Flora's Wish (9 page)

O
f all the nerve! Stolen property? I have no need of stealing anything, Mr. McMinn. The idea of it is preposterous.” Flora shook her head. “And how dare you accuse me of colluding with a person of that ilk? I am a woman of careful associations.”

His chuckle belied his formidable presence. “Careful associations? Is that what you're calling your engagement to Will Tucker? A careful association?”

It was. Though she was loath to admit it to the man now, Flora had used those exact words in her letter to Father.

Again he touched her watch. “Tell me where you got this.”

“It was a gift.”

“From?”

Once again, Flora met his gaze. Under other circumstances she might have allowed herself to note the way the dappled sunlight played across the angles of his face. The way his lashes, raven dark and thick as a woman's, brushed high cheekbones when he closed his eyes.

Now, however, she willed herself to form a more dispassionate opinion. Considering the man held the key to the handcuffs circling her wrists, the effort was not difficult to manage.

“From my fiancé.” She let out a long breath. “Mr. Tucker.”

A nod. And then another shift of positions as if he were seeking to assure himself they were truly alone.

“Look, I want Tucker, not you. He is the true criminal. At least, that is my current assessment. It could change.” Before Flora could protest, Mr. McMinn held up his hands to stop her. “Did you ever wonder why the letter
M
was engraved on the back?”

Indeed she had, but Mr. Tucker had explained it quite well. “That's the initial of his mother's given name. The watch was hers.” Flora gave him a sideways look. “How did you know about the engraving?”

He said nothing for a moment, allowing her to draw her own conclusion. “Because I have an affidavit on file proving the watch's ownership.” Another pause. “And asserting that your fiancé stole it.”

She looked up sharply but said nothing. The handcuffs weighed heavily against the skin of her wrists. If only she'd thought to bring her gloves along when she left the suite this morning.

“Miss Brimm? Don't you have an opinion on what I've told you?”

“Of course I do. I don't give one whit for what your affidavit says. The assertion is preposterous.” She said it as much to convince herself as to make her companion see reason. “I know Mr. Tucker, and he wouldn't…” Again she shook her head. “He just doesn't appear the sort.”

“And appearances are everything with your set, aren't they? Which is why you're willing to marry him.” His eyes swept the length of her and then returned to meet her gaze. “You know very little about him. Just enough to become his wife but not enough to say for certain that he got that watch from his dead mama. Am I right?”

“Please understand you've said nothing to change my mind about my…that is, about Mr. Tucker. However, you are correct in your assertion that because it was a gift, I have no bill or receipt for the watch. And until its true owner can be determined, I would like you to remove it from my wrist and place it in the sheriff's custody.”

He certainly hadn't expected that. This much she could tell from the way he covered what had to be surprise with a nod. “At least you've been honest about one thing.” He made quick work of releasing the clasp on the watch to slide it off her wrist. “I'll be sure and note that in the report.” After dropping it into his pocket, he swiveled to face her. “Now there's just one more thing you and I have to decide.”

She tamped down on the urge to respond with sarcasm. Instead, she opted for charm school manners, the better to sooth the irritated beast. At least that was her hope.

“And what might that be, Mr. McMinn?”

“Will you help me catch this criminal, or should I deliver you over to the Eureka Springs sheriff and continue my investigation unassisted? I should warn you that I will be successful in either case.”

“Successful in catching him or successful in finding him guilty?” Again she offered a demure look. “For the two are not mutually exclusive. And for the record, though you've convinced me of your identity as a Pinkerton agent, you have not yet convinced me of my fiancé's identity as a criminal. Are we quite clear on this?”

“Fair enough, Miss Brimm. How about this? You point me in Tucker's direction, and I'll see that he gets a fair trial.”

“And if I choose not to? Just so I know the full array of options available.”

“If you choose not to, I'll turn you over to the sheriff and bring Tucker in without you.”

“Not much of a choice, I suppose.” She gave the matter a moment's thought. “All right, Mr. McMinn. But understand I will only help you find Mr. Tucker because I believe his innocence will be easily proven.” She ignored his expression of disagreement to gesture toward her reticule. “Might I post this letter before we return to the hotel?”

Mr. McMinn pulled his watch from his pocket to consult the time. “I don't suppose it will hurt to let you do that.”

“Thank you.” She lifted her hands. “Now, about these handcuffs?”

He shook his head. “They're staying right where I put them. I won't have you running off before I'm ready to turn you loose.”

“Don't you think people will wonder why I am riding around with a stranger wearing these?” She tried not to smile at the man's obvious irritation. “I would think a man who is conducting an investigation might not want to attract too much attention. Of course,” she added sweetly, “I'm just a novice, so perhaps I'm wrong…”

“All right,” he said sharply. “No need for sarcasm. I see your point.” He paused only a moment before shedding his suit jacket and draping it across her lap. “There,” he said with a grin. “All fixed. Just be careful not to make any sudden moves. You never know what I have in my pockets.”

Thinking of the odd spectacles and the things she had noticed last night, she had to wonder.

Still, her reputation would remain safely guarded and her letter would be posted. As he set the buggy in motion again, Flora resigned herself to a partial victory.

As they neared the bustling downtown area of Eureka Springs, she gave brief consideration to an escape. However, the thought of a possible arrest warrant frightened her almost as much as her grandmother's reaction should Flora arrive back at their suite wearing a Pinkerton agent's handcuffs.

In stark contrast to the lush forests of the surrounding countryside, the streets of Eureka Springs were narrow and winding. Ramshackle buildings edged in amongst hotels and bathhouses, all hugging the muddy thoroughfares with only the most rugged of walkways to separate them. Here and there gaps in the wood, limestone, or brick structures gave way to rock formations that, in places, trickled with the same spring water that bathers paid dearly to soak away their ailments.

The sidewalks, such as they were, teemed with people who appeared not to care whether they edged one another out of the limited space and into the muddy street. Occasionally Flora spied an oversized feathered hat or a flash of finely made skirts that might indicate someone of her social set. Thus, she kept her head low and her handcuffs well hidden beneath Mr. McMinn's coat.

When the buggy paused near the intersection of Spring and Short Streets, it only took a moment for attention to be drawn their way. “Truly, Mr. McMinn,” Flora said. “Might you dispense with these handcuffs and allow me to post the letter myself? People who know me could be within sight, and I—”

“You're staying put, Miss Brimm. Unless you've changed your mind. I'm sure the sheriff would be happy to let you roam a jail cell without those handcuffs.”

Ignoring him rather than offering a response seemed prudent. Still, she couldn't help wishing she had some means of removing the ridiculous restraints. With obvious reluctance she extracted the letter from her reticule and gave it to him.

“You, boy!” The lawman gestured toward a youth who might have been a newspaper hawker or perhaps in the business of shining shoes. He showed the ragamuffin three coins and nodded toward the post office across the street. “What do you say? Will you see that the postmaster sends this out?”

The young man adjusted his cap and offered a gap-toothed grin. “It's a deal, mister!”

Mr. McMinn handed over the letter and the coins and watched until the messenger disappeared inside the building. As the buggy moved away from the post office, Flora looked back to be certain the boy had indeed done as he'd been charged.

“Worried about something?” Mr. McMinn asked as he guided the horse back up the narrow street.

“Just making sure the letter gets posted.”

He gave her a quick sideways look. “You wouldn't want your father to miss the news of your wedding, would you?”

She gasped. “How did you know what the letter said?” She paused to reflect on a better choice of words, and then she began again. “About that. While I appreciate your need to follow through on your commitment to whatever case you're working on, I would very much like you to allow my marriage to go forward as scheduled. So if at all possible, could you conclude your business with Mr. Tucker today?”

Mr. McMinn laughed even as he urged the horse around a throng of buggies and wagons. “Miss Brimm, you are possibly the most self-centered woman I have ever had the bad sense to join forces with.”

To correct his assumption and let the man know her concern was for home and family rather than herself would be counterproductive at this point. And likely he wouldn't believe her anyway, especially if he had indeed secured a warrant for her arrest.

So Flora remained silent, her back straight and her expression such that anyone who might recognize her would think she was merely out for an afternoon drive with a handsome acquaintance. Unfortunately, her acquaintance had the irritating habit of tipping his hat and making conversation with every person who slowed down their drive.

By the time the carriage had traveled the length of downtown, Flora was ready to scream. When three pigs, two children, and a goat ran out in front of them, she did. Loudly and without apology.

Thankfully, he was able to maneuver around the obstacles without calamity, though she had to wonder how he managed it. She might have asked except that she spied the unmistakable form of the railroad executive who had hosted her and Grandmama for dinner just two nights ago. And with him was his wife, who had quizzed Flora at length about her unmarried state.

Flora immediately slid to the floor, where she hid as best she could under Mr. McMinn's jacket. While the sounds and smells of Eureka Springs were only slightly muffled, she hoped she might be hidden well enough to keep the gossips from talking.

“You're awfully skittish,” he commented as the buggy began the climb up toward the Crescent Hotel.

“With good reason,” Flora snapped.

“Oh, I see.” He chuckled. “I guess you're not keen on being seen with the likes of me.”

“Actually, I'm unsure as to which of two issues of concern would most damage my reputation.”

One dark brow lifted. “Oh, do tell me what those are, darlin',” he said with an exaggerated drawl. “I care so much for all of your issues of concern.”

“Thank you,” she said, as sweetly and sarcastically as she could manage despite her predicament. “Since you asked, I'll be happy to tell you. Not only would it be disastrous to be seen riding through the middle of Eureka Springs with handcuffs—that's awful enough—but worse?” She shrugged as she feigned abject horror. “What if someone actually thought I was enjoying a ride with you?” A shudder completed the statement, though she wasn't keen on glancing over to see how he had taken her jab.

“At least I remained in my seat. I wonder if anyone spied the drunken woman who couldn't remain upright long enough for the law to discreetly return her to her hotel?”

“Of all the nerve!” Flora fixed Mr. McMinn with a withering look. Unfortunately, he ignored her. Finally, she tired of staring and turned her attention to twisting around so as to be in a position to climb back onto the seat.