Читать книгу Romancing The Runaway Bride - Karen Kirst - Страница 15

Chapter Two

The baker was hiding something. Adam had to work harder than usual to project an air of mild curiosity and to mask the trepidation that swelled inside him. But then, the stakes were higher than usual. This woman could be the key to solving the puzzle of his father’s disappearance nine years ago. She could very well lead him to the blackguard who’d swindled an entire town, laying waste to countless families, including his own.

Not long after Gilbert Halloway went missing, entrepreneur Zane Ogden produced evidence that Adam’s father had acquired a high interest loan against the family’s property. Adam had smelled a rat. Not for one second had he believed that his father would do business with a man like Ogden, especially after he’d advised their neighbors against it. Adam’s brothers, Seth and Russell, hadn’t shared his conviction. After all, how could they dispute Gilbert’s signature? Big Bend’s sheriff had witnessed the transaction. Their differences of opinion on the matter and Seth’s insistence on paying back the “loan” had been the impetus for his hasty decision to leave the ranch and join the Union army.

Adam studied Deborah’s reaction with a practiced eye. Anxiety shrouded her. The skin around her eyes had become pinched. The pale blue vein at her throat fluttered like a nervous bird. Her hand searched and found the gold brooch fixed to her bodice, fingers clinging to the odd-shaped jewelry. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Their hostess entered bearing a basket of butter-slathered yeast rolls. “Sorry to keep you waiting. These beauties took longer than usual to brown.” With a smile that transformed her mannish features, Aunt Mae gestured for everyone to have a seat while she assumed her place at the head of the table.

Adam clenched his fists at his sides. Deborah’s shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She’d been spared...this time.

The blonde named Hildie steered him to the empty chair beside her, with a view of the hallway entrance and the blue and white parlor beyond. Deborah and Sadie found places opposite them. Aunt Mae asked him to say grace, something he hadn’t done aloud in many years. His voice sounded rusty to his ears. His life had become a solitary venture, his faith in God a private thing.

His childhood experiences had been different. Back then, he’d accompanied his parents and two older brothers to church services every week, and social outings were shared with their fellow congregants. Memories of his mother and brothers evoked a multitude of emotions, chiefly sadness and regret. He hadn’t seen them since the day he stormed off the farm. They’d exchanged a handful of letters through the years. Lately, though, he’d yearned for a long overdue reunion. Maybe, once he’d captured Ogden, he’d travel to Missouri and surprise them.

Hildie drew him out of his ruminations and peppered him with questions. She was a persistent young woman. Unlike Deborah, the blonde’s eagerness for a husband was unmistakable. He could’ve told her that men who sensed a woman’s desperation would run in the other direction.

Deborah remained quiet throughout the meal, speaking only when spoken to and not once meeting his gaze. He’d have to get her alone somehow. As impatient as he was for answers, his instincts said he’d have to go slowly with this one. He would have to earn her trust, make her think they were friends.

His opportunity came sooner than expected. At the meal’s conclusion, she offered to help Aunt Mae clean the dishes.

Aunt Mae patted her hand. “You’ve been in the kitchen all day. Hildie will help me, won’t you, dear?”

Hildie hesitated. “I was about to invite Adam to join me in a game of checkers.”

“Plenty of time for that tomorrow.” The older woman dismissed her excuse and pushed a bowl into her hands. “Carry that in for me.” To Adam, she said, “It’s Deborah’s habit to stroll about town every evening after supper. Perhaps you could join her.”

Deborah worried her bottom lip. “I’m certain Mr. Draper is tired from his travels.”

He smiled at her. “I’m never too tired to spend time with an intriguing lady. And please, call me Adam.”

Consternation flitted over her features. “Sadie, would you like to come?”

“I’ve got letters to write,” she demurred. “Maybe next time.”

Deborah gestured limply to the door. “I suppose it’s just the two of us, then.”

Did her reluctance to be in his company stem from embarrassment? Or did she suspect he was more than what he claimed?

* * *

Deborah was certain her companion perceived her unease.

God, please don’t let him ask about the train again. Or why I was clad in a wedding dress.

Was it fair to ask Him for help in this deception she’d created of her own volition? Probably not. If she’d fought her arranged marriage at the outset instead of meekly falling in with the plans, she wouldn’t have had cause to flee her home. Her father’s initial declaration—that he’d promised her to his oldest friend and business associate, Tobias Latham, a man thirty years her senior—had blindsided her. Gerard Frazier had intimated that this union was her last chance to redeem herself and make up for all the ways in which she’d disappointed him. Unable to refuse the rare opportunity to earn his approval, she’d buried her objections.

The newspapers had printed the official announcement. Friends, some dear and some not, had attended a grand engagement celebration in her and Tobias’s honor. Gerard had hired an assistant to guide her in the ceremony planning. The weeks had sped by in a whirlwind of activity until the day arrived for her to pledge her life to a man she barely knew.

Like a coward, she’d bolted without telling a single soul. Not even Lucy, the one person who understood her better than anyone else. She’d waited until reaching Kansas before contacting her sister.

Oh, Lucy, I wish you were here now.

“Would you prefer to go alone, Miss Frazier?”

Adam’s quiet voice pierced her cloud of introspection. Beside her on the shadowed front porch, he watched her with a subdued expression. Guilt pinched her. Here she was engrossed in her problems, without giving a single thought to how he might feel. She’d been in his position not long ago and remembered feeling overwhelmed by the vast, untamed prairie and a little lost amid a crowd of rowdy cowboys, busy shop owners and unwed females jostling for the best bachelors.

“Of course not. I’m happy to show you the town.” Descending the shallow steps and traversing the footpath through the tidy yard, she passed through the gate opening and onto the boardwalk. “Which way shall we go? Left toward the stockyards or right toward the opera house?”

Hands deep in his pockets, he looked both ways and shrugged. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

Deborah led him in the direction of the opera house, drawing his attention to various points of interest. At this hour, wagon traffic was almost nonexistent and the shop windows were dark. Town wasn’t entirely deserted, however. Cowboys were usually out and about, dining at various eateries or paying a visit to Mr. Lin’s laundry services. If there was a show at the opera house, folks congregated in the vacant lots surrounding the building. With all the activity, she felt safe walking the streets alone. That was something she never would’ve been allowed to do in St. Louis. Deborah savored the sense of independence.

As they passed the saddle shop, she pointed out the Longhorn Feed and Grain. “You’ll do a lot of trading there if you decide to settle here.” Her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s wrong with your current place?”

Her blunt query sparked amusement in his rich brown eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Why then would you leave your home and start afresh?”

“I’ve a soul prone to wander, I’m afraid. I like to tackle new challenges simply to ascertain whether or not I can succeed.” His teeth gleamed white in the darkness. “I have several operations across the state of Missouri, but none in Kansas.”

Alarm skittered along her spine. “Missouri, huh? What part?”

“Big Bend.”

Not terribly close to St. Louis. “Do you consider any of those places home?”

“There is one that’s special to me.” His smile struck her as sad. “Over two hundred acres of prime land. Fertile fields dotted with cattle stretching into the distance, with occasional tree groves to block the wind. Near the house, there’s this section of the stream that’s wide and shallow, and my brothers and I used to fish and swim there every summer.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

His face shadowed. “Two. Both older.”

Sensing his reticence, she squelched her questions. “It sounds like a wonderful place to live.”

They passed the livery, which was usually humming with activity.

“Have you ever been to Missouri, Deborah?”

There was no lying about the fact. The other brides knew she’d boarded the train there. “I was born and raised in St. Louis.” Before he could probe further, she directed his attention to the bakery on the next corner. “Can you believe Cowboy Creek has two bakeries? Impressive for a town this size, don’t you think?” She darted over to the main window. Bare, boring tables and chairs occupied the dining area. “I’ve wondered why the owner, Mr. Lowell, doesn’t take more pride in the shop’s appearance. A shame, really. The other one is much better.”

His shoulder brushed hers, his woodsy scent pleasant to her senses. His presence wasn’t entirely unwelcome, she acknowledged. It was nice to have someone to talk to, for a change, as long the subject matter didn’t wander into dangerous waters. Perhaps she’d confide in him about her little quest to solve the mystery of the Cowboy Creek thefts. Ever since the bride train had arrived two months ago, odd items had gone missing from various shops and residences, including a porcelain doll. There were rumors that two children had stowed away on the train, but those hadn’t been substantiated.

“I meant to tell you how much I enjoyed your rhubarb tarts tonight. You could’ve chosen to bake a standard pie and everyone would’ve been equally pleased. Do you always pour so much of your energy into your baking?”

“It’s the thing I most enjoy doing in life. It’s my version of a challenge. Instead of building a cattle empire, I create desserts.”

He tapped the window of the bakery. “Your tarts would sell out in minutes here. Does Mr. Lowell offer anything similar?”

“I haven’t seen anything beyond basic breads, cakes and pies.” The quality of his products was questionable. In her opinion, the only reason he remained in business was because the cowboys who passed through town didn’t have high standards.

“Your talent is being underutilized at the boardinghouse. Have you considered opening your own bakery?”

Wistfulness gripped her, only to be replaced by cold reality. Her sojourn in Cowboy Creek was supposed to be temporary. Staying in one place would make it easier for Gerard and Tobias to find her. But she hadn’t yet been able to bring herself to leave.

She turned to face him. “This town doesn’t need a third bakery.”

His eyes were molten and unreadable in the shadows, but his unwavering focus still twisted her into knots. No other man had affected her this way. None of her acquaintances in St. Louis, and none of the locals who’d approached her in hopes of courting her. Most assuredly not her older groom.

She shuddered.

“Perhaps Mr. Lowell would be interested in retiring.”

A nervous huff escaped her lips. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about operating a business.”

“You strike me as an enterprising woman. If you truly wished to, you’d find a way to make it happen.”

Dumbfounded by this stranger’s evaluation of her, she reached for the comforting reminder of home. He noticed and commented.

“That’s an interesting piece of jewelry.” His fingers gently nudged hers aside to trace the brooch’s edges. “What is it?”

Deborah’s heart thudded inside her chest. Adam was standing very close, his head lowered to get a better look. Light from a nearby lamp shone on his dark brown hair and, for a second, she entertained the thought of skimming her hand over the shiny locks.

As if that wouldn’t be inappropriate.

“I, ah...” She forced herself to stand stock-still as his knuckles skimmed her collarbone. “It’s a rolling pin. A gift from Lucy.”

Lucy, the example of propriety, who’d commiserated with Deborah over the years and helped smooth their father’s ire whenever she displeased him.

He released the brooch and lifted his head. His face was so close she could feel the soft puff of his breath on her skin.

“Lucy again. Why isn’t she here with you? Did she not share your yearning for adventure?”

Deborah struggled to order her thoughts. Why must a random cattleman rattle her so? “Adventure?”

“You’re a single woman who has left family and friends behind to start afresh in a new, unfamiliar place. You may not want to admit it, but you, Deborah Frazier, possess an adventurous streak.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed in his face. Thirst for adventure had been the very last thing on her mind that final day in Missouri.

An argument between two cowboys rose in volume outside the laundry, a few paces farther down the side street. Adam grasped her elbow and guided her farther along the main street.

“You haven’t run into any trouble alone out here, have you?” he said.

“Not once. Sometimes they whistle or toss out invitations, but I’ve never felt threatened.”

“Let’s hope you never do.”

Touched by his chivalrous attitude, she didn’t at first notice he’d stopped short and was staring at the law office window. Belatedly, she angled back, only to catch sight of a curious expression on his rugged features.

“Is something the matter?”

He looked stricken, as if someone had delivered the worst news of his life. His throat worked. “Do you know this man?”

“Russell Halloway? Sure, I’ve spoken with him on occasion. He’s a good sort, for a lawyer. I’ve heard of his extensive work with war veterans, a commendable service if you ask me.”

His gaze glued to the gold lettering, he said, “I used to know a man by that name. Is he young? Old?” A vein ticked in his temple. “Can you describe him?”

“He’s young, in his twenties. Short, dark hair. I’m not sure what color his eyes are, though. He’s distinguished looking, like you.” His gaze jerked to her. There was no amusement this time. He didn’t seem to recognize her or their surroundings. It was as if he were lost in another time and place.

Deborah dared to lay her hand on his arm. His forearm jerked. “Are you all right, Adam? Did the man you once knew hurt you in some way?”

“What? No.” He blinked and shook his head. His eyes cleared. “I must’ve been mistaken. Gotten the name mixed up.” Gesturing in the direction of the boardinghouse, he said, “I’m afraid my travels have caught up to me. How about we continue this tour tomorrow?”

He did look rather fatigued. “Of course.”

They returned to Aunt Mae’s in relative silence. In the yard beneath the overarching branches of the live oak, he stopped her. “Thank you for spending the evening with me, Deborah.” He took her hand in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. His lips were soft and warm, his breath a heated caress over her skin. Her knees threatened to buckle. “Considering you’re a recent newcomer, I trust you to give me an honest view of the town.”

“I’ll do my best to help.”

His answering smile was fleeting. After bidding her good-night, he disappeared into the boardinghouse. She climbed the steps in a daze and sank onto the porch swing. Cowboy Creek had just acquired another mystery, it seemed, in the form of one Adam Draper, Missouri cattleman.