Romancing the Runaway Bride Read online

  “Er, thank you.” She smoothed the ivory skirt printed with green and yellow flowers.

  “It flatters your complexion greatly,” he enthused, moving closer than was comfortable. “And your hair...” He was reaching to cup her cheek when Adam entered her peripheral vision.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Adam struck out his hand for Preston to shake.

  Thankful for the interruption, Deborah edged out of the way. Preston regarded Adam with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.

  “Preston Wells. And you are?”

  “Adam Draper. I’m staying at the same boardinghouse as Deborah.”

  “Pleasure.” His expression said it was anything but. His gaze returned to her. “Would you agree to accompany me for a short stroll? I’m contemplating hosting a small dinner party and perhaps engaging your services.”

  “Maybe another time. I have a long list of errands to complete, including picking up a few items for Aunt Mae.”

  “Would you believe she asked me to do some shopping for her, as well?” Adam chuckled and produced a folded paper from his pocket. “If you’re going into Booker & Son’s, I’ll join you.”

  Preston gave his suit lapels a sharp tug. “I see you’re preoccupied at the moment. I’ll come around the boardinghouse one evening this week.”

  Unable to politely decline, she nodded and bid him goodbye. Adam’s light touch against her back was comforting as they entered the mercantile. Navigating the aisles, they found a secluded corner near a window display of gardening instruments.

  “Is he one of the men who proposed marriage?” There was a hint of humor in his dark eyes.

  “No.”

  “But he’s one of the men whose overtures you’ve spurned.”

  “Preston is nothing if not persistent.” She made a show of consulting her own list. “What exactly did Aunt Mae send you here for?”

  He wiggled his finger. “Uh-uh. You’re not dodging this one. Tell me why you’ve refused to consider any of the interested parties. Were they too young? Too old? Not prone to bathing?”

  “They are all decent men.” Deborah inched past him to study ribbons in a variety of colors. “A-and clean.”

  “Are you one of those women who has a long list of qualifications a man must meet in order to be considered worthy of your hand?” His breath teased the flower at her ear. Goose bumps raced over her skin.

  “What? Of course not.”

  “Something is preventing you. What is it?”

  Deborah angled her face toward his, startled to find him so close. His nearness didn’t affect her like Preston’s. Instead of wanting to bolt, she yearned to move closer. His shoulders were broad and sturdy, his arms strong and inviting. He’d be a good hugger, she could tell. Someone who would hold her tight and snug for as long as she needed, not pat her awkwardly on the back and shrug free after short moments. Strangely, she was starting to view Adam as someone she could depend on. He radiated honor and goodness. She sensed he was the type of man who’d lay down his life for a stranger’s.

  Would it be so terrible to confide in him? Adam would entertain his own conclusions. She’d hate for him to think her snobbish, persnickety or, worse, on the hunt for a rich husband. She could’ve had one of those, if she’d gone through with the nuptials back in St. Louis.

  In the end, she chose to tell him a partial truth. “The prospect of marriage is more daunting than I anticipated. To pledge oneself to another forever...it’s a grave undertaking. Not to be taken lightly.”

  “You’re not taking it at all, though.” His smile had faded. “Despite having traveled here for the express purpose of landing a husband.”

  “Am I not allowed to have a change of heart? O-or lose my nerve?”

  “You arrived in your wedding clothes,” he said softly.

  “You have the uncanny ability to question me as if I’m on trial. Were you ever a lawyer, Mr. Draper?”

  “You revert to formalities when you’re upset with me.” He kneaded the side of his neck. “I apologize for pressing you. It’s none of my business. Although, I will say I understand the locals’ frustration. You’re beautiful, intelligent and talented. Any man with a scrap of sense would make a bid for your attention.”

  His praise emboldened her. “You haven’t.”

  Adam’s lips parted. His eyes thrummed with emotion quickly squelched. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m not yet in that stage of my life. There are matters that take precedence over any desire to wed and produce heirs.”

  “What sort of matters? Your ranches?”

  “My ranches...” His brows drew together. “Oh, yes. My business obligations are many.”

  “So you’ve never come close to falling in love?”

  He fell silent. Deborah felt as though she were swimming in that endless brown gaze as the air between them thinned. Why had she asked such a foolish question?

  “Never.”

  “Me, either.”

  The bell over the door jangled, dispelling the tension. Adam’s attention went to the entrance and immediately the set of his shoulders changed. She shifted to get a better view. Russell Halloway stood just inside the door, his hat in his hands. He nodded and waved, but instead of coming over, he headed for the sales counter.

  “I should let you tend to your shopping,” Adam told her. “I’ll see you later.”

  Nonplussed, Deborah watched as he strode for the exit. Not even one minute later, Russell left empty-handed.

  The two men had met yesterday for the first time. Why then, did she get the feeling she was missing something?

  Chapter Six

  “Before you read me the riot act, stop and think.” Russell held up a staying hand. “You must agree that I had to ask.”

  “You asked me a personal question in front of a suspect,” Adam gritted, the annoyance he’d felt at the fund-raiser rushing to the surface.

  “I’m a lawyer who specializes in assisting veterans. It would’ve raised suspicions if I hadn’t asked.” His frown became an unhappy slash in his face. “Wait, did you say suspect? Surely you don’t think Deborah Frazier is capable of consorting with a blackguard like Ogden!”

  “Lower your voice.” Adam scanned both sides of the alley behind the mercantile and the street running alongside the church behind them.

  “She’s not involved,” Russell insisted, his hazel eyes confident.

  “I don’t know enough yet to draw that conclusion.”

  “You just rode into town. Anna and I have gotten to know her over the course of the last eight weeks. She’s got a heart of gold.”

  That had been his impression, as well. His wish. But the fact was he didn’t truly know her or what she might be capable of.

  “Three weeks ago, I was wrapping up a case in Centerville when I got a message from one of my closest colleagues. Dayton’s one of the few people I’ve told about our past. While pursuing a lead in a murder, he heard some cowboys grumbling about losing their jobs because their owners had to up and sell at a moment’s notice. The situation sounded similar to Big Bend’s, so he contacted me. Together, we did some digging and learned that an entrepreneur who called himself Thaddeus Jones had been dispensing loans to the locals.”

  “Let me guess,” Russell bit out. “Just like in Big Bend, the locals failed to read the fine print. He charged them high interest rates and put their ranches up as collateral.”

  “Exactly. He’d already skipped town by the time I got there, but I did manage to locate the house he’d been renting.” The sharp disappointment he’d experienced filled him anew. He’d walked through the very rooms his nemesis had inhabited with the knowledge he’d been a couple of days too late. “In the living room fireplace, I salvaged a scrap of paper that led me to Cowboy Creek.”

  When he explained the significance of the signature, Russell gave
him a hooded look. “You suspect Deborah because her name begins with D? Couldn’t it be someone named Diana or Desiree? David? Dustin—”

  “I know it’s not much to go on, all right? But the people I interviewed insisted he was in cahoots with a female. The description matches. Young and attractive, dark brown hair, elegant clothes. Unfortunately, she didn’t mingle with the locals. She stuck to Ogden’s side like glue.”

  Russell’s gaze followed a buggy as it rolled past the church. He shook his head. “I’m aware of the Pinkertons’ reputation. And you’ve proven yourself a worthy detective, otherwise you would’ve been cut loose a long time ago. But I urge you not to rush judgments on this one. Don’t let your obsession with Ogden make you sloppy.”

  “I am not obsessed.”

  “Aren’t you? Has a single day gone by these past nine years when you haven’t thought about him? Imagined making him pay for what he did?”

  His brother was speaking the truth, and it was difficult to hear. The implication was that Seth and Russ had moved on with their lives, while he’d remained stagnant.

  Adam ripped off his Stetson and slapped it against his thigh. His older brother taking him to task hauled him back to his adolescent years. Being the youngest hadn’t set well with him. He’d balked whenever Seth and Russell had tried to boss him around. That was one aspect of leaving he hadn’t minded—people had treated him as his own man, not as the youngest Halloway boy.

  “Adam, I’ve seen innocent people punished for crimes they didn’t commit. I’d hate for that to happen in this case.”

  He met his brother’s solemn gaze. “Believe me, I’m aware of the pitfalls and am making concessions.”

  Russell gripped his shoulder. “I want answers, too. I’ll help you any way I can. Come by for supper tonight. Meet Anna proper-like.”

  “I wish I could, but I have to stay close to Deborah.”

  “You can spare an hour this afternoon, can’t you?”

  “I would like to speak to my new sister-in-law without worrying who’s listening. Three o’clock?”

  “I’ll close the office early.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Adam headed for the Mitchell Coal & Mining Company. Jason Mitchell welcomed him into his office with polite formality. Waving him into a chair, he resumed his spot behind the desk cluttered with papers.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Draper?”

  “I promise not to take up much of your time.” He did a quick inventory of the cramped space. “Based on our brief exchange yesterday, I thought you might have insight into the area’s property shortage. I visited the land office earlier and was met with discouraging news.”

  Sinking against the dull leather chair, Jason steepled his hands. “It’s like I told you at the fund-raiser. The Maroni brothers are greedier than most. I’ve been in this business a while. Competition’s normal. Even healthy.” He rubbed at a coffee stain ingrained in the desk. “These men are different.”

  “How so?”

  “First off, I’ve yet to set eyes on them. Only the land office clerk and the ranchers who’ve done business with them have spoken to them face-to-face.”

  Adam wet his lips. Ogden could’ve gotten another accomplice, a man this time. “Maybe they like their privacy.”

  “Maybe.” Jason’s eyes hardened. “Or maybe they’ve got something to hide.”

  “Don’t they have a temporary office set up? Somewhere to conduct business?”

  “They were staying at The Lariat, but I haven’t managed to get a meeting with them.” He sighed and drummed his fingers against the wood. “There have been too many ranchers forced off their land. Not a coincidence, if you ask me.”

  Adam adopted an expression of disbelief. “Are you suggesting the Maronis orchestrated accidents to get their hands on land they think is rich with coal?”

  “I do.”

  “Have you gone to the sheriff with your suspicions?”

  He rolled his eyes. “The new sheriff is an incompetent oaf. Folks aren’t happy that the previous sheriff, Buck Hanley, abandoned the job to go into business for himself.”

  Adam would have to pay the sheriff a visit and make his own observations. “Not what I wanted to hear, but I thank you for your candor.”

  “Cowboy Creek’s a fine place to live, but it won’t support an operation like yours. Not with the hunt for coal. You’ll have better success somewhere else.”

  Adam stood. “I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration.”

  He was at the door when Jason spoke. “One more word of advice. Don’t bother with the Frazier woman. She’ll lead you on a merry dance.”

  * * *

  Something was bothering Deborah. She’d offered little to the dinner conversation and left much of her meal on the patterned china plate. Afterward, when everyone had migrated to the parlor, she’d declined offers to join in games in favor of standing at the windows and gazing mutely out at the street.

  Was her encounter with Preston Wells troubling her? Adam hadn’t liked what he’d seen in the man’s eyes. He was besotted with her, that much was obvious. But was it a normal infatuation or something darker? In his line of work, he’d dealt with more than his fair share of disturbing cases involving men who couldn’t handle rejection. Violence was a common outcome. The idea of Deborah being a target made Adam’s blood boil.

  As for himself, he would never admit it aloud, but his conversation with Russ had sparked major concerns. Perhaps he’d been a shade too confident about his ability to remain impartial. If Allan Pinkerton knew what he was using this time off for, he’d knock him upside the head like an errant child. It was one of the first rules of being a detective: If you get too close to the victims or suspects, you risk letting your emotions overrule your judgment.

  He was breaking the rule by investigating a crime against his family. And with Deborah in the picture, he feared he was breaking it again.

  “Adam.” Hildie nudged him. “It’s your turn.”

  He stared at the chessboard and shot an apologetic look across the table at Old Horace, who resided at the boardinghouse. “I apologize, but I’m finding it difficult to concentrate. Hildie, take over for me, will you?”

  Beside him on the settee, she opened her mouth to object. He stood before she had a chance to speak and started to cross the room. Deborah turned, caught his gaze and frowned.

  She turned to the rocking chair where Aunt Mae sat knitting a blanket, a gift for Anna and Russell’s baby. “I’m going to turn in early.”

  Aunt Mae’s hands stilled. “It’s not even nine o’ clock yet.”

  “I have a headache.” She fiddled with the rolling pin brooch.

  “Oh, you poor dear.” She patted her hand. “Perhaps some extra rest will make you feel better. The kitchen was hotter than usual today.”

  “Thank you.”

  Adam changed course and met her in the doorway. “Is there anything I can do to help? Prepare you some tea or warm milk?”

  Her wide gaze centered on him. “Do you know how?”

  He smiled. Her blunt nature didn’t bother him. He found it refreshing. “I know enough to keep you from getting thirsty.”

  “Well, I thank you for the offer, but I don’t require anything at the moment.”

  Adam would’ve found a way to detain her longer, if not for her pale complexion and the pinched skin around her eyes. Was she truly ill?

  He watched her ascend the stairs, his disappointment stemming from the missed opportunity to delve for more answers.

  Are you sure that’s the only reason? a voice wheedled. Or is it that you find her fascinating and desire to be in her company?

  Shoving those thoughts aside, he rejoined the others, aware that Deborah’s absence put a damper on the evening. The boarders retired to their rooms about an hour later, and Adam sat at the desk inside his an
d studied his compiled notes. It was nearing eleven when he thought he heard a noise from across the hall.

  Deborah.

  Dropping his pen into its cylindrical container, he tugged his suspenders into place and shrugged on his vest. Padding over to the door, he eased it open just far enough to afford a sliver of a view. Her door was closed, and the strip beneath was dark. Farther down the hallway near the stairs, the floorboards creaked.

  Adam grabbed his boots and slipped into the hallway, his stocking feet whispering against the narrow boards. He paused at the top of the stairs, ears straining to separate the natural groans of the large house from man-made sounds.

  There. The grind of a metal knob.

  Someone was leaving through the kitchen door, and he was certain that someone was Deborah. He didn’t have time to return to his room for his weapon. Heart hammering, he descended the stairs, praying he’d catch up to her.

  If she was assisting Ogden, she was in danger. A criminal like him used people to get what he wanted and might decide to dispose of anyone he considered no longer important.

  He’d stepped into the kitchen when a lamp flared to his right.

  “Going somewhere, Adam?”

  Clad in her nightdress with her hair covered by a mobcap, Aunt Mae held a lamp high and studied him with eyes of steel. Her room was the only one on the first floor, ostensibly to be close to the kitchen. Adam was convinced it was to also prevent any shenanigans from occurring beneath her roof.

  He shifted his boots behind his back. “I confess, I was hungry for more of Deborah’s blueberry and basil tart.”

  “Were you now?” She arched a brow and gestured for him to have a seat at the small, round table in the corner. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

  Defeat punched at his temples. “Not at all.”

  His gaze strayed to the far door, feeling the lost opportunity shudder through him and worry congeal in his gut. What have you gotten yourself into, Deborah?

  Chapter Seven