Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(20)

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.





Chapter Ten

Captain Augustus Wallace flexed his fingers inside the pristine white gloves he wore and marched off at a smart step across the open area known as the parade grounds. Dodging the ranks of men marching to the bellow of the sergeant in charge, he kept his eyes focused on the low flat building labeled as the general’s office. He didn’t need this. That little popinjay would be sitting behind that big desk, waiting for him like a vulture. General John Cabot had ridden his ass since the day he arrived. It was no secret they despised one another. In fact, the enlisted men had given him better odds of surviving his tour of duty, which boosted his confidence even more.

Stepping onto the shaded porch of the company headquarters, he paused to remove his gloves and bent down to whisk the tips over his shiny black boots to scatter the dust. A sly smile curled the edges of his mouth. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. He had a little surprise of his own. Standing up straight, he inhaled as he pressed his gloves over his service belt, tucking the edges beneath for safekeeping. His hands free, he brushed one sleeve, then the other, and adjusted the edges of his deep blue jacket. Impeccable. Yes, one must be impeccable.

Beside the door, the sentry stood at attention, staring straight ahead, his weapon at his side. Without speaking, the captain stepped forward, and the sentry reached out, twisted the doorknob, and allowed him to enter. The smell of lemon-scented pine and saddle soap rolled over him like a cool breath from the heat and the dust that lay behind him. The young junior officer seated behind the field desk rose quickly and stood at attention. “Sir.”

“Captain Wallace to see General Cabot.”

“Yes, sir, if the captain will wait?”

“Of course.” Augustus gave a nod of his head and watched the clerk disappear down the hallway. Hands behind his back, he stared at the neat pile of correspondence sitting on the desk. One address leaped out at him: Cobb’s Crossing. How very curious, he mused. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach down and pluck it from its perch. Dampening his lips, he looked around. The hall appeared empty.

Should he?

The thunderous beat of his heart drowned out all the sounds around him. Nervously, he glanced around once more, but there was no sign of the officer. It would be just one quick peek. A moment later, the letter stood in his hand. He flipped the end up and eased the crisp, white folded paper out. His glance cut sideways, and he was still alone.

The paper crackled as he opened it and scanned the first few lines. Two phrases caught his attention, darkening his scowl. Sheriff Randall Weston…in regard to the missing shipment... The scrape of a boot sounded. His lungs tightened and his breathing grew harsh. Using his knee, he nudged the desk, and the stack of letters fluttered to the floor as the young officer returned.