Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(19)

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.