Читать книгу Mail-Order Groom - Lisa Plumley - Страница 11

Vivid sunshine pushed open Adam’s eyes at a time he judged long past sunrise. Disoriented and aching, he tried to sit up.

Raw throbbing pain cut short his motions. Gasping, he sank back again. He was in a bed. In a room. In the tiny Morrow Creek adjunct telegraph station, far from his partner and his mission.

Mariana. Last night, he’d tried to find her. He’d trudged through the wooded hillside in the dark, bleeding and hurting. After what had felt like hours, he’d found his earlier trail.

He’d located the iron post he’d used to stake out his horse. But his progress had ended there. The rope attached to the post had been hacked off, its frayed ends still in place. His horse had been gone. Stolen, if he didn’t miss his mark.

Bedell and his boys had been thorough. With no horse, no sense of where the confidence man had gone or how long ago he’d left—and with a gunshot wound and other injuries to slow him down—Adam had little hope of tracking them. At least for a while.

What’s more, he still had a job to do here at the station. Bedell’s mark still needed him. Savannah Reed still needed him. If that sharper were still loitering around, waiting to make his move on an innocent woman, Adam had to be there to stop him.

Bedell didn’t yet have the windfall he’d planned to steal from Savannah, Adam reminded himself. If he waited at the station, he figured Bedell would return. Doubtless, he’d do it sooner rather than later, too. Roy Bedell and his brothers had never shown any signs of being less than greedy and impatient.

And Savannah Reed had never shown any signs of being less than trusting and gullible. You are my best chance at starting over, he remembered her telling him last night. That means I’m counting on you. You can’t let me down. You just can’t.

Her words had been truer than she’d known. She was counting on him. She had to. And he, in turn, had to protect her.

Last night, all Adam had been able to think about was helping Mariana. But in the clear light of day, with a lucid mind and the force of all his hard-won experience to guide him, he thought about Savannah, too. There were so many things she didn’t know about the mail-order groom she’d been waiting for.

Roy Bedell had lied to her from the start. He was a thief and a coldhearted killer. Adam had hoped to nab the knuck before it became necessary to make such revelations to Bedell’s latest target. Now that plan seemed nigh impossible. But, he wondered unhappily, how did a man begin to tell a woman that she’d made arrangements to share her life with a ruthless sharper?

Adam didn’t know. He’d figure out something later. Because as things stood now, he didn’t have much choice. He was hurt and weak, gunshot and dizzy. Bedell and his boys were out of reach. Mariana was missing. For now, all he could do was trust that his partner had done the right thing and stayed far away, like he’d told her to do. If he were lucky, Mariana had already ridden on to Morrow Creek to wire the agency for new instructions.

And maybe for a new partner, too.

Grudgingly Adam felt heartened by the thought. Mariana was experienced. She was strong and smart and resourceful. She might not even need him to ride to her rescue, like he’d planned.

Why, Mr. Corwin! Are you still trying to protect me?

Remembering Mariana’s brash, flippant words, Adam felt his heart give a sentimental squeeze. He devoutly hoped she was safe. If she wasn’t, he didn’t know how he’d forgive himself.

At least here at the station, though, he might still be helpful to someone else. He might still be able to warn Savannah about Bedell—to prepare her for a possible confrontation with the confidence man she’d unwittingly lured west with all her sweetly worded letters … and that pretty picture of hers, too.

Adam had spent far too much time gazing at the picture he’d pilfered. But he couldn’t regret that. Not after everything that had happened. Looking at Savannah’s picture had been the best part of this mission so far, he reckoned. Not that he intended to reveal as much in his mandatory report to the agency.

Reminded of that report, Adam grew newly alert.

Where was his agency journal? He usually kept it in his saddlebags, but …

But they were lost, he remembered, along with his horse.

His journal was gone right along with them, then. So was all the proof he’d gathered over the past year of Roy Bedell’s criminal nature. The official wanted poster. The newspaper clippings. The tattered correspondence from the family of the woman Bedell had murdered in Kansas City. They’d been the ones to contact the agency. They’d been the ones who’d specially requested Adam, counting on his past as a former U.S. Marshall to bring in the confidence man when others had lost his trail.

Looking into their grieving faces, Adam had sworn to bring their daughter’s killer to justice. He refused to fail them now.

Maybe he could convince Savannah to let him stay at the station awhile—to lay a trap for Bedell. With her cooperation, Adam could double his chances of catching the man, and he could protect her at the same time. It was the only way to proceed.

With that decided, Adam tried moving again. Helpless against the pain in his shoulder, head and ribs, he groaned.

Instantly Savannah Reed rushed into the room. Her rustling skirts warned him of her arrival—but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her. In the light streaming from the room’s single curtained window, she appeared downright angelic. Her face was scrubbed clean, her golden hair was wound high, and her eyes were the same shade of guileless blue as the sky outside.

“You’re awake! Glory be. Now don’t strain yourself.”

She hurried to his side. She fluttered her hands in a moment’s indecision, then placed them on his arms to help him get upright. Next, she leaned to arrange the pillows behind him. The flowery smell of her skin caught Adam unawares. So did the hasty glimpse he caught of her bosom. He cursed himself for noticing it, even dazedly. Sternly he jerked his gaze upward.

That didn’t help. Her face was alight with warmth, her cheeks pink and her features filled with a caring he’d scarcely seen—much less been the recipient of. He’d been a foundling child, shunted from one distant relation to another. Growing up, Adam had convinced himself he didn’t need to be cared for. He didn’t need anything. He’d always been tough, and proud of it.

But now, upon seeing Savannah gazing at him with such evident care and concern, Adam felt plumb walloped with how much he liked being looked at that way. Especially by her.

His heart opened a fraction. Sappily he smiled.

“Oh, good. You must be feeling better.” Savannah beamed. “Now hold still while I give you more of Doc Finney’s tincture.”

Obligingly Adam opened his mouth for a spoonful of the medicine she offered. Too late, he realized he was never this trusting. But by then he’d already swallowed the foul stuff.

“That’s perfect.” Savannah smoothed the quilts over him. Her hands patted innocently over his chest and legs. Her face showed no signs that she realized what effect her actions might have on a man—even an injured one. “There. Is that better?”

Bedeviled by yearning, Adam pointed at his knee.

“I think you missed a spot,” he said in a raspy voice. “Right there.”

To his mingled pleasure and chagrin, Savannah patted his knee. Her gentle touch put all manner of unchivalrous thoughts in his head. Artlessly and agreeably, she tucked in the quilts all around him. Adam fought a powerful urge to kick them loose again, just to experience the tender way she had of touching him. He felt cosseted, cared for … downright beloved.

But that was nonsensical, he told himself with a scowl. Savannah Reed didn’t love him. She didn’t even know him. As soon as he revealed everything about Roy Bedell, he doubted she would look at him with the same openhearted charm and forthrightness she was displaying right now. He resented having to disappoint her, especially while she seemed so out-and-out contented.

“You’re a fine nursemaid,” he told her, delaying that inevitable moment. “Thank you. I’m most obliged.”

“It’s the least I could do. Particularly after you traveled all this way just to be with me.” With sudden shyness, Savannah lowered her gaze. “I’m so sorry about what … happened to you. I promise, we don’t usually find such ruffians around these parts. You’ll be absolutely safe here with me. I’ll make sure of it.”

It was preposterous—but kind—of her to suggest she could protect him. Adam didn’t understand why she thought he’d come to the Territory to be with her, though. Unless she’d found his saddlebags and his journals? Unless she knew about his work for the agency? He glanced sideways. All he saw was his rucksack, full of essentials like his shaving razor and soap and extra clothes.

After you traveled all this way just to be with me.

A few seconds too late, the truth struck him. Savannah Reed, Adam realized, thought he was her mail-order groom!

He should have guessed as much. After all, he had arrived at the station just when she’d been expecting Bedell. He had possessed her letters and her picture amongst his things. He had told Mose he was looking for a woman last night. Although Mose hadn’t realized he’d been asking about Mariana, the station’s helper had undoubtedly told Savannah about their conversation.

You have no idea what kind of hopes that woman’s got pinned on you, Mose had said. Regrettably Adam did. Before too much longer, those hopes and dreams of hers were going to be crushed.

“Oh dear! I’m forgetting myself, aren’t I?” Blushing prettily, Savannah interrupted his musings. She straightened into a formal posture, then … curtsied? Holding herself stiffly in that pose, she inclined her head. “This is a very great pleasure for me. I’m indelibly charmed to meet you, Mr. Corwin.”

She sounded as though she were arriving at a highfalutin ball—one presided over by kings and queens. Her stilted manner was so at odds with her casual way of touching him that Adam almost laughed. Instead he gazed at Savannah’s downcast lashes, proud nose and full lips … and something inside him gave way.

If she wanted to appear sophisticated and proper to him, he would not prevent her from it. Except in this one instance.

“Please,” he said gruffly. “Call me Adam.”

“Informal address already? After only one meeting? I sincerely doubt that would be—” She broke off. She gave him a tentative peek, then closed her mouth. Her chest expanded on a giddy breath. She gazed downward again. “Very well … Adam.”

The breathy way she said his name made tingles race up his spine. Against all reason, he wanted to hear it again.

“Adam,” she said experimentally, not knowing how handily she obliged him. Along with her tone, Savannah’s posture eased. Relaxed now, she nodded. “Yes, I think Adam will be fine.”

But all at once, Adam wasn’t fine. Frowning with an unwanted sense of revelation, he remembered the other odious strategy Bedell had used when setting up his latest mark. When corresponding with Savannah, Bedell had used Adam’s name.

It was an audacious tactic—and a taunting one, too. After all the months Adam had spent tracking Bedell, the confidence man had gotten cocky. He’d deliberately used Adam’s name in his newest double-cross scheme, and that detail had truly rankled.

It had bothered him so much, Adam guessed, that he’d shoved it clean out of his mind. Mariana had given him no end of grief about Bedell’s ploy, though. Every time she’d copied down one of Savannah’s letters, she’d teased Adam about “his” woman, reading aloud Savannah’s usual greeting in mocking, overgirlish tones.

My Dearest, Kindest, Most Longed-For Mr. Corwin….

Foolishly Adam had set aside that detail. Bedell’s theft of his good name had galled him, but since he’d never expected to meet Savannah in person, he hadn’t counted on its potential consequences. Now those consequences batted their eyelashes at him, creating an unexpected thrill in the pit of his belly.

Damnation. This was troublesome. His initial fascination with Savannah, kindled by her letters and her picture, was fast becoming something more. Adam didn’t understand it. In all his days, he’d met saloon girls, pert prairie homesteaders, dance-hall ladies, society belles, soiled doves and down-home women who could make a man propose with a single, cinnamony forkful of their prizewinning apple pies. None of those women, however appealing, had ignited his curiosity the way Savannah Reed did.

He already knew a handful of her hopes and dreams. Now he wanted to know her. He wanted to call her Savannah; wanted to have a right to do so. He wanted to make her smile at him again.

Telling her about Bedell wouldn’t accomplish any of those things. But now that Adam had met Savannah, the thought of Bedell hurting her—stealing from her—troubled him all the more. He couldn’t let that happen. But suddenly, he felt too woozy to reason out how he could stop Bedell from getting to her.

Doubtless that was because of the tincture she’d given him. Cursing the medicine’s sedating effects, Adam nonetheless knew he needed it. His shoulder blade throbbed, his ribs ached and his head … Wincing at a fresh wave of pain, he raised his hand.

“Oh!” Savannah grew instantly alert. “Does it still hurt?”

Hazily Adam noted that her formality had dropped away. Apparently she wore her fancy comportment the way Bedell did his various—and fraudulent—accents and manner isms. and names. Savannah’s curtsies and timidity and cordiality seemed to sit outside her, somehow. They weren’t nearly as much a part of her as were her golden hair and capable hands and intelligent gaze.

“It doesn’t hurt so much that I’ve forgotten all my manners altogether,” Adam gritted out. With strict determination, he lowered his hand. He smiled, the better to ease Savannah’s worries about his condition. “It’s my honor to finally meet you, Miss Reed. Until now, I’d only dreamed about this day coming.”

That much was true. Fruitlessly but unstoppably, Adam had whiled away the long hours on Bedell’s dusty trail by fancying himself as the one who’d come west to be with Savannah. He’d have sooner curried his horse with his teeth than admit it.

“And I’m the one who should protect you.” Fighting against the drowsy effects of the tincture, Adam fisted his hand in the soft bed linens. Roughly he said, “I will protect you, Miss Reed. I promise you right now—I swear I’ll keep you safe.”

He gazed straight at her, willing her to understand exactly how much he meant it. In that moment, he would have let Bedell bash him in the head with a branch twice over, just to save her.

“Oh, that is sweet of you, Adam. Thank you ever so much.”

Clearly Savannah didn’t know what he was talking about, but she smiled at him all the same. That was good. She did not, he noticed dispiritedly, suggest that he call her Savannah. That was bad. Her omission made him yearn for that privilege with an intensity Adam would have found laughable a day ago.

“But don’t be silly! You don’t have to protect me.” Savannah curled her fingers trustingly around his. She laughed. “It seems everyone always wants to protect me! First Mose, now you. But all you have to do is marry me, just as we agreed.”

Marry me. At those words, Adam stilled. He had to tell her about Bedell. Right now. But all at once, he felt even wearier than he had just a moment before. He cursed the medicine he’d taken. His tongue felt thick. His eyelids felt heavy. His head drooped. Dumbly he repeated her words. “Marry me?”

“Yes. I’ll have some questions for you first, of course.” As though she were considering quizzing him then and there, Savannah gazed directly at his face. She seemed to lose herself in his medicine-hazed eyes. Then she shook herself. “We’ll get to that when you’re feeling better, I reckon. And naturally we’ll want to spend some more time together first, to ensure a successful partnership. You do know how I feel about compatibility, don’t you?”

Adam did. He’d read her views at length in her letters to Bedell. Prompted by an absurd and inescapable desire to please her, he said, “You believe husbands and wives should be as close-knit as friends are, able to talk and laugh equally.”

His reward was a beatific smile. In response, his heart skipped a beat. All his life, Adam had felt gruff, tough, ready to take on bad men of every variety and bring them to heel. But now, suddenly, all he wanted was another of Savannah’s smiles.

“Why, Mr. Corwin! You did pay attention to my letters.”

“I treasured every last one of them.” Even though those words were accurate, Adam felt a fraud saying them. Further wearied by his recitation from those letters, he thumped his chest. “I carried them next to my heart the whole way here.”

“Hmm. You’re getting a bit tired now, aren’t you?”

“Tired?” He realized he’d closed his eyes. He wrenched them open to see Savannah’s amused expression. “No. Not tired. I’m never tired. I can ride for days, track a man for miles, shoot from the saddle and never miss. You can count on me, Miss Reed.”

His assurance sailed right on past her. She laughed and patted his hand. “I think someone’s been reading too many dime novels on the train. Don’t fret, though. When it comes to our marriage arrangement, I know exactly what I’m getting.”

“No, you don’t.” Urgently, Adam caught her wrist. Bedell might be near, he remembered. He should warn Savannah. “Your groom is not who you thought he was! He’s … he’s …”

He blinked, trying to summon the appropriate words. His tongue roved around his mouth in search of them. While he struggled, Savannah slipped from his feeble grasp. She fussed over him, fixing his bandages and checking for fever.

At last, Adam found the words he wanted.

“Your groom,” he announced gravely, “is a bad man.”

She gazed at him. “Well. He’s certainly not able to hold his medicinal tinctures for neuralgia, I can say that much for certain.” A new smile quirked her mouth. “Sleep now. That’s the best thing for you. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

Drowsiness flooded him. Adam bit the inside of his cheek, deliberately rousing himself. “Wait. You don’t understand—”

“I understand all I need to.” In a dreamy blur of feminine fabrics and floral fragrance, Savannah made him lie back. She stroked his arm and tucked in the quilts again, her face open and kindly. “I’d wondered how you would take to me, when we met, too. After all, we shared a great deal with each other over the wires, didn’t we?”

“No. You have to listen to me now,” Adam insisted, trying again to broach the topic of Roy Bedell and his scheme. “It’s important. Your groom is not who you thought he was! He’s—”

“He’s everything I could have asked for.” Savannah smiled. She brought her mouth next to his ear, letting her breath tickle his skin in a sinfully pleasurable way. “He’s even better than I imagined. You’re even better, Adam. I’m very, very pleased.”

She liked him. At the realization, Adam groaned. Under the influence of that damnable tincture, he felt as clumsy as a youth, as green as a new field agent, as needful of sleep as an express rider on the last leg of a weeklong journey. But he couldn’t help grinning as Savannah’s approval washed over him.

“And since you likely won’t remember this when you wake up.” Still hovering above him, Savannah touched his cheek. She rested her palm against his skin, then gazed unabashedly at him. “I guess I can be forthright. I think you’re beyond handsome, too. So far, it’s been all I could do not to swoon over you.”

Adam turned his head on the pillow, bringing his gaze to hers. Plainly startled to find herself the subject of his attention—however bleary—Savannah blinked. Her cheeks pinkened.

“Now sleep,” she blurted. “You’re clearly hallucinating.”

Then she bustled from the room and returned to her desk.