The Lone Rancher (20 page)

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I can build another house instead of restarting the new addition. As for Elda, she seems happy working for Cahill.”

He clutched her arm when she started past him. “Cahill hasn't asked for your hand?”

“No, why should he? He doesn't need mine since he has two hands of his own,” she teased.

Butler didn't smile, just watched her intently. “Would you marry him if he asked?”

Adrianna didn't want to have this discussion. It was bad enough that she'd fallen head over heels in love with Cahill. The prospect of admitting her feelings aloud to
him terrified her. She suspected Cahill's affection for her only lasted until they lay exhausted and content in bed.

“I don't know, Hiram,” she said, then cast him a pointed glance. “Maybe in ten years. That seems to be the proper length of time for a courtship, don't you think?”

While he grumbled at her sassy retort, she strode to her room. That should keep him quiet, she mused as she undressed. Furthermore, she didn't have time to fret over the unrequited love she harbored for that silver-eyed rancher. They were in the midst of their private investigation to determine if his parents' wagon wreck was or wasn't a robbery turned disaster.

At least Cahill had included her in the search for the truth so she could spend more time with him. For now, it would be enough, she told herself before she fell asleep—with dreams of Quin's incredible passion dancing in her head.

 

Bright and early the next morning Adrianna rode to 4C to accompany Cahill and their prisoners to town. “I can't wait to pass along the information about these two thugs using the supposed curse as a cover to rustle and set fires,” she said confidentially.

“I'm wondering if we should also let it slip that these two scoundrels
might be
involved in the murder. Whoever is responsible might become careless if someone else is blamed.”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “But we don't want to give Marshal Hobbs an excuse not to search out the killer and his conspirators.”

Cahill shrugged his broad shoulders, then glanced back to ensure Chester and Ezra were still bound tightly and weren't plotting an escape. “I keep wondering if these two incidents are somehow connected, but I can't put it together.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “It's pure torture, not knowing if my parents' accident was caused by a robbery. My chance of finding out might have died with the unidentified man at Phantom Springs.”

Adrianna reached over to give his muscled forearm a sympathetic squeeze. “I know it must be maddening. Maybe you should contact your brothers and sister and let them know the possibility exists—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly and decisively. “My family moved on with their lives. Until I'm certain whether it was an accident or disastrous robbery, I'm not dragging them into it. I sure as hell don't want them to think I used this as an excuse to bring them home.”

He sounded so intense and determined that she decided not to debate with him. Obviously, the resentments and conflicts between siblings still existed. Cahill was too proud and stubborn to ask for help. He'd asked for assistance with the ranch duties after the funeral, only to watch his family ride off to chase their own rainbows.

As she had chased hers by coming to Texas. She cast him a pensive glance. Did he secretly hold that against
her,
too?

Adrianna stared into the distance, hearing the whistle announcing the morning train's arrival at Ca-Cross. She recalled the first time she'd stepped down from the passenger car to view the town. She'd been full of
anticipation, excitement and dreams of making a place for herself as a successful lady rancher.

Thus far, all she'd done was embroil herself in a private feud with Cahill, become the victim of rustling and arson, add fodder for local gossip…and fallen in love for the first—and likely the only—time in her life.

She studied Cahill's ruggedly handsome face that sported a day's growth of stubble, remembering how his mercury-colored eyes could shimmer with passion or flash with temper. She smiled to herself and thought it was better to get her heart broken by a brawny cowboy than to be in Boston, countering the schemes of gold diggers who saw her as the key to unlocking her family fortune for them.

“What are you smiling about, Boston?” Cahill asked.

“Just wondering what adventure awaits me next,” she lied convincingly. “I've been here about six weeks and my life is brimming with excitement and mystery. Those dime novels about the Wild West have become
my
life. I have no complaints.”

“That's Texas for you. Never a dull moment.” He winked at her. “As for me, I'd die of boredom in a place like Boston.”

“I
did,
” she replied, and grinned impishly. “I'm feeling much better now.”

 

Although Quin tried to persuade Boston to chitchat with her cousin at the boutique while he incarcerated the prisoners, there was nothing doing. According to Boston, she had discovered the connection between Ezra Fields and Chester Purvis so Marshal Hobbs could deal with her, like it or not.

Which Hobbs didn't because he seemed to have an aversion to headstrong women like Boston who were quick of wit and sassy of retorts. Hobbs, like so many backward-thinking males—in the East and West—thought women should stay in their places.

Quin almost chuckled, remembering how he'd made the foolish mistake of telling Boston to go home…and stay there. Now, the thought of her living a few miles away from his ranch, while he was stuck home alone, was pure and simple torment. He'd be miserable if she moved back to her hometown.

Quin cast aside his meandering thoughts as he untied Ezra and Chester. He quick-marched them into the marshal's office. As usual, Tobias Hobbs wore his stylish three-piece suit and his bowler hat hung by the door. Hobbs raised a curious brow when he noticed the prisoners' scuffed-up condition.

“Now what?” he muttered. “You taking the law into your own hands and bringing along your sidekick?”

Quin wondered if Hobbs would ever learn to keep his mouth shut. He couldn't have riled Boston more if he tried.

“For your information, Hobbs, I did my own detective work and uncovered the plot of rustling and arson.”

Quin smiled to himself, knowing she still was hassling Hobbs to take the pressure off him because he'd been a murder suspect. He also thought she enjoyed her role as agitator.

“You?” Hobbs's dark brows shot up his forehead to collide with his hairline. His startled gaze bounced between Boston and the prisoners.

“Furthermore,” she added in her crisp Eastern accent,
“I have evidence to prove these two men purposely set fire to my home and I will be turning the evidence over to the court myself.”

He jerked upright in his chair. “Are you suggesting—?”

“I'm suggesting,” she cut in sharply, “that I am handing over evidence directly to the judge. These two men admitted they were hired to keep the story about a supposed curse alive as a diversion while they rustled on and burned my ranch and the 4C, and
I
will admit the evidence in court.”

Hobbs glanced at the criminals, then turned his attention to Quin. “Apparently, you dragged the information out of them. There are laws against vigilante justice.”

“After the sloppy way you handled the murder case, I'm not certain of your ability to enforce any laws,” she countered caustically.

Ah, how Quin loved to watch this firebrand in action. She was indeed at home and thriving in the wide-open ranges of Texas. Hobbs was getting huffy but he deserved her harassment…which reminded Quin…

“Perhaps we have solved the murder for you, too,” he insisted as he herded the captives to the cells.

Hobbs stopped being annoyed with Boston long enough to toss Quin a surprised glance. “You think they tried to extort money and set you up for murder, too?”

“We did no such thing,” Chester protested loudly. “Okay, so we were hired to prey on Cahill and the woman but we didn't know who set it up. We were contacted by anonymous notes from the very beginning. And that's the truth!”

“Sound familiar? Anonymous note?” Quin prompted the marshal. “I, for one, would like to see the face be hind these mysterious directives, wouldn't you?”

Grumbling, Hobbs surged to his feet to lock the captives in their cells, then he wheeled around to fetch the necessary forms from his desk.

“You can file formal charges, Cahill. I'll ask around town again to see if anyone can identify the dead man.”

He glanced toward the prisoners, who had plunked onto their cots. “Did they give up a name and save me the trouble of looking?”

“No,” Quin replied. “Would you admit to involvement with a dead man until you gained clemency?”

Hobbs pensively stroked his mustache with his forefinger. “No, I suppose not.”

While Quin filed criminal charges, Boston breezed past Hobbs. “Unless you need my statement I'll be in Rosa's shop.”

Hobbs frowned and scowled. “No, you can go…
please
.”

She flashed an ornery grin and said, “Are you glad you met me yet, Marshal?”

“Elated,” he muttered caustically. When she shut the door behind her, Hobbs turned to Quin. “It is beyond me how you put up with the mouth on that feisty female.”

Quin bowed his head over the form he was filling out and swallowed a grin. He loved Boston's lush mouth. Hobbs had no idea what he was missing.

 

Adrianna gave Rosa the boiled-down version of the capture of the men responsible for the rustling and arson. Rosa stared at her in amazement.

“You think you've put a stop to local thieving? That's marvelous! Did those scoundrels confess to silencing their partner and extorting money at Phantom Springs?”

“No,” Adrianna grumbled. “But I wouldn't be dismayed if word spread the men might be involved in murder.”

Rosa nodded comprehendingly. “I'm not one to spread gossip to my clients but I'll make an exception to clear Quin's name.”

“Thank you. Cahill has enough problems trying to figure out if his parents made a careless mistake on the curve of the road or if they were trying to avoid a robbery and crashed at high speed at Ghost Canyon.”

“I imagine that
not knowing
disturbs Quin greatly.” Rosa shot her a pointed glance. “Fortunately, you are close by to console and support him.”

“We moved out yesterday,” Adrianna reported.

“Did you?” Rosa busied herself by selecting a bolt of fabric for one of her new creations. “A pity. I thought you and Quin made an interesting couple.”

Adrianna smirked. “You mean we
deserve
each other? He's hardheaded and outspoken and I'm a hoyden at heart.”

Rosa glanced over her shoulder and said, “You know what I'm asking, Addie K. What are your feelings for Quin?”

“Oh, by the way,” Adrianna said, avoiding the topic and the direct stare, “Hiram and Beatrice plan to marry. I'm letting them use my house. I wonder if I might take your offer to camp out in your apartment until I can build a home for myself.”

“You and Elda?” she questioned curiously.

“Elda delights in working for Cahill. He's in love with her gourmet cooking.”
But not with me,
she tacked on silently.

“You can use the apartment as much as you want because I've been closing up early and riding home before dark,” Rosa informed her. “Besides, we should be in our new house soon.”

“Thanks, Cuz, now that we have the robberies and fires under control, perhaps I'll have more free time to visit you and Lucas. Also, I'd like to purchase some of his colts.”

“I'm sure he's agreeable. We'll schedule an evening visit next week…and you can bring Quin.”

“I don't need a matchmaker,” she complained as Rosa toted the bolt of fabric to the workroom.

“Luckily, you get a matchmaker and dress designer all rolled into one,” she said cheerily, then winked. “Have a nice day, Addie K.”

A
fter concluding business in town, Adrianna headed home. She had several duties to tend to before she circled back to the 4C to meet Cahill. He had taken Rocky with him to recover the cattle Ezra and Chester had stashed in the ravine to the north. They planned to check for other livestock that might have been penned up by the thieves.

She nudged Buckshot into a faster clip and her thoughts drifted back to the two traitorous cowboys undermining both ranches. Something sinister was going on here, she mused. Talk of robbery and involuntary manslaughter in Ruby and Earl's wagon wreck disturbed her. Setting Cahill up for murder annoyed her. She wanted answers but none were forthcoming.

According to Ezra and Chester—if they were to be believed, and how much was a thief's word worth?—they weren't involved in the Phantom Springs murder and the wagon wreck. What the blazes was going on and who was responsible? Were there
two
gangs of criminals
lurking about, taking advantage of each other's illegal activities?

Her curiosity was aroused and Quin was in turmoil. She wanted to do all within her power to make his life easier by solving the mystery—quickly.

Her thoughts scattered when she reached home to see Butler standing on the porch, staring into the distance. She frowned warily as she dismounted. “Is there a problem?”

“No more than usual,” he replied with a shrug. “I was just thinking about the two men you and Cahill put in jail. I remembered seeing the saddle horse you described. That Ezra character has been here several times this month. I guess I was too busy settling in to realize the man didn't belong here.”

“Not your fault.” She entered the house that still held the faint scent of smoke. “Those hooligans were operating in the area before we arrived. We were fortunate to make the connection.”

“You wouldn't have if you hadn't sneaked out to follow Cahill after you were ordered to stay home under guard,” he said darkly.

She flashed an undaunted grin. “I was lucky to see the two horses outside the bunkhouse and to realize there were
four
men conspiring to extort money from Cahill.”

He followed her into the office, grumbling. “Still, you could have been hurt.”

She shrugged off his concern as she squatted down to open the safe. “Everything turned out fine, except for the stitches in Cahill's head.”

“And don't forget his stint in jail,” Butler didn't fail to point out.

Adrianna wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “Dealing with that by-the-book marshal didn't help. At least he didn't put up a fuss when we brought in Ezra and Chester. But I don't think he likes me much.”

Butler smirked behind her. “He might be nicer to you if he knew
exactly
how much money you're worth. Most men are.”

He was right, she mused as she grabbed several stacks of banknotes. “After I pay the men's wages, I'm taking Elda back to Cahill's. That's where she wants to be. I'll be home later tonight. But I plan to stay at Rosa's apartment in town tomorrow. You and Bea can have this place to yourselves.”

“You're too good to us,” Butler murmured, then got all choked up. “For what it's worth, I tried to convince your father that he could never mold you into the genteel, soft-spoken woman your mother was. But he was determined to create you in her image…without success, thankfully. I like you just the way you are.”

Adrianna hugged him close. “Thank you for trying to make him see who I really was, not who he wanted me to be. As for the use of the house, it's my good deed for the year,” she said, grinning. “Besides, you and Bea are my family.”

And what a shame Quin didn't have the support and connection with his siblings that she had with her adopted family. She would make a point to hassle him about that. Maybe his siblings had mellowed after their lengthy separation. Perhaps they wanted to reconcile—
and were waiting for someone like Quin, the eldest—to initiate a reunion.

She stepped back, then patted Butler's cheek. “If you wouldn't mind helping Elda gather her things, I'll make the rounds to pay the cowboys.”

Butler nodded his brown head, squared his shoulders, then strode off. She smiled wryly. For all Butler's stoic manners, he had a sentimental heart, the sweet, endearing man.

Lurching around, Adrianna grabbed an oversize pouch from the desk to carry the payroll. Thank goodness those rustlers were in jail so she didn't have to fret about being attacked for the money. Speaking of money, she planned to offer a loan to Quin since the money for his payroll had been stolen during his attempt to buy information at Phantom Springs. He was likely too proud to accept the loan, but she knew he hadn't had time to visit the bank after incarcerating the rustlers.

She glanced northwest, hoping Rocky and Cahill would return with the confiscated cattle, hoping other thieves weren't lurking to take potshots at them. Quin didn't need holes blasted in him. He hadn't yet recovered from having his skull hammered.

“I'm ready!” Elda called from the porch, jolting Adrianna from her pensive musings.

The cook stood beside several suitcases and a sack of special utensils she'd brought all the way from Boston. When Isaac Moss, a tall, clean-cut but young cowboy brought the buggy, Elda scuttled down the steps and climbed onto the seat—with Isaac's assistance. A moment later, he had the luggage loaded and Adrianna took up the reins. She glanced northwest again but there
was still no sign of Rocky and Cahill—and that made her anxious.

“That was an incredibly nice thing you did for Butler and Bea,” Elda said as she settled herself on the seat. “Glad they finally decided to tie the knot.” She stared pointedly at Adrianna. “All that sneaking around at night isn't good.”

Adrianna ignored the comment and found herself wondering what it would be like to be married. The only man she'd consider was the one who'd never ask. Ironic, she mused with a remorseful smile. She'd heard proposals galore for seven or eight years—but never from the right man.

 

When they arrived at 4C, Adrianna called to Skeeter Gregory. The wiry, thirty-year-old cowboy jogged from the barn to help Elda down, then he scooped up her luggage and utensils.

“Nice to have you back, ma'am,” Skeeter drawled. “Sure have been missing those mouthwatering cakes and cookies you sent to the bunkhouse for me and the other men.”

Adrianna watched the plump-faced cook beam in satisfaction, then she patted Skeeter's leathery cheek. “You can expect more desserts once I'm settled in, my dear boy.”

Apparently, Elda, who hadn't married and had no children, had decided to mother Cahill and his hired hands. No doubt, they showered her with constant compliments. Elda felt more useful and needed than she had at the mansion in Boston.

Adrianna understood because she felt more alive in
Texas than making a halfhearted attempt to become the woman her father expected her to be.

Once Elda was upstairs putting away her belongings, Adrianna ambled back to the buggy. She frowned warily when she noticed the same gawky Mexican boy, riding a burro, who had delivered the anonymous note the night Quin got clobbered and set up for murder.

“For Señor Cahill,” the boy said with a heavy Spanish accent. Then he extended the folded note.

“Who sent you?” Adrianna demanded.

The boy shrugged beneath his tattered poncho. “It was on my burro's saddle, as before, along with a few pesos.”

“You saw no one?” she questioned intently.

“No, señorita,” he said before he rode away.

Adrianna unfolded the note, and noticed the handwriting was different from the first one. Yet, the message was similar.

She cursed sourly. The note gave no hint that robbery or accidental manslaughter was involved. But Adrianna was anxious for information to appease Cahill's curiosity. The anonymous notes Ezra and Chester received suggested a similar method of operation. What the devil did that mean?

Were the four men who were involved in the murder and extortion at Phantom Springs connected to the mastermind behind the arson and rustling? What about
George Spradlin, her former foreman? Was he mixed up in this? And what did anyone know—if anything—about Ruby and Earl's wagon wreck?

For sure and certain, Adrianna wouldn't allow this rendezvous to play out the way the last one had.
She
was going in Cahill's stead. He could back her up—which is how it should have played out at Phantom Springs, she told herself sensibly.

Her unexpected appearance would surprise the would-be informants, she reasoned. No one was going to set up Cahill a second time for murder—if that's what these encounters were really about. Or was it a scheme to dispose of a gang member and steal money? If Cahill followed her—and she was certain he would, mad as hell at her though he'd likely be—he could get the drop on these hooligans. His dealings with Ezra and Chester were proof enough that Cahill was a tough, deadly force to be reckoned with. He had certainly impressed Adrianna when he had outdrawn the outlaws.

Determined of purpose, she left the note in the parlor, along with a letter she'd written. She borrowed Cahill's Sunday-go-to-meeting hat and a jacket that hung by the front door. She hiked to the barn to borrow a saddle horse that looked similar to Cactus. She left her carriage by the house to ensure Cahill went looking for her.

A relieved smile pursed her lips as she glanced northwest to see Cahill and Rocky appear on a rise of ground, herding cattle to the corrals. Good, Cahill wouldn't be too far behind her. Just far enough that he couldn't discourage her from following through with her plan to disrupt the outlaws' scheme and have Cahill provide reinforcement.

With a pistol tucked in her waistband and her trusty dagger in her boot, she trotted toward the junction of the three creeks at sunset. She veered to the eastern side of the tree-lined stream so Cahill wouldn't spot her immediately. No matter what else happened, he
wasn't
going to be clubbed on the head or bushwhacked, she vowed resolutely.

The thought of him being hurt was unacceptable. She was in love with the man, after all. She would do all within her power to protect him from harm. It was her way of expressing her carefully guarded affection without blurting out her feelings and facing embarrassing rejection.

“This is your second good deed of the year,” she told herself as she trotted away.

 

Quin herded the cattle he and Rock had found in an obscure box canyon into the corral. He'd hoped to locate another note with instructions, but no such luck. He wondered where the stolen cattle had been sold but it would take time to check around. Damn it, he wanted answers…now.

His mood improved when he noticed Boston's carriage near the house. A passionate evening spent in the privacy of the master suite held tremendous appeal. Leaving Rocky to sort 4C cattle from McKnight cattle, he trotted Cactus to the house.

“Hey, boss! Elda's back!” Skeeter called to him.

Quin nodded and smiled. Skeet had a sweet tooth that wouldn't quit. Quin's appetite, however, required a steady diet of a green-eyed, chestnut-haired firebrand named Boston.

He barreled through the front door but she wasn't there to greet him so he went looking for her. She wasn't in the kitchen or dining room and neither was Elda. His stomach dropped to his boots when he veered into the parlor to see two notes lying on the seat of his father's leather chair. With mounting dread, Quin approached, wondering if there was something symbolic about where the notes had been placed.

He plucked up the first one that offered information about his parents' wreck and he noted different handwriting. He picked up the second note in Boston's elegant script—and cursed the air black and blue. Twice.

Yours truly? Quin swore he'd never live to see the day she signed a note “Love, Adrianna.” “Dang and blast it!” he roared. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman?”

Damn the woman; he knew she thrived on excitement and adventure but she faced uncertain danger. She was putting herself in harm's way
for him
. That tormented him to no end.

Scowling furiously, he stalked outside to mount Cactus. Too many things could go wrong with Boston's harebrained scheme. Besides, this was his problem, not hers. “Someone needs to get control of that woman…
if that's even possible,” he rumbled as he gouged the bloodred bay gelding in the flanks and raced off, praying he wouldn't arrive too late.

 

Adrianna dismounted in a stand of trees. She took the precaution of stashing the money pouch behind an oversize stone on the path. She intended to use the money as insurance.
No answers, no money,
she vowed as she walked toward the meeting site. Her plan was to find out everything she could and stall until Cahill arrived. As plans went, it was iffy at best. But it provided protection for Cahill.

“Toss out your pistols, Cahill,” came a gruff voice from the underbrush to her left.

The sound startled her but she composed herself, gathered her courage and tossed her pistol into the clearing beside the junction of the three creeks.

“Where's your other six-gun?” the man demanded.

“I only have one,” she called out.

“What the hell—?” came a deep voice from her right.

That accounted for
two
men, she thought. Where was the
third
man?

“Take off that hat!” the first bandit ordered sharply.