Anna Finch and the Hired Gun (10 page)

Daniel gave the pair a confused look, then followed Jeb. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said when they stopped a safe distance from the house. “Aren’t you here as a guest tonight?”

A chill wind blew across the lawn, and Jeb huddled in his coat. “I am. Thought I might borrow a spare room to change clothes so I’m not spotted until I want to be.”

“Of course,” Daniel said. “You know you’re always welcome here, my friend.”

“I appreciate that.” Jeb kicked a rock out from under his boot as he decided how to tackle the subject of Edwin Beck, Daniel’s younger brother and the man who both fathered Charlotte Beck and removed Daniel from the family business back in England.

His old friend had never offered details, and Jeb never asked. He saw all he needed to know: a man who’d come to Denver to make a new life and succeeded.

There was only one reason Edwin Beck would come looking for Daniel. He wanted what Daniel had, be that wealth or family. As long as Jeb drew a breath, he would have neither.

Daniel gave him a sideways glance. “Securing a room at the Beck Inn is not why you’ve got me standing out here, is it?”

“No,” Jeb said slowly. “I hear Edwin’s paid you a visit.”

He looked up sharply. “Yes.”

Jeb chose his words carefully. “Do you want him out of Denver?”

“No.” Daniel let out a long breath. “Much as I would like not to, I’m going to try to settle things with my brother.”

“That’s admirable,” Jeb said.

“It’s for Charlotte.” He paused. “And our father. The earl’s not getting any younger, and I know his fondest wish is that Edwin and I settle our differences.”

“Does he know what those differences are, Daniel?” Jeb shook his head. “Forget I asked that. None of my business.”

“You’ve been a friend to me and my family too long to claim that,” Daniel said. “The truth is, I’m unsure what my father knows.” He looked up at the house, then returned his attention to Jeb. “I
hoped you were here early to talk me out of hiring Thompson. You know you’ve always been my first choice.”

“I appreciate that,” Jeb said, “but you’re getting a good man with Hank, and I’ll still be around if you’re of a mind to lose at cards.”

Daniel’s hearty laugh was answer enough. Then he sobered. “This assignment of yours. Should I be concerned?”

Jeb laughed. “I’m almost ashamed to tell you. I’m playing hired gun to your neighbor.”

“Someone after Barnaby Finch?”

Jeb spied activity at the stables, but it was only Isak speaking to a pair of stable hands. “I’m shadowing his daughter.”

“Anna?” Daniel shook his head. “Why? Surely she’s in no danger.”

“According to her father, her only danger is from herself. Apparently he’s having some trouble marrying her off.”

“I repeat: Anna?” Daniel paused. “I’ve known Anna at least ten years, and I can’t recall a single time when she’s been anything other than a proper lady. What man wouldn’t be delighted with someone like that? Surely you recall meeting her at some point. You must have.”

Daniel described her, and Jeb shrugged. “Might be best if you just pointed her out. I’ll take it from there.”

“Of course, and I would ask one favor from you.”

Jeb met his stare. “Anything.”

The look on Daniel’s face told Jeb this was no simple favor. “Should Barnaby Finch decide my brother is a candidate for Anna’s hand, I would very much appreciate you preventing that from happening.”

He didn’t need to think about his answer. “Consider it done.”

Daniel consulted his watch, then gestured to the door. “Gennie will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

Jeb fell into step behind Daniel.

“One more question,” Daniel said. “How did you convince my wife to change her Roman theme at the last minute?”

“Oh, that was simple.” Jeb shrugged. “I told her it was your idea.”

Long after she’d returned home, Anna thought about the mountain man. Questions darted across her mind, but only one paused long enough to stick.

How could she make this right?

There was no good answer, of course. Money would not repair the damage her bullet had done. An apology, heartfelt and sincere, would be the beginning. And of course, she’d insist on seeing he received proper medical treatment.

But how to find him? Anna paused to consider her options. Were it not for the need to give an explanation, she might have sent Mr. McMinn back into town with a description of the man. She briefly considered speaking with Papa about making some sort of restitution but discarded the option. He was angry enough with her already.

Unable to solve the problem of the mountain man, Anna set her mind on the notes she’d taken on Wyatt Earp’s story, looking up from
them only when the maid knocked to ask if she wished for any help in dressing for the evening. After spending the day toiling over a factual tale that was much more exciting than any dime novel, the last thing Anna wished to do was spend yet another evening away from her desk. But it would be her final chance to see Gennie for some time, so Anna set aside her pen and paper in order to play the obedient daughter to her doting parents.

At least that was the image Anna attempted to convey as she passed through the familiar gates of the Beck home. The night was crisp, and the ring of misty clouds around the moon promised wet weather before dawn. With the twilight’s dusting of stars came a chill wind that her wrap, chosen for looks rather than effectiveness, did little to dispel.

It was a night meant for snuggling under her quilts and reading—or preferably writing—until her eyes refused to remain open. If only she could flee these festivities and return to her story about Wyatt Earp.

“Evening, Mr. Finch,” a familiar voice called. When she and Mama turned, Mr. Thompson, Papa’s Pinkerton friend, tipped his hat. “Evening, ladies,” he said.

“Good evening, Mr. Thompson.” Mama slid Anna a sideways look, and Anna responded with a similar greeting.

“Meant to discuss something with you,” Papa said to the Pinkerton as they fell into step together. “That situation we talked about. It’s under control?”

While Mama pretended not to listen, Anna held no such pretense. In fact, she was extremely interested in whatever situation Papa felt worthy of discussion with a Pinkerton.

“The project’s in better hands than mine,” Mr. Thompson said. “I’ve put my best man on the job.” He fixed his attention on Anna. “You see, tomorrow I’m turning in my badge and taking on the job of chief of security at Beck Mines.”

“It’ll be a shame to lose you,” Papa said. “Is Daniel paying you well enough to leave the Pinks?”

“He is paying me very well, actually.” Mr. Thompson again turned his attention to Anna. “And while I’m leaving the agency, I won’t be leaving town. Rest assured you’ll still see plenty of me.”

Papa clasped Hank’s shoulder. “Good to hear, isn’t it, Anna?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered, though Papa hardly noticed her response.

“I’ve got a meeting with Hiram Nettles in Leadville, which will likely keep me out of Denver for a spell.” Hank slowed his pace to allow Papa to go ahead of him. “But once I return, I’ll be able to keep an eye on the situation even if I’m no longer in Mr. Pinkerton’s employ.”

“That’s comforting,” Papa said, “though I’d like an introduction to the man who’ll be taking over. Might that occur tonight?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

They reached the door, and though Mr. Thompson continued to speak, Anna’s mind had moved well past the words coming out of his mouth. Instead, she tried to imagine why a man would leave one career for another. What would cause a Pinkerton to leave the agency for a job where the best he could expect was to be at Daniel’s beck and call?

Unfortunately, before she could form a theory, Mama spied the ink stains on her fingers.

“Where are your gloves?” she whispered while Papa entered the house and began greeting the other guests.

Before Anna could answer, her mother pulled a spare pair from her bag and thrust them into her hands.

“I’ll not have you meeting a potential husband in such a manner.”

“Potential husband?”

“Didn’t your father mention it?” Mama asked with an innocence Anna recognized as pure fabrication. “Well, nevertheless, you’ll be on your best behavior as the gentleman in question is certainly unused to women who conduct themselves as heathens.”

Heathen?
“Mother, what are you—”

“You shall be lucky to land him, Anna. That is my last word on the subject.”

Anna tamped down her frustration and kept her voice low. “Mother, are you saying Papa intends me to be looked over by someone who
might
be interested in marrying me?”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Her mother’s smile was broad and quick, but it disappeared as she made a grab for Anna’s wrist. “You’ve been close to the altar before, Anna, and each time something unfortunate prevented the marriage. Your father doesn’t see what I do.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I see a young woman repeatedly causing her own trouble.”

Anna swallowed hard. “Whatever do you mean?”

Lady Montclair and her husband drew near, and her mother paused to exchange endearments, all the while keeping a tight grip on Anna. “You’re not getting any younger, Anna. This may be your last chance at a man with all his teeth and decent eyesight.”

“If so, then he’s already better than the last three Papa sent my way.” Anna shook her head, not caring who watched them. “No, four. There was that railroad man. What was his name? Ah yes. Mr. Turnbull. Mr. Turnbull, Senior. Emphasis on ‘senior.’ How old was he? Sixty?”

“He was a young fifty-three, and if you do not lower your voice and convince everyone staring at us that you’ve been making the most charming joke, I shall go immediately to your father and tell him you’ve embarrassed us yet again.” Her mother managed all of this in a tone just above a whisper and yet with more emphasis than if she had shouted.

So, obligingly, Anna smiled. Then, as her mother nodded, she giggled.

“Now put on the gloves.” With a look that promised later discussion, Mama swept off in a swish of skirts, trailing after Papa as their names were announced.

Anna briefly considered tossing the awful gloves behind the nearest potted plant, but Papa and Mr. Thompson were watching her, and she’d already disappointed her father enough for one week. Should he catch her in yet another act of defiance, she might find herself engaged before the orchestra struck the first note.

Maybe even to Mr. Thompson, especially now that he’d be in Daniel’s inner circle. Perhaps the soon-to-be-former Pinkerton was the man to whom Mother referred. Anna could feel him watching her, and when she met his stare, his ears reddened.

She sighed. Where was the Pinkerton whose exploits capturing murderers, thieves, and other villains made the papers? Surely he
didn’t stammer when he demanded the surrender of the criminals he caught. There seemed to be two of him: Thompson the brave Pinkerton agent, and Hank, the man with the puppy dog stare and perpetually scarlet ears.

If he was the potential suitor to whom her mother referred, at least his inability to speak clearly in her presence would give her ample time to run from any proposal of marriage he might attempt.

Anna searched the ballroom for her hosts, but Daniel found her first and waved. Her old friend’s easy smile had once set her heart aflutter and made her babble like a fool whenever she attempted polite conversation. In recent years, however, Daniel had become like the brother she never had, a man given to gentle teasing and warm affection.

“Daniel,” she said, smiling.

“Beck. Always a pleasure.” Papa moved between Anna and Daniel. Her host opened his mouth to speak, but Papa clasped his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. “Where’s that brother of yours?” he asked. “I—”

“Darling Anna!” Gennie called as she moved toward her. “You’re here.”

“Is this Anna?” A man who looked vaguely familiar removed himself from Mama’s embrace and focused his attention on her. “Enchanted.”

Anna stared at him. Green eyes. A smile at once warm and wicked. A soft yet firm handshake that lasted just a moment longer than proper.

“Anna Finch,” he continued, and her name rolled like soft thunder
toward her. “It is a pleasure. I’ve traveled far to make your acquaintance.”

“Mine?” she managed to squeak.

He turned to Gennie. “Do introduce us.” Anna noticed his tone was not nearly as sweet when he spoke to Gennie as it had been with her.

“Yes, of course,” Gennie said with a sideways glance at Daniel. “Anna, do meet—”

“Edwin.” The stranger released his grip on Anna’s hand and captured her wrist. “Edwin Beck.”

“Edwin Beck,” she echoed.

Of course. She should have known. And yet everything she’d heard about this brother of Daniel’s had led her to believe he must look as unpleasant on the outside as he had to be on the inside.