Anna Finch and the Hired Gun (32 page)

“Read this.” She thrust the paper toward Jeb. “The imposter. He did this.”

Jeb stuffed a slice of bacon in his mouth, then turned his attention to the newspaper. “But this is impossible,” he said. “The man was killed at noon in the saloon beside the rail station. Your train arrived at eleven-thirty. Holliday had to have been with you when the shooting happened.”

“He was.”

Another slice of bacon disappeared while Jeb considered things. “That was just Saturday. Likely he hasn’t gone far.”

Anna’s stomach growled, and she reached for the platter of scrambled eggs. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have to do some figuring on this.” He accepted the platter of eggs from her and heaped them in the center of his plate. “Might even have to do a little traveling. And since I’m sworn to protect you, I’m afraid you’re going to have to—”

“I won’t stay here,” she said. “I refuse and I’m a grown woman. You cannot make me.”

Jeb chuckled. “I was going to say that I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Oh,” she replied meekly.

After three more bites, Jeb pushed away from the table. “Pack a bag and be prepared to stay overnight.” He paused. “Or is that inappropriate to expect? You have my word as a gentleman that I’ll not attempt to compromise—”

Anna laughed. “While I appreciate your concern for my reputation, I’ll be fine. My goal is to learn the end of Mr. Holliday’s story, and catching this man is certainly an ending I’d like to see in print.”

Jeb gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Do me the favor of spending today working on that story. Or doing something that keeps you home. Would you, please? I can’t prepare for tomorrow and worry about you too.”

This promise Anna kept, spending the day in her father’s study, working on her book. When Jeb returned that evening, he found her bent over her father’s desk, her fingers stained with ink. His attitude had changed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“The trip is off,” he said. “My sources don’t agree with what’s printed in the paper.”

“What?”

“There was a misprint,” he said. “It should have read midnight, not noon.”

Anna set down her pen. “You don’t think he might be guilty, do you?”

“No, Anna,” Jeb said. “I believe he
is
guilty. And as of right now, I forbid you to have anything more to do with that murderer.”

“But he didn’t kill your wife!”

The Pinkerton folded his arms over his chest. “He’s killed plenty of other people.”

Anna rose to move toward him. “Likely he has,” she said carefully.

If Jeb was surprised by her admission, he didn’t show it. “Now that we’ve got eyewitnesses placing him at the scene, I have ample reason to arrest him.”

Jeb’s ample reason to think the worst of Doc Holliday merely gave Anna ample reason to hide her continued association with the gunfighter. The next time he sent her a letter, this time by regular mail to her home address with no return identification, she opened it with anticipation. The fact that Jeb’s past blinded him would not keep her from helping Doc Holliday complete the book about his life. This she assured Doc when she stepped off the train in Colorado Springs and found him waiting at the Antlers Hotel.

“I heard of the murder same as you,” Doc said. “From the papers. Trouble is, I was already here and thus unable to defend myself.”

“I can swear out an affidavit,” Anna said.

“Saying what? That I was with you twelve hours after the shooting?” He shook his head. “Better we continue to work on our project. Time’s running short.”

She looked him over and found no evidence of it. “Your health appears better than ever,” she said.

“Then the ruse is working.” He gestured to her writing case. “Get out your papers. I fear we’ll be working twice as long now.”

When she was ready, Doc continued his tale exactly from where he’d left off at their last visit. As she’d expected, the story’s twists and
turns were fascinating, especially when the topic turned to women. He’d found trouble in places where none was thought to exist, but he’d also found love in the name of a woman named Kate.

“Or rather what passed for love, given I was denied the real thing as a youth.”

“Denied?” Anna asked. “How so?”

“We were cousins,” Doc said, “and the church refused to marry us.” His expression took on a faraway look. “But then, wondering what might have been isn’t a worthy use of a man’s time.”

Anna remained silent. A man of declining health ought to spend his time doing whatever he pleased, though she’d not interrupt his thoughts to say so.

“Ah, but Kate, now she was something,” he finally said. “And if I do say so, most of the time she thought I was something as well.”

After a while, Doc ceased his recollections and began coughing so hard that he couldn’t continue.

“I can fetch water and perhaps some lunch,” Anna said, “if you want to keep going.” He nodded, and Anna stood. “Anything special I can bring back?”

“Yourself will suffice, though I understand the restaurant downstairs serves an excellent larded beef.”

“Larded beef it is,” she echoed as she hurried from the room. She returned twenty minutes later with a double portion of the delicacy—both for him.

“Come sit here,” Anna said. “Let me pour some water for you.”

The outlaw rose as obediently as a child and seated himself at the table. But as Anna set the food before him, his face hardened. “Miss Bird,” he said, his voice icy, “I am no invalid.”

“Of course not,” she hastened to say.

“I’m also no saint,” he continued. “So I ask that no matter what I tell you, you not portray me as one.”

Anna had no idea how to respond, so she remained silent. He allowed her to attend to him, but when the meal failed to restore him, she sent him to bed and packed up her case for the trip home. Before she closed the door behind her, Doc’s soft snores assured her he had found a fitful rest.

She made notes and arranged information on the trip back to Denver so that when she arrived home, she might immediately begin work on the next chapters. Mr. McMinn met her at the station, and she half expected Jeb to be with him. When he wasn’t, Anna figured she’d escaped without detection. She carried this hope all the way home, then promptly gave it up when she saw the expression on Jeb’s face.

Mr. McMinn scurried away without helping Anna from the carriage, leaving her at the mercy of an angry Pinkerton.

“Where was he this time, Anna? Fort Collins? Aspen?”

She gathered up her dignity and her writing case and climbed out of the carriage herself. She swept past Jeb and moved as quickly as she could toward the house. “Colorado Springs,” she called as the door slammed behind her.

When Jeb did not follow, relief set in. Then, by degrees, disappointment replaced it. He was angry, and rightly so, but Anna knew she’d done nothing wrong.

To prove it, rather than dismiss the invitation to the soiree at the Miller home that evening, she made her preparations to go out. Her sapphire dress, newly arrived from Paris and in the latest fashion, was
chosen with more care than usual. Fitted just right and paired with a smart hat and gloves, the dress was created to catch a man’s eye.

Or make him forget his anger.

Anna pinched her cheeks, then reached for her bottle of Fleur d’Italie and dabbed it on her wrists and behind each ear. She took one last look in the mirror and pronounced herself passable.

At the bottom of the stairs, her escort waited, though Jeb barely spared her a glance.

“Good evening,” she said and received a grunt in return. When he turned to lead her outside, Anna froze. “Mama and Papa,” she said. “Won’t they be joining us?”

“Unfortunately not.” He handed her into the carriage, then climbed in beside her. His arm brushed hers and he leaned away. Anna felt disappointment settle in her stomach but took some satisfaction at the sideways looks he surely thought she did not see.

A moonlit ride, romantic under any other circumstances, quickly became the staging ground for a war of silence that spilled over onto the walkway leading to the Miller home. Stars dusted the evening sky, and the cool night air sent Anna burrowing into her wrap as the carriage drew to a halt. Jeb lifted her to the ground, then waved away Mr. McMinn and the carriage. Before Anna could escape, the Pinkerton caught her elbow.

She gave him a disdainful look even as her traitorous heart jolted at his touch. Up ahead, the Millers’ door opened, spilling light down the path toward them.

“You gave me your word,” Jeb said abruptly.

“And I kept my word,” she responded, ignoring the twinge of her conscience.

“No, you did not.”

Anna dared a look at him. Even with shadows slanted across his features, there was no missing his stubborn expression.

“You did not, Anna,” he repeated. “Admit it.”

She opened her mouth to do just that, but someone called her name, and Anna found herself in the midst of a tight knot of party-goers moving toward the door.

The Pinkerton hung back and watched while Anna allowed herself to be propelled forward. As much as she tried to ignore his stare while she exchanged greetings with those around her, Anna found her attention returning to the dark-haired hired gun.

The man who’d admitted to more than protective feelings for her.

“Anna, darling!” She turned to see Mrs. Miller reaching to embrace her. “Don’t you look lovely? That shade of blue has always been so beautiful on …” Her hostess looked past Anna, and her eyes widened.

“You know Mr. Sanders, of course,” Anna said to the Millers by way of introduction before slipping away to blend into the crowd. Only when Edwin Beck found her did Anna regret not remaining at Jeb’s side.

“I fear I shall never find the words to end the trouble between us,” he said. “Though I shall not cease until I do.”

“You are lovely company,” she said, and she meant it. “But I don’t trust you.”

His smile broadened. “Must you trust me in order to dance with me?”

Anna saw the Pinkerton watching her as he carried on a conversation with one of Papa’s more talkative business partners. Satisfied
Jeb was sufficiently occupied, she smiled at Edwin Beck and moved toward the dancers.

As she reached the dance floor, she felt Edwin’s hand press against the small of her back. She turned to say one of the banal things appropriate for dance conversation but found it was Jeb, not Edwin, who’d joined her.

His gaze scorched the length of her as he gestured behind him. “Your friend was delayed.”

Anna saw Daniel’s brother a few yards away, his attention held by the same gentleman who’d only just been speaking to Jeb. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Jeb led her into the group of dancers.

“What have you done with my dance partner?” she asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough.” Jeb led her effortlessly through the crowd. “I’ll just go over the rules before he finds his good sense and stops talking to that banker about money when he can speak to you about … well, you know what he wants.”

“Actually, I am more interested in knowing what you want, Jeb.”

He almost stumbled. “What I want, Anna, is for you to stop making things so difficult.”

“About that.” Anna followed Jeb’s lead as the room turned around them. “I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with you.”

“Forthcoming?” His dark brow rose.

She gave him what she hoped was a sincere look. “I’ve been awful. Will you forgive me?”

The Pinkerton stopped and dancers swirled around them. “Don’t toy with me, Anna Finch.”

“I humbly apologize for misrepresenting my appointment with my previous interviewee. Do you accept my apology or must I continue?”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I—”

She pressed her finger to his lips, and her hired gun began to grin. “Do you want to dance or talk, Jeb Sanders?”

He shook his head and led her off the dance floor. “I want you to enjoy yourself tonight. And then we’ll have our conversation on the way home.”

“All right.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw Edwin approach. She expected Jeb to intercept the Englishman and was stunned when the Pinkerton stepped away.

“A dance, Miss Finch?” Edwin Beck asked, ignoring Jeb’s presence completely.

She stepped into his arms as much to irritate Jeb Sanders as to avoid any deep conversations with Daniel’s brother. But as the orchestra struck up the next tune, Edwin struck up a conversation.

On marriage.

“As my wife you’d enjoy a lovely home and all the travel you wish,” he said.

“I have those things now, Mr. Beck.” Anna sighed. “Let’s do change the subject.”

“I refuse.” His expression immediately became penitent. “Forgive me,” he said quickly. “It’s just that your father is most happy I’ve made this offer to you. He is, in fact, quite pleased to become a member of our family.” He paused. “Through you, of course.”

“I’m sure my father would take great pleasure in seeing me wed,” Anna said. “I am not, however, interested in having that groom be you.” She shook her head to stop his response. “You’ll make some woman quite happy. You’re most pleasant to look at and your charm is obvious.”

“I suppose I should thank you for the compliment.” Edwin met her stare. “But you must understand that arrangements have already begun for our union.”

“Arrangements?” Anna kept her tone light, her attention focused on the man guiding her across the floor. Where was Jeb Sanders when she actually needed him?

“Miss Finch.” He paused. “Anna. You must understand my visit was not a random appointment to become reacquainted with my brother. I’ve known of you and your plight for quite some time through correspondence with your father.”

“Correspondence with my father?” Anna attempted to pull away from him, but Edwin refused to allow it. “And no one thought to inform
me?”

Her dancing partner looked baffled. “Why? Your father made a compelling case for you. Nothing further was needed to pique my interest. All that remains is to formalize our union with a wedding. In Britain, of course. While your little town is quite charming, certain persons of quality would be unable to attend.”