Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(40)

“Thank you,” she said, avoiding his glance.

“I’ll be back over to the office as soon as I see my future wife to the freight office,” he called to Rand.

“Future wife?” The clerk glanced up.

Mary Rose wanted to sink through the boards.

“So that’s why you bought that ring yesterday.” The clerk’s face broke into a grin.

Her embarrassment turned to anger, and she wanted to slap the self-righteous smirk off the man’s face.

“Congratulations!” He pumped Trace’s hand and then hers so hard the basket and its contents shook.

Finally they were able to untangle themselves from the well-wisher and, with Trace’s hand on her arm, they continued on their way.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Did I?” He tried to act surprised, but she noted the smug twist to the edge of his mouth.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh?” One brow rose as he led her across the street, nodding to the women they passed. “I’ve learned in my lifetime that a general store can spread information faster than any old biddy.” They paused at the end of the boardwalk and glanced back.

She followed his line of vision and noted the clerk talking excitedly to the women inspecting the tables. They turned to glance in their direction, and Trace looked at her and smiled.

“You are loathsome, Castillo,” Mary Rose spit through her clenched teeth. Unfortunately for her, he was also right. By evening, the entire town of Cobb’s Crossing would know she wore his ring.

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“What?” he asked, leading her toward the side street where the freight office lay.

“To let the town know.” She disentangled her arm. “And you think that’s going to make me agree to this marriage?”

“I think this will let whoever is watching you know that he cannot touch you without my wrath.”

“If he killed my brother, do you think he’s gonna think twice about one man?”

To her amazement, his smile broadened. “Remember, Querida, I am not only a man but a U.S. Marshal.”

She had only begun to reply when Caleb stepped out onto the platform of the freight office.

“Morning, Miss Thornton, Marshal.”

She glanced up at him. “Good morning, Mr. Gentry. Has the first run gone out?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a short run to Claiborne. One driver only, no cost.”

“Excellent,” Trace replied. “Mr. Gentry, will you escort my betrothed to the office?”

“Trace,” she hissed under her breath. “This has gone far enough.”

“Betrothed!” The clerk seemed shocked.

“Yes,” he replied. She felt him slide his arm around her waist and pull her close. She glanced up at him with a glare to shrivel a snake, but he merely smiled down at her. “Mary Rose has agreed to become my wife.”

****

Still stewing over the conversation she’d unwillingly been a part of, she slammed papers around on her desk. How dare he announce to the world that they would marry! Her hopes of not telling anyone were blown away. Moreover, to make matters worse, every time she rose from the desk, Caleb Gentry found a way to hover at her elbow. She stared at the paperwork before her. Scheduling routes had never been her idea of fun, but at least she and Gentry had the small runs organized and were ready for the rest of the week.

Outside the open doors of the freight office, she could hear the driver’s grunts as he loaded the wagons for another short run. She read over the notes. Claiborne had been Moe’s favorite run. She’d let a new driver take that. This run to the rail head required more skill. Whom had she signed up as drivers? She scanned the papers and located two names, Ian Holt and Shawn Rivers. Both men had come with Daniel from San Antonio to Cobb’s Crossing. They could keep it together. Mary Rose’s trust grew that things would all work out well.

Folding the map, she slid it into the leather pouch each driver carried and secured the strap in the buckle. Then she rose, patted the bundle, and walked to the doorway with it in hand.

“Miss Thornton.” Gentry stood as she moved into his view.

“Just going to meet the drivers.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he murmured, closing the books.

“It’s no more than ten feet, Mr. Gentry. Surely no one will ride in and carry me off in that space,” she protested.

“All the same.” He smiled. “The marshal gave me my orders.”

“Yes he did, didn’t he.” She sighed and continued out to the loading dock, knowing he wasn’t far behind.

“Good day, gentlemen,” she greeted, interrupting their labors. “Your packet.” She held out the leather pouch. The driver closest stepped away from the wagon and took it.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you staying with the company, Mr. Rivers, Mr. Holt. Do you have the twenty dollars for the journey?”

The two drivers exchanged glances. A feeling of insecurity washed over her. She felt the pounding start in her temple. “Mr. Holt, is there a problem?”

Ian Holt tossed the rope on top of the canvas covering the red wagon and swaggered to stand near the other driver. “Well, if you’re gonna be askin’, I’ll tell you, lass.”

“Please do.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“It seems the bank wasn’t too happy this morning to redeem the conscript signed by Mr. Gentry over there.”

She glanced back at her clerk. Gentry wouldn’t meet her eyes. She felt as if someone had slowly begun to pull the rug out from under her feet and she couldn’t get her balance. Glancing back at the angry faces of the drivers, she spoke. “I apologize for this.” She took a deep breath. “Mr. Gentry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please pull the money out of petty cash, so these men can have the funds they’ll need for the journey.”

“I can’t,” he answered, his voice small, tinged with embarrassment.

Her arms fell as she turned in dismay to stare at the clerk, who looked away. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t’?”

She watched his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallowed. “I put the money in the bank this morning.”

She gasped, dumbfounded. “We’ve no cash on hand?”

“No, ma’am,” he stammered.

She turned back and stared at her drivers. “I’ll have your money in just a few minutes.” Moving toward the steps that led down to the ground, she stopped, hearing the footsteps behind her. With a turn, she gave the clerk a chilling glare. “Mr. Gentry, from now on, we will keep a reasonable sum on hand.”

“Yes, Miss Thornton,” he mumbled.

She moved down the stairs. “Gentlemen, I’ll be right back.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Thornton.”

Mary Rose paused.

“But we’ll be needin’ our pay. This here is our last run. Shawn and meself are gonna be leaving Thornton’s.”

She felt the second footfall. “Let’s not make a hasty decision. Let me get you the money. Things will work out.”

“Aye, miss, see if you can,” Shawn replied, his skepticism visible. “But we’ll still be leavin’. Working for your brother was one thing, but we can’t be expected to work for a woman for nothin’, no matter how far back our ties go.”

What could she say? These men had worked long hard hours this week. They deserved their cash incentive to drive for her. “I understand, but let me see if I can get your money before you make this final decision.” The two men looked at the ground. “Please,” she whispered. She waited for a moment, but it seemed like a lifetime.

Finally, Ian nodded. “All right, miss, we’ll see if you can move the miser’s heart.”

“Thank you,” she replied. When she heard Gentry’s shoes hit the step behind her, fury rose in her veins. Turning, her eyes flashing, she dared him with a heated stare to take one more step. “Don’t. Don’t you dare follow me.”

“But the marshal said—”

“I don’t care if a company of herald angels urged you to sprout feathered wings and charge into the gates of Hell. You stay here.”

She turned on her heel and stomped away.

****

Pushing open the doors of the only brick structure in the town of Cobb’s Crossing, Mary Rose barged through and drew a deep breath, one hand on her hip. The cool shadows of the bank lobby held few customers. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the clerk nearest to the manager’s door rise. Narrowing her glance, she locked her gaze upon him. Caught short, he drew his papers up against his chest for protection as she advanced toward him.

“Mr. Benton, I’d like to speak with Mr. Clark.”