Читать книгу The Other Bride - Lisa Bingham - Страница 11

Phoebe gasped at the man’s effrontery. Her hands balled into fists, but she strove to control her temper.

So this was the great Gabriel Cutter. The same man who had decided to deny the mail-order brides their rightful passage on his train.

Her anger seethed anew.

“It is I who have business with you, Mr. Cutter.”

He didn’t seem impressed by her statement. Instead, he began circling her, scrutinizing every inch of her frame in a way that reminded her of a hungry lion she’d once seen being fed at the London Zoo.

“You’re a bit on the scrawny side.”

A choked “oh” burst from her lips before she could stop it. “Mr. Cutter,” she said indignantly, then quickly lowered her tone to a whisper when she captured the attention of those in the adjoining room. “Mr. Cutter, I would appreciate it if you would step outside so that I could have a word with you.”

He stopped, placing his hands on his hips. “There isn’t anything outside that can’t be said inside.”

“I wish to have a private conversation.”

“I’d be happy to have a cup of coffee with you.” He gestured to the room beyond the draped arch.

Phoebe felt her face flame at the mere idea. “Mr. Cutter, I couldn’t…I won’t…I—I…”

“Then good day to you, ma’am.”

As he offered her a mocking salute, Phoebe resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Of all insufferable, ill-mannered…

“Mr. Cutter, my name is Phoebe Gray and I have come to speak to you about a matter concerning the Overland Settlers Company.”

Cutter folded his arms and regarded her through half-lowered lids. The intense scrutiny had the ability to make the skin on her arms prickle with gooseflesh. “Ahh. So you’re one of the brides.”

The tone he employed made it clear that the news wasn’t particularly welcome.

His eyes narrowed. “What was your name again?”

“Phoebe Gray.”

“Phoebe Gray?” The intensity of his gaze seemed to harden ever so slightly—and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought that he’d known she was unused to the name herself.

Before she could think of something to say, Gabe stated tightly, “The answer is no. It was no last week, no this morning, and it will be no tomorrow when the train leaves the station.”

“Mr. Cutter—”

“No, Miss…”

“Gray.”

“No, Miss Gray. No, I will not change my mind. No, I will not allow nine unescorted women to accompany us West. And no, I don’t really care that you weren’t informed of the change sooner, or that you’ll all be stranded in New York. Now, good day to you.”

Phoebe was so stunned, so enraged by Gabriel’s pronouncement that it took her a moment to react. By that time, Gabriel Cutter had disappeared down a nearby corridor.

Huffing in indignation, she quickly followed him, discovering that the hallway led past the kitchen and dining areas to a narrow staircase. Sensing the man was heading for his offices, and fearful of losing him, she rushed to intercept him. Gabriel Cutter had just inserted a key in a door and was opening it wide when she burst past him into the room beyond and planted herself squarely in front of him.

“I’m not leaving until we’ve discussed this thoroughly, Mr. Cutter.”

Again his eyes narrowed. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to discuss.”

“At the very least you owe us an explanation for your edict.”

“I think ‘edict’ is putting it a bit strongly. Frankly, someone should have had the sense to point out that it’s sheer folly for a gaggle of women to go such a distance unaccompanied. But since no one else bothered to think things through, it was up to me to set things to rights.”

Her hands balled into fists and she wanted to smack him, but she managed to control herself for a few minutes longer.

“Mr. Cutter, I don’t remember the Almighty appointing you to be our guardian.”

“No, but two hundred settlers have paid me to ensure their safety.”

“As have we!”

“Which, as I’ve explained already, was a mistake. I’m sure the Overland Settlers Company will refund your fares—”

“When?”

He shrugged with a carelessness that caused her anger to burn so brightly she feared her hair would catch on fire.

“That’s none of my concern.”

“Well, it should be!” She was nearly shouting now, and it galled her that this man could have caused her to toss her manners aside and scream at him like a fishwife. Catching herself, she took several gulps of calming air, then began again. “Mr. Cutter—”

“It won’t do you any good to argue, Miss Gray. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

“But why?” She stamped her foot, then wished she hadn’t when she realized this man probably thought all females were hysterical during moments of crisis. Again she took several deep, fortifying breaths and said as sweetly as she should. “At the very least, Mr. Cutter, I think you should explain your reasoning. I hardly think that a group of women could cause much trouble on the train.”

Cutter began moving toward her, crowding her, so that she was forced to take a step back, then another and another. Too late, she became aware of her surroundings. Horror rushed through her when she realized that she hadn’t stormed into Gabe Cutter’s office as she’d supposed, but his bedroom. As her cheeks flooded with heat, she became overtly aware of the small bedstead with its rumpled sheets, a washstand littered with masculine toiletry items and a satchel stacked with neatly folded shirts and union suits.

“Sweet heaven above,” she whispered.

“It isn’t heaven you should be praying to, Miss Gray,” Cutter said, his voice low and dark, his movements taking upon themselves the prowling grace of a cat. “This is exactly why I’ve forbidden you women to accompany the expedition.”

The way he looked at her, the way her body had flushed hot, then cold, left her in no doubt as to what “this” represented. The room became thick with sensual undercurrents. Her breath hitched in her throat and an odd heat settled low in the pit of her stomach.

“Men and women can’t coexist without this getting in the way.”

He was so close to her now that she could barely think. Bit by bit, he’d closed off all avenues of escape except for the bed.

She licked her lips nervously, then wished she hadn’t when his gaze centered on that very point. “Nonsense,” she retorted, in what she had hoped would be a stern tone. But the word emerged unsure, even to her ears. “Men and women can behave quite civilly and…this doesn’t have to enter into things at all.”

Cutter shook his head as if he were disappointed by her denseness. “You’ve lived too long in rarified social circles, Miss Gray.”

For a moment, her heart seemed to skip a beat. How did he know? How had he guessed? Were her years of being in a strict girls’ school marked on her somehow?

But he continued on, oblivious to her panic. “It’s the same with most women. They’re born with blinders, for the most part. They believe that society’s dictates can control humanity’s baser instincts.”

Too late, Phoebe realized that she’d taken several more steps and become pinned in a corner between the wall and the bed.

Gasping for air, she flattened her hands against the plaster as if she could will it to crumble beneath the pressure.

Cutter took another step, his legs pressing into the fullness of her skirts, his head dipping, his own palms resting on the faded wallpaper on either side of her head.

“But no matter what rules you set, human nature will always surface. A man will always want a woman—and despite what she might have been told, a woman will invariably be drawn to the man.”

She felt herself trembling when his head bent.

He’s going to kiss you!

No, no, he wouldn’t!

But as the space between them disappeared and he came to within a hairsbreadth of touching her, Phoebe was shocked to discover that she wasn’t resisting the possibility nearly as hard as she should. There was a part of her that wanted to be kissed, that wanted to think she could attract such a man as Gabriel Cutter. A primitive man…a handsome man…a—

A sneaky, conniving, no-good rounder!

Just in time, Phoebe realized that she was about to help Gabriel Cutter prove his argument—and without so much as a whisper of protest.

Anger rushed through her again—anger at him, but even more at herself.

In that last second before his lips touched hers, she moved, bringing up a knee in a way she’d once been told to do by Mrs. Pritchard. Her aim wasn’t entirely true, but the surprise of her attack allowed her to push past Gabriel Cutter. In doing so, she snatched at the revolver holstered at his side, then whirled and pulled back the hammer, leveling the gun at him.

“Don’t move,” she warned fiercely. Biting her lip, she tried to steady the heavy gun, but her hands were trembling so badly that the tip of the revolver wavered. Nevertheless, she closed one eye and sighted down the barrel.

Cutter watched her with patent amusement, and the fact proved galling. How dare he treat her as if she were of no consequence? She was the one with the gun!

Clenching her teeth, she aimed at the bedpost next to him and pulled the trigger.

An explosion rocked the room. The gun kicked back, nearly causing her to lose her balance. Then her eyes widened in horror as she realized that she hadn’t shot the bedpost as she had supposed, but had nicked the upper corner of his sleeve.

Her stomach churned sickeningly as she waited for the blood to flow, but as Gabriel pulled the fabric aside to examine his arm, it was clear that the bullet had miraculously left him unharmed.

She was shaking so badly now that she nearly dropped the gun altogether. But when Cutter gazed up at her, his gaze dark and speculative, she knew that he hadn’t known her aim was off.

“Next time I’ll draw blood,” she said, mustering all of the bravado she could. “We’re going West with you, Mr. Cutter,” she insisted.

“Not without a male escort.”

The man was infuriating, positively infuriating!

Phoebe was about to argue with him further when she had a sudden thought.

A male.

Any male? Any male at all?

Her eyes narrowed. “What if we can find a male escort who is willing to accompany us tomorrow?”

He snorted in a way that made it clear he thought such an event unlikely. “If you can find a man to traipse halfway across the country with a passel of giggling mail-order brides before nine tomorrow morning, then you’re welcome to join us.”

Her heart pounded in her chest—this time with excitement. “I have your word on that?”

“You have my word.”

“Do I need your promise in writing, Mr. Cutter?”

A little muscle at the side of his jaw flickered. “My word is binding, Miss Gray.”

“Good.”

Without further explanation, she tugged at the strings of her reticule and dropped the revolver inside.

“I’m sure you have other guns, Mr. Cutter. As for this one, I intend to keep it until the end of our journey, to remind you that we aren’t nearly as helpless as you think.”

And with that parting shot, she whirled and marched out of the room, not stopping until she was once again in the hot afternoon sunshine. She had the matter of an escort to arrange.

By this time tomorrow, she would be on her way West.

Hurrying away from the Golden Arms as quickly as her feet would take her, Phoebe found the other brides waiting for her at the park. Judging by their hangdog expressions, it was clear they had prepared themselves for bad news.

“Well?” Mable breathed when Phoebe was nearly upon them.

“He’ll let us go if we supply a male escort.”

The women visibly wilted in disappointment.

“Then we’re in the same pickle we were in a few minutes ago,” Betty mourned.

Phoebe couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. “Not quite. I think I know where we can find the perfect candidate.”

The women looked doubtful.

“Where?” Edith finally asked.

“Prison.”

Twila gasped.

The others looked horrified.

“I don’t think we can break a man out of prison just to accompany us West,” Betty said, blinking in confusion.

Phoebe smiled. “We won’t have to stage an escape, you little goose. We just have to gather together a few coins to pay for the man’s passage from England.”

“Won’t Mr. Cutter object to a former prisoner serving as our escort?”

“I have his word that he will allow us to join the company as long as we have a male in tow—any male.” She patted her reticule. “I, for one, intend to see to it that he honors his word.”

Needing action to take his mind off Louisa—not, not Louisa, Phoebe Gray—Gabe returned to the makeshift office he’d made of his hotel room. Despite its tawdry reputation, the Golden Arms had large rooms, the modern amenities and enough privacy to let him get his job done.

Slamming the door behind him, he instinctively squelched his reaction to the memory of Phoebe and leaned over a table spread with maps. But he couldn’t focus.

How long had it been since he’d felt anything in the company of a woman? It had been years since the death of his beloved wife, Emily.

Not that he hadn’t tried to experience even the faintest stir of emotions. Knowing that he wasn’t the kind of man to “taint” a Sunday school teacher or a minister’s daughter, he’d found himself at the Golden Arms more times than he could count. But he’d found soon enough that he couldn’t will his body to respond. Emily’s death had been a blow to him, emotionally and spiritually. All of his tender emotions and sensual instincts had died the moment he’d found the body of his wife and small son in the orchard behind their house.

From that day to the present, Gabe had lived a life of torment. Plunged into an abyss of grief, he had not rejoined his unit for more than six months after his family’s deaths. His actions had branded him “yellow” and “untrustworthy” to his fellow officers, but he hadn’t cared. Once he’d returned to battle, he’d lived each succeeding day on the brink of disaster, purposely volunteering for one dangerous assignment after another. But the Fates had not granted his death wish.

In an effort to exorcise his memories, he’d drowned himself in his work as a Pinkerton. But never in all that time had his heart pounded with anything akin to real emotion.

Until now. In a single confrontation with a hellcat woman intent on journeying cross-country with a passel of mail-order brides, the tender scars on his heart had been torn wide open.

Growling in self-disgust, Gabe vowed that he would not betray Emily’s memory by becoming involved with another woman. He owed his late wife that much, at least.

And he couldn’t afford to drop his guard for a beautiful woman. Especially one who was now using a different name. He’d have to ask one of his men to watch the boardinghouse and follow her if she left the establishment.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Gabe traced his planned route West on the map. Unbeknownst to the passengers, the excursion was not all it appeared to be. Gabe had been hired to organize a group of men to escort a clandestine payroll shipment destined for the western offices of the Overland Express Railroad. The shipment would be made under the watchful eye of Victor Elliot, a high-ranking employee for the railroad.

The addition of Elliot to Gabe’s team still rankled. The arrival of an Overland Express representative was an open slur against Gabe’s trustworthiness, but he hadn’t bothered to argue. Gabe knew he wouldn’t have been offered the prestigious job at all if Josiah Burton hadn’t been an old friend. The assignment was a chance for Gabe to make a name for himself as something other than a deserter. Cracking the case would mean national news exposure.

But if anything happened to the shipment, Gabe also knew that he would be held personally accountable.

The door to his room opened and Gabe peered up at the portly shape outlined by the afternoon sun streaming into the corridor.

Victor Elliot.

Gabe scowled. Although he understood the concerns of Overland Express and their wish to have a member of the company on the railway journey, that didn’t mean that Gabe had to like the man.

“The shipment is safely stowed away until it can be loaded onto the train?” Elliot inquired.

Gabe nodded and returned his attention to the maps. Although he’d memorized the route, he traced the lines again and again as if he could imprint the contours of the land on his brain.

“I’ve got a concern about the men who accompanied the gold from England,” Victor continued, with open irritation at Gabe’s aloofness. “One of them is little more than a boy.”

“I’ll be sure to register your complaint at the same time I offer mine,” Gabe said tightly.

“You picked them.”

“No,” Gabe retorted, “I picked most of the local men. The Pinkerton Agency hired the two men who accompanied the funds from England.”

“Then fire them.”

Gabe looked up then, his eyes narrowing. “On what grounds?”

“They’re both green as grass, man! I doubt they could guard their own mothers, let alone a valuable shipment of gold.”

“They won’t be doing it alone.”

“They shouldn’t be doing it at all!”

Gabe weighed Victor’s concerns against his own, then shook his head. “It’s too late. Hiring two new guards would provide a security breach, and we can’t afford to go shorthanded.”

“But—”

“The matter is finished.”

Victor visibly seethed, but Gabe ignored him. Scooping his hat from the bed, he decided it was time to make the rounds and check on security matters himself. Then he would need to make his way into the city to meet with Josiah Burton in the main office.

Maybe by keeping his mind on the details of the job, he would push the mysterious Phoebe Gray from his thoughts once and for all.