Anna Finch and the Hired Gun (31 page)

“I welcome the truth,” she said, “and will answer any questions you might have about my qualifications. I would ask the same of you.”

“Of course.” He steepled his hands. “Then we shall start.”

Jeb paced outside the door of the outlaw’s hotel room. Anna was inside. The letter from Holliday had been easy to find.

This time the anger he felt was tempered by other less understandable feelings. After their kiss in the woods, Jeb knew he must choose. Either he continued as her protector or he bowed out in favor of a Pinkerton who would actually do the job.

Right now he was all but useless where it concerned Anna Finch.

He could hear laughter through the door, and it nearly killed him not to kick his way into the room. Doc Holliday was not the safe man Anna thought. Far from it.

If he harmed her …

The silence was worse than the laughter. Finally Jeb could bear it no more. The door opened on the second push, and he spilled into the room, landing on his feet. Holliday looked up from a table filled with papers while Anna rose to greet him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

“He’s protecting you, Miss Finch,” Holliday said. “That’s what Pinkertons do. They protect. Isn’t that right, Mr. Sanders?” Before Jeb could respond, Holliday snapped his fingers. “Help me with something. On our last visit, you mentioned an occasion when we spent time together. Did you say Fourth of July of ’77?”

“I did,” Jeb replied, not bothering to temper his curt tone.

“Your accent marks you for a Texan.” When Jeb ignored the statement, Holliday continued. “Ever been to Breckenridge, Texas?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

Holliday shrugged. “On the Fourth of July, 1877, I was a guest of their detention facility.” He directed a look at Jeb that was almost a dare. “Look it up.”

Anna slid between Jeb and Holliday. “He doesn’t have to. I have
it right here.” She reached into the case and thrust a report toward Jeb. “He’s right. See?”

Jeb took the page and read it. Then he read it again. Slowly he lowered it and handed the paper back to Anna.

“So you couldn’t have …” He paused, unable to continue.

“Killed your woman? No, it’s quite impossible.” Holliday turned to Anna. “That’s the story you need to tell. Catch that man, Anna.”

Jeb shook his head, anger still pounding at his temples. “That’s my job, and I’ll do it without her.”

Holliday nodded. “Surely you could, but you’ll be sorry if you don’t let her help.”

He looked at Anna. “What is he talking about?”

“Research. Weeks of it.” She gestured to the table. “I tried to tell you before. I have proof.”

While Jeb gathered up the pages, Anna turned to Holliday. “About the book—perhaps I could contact my editors at—”

“Not yet. There’s something more important today.”

Anna shook her head. “All right,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Two things.” He paused to take another sip of the water she’d given him. “First, I want you to help this man find out who’s been impersonating me and see that justice is done.”

Jeb looked up from the various papers. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“Now, wouldn’t that be a fine change? The law on my side for once.” Holliday’s smile was weak. “I do like it. Now the second thing, that’s going to be a bit more difficult.” He turned his attention to Anna. “I’m going to extract a promise you’re not going to like.”

“All right.”

“Those letters you’ve been mailing for me, you know they’ve all been going to the same person at the same address.” When she nodded, he continued. “When you hear I’m gone, I want you to take your copy of that story and send it off to her.”

“I prefer not to.” She gathered up her research. “But I will.”

Holliday looked past Anna to stare at Jeb. “I know you’ve wanted to kill me for a long time. It’s going to take some work to transfer all that desire for revenge to the man who did the killing. I trust you’ll manage it.”

“Let’s go,” Jeb said to Anna, the last of his patience wearing thin. “You’ve spent enough time here.”

To her credit, she did not argue. At least not until they were seated on the train back to Denver.

“You had no right to follow me,” she said, though the lack of fight in her voice showed she knew it was a weak argument.

“We had an agreement,” Jeb said when he’d bit back enough anger to manage it. “And I had to come find you. You lied to me.”

“I did not,” she said. “I …”

“Exactly.”

“I wanted the story,” she said.

He let out a long breath. She wasn’t making this easy. “Enough to lie?”

“I only promised that what happened last time wouldn’t happen again. And it didn’t, not exactly. We’re in a completely different town, for one.”

Jeb swiveled in his seat. “You just don’t understand, do you? I’ve
cared about you since—well, I can’t even tell you when I fell for you. I did, though, and sure as you shot me, I will bear the scars of it. And I don’t mean the one on my belly.”

“You care about me?”

Her surprise twisted in his gut. “You’re the reporter, Miss Finch,” he said, “did you miss the clues?”

“Clues?”

Outside, the landscape rolled past. Jeb knew he’d waded into dangerous territory. Silence was the best answer right now, but he had to keep going.

“I kissed you,” he said loud enough for anyone in the car to hear. “Regularly.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “You did.”

“And contrary to what you may think of me, I am not a man given to kissing a woman unless there are some pretty strong feelings tied to it.” He paused to take a breath. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Miss Finch?”

“I do,” she said softly as she reached to entwine her fingers with his, “and under the circumstances, I wonder if you might call me Anna.”

“Anna,” he said with the last of his ire, “you need to promise me you will not sneak off to visit that man again.”

“Jeb,” she said. “Kiss me.”

So, weak man that he was, Jeb did. But he didn’t miss the fact that her answer was no answer at all.

When Anna returned home, she discovered that one of the letters tucked into her writing case was addressed to her instead of the Atlanta nun. She opened it with a smile, knowing her next set of train tickets was inside.

While she hadn’t exactly promised Jeb she wouldn’t meet Holliday again, she also hadn’t said she would. Thus, when she left home three mornings later and watched the sun rise from a train car headed for Bender’s Creek, her excitement was tinged with more than a little guilt.

This time Doc met her at the station, his health such that he appeared to suffer none of the effects of the consumption. “Lovely to see you,” he said as he led her past the few buildings that made up the town and into the hotel. “I hope your reputation’s not suffering from our meetings, Miss Finch,” he said as he closed the door behind
him. “Or should I leave this open so the Pinkerton doesn’t have to make such a dramatic entrance this time?”

“If you wish,” she said, “though I’m fairly certain he’s not followed this time.”

And he hadn’t, though he did meet her at the train station in Denver that evening, mad as a hornet and ready for a fight.

“Before you say anything, I made no promises to you, Jeb,” she said as she allowed him to hand her into the buggy. “I will not be put into a position of choosing between you and a story.”

“It’s a story now? I thought you and Holliday were collaborating on a book.”

She studied the toe of her shoe rather than look at the anger so evident on his face. “We are, actually,” she said. “Though I don’t see what difference it makes if—”

“You see what you want to see, Anna Finch,” he snapped. “That’s the problem with you.”

“Is it, now?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Tell me about Ella.”

Jeb slapped the reins and the horse shot forward, throwing Anna back against the seat. Instead of turning toward home, Jeb aimed the horse for the prairie, neither stopping nor answering her questions until they reached the scene of their first kiss.

There by the river, with the water lapping almost benignly against the rocks, Jeb brought the buggy to a halt. For a long time they sat in silence. Then he cleared his throat, his attention still focused on the river.

“Ella was my wife. Doc, or whoever that man was, shot her.”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned to face her, his hands still holding the reins. “I am too, Anna,” he said. “She was a good woman, and she’s dead because a man who wanted to kill a Pinkerton killed his wife instead.”

Anna leaned over to place her hand over his.

“I gave it all up after that. Liquor and the law. Didn’t want any part of the Pinks.” He paused, and Anna felt his hand move slightly beneath hers. “Hank Thompson’s the reason I’m back with the Pinkertons. He came and got me. Told me about Jesus and made me see that to lay back and let a murderer get away wasn’t how a man behaved.”

He took in a ragged breath and, with his free hand, swiped at his cheek. Anna reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his handkerchief.

His smile disappeared almost as soon as she offered it. “I’ll never put another woman in harm’s way again.”

“Jeb,” she said, “I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

“Of course,” he said. “That’s what you do, after all.”

“Loving you doesn’t mean I’m being put in harm’s way.”

He stared at her. “Are you saying you …”

“I’d prefer you to say it first, actually,” Anna said. “Hurts a girl’s pride if she has to be the one.”

“But what if …”

“Jeb, stop stalling,” she said. “And if I might ask, I’d like a kiss as well.”

He obliged, and when he’d kissed her thoroughly, Jeb lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “Anna Finch, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve gone and fallen in love with you.”

In love
. Her heart sang and she felt an inexplicable giggle rising in her throat. “Jeb Sanders, that is not the kind of declaration that gives a woman goose bumps. Can’t you do better than that?”

“Not with words,” he said, his voice husky. He kissed her again.

This time when he moved away, he held tight to her hand. “I will have a promise, Anna Finch, and I won’t allow any evasion. You will not see that man, Doc Holliday, alone again.”

She thought only a moment. “Then come with me. Would you do that?”

Two kisses later, he finally agreed.

Anna almost floated down to breakfast. She expected to find Jeb at the table, but instead only Mama and the familiar stack of papers awaited. The
Denver Times
sat atop the pile, so after she’d completed the required small talk with her mother, she quickly turned to the horrid Mr. Mitchell’s column. Satisfied no mention had been made of Saturday’s trip to Bender’s Creek or the buggy ride to the river, Anna set that paper aside and reached for the next.

“Will you be going out again today?” her mother asked.

Anna picked up her coffee cup and shook her head. “I hadn’t intended to,” she said as innocently as she could. Thus far her mother hadn’t inquired as to the cause of her extended absences. As for her father, likely he either did not know or assumed the hired gun was worrying enough for the both of them.

“Then if you will excuse me, I’ll go and prepare for my morning.”

“Of course,” Anna said as she watched her mother leave. Finally alone, Anna reached for the rest of her newspapers. On the third one,
a headline that spread the width of the page caused her breath to catch in her throat.

She glanced at the name of the paper and her heart sank. “The
Bender’s Creek Standard
. Oh no.” She began to read the article.

“What’s got you looking so serious?” Jeb asked as he took the chair across from her and began filling his plate from the platters of food Anna had yet to touch.