Texas Moon TH4 (44 page)

"Why?" Janice cried.

Peter looked at Daniel, then looked at the road ahead. "I suspect Stephen knows who I am," was the only reply he made.

He didn't need to say more. Daniel sent him a look of comprehension. "He's from Ohio?"

Janice nodded. "But not from Cutlerville."

"It doesn't matter. Mulloney Enterprises is known beyond Cutlerville." Daniel grimaced. "And I'm probably the one who told him about your marriage. I had it announced in all the papers."

The final piece fell into the puzzle. Stephen hadn't come looking for her until after he'd heard about her marriage to a wealthy man. Janice closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. She'd married Peter for his money. It served her right to have it thrown back in her face this way. She should never, ever have done it.

Peter caught her hands and kept her from clenching them into little balls that would have been painful if she hadn't worn gloves. "We'll find him, Jenny. He can't get away from all of us."

She kept telling herself that over and over as the wagons rolled down the hills toward Gage. She even tried to believe that Stephen had just wanted his daughter, that he hadn't known where to find her until he saw the marriage notice. She wanted to believe that everything would be all right, that no one would hurt a little girl, but she had seen too much of the world to believe her own lies. Even if Stephen didn't hurt Betsy deliberately, he didn't know how to take care of a child with Betsy's delicate constitution. Anything could happen to her before they caught up with him.

* * *

"What in hell is she doing now?" Stephen asked irritably as the train bumped and jerked into the next station.

Bobby had grown tired of watching the kid and was half asleep in his seat. He opened one eye and watched as Betsy handed the conductor a folded sheet of paper. Stephen grabbed it before the man could look at it, and Bobby shrugged and closed his eyes again, wondering why his companion had bothered asking.

The conductor frowned and eyed Stephen suspiciously as he opened the paper, but Stephen ignored him. He should have known the paper would just contain another one of her interminable sketches, but he couldn't take any chances. If she could sign her name, she could write messages asking for help. He folded the scribbling back up again and handed it to the conductor, shrugging and saying, "Kids. You never know what they're up to."

The man still didn't look too happy, but he smiled at the sketch when he opened it. "She said she'd draw me a picture if I gave her my pencil. It's a fair exchange." He patted Betsy on the head and wandered off.

The child looked completely angelic sitting there, her hands folded in her lap and her smile innocent. Stephen didn't remember much about Janice when she was young, but he remembered himself well enough. The little brat was up to something.

The train chugged to a halt. Grabbing Betsy's hand, Stephen jerked her from the seat and headed for the door. His plans didn't count on anybody finding them until he had what he wanted. The Mulloneys owed him, and he meant for them to pay.

It took Bobby a moment before he realized they were getting off. He staggered to his feet and followed, protesting, "I thought we were going to San Antonio. What in hell are you doing?"

"Losing anybody who tries to follow," Stephen replied curtly, half dragging the child by the hand across the station platform to the street.

"I thought you said nobody would follow." Bobby took a hasty swig from his flask. He liked things to be easy. He didn't like the thought of Peter Mulloney coming after him with a gun. "I thought you said there wasn't anybody there but the woman, and she can't ride."

"She got up there somehow. She'll find some way to get down. We're not taking any chances." Stephen reached the porch of the dilapidated hotel across the street. He halted and shook Betsy's arm until she looked up at him with that wide-eyed innocent gaze he was coming to despise. "Not a word out of you. If I hear you talking to another soul, I'll slap you until your ears ring. Do you understand me?"

Betsy had never been slapped in her life. She continued staring at him as if he were an alien from another planet. He gave her a disgruntled look and pulled her into the hotel lobby.

Once the three of them were upstairs and behind closed doors, Stephen pulled out the meager contents of his pocket and handed a bill to Bobby. "Go buy some boy's clothes that look like her size," he commanded. "And don't you dare spend any of that on whiskey or I'll break the bottle over your head. If you want your share of the proceeds, you're going to have to start holding up your end of this deal."

Bobby looked at the bill, then at Betsy. Even half-drunk Bobby could tell there was nothing boyish about the kid. He had serious doubts about this whole affair. He was ready to go back home. Ellen might be a pain sometimes, but she didn't nag and complain like this bastard did, and she provided certain comforts he wasn't likely to find on the trail. And if this idiot thought he would hide the kid by putting boys' clothes on her, he was a little cracked in the brainpan.

"She don't look like no boy," he tried to offer.

Stephen reached in his pocket and opened the folding knife he kept there. "She will when I get done with her."

Before either of his companions knew what he would do, he grabbed a handful of Betsy's newly grown curls and hacked them off.

Chapter 36

By the time the wagons reached Gage the next day, Peter's fever had returned full strength. Janice sat beside him in the wagon bed and tried to persuade him to drink water, but he shoved her hands away more often than not.

Evie offered to help, but Janice couldn't relax her silent vigil. Her daughter had been stolen by a madman and now fever tried to steal her husband. She was all but helpless in both cases, but she didn't intend to give up. Setting her lips, she lifted Peter's head and brought the canteen of water back to his mouth.

Daniel ran from the town's biggest hotel and climbed into the wagon bed. "I've got you a room. Let's haul him out of here."

Tyler and Manuel joined him, and between the three of them, they half carried, half dragged Peter through the hotel and up the stairs, Janice following close behind.

A cry from the lobby below caused her to glance around.

"Mrs. Mulloney!" Sherman Townsend stood in the front door, staring up the stairs at her.

Evie caught her elbow and whispered, "Do you know that man?"

"He's Peter's partner. He came looking for a physician." Picking up her skirts, Janice hastened back down. "Did you find a doctor?" she asked before she was halfway across the room.

Townsend shook his head. "I've asked all over creation. I rode to Silver City first, but that one's gone to San Francisco. I took a chance and came here instead of over to Lordsburg, but the man here got shot in a brawl just last week. I was thinking about going on over to Lordsburg. That'd be easier than El Paso. I tried telegraphing you. Didn't you get the message?"

Janice shook her head. "The telegraph operator left to visit his mama a few days ago, Henry told us." With fear clutching her heart, she looked up at the rough man who had stood beside Peter all these months. "I'll look after Peter myself, but my little girl has been stolen. You haven't seen any little girls around here who look like her, have you?" She didn't even notice the admission she had made. Neither did the man in front of her. Beside her, Evie blinked but said nothing.

Townsend crumpled his hat and stared down at her, shocked. "Stolen? Who in hell would steal a kid?" Then a look of bitter knowledge crossed his face. "Someone heard about the gold?"

Janice shook her head. "No, I don't think so. It's personal." Then realizing they had left everything this man had worked for these last months in an unprotected shack, she motioned for him to bend over. When he did so, she whispered in his ear. "The sacks are behind the rocks in the fireplace." When he nodded and straightened, she added honestly, "I had to borrow some to get down here."

He looked more worried than relieved. "Tell me what I can do to help find your little girl."

Evie apparently decided it was time for her to step in. She caught the big man's arm and led him toward the stairs. "Come upstairs with us. We're going to have a council of war. The more heads, the better."

Janice tagged after them, sick to her stomach. She didn't see how anybody could miss seeing Betsy if she'd been here. It wasn't exactly as if a town like this teemed with children. What if Stephen hadn't come this way? Where else would he go?

She listened and tended to Peter while the others talked. Manuel ran to fetch the sheriff at one point. Daniel went out to talk to the local telegraph operator. Evie sketched Betsy's likeness on dozens of sheets of paper as the men argued. Peter woke long enough to take some broth and insist that wires be sent to every station along the Southern Pacific line, both east and west. The expense would be enormous, but even Townsend didn't object when Peter ordered Janice to hand over what gold she still carried.

Tyler and Daniel had fits, but they couldn't argue for long with an unconscious man. Peter slipped back into delirium not long after, and Evie chased them out of the room. Daniel prepared to catch the evening train going east to post Evie's sketches at those stations. Townsend offered to catch the next westbound train. Not trusting the sheriff to do a thorough job, Tyler set out to question everyone in town, leaving Manuel to look after the women.

They spent an uneasy night. Janice refused Evie's help and stayed beside Peter, feeding him when he woke, sleeping beside him when she could. She heard Tyler wander past her door sometime after midnight. She figured if he had good news, he would stop to tell her, but he didn't stop. Manuel took a blanket and slept outside their door, taking his position as guard and messenger seriously. Janice encouraged him to find a bed, but he refused, and if she would admit it, his presence reassured her. This wasn't exactly a quiet town on a Saturday night.

She wasn't sleeping very soundly at dawn when Peter woke. She felt the heat of his skin as he pulled her closer, and she stiffened, but he did no more than hold her.

"Is there any news?" were the first words he spoke.

"None," she muttered worriedly. It was good to have Peter's arms around her, but she couldn't relax while a man with no pride or morals hauled Betsy around the countryside.

Peter was silent for a while. Finally, he said, "I let you down, didn't I? I meant to take care of you so you would never have to worry again."

"You couldn't have foreseen this." It might be easier if she could blame somebody, but she couldn't. She had learned long ago that life took strange twists and turns and one couldn't predict them. She could only build fortresses against those things she knew about. She'd thought marrying Peter for money would give her added protection. Maybe it would in some ways, but not the ways that counted.

"I could have forgotten the damned mountain and taken you back to Ohio. I could have been with you."

She'd had those thoughts, but they were empty ones. She shook her head. "And made it easier for Stephen to find us?"

He kissed her nape. His lips were dry and hot, but she shivered at the touch.

"A man could learn to love a woman like you real easily," he murmured.

"A woman who marries for money?" she asked scornfully.

"A woman who marries for love. You married for Betsy, didn't you?" His hand stroked her breast through the nightgown.

She nodded at the truth of that. Everything she had ever done for ten years had been for Betsy. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wouldn't give in to them.

"We'll find her."

He climbed out of bed before she could protest. Janice sat up and stared as Peter reached for his clothes. His clean clothes had been lost with the horse and his saddlebags. He could only put on the ones he'd been wearing for nearly a week. They were stained and crumpled and beyond repair, but he didn't even seem to notice. She could remember a time when he dressed in silk shirts and frock coats. She shook her head. That wasn't the same man.

The man standing there now was unshaven. His unruly dark curls hung around his shirt collar. She could see the dark hairs on his chest above the open top button of his shirt, something she would never have seen back in Ohio. She didn't think the fever had completely left him, but instead of being pale, his face was dark and weathered from overexposure to the sun and wind. This man would never fit in a fancy department store back East.