  Moonlight gilded the trees in silvery essence and afforded him a view of her silhouette. The occasional hoot owl shattered the stillness. He avoided the twigs her boots crushed.

  “Hello?”

  The sudden sound of Deborah’s voice jolted him. Slipping sideways to hunker behind a massive oak, he peered at her through a V in the branches. She removed the bundle of chicken and held it aloft.

  “I’ve brought some tasty fried chicken,” she said, turning in a circle. “You can have it, free of charge. I’d hate to leave it for the scavengers to find. Won’t you come out and talk to me?”

  Adam’s grip on his weapon went slack. He observed her in mounting confusion. Was this some sort of code? A way for Ogden to know it was safe to emerge from his hideout?

  This wasn’t the best place to take refuge from authorities. The Gardners’ mansion was visible from this vantage point, and the nearby street saw a lot of traffic from cowboys traveling between the stockyards and the center of town. Deborah had been studying this area after the fund-raiser and had acted nervous when questioned.

  But no one emerged from the shadows to greet her. Her sigh was punctuated by the slump of her shoulders.

  “I’d really like to help you.” She left the bundle on a tree stump and retraced her steps.

  Adam edged around the trunk, barely breathing, careful to remain out of sight. He expected her to go straight to Aunt Mae’s. Instead, she ventured into the Gardners’ yard, her head bent as she scraped her boot through the grass. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she hurried along her way.

  He let her go, murmuring to himself, “What are you up to, Deborah Frazier?”

  * * *

  Deborah regarded the town gossips with mounting irritation. She’d approached the two old men the next day in hopes they’d shed light on the stowaway mystery, but their claims contradicted each other.

  Gus stroked his full white beard with a gnarled hand. “You’re wrong. Flat out wrong, I tell ya. Those kids weren’t anywhere near the livery. They were sneakin’ around the telegraph office.”

  Slouched beside him on the bench outside Booker & Son’s general store, Old Horace puffed on his cheroot and narrowed his rheumy eyes. “You’re losin’ your faculties, man. I remember as plain as day the boy hiding behind the water barrels.”

  Deborah clutched her reticule to her chest and shifted to make room for a passing cowboy. “Can you tell me what they looked like? Are they boys? Girls? One of each?”

  “Well, now, it was awful dark,” Gus mused. His gaze never ceased movi
ng. The elderly pair made an occupation of surveying the comings and goings of Cowboy Creek’s residents. It was a wonder their names weren’t engraved on the bench where they sat seemingly all day and night.

  “Hmm.” Old Horace nodded. “The shadows were long.”

  She stifled a sigh. The sights and sounds of afternoon activity enveloped her. Wagons creaked along Eden Street. Horses whinnied. A dog’s bark was thrown into the mix, as were children’s laughter and mothers’ stern warnings to mind their steps. The bell above Booker & Son’s entrance chimed incessantly. Old Horace and Gus must be immune to it.

  This had been a fool’s errand, as had last evening’s foray into the woods behind Daniel Gardner’s home. No doubt that chicken had made a tasty meal for the ants.

  But the doll was gone, remember? Someone removed it in the hours between the fund-raiser and her late-night visit.

  At the sight of the lanky blond man heading straight for her, Deborah was reminded she had other matters to worry about. Real ones, not possibly-made-up sightings of stowaways.

  “Thank you for your time, gentlemen.” Squaring her shoulders, she left the boardwalk and met Preston Wells in the shade of The Cattleman. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wells.”

  “Surely you agree it’s time to dispense with the formalities, Deborah.” His eyes bore into her, pleading and needy. “You are the epitome of summertime’s best offerings in that dress.”

  She pressed a hand to her stomach and strove for a pleasant expression. Inside, she experienced a strange frisson of unease. A telegraph operator, Preston had become fixated on her shortly after her arrival. She’d been kind but firm in her numerous refusals of his overtures. He’d proven persistent, however. He’d even taken to badgering poor Sadie, who had to work with him, about her.

  She had no objections to his appearance. In his midtwenties, Preston wore his light hair cut very short, which emphasized his broad forehead—her great-aunt would call it intelligent—and a rather thin nose. His eyes were an interesting shade of gray, however, and he had a nicely shaped mouth. He took pride in his appearance. It was the hint of desperation in his exchanges with her that put her on guard.