Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(21)

“Oh, pardon me,” Augustus bent to pick up the scattered letters.

“Captain?”

He glanced over the insignia on his shoulders. “I must have stepped too close, studying the map.” He stood, shuffling the letters in his hand and placing the partially read note at the bottom. “Your mail.”

The young enlisted man held out a stiff hand to take them as the general stepped into view.

“Trouble, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir, General, sir.” The lieutenant leveled a cold eye in the captain’s direction. “The general will see you now, sir.”

Augustus brought his heels together with fine West Point precision and gave a slight bend at the waist.

“Do step in, Captain. We have much to discuss.”

Ignoring the lieutenant’s accusing stare, Augustus stepped inside the general’s office.

“Close the door, will you? We wouldn’t want our conversation to fall on others’ ears.”

Augustus closed the door and turned. “What can I do for you, General?” He watched his commanding officer take his seat at the desk. Yes, put something between us, you coward. You enjoy hiding behind things.

“Captain, I called you here for some unpleasant business.”

“Sir?” He measured his response to sound contrite and worried.

The general leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “As you know, the Secretary of War has authorized some new rifles to be shipped to our fort.”

“Yes, sir, I believe I remember you saying that at our last briefing.” Play it cool, he reminded himself. Let the fool sink his own command.

“Yes. The quartermaster has been awaiting the shipment from Cobb’s Crossing. He tells me your wife hails from there.”

“Cobb’s Crossing, yes, sir.”

“Perhaps, you have heard of the freight company?” He pulled a few papers from his desk. “Thornton Freight. I believe you know the owners, Daniel Thornton and his sister?”

Augustus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Why, yes, sir, I do. My wife grew up with them. The sister stood with us when we wed.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” the general mused and leaned back, placing the paper on his desk.

“It seems the shipment has turned up missing.”

Augustus blinked. “Missing, you say? I don’t understand. I mean, I know the Irish are an unruly lot, but not even they would try to undermine the United States Army.”

The general’s brow rose. He pursed his lips, then with his index finger tapped a white sheet of paper. “It seems that the freight wagon was attacked by an unknown party.”

“Attacked!” Augustus gasped.

“Both Daniel and his driver were killed.”

He let the information flow over him as he stood in stunned disbelief. “Both?”

“Both,” the general repeated.

“I can’t believe it.” Augustus walked across the room. “Who would do such a thing? I mean, I know things have been tough, but…”

The general motioned to the chair. “Sit down, Captain. I’m sure this is quite a blow.”

Dragging his feet, Augustus moved toward the chair and sat down heavily. “Daniel was bringing his sister to stay with my wife for a few days.” He looked up. “My wife is with child.”

“Yes, I had heard. Captain Wallace, the reason I called you here today is to help redeem your career.”

“My career?” He glanced up.

“The cargo they were carrying consisted of two crates of weapons sent in secret by the Secretary of War. Somehow, someone found out. The last thing the army wants is for fifty rifles to fall into the hands of renegades or Mexican bandits, which may have already happened. I have little confidence in the sheriff or this friend of his, Marshal Castillo. I want you to get to the town, find those perpetrators, and bring them back for military justice.”

“Yes, sir, of course, sir.” He stood. “Sir, you don’t suppose this is all a ruse, do you? The Thorntons selling the weapons, then being caught in a double cross?”

“We won’t know for sure until you find out. Take time to tell your wife what has happened. I want nothing to stand in the way of you doing your job. Is that understood?”

Augustus listened to the icy tone of the commander’s voice, and his blood boiled.

“Make no mistake about this, Captain. You fail, and your career in the United States Army is at an end.”

“I understand, sir. I understand all too well.” Drawing himself up, Augustus Wallace saluted, then marched out the door. He held his tongue until he reached the barn behind the parade ground, where a searing mass of obscenities flowed from his lips. How dare that man threaten him? He brought his gloves down against his legs with a snap. However, he’d take care of that complication just as he had all the rest. He was too close to making the deal. Too close to finally getting his due. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t let a snip of a girl, his wife, or some U.S. Marshal stand in his way. Not now, not ever.

****

Trace walked in behind Rand and slammed the door. The glass in the office windows rattled in his wake as he crossed to the chairs in front of Rand’s desk and plunked down in one. Rand took his seat and leaned back to study the man across from him as the air bristled with anger.

“I guess it’s a good thing there were no dogs in the street.” The sheriff sighed as he leaned forward, picking up the papers on his blotter. “You’d have kicked them and enjoyed the howl.”

Trace scowled. “She’s lying.”

“Oh?” The sheriff’s brows rose.

“If anyone knows a liar, Rand, it’s me.”

The sheriff gave a rough chuckle. “And how did you come to that assumption?”

Trace drew a deep breath and thought about all the lies he’d believed when delivered from a succulent red mouth. He bolted from the chair and began to pace.

“You’re thinking about Amelia again.” Rand sighed. “Mary Rose is no Amelia.”

“So you say. I shall reserve judgment,” he snarled, and changed the subject. “Didn’t you see the hurry she was in?”

“I saw a scared woman.”

“Scared of what?” Trace hissed as he paced. “What was in that freight office that sent her away with her tail between her legs?”

Rand picked up his pencil and stared at the papers. “I don’t know,” he complained. “Maybe she was running from you.”

Trace stared at the sheriff as the words ricocheted in his mind. His brow furrowed, and he paused. His mind crowded with the memory of her kiss, the searing heat that erupted in his veins as his hands moved through her hair and the way her body molded to his as if they were made for one another. With a growl, he shoved the chair out of his way and stomped toward the door.

“Going somewhere?” Rand called out.

“I’m going to do some investigating,” he snapped.

“While you’re at it, why not accompany the wagon run to the mission. I’ll keep an eye on Mary Rose.”

Trace left the office. The stomp of his boots raised the hackles of his spurs. Their jingle, like the low growl of a dog, sent passersby scurrying for distance. Trace didn’t stop until he reached the livery. Bending low beneath the railing of the corral, he slid through and walked toward his mount.

Diablo stood against the side of the enclosure, gazing into the distance. “Come here, boy,” he coaxed, and with a snort the horse trotted over to him. He placed a hand below the animal’s long mane and gave him a reassuring pat. “Let’s take a ride,” he murmured. With a toss of his head, the horse followed him into the stall that opened inside the stable.

Trace closed the door and slipped the bridle over his head before he tossed the blanket and saddle onto his back. The girth tightened, he pushed open the inside door to the stall and led Diablo into the center hallway, where he encountered the liveryman coming out of his office.

“Howdy, Marshal. You ain’t leavin’, are ya?”

“Nope. Going to accompany the freight run,” he replied, mounting and gathering the reins into his hand. With his forefinger and thumb, he reached into his pants pocket and tossed the man a five-dollar piece. “Keep my stall ready. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Yes, sir.” The man nodded.

Trace gave the animal his head, and they moved toward the door. A thought hit him and he pulled Diablo up short. “Let me know who leaves and who comes in while I’m gone.”

“Sure,” the man replied.

With a touch of his fingers to the brim of his hat, Trace tapped Diablo with his spurs, and the horse sprang to life.

Following the trail toward the spring, he came across one of Mary Rose’s wagons. “Mind if I ride along?” The driver shrugged.