One

Arizona Territory, Spring 1883

Amanda Porterfield gazed out the window at the endless landscape where cattle grazed and wildflowers were in full bloom—this beautiful place where she had spent the entire twenty years of her life so far. Even with all this natural beauty surrounding her, she was quite sure she would go stark raving mad unless something exciting happened to break the sheer monotony of her days.

Practically everyone else in her family had found love, or at least adventure, but here she sat with no prospects, either romantic or adventurous—preferably both—in sight.

Amanda sighed and drifted toward the sounds of her mother and the family’s housekeeper, Juanita, talking as they sat in the courtyard. “I think I’ll go into town,” Amanda announced after pouring herself a cup of coffee and flopping into a high-backed chair.

“That’s a good idea,” her mother replied, setting aside her mending. “I’ll come with you.”

Amanda swallowed another sigh. The point had been for her to be off on her own. If adventure did not find her, then perhaps she needed to seek it. But with her mother along for the ride, it was unlikely Amanda would be successful in her quest.

“It’s been weeks since we went shopping,” her mother added with a sly smile designed to let Amanda know that she understood exactly what was behind her daughter’s sudden announcement. “Perhaps a new dress is in order for the fandango the Johnsons are hosting next weekend?”

“Perhaps,” Amanda agreed, and she couldn’t hide the smile she gave her mother in return. As much as she tried to mirror her sister’s maturity and sophistication, the truth was that Amanda loved shopping and parties. And who knew? There might just be someone interesting to meet at the Johnson gathering. It was spring in Arizona, and ranches were hiring to handle the branding and other tasks involved in getting the cattle ready for market in the fall. She felt her spirits lift.

“Perhaps we might visit the Wilcoxes as well,” her mother continued. “It occurs to me that you need something meaningful to occupy you. Doc Wilcox mentioned a friend of his in Tucson—a banker whose wife died several months ago. The man is looking to hire a tutor for his children. I think you would make an excellent candidate. We could stop by and speak with him about how you might go about applying for the position.” As usual, Amanda’s mother was planning her life for her.

“I don’t want to be a teacher, Mama.”

“And I didn’t choose to be a widow,” her mother replied bluntly. “We make the best of our lives, Amanda, and right now, you need to find some direction for yours. So go fetch your bonnet—that sun is going to be fierce today. And ask Chet to hitch up the wagon.”

Reluctantly, Amanda did as she was told.

Amanda’s brother-in-law was a quiet man and a good listener. “Mama thinks I should apply for a position in Tucson tutoring some rich man’s children,” she groused as she stood by the corral and watched Chet select a team of mules and lead them to the wagon. “She thinks I need direction in my life.”

“And what do you think?” Chet asked.

“I think…” What did she think? “If it were up to me…”

Chet quirked an eyebrow as he harnessed the mules. “If you got that job, it just might lead to something more to your liking.”

“I don’t see how. I mean, how would spending my days going over spelling and reading and such, and my nights preparing lessons and exercises, possibly lead to—”

“Of course, you’d have to move to Tucson,” Chet interrupted, as if she hadn’t spoken. “That would be a big change from living out here with a bunch of rough cowboys and your family.” He wrapped the reins around the brake and gave her a hand up to the seat. “Sometimes, Amanda, what seems like nothing special turns out to be just what you didn’t know you were looking for in the first place.”

She grinned. “Like you winding up here and married to Maria?”

Chet winked at her. “Exactly like that.”

Amanda snapped the reins, and the wagon rolled forward toward the house. Why couldn’t she find a man like Chet? Smart and strong and good-looking as all get-out. Of course, in the time Chet and Maria had been married, Amanda had realized that looks weren’t everything when it came to being happy. Chet was content to be a rancher and had settled into a routine. He had little taste for adventure. While that suited Maria, Amanda was pretty sure she wouldn’t last a year as a rancher’s wife. On the other hand, there was much to be said for a handsome cowboy. If only she could find one who shared her urge to try new things.

It was nearly noon by the time they reached Whitman Falls. The ever-efficient Juanita had packed a full lunch for them to share with Eliza McNew, owner of the town’s general store. “No need to go spending money eating at the hotel restaurant,” Juanita had said as she set the hamper in the back of the wagon.

Of course, Amanda had been looking forward to eating at the hotel. But with the prospects of shopping for a new dress and a visit with Eliza and possibly her best friend and sister-in-law, Addie, if she wasn’t busy helping her father see patients, Amanda couldn’t help but look forward to the day. She might even reconsider that tutoring position.

* * *

Seth Grover was growing weary of his double life. On the surface he presented himself as a man to be watched—a quiet, soft-spoken stranger who was good with a gun and who had no visible means of support other than being very good at playing poker. That combination made most folks believe he was probably operating on the shady side of the law, which suited his purposes most of the time. The truth was that he was an undercover agent for the Wells Fargo Company, hired to go wherever he was needed to foil outlaws targeting the company’s wealth. Most recently, he’d been charged with doing whatever it took to stop the string of robberies that had cost the company close to half a million dollars over the last few years.

As a youth, he’d sown enough wild oats to earn his reputation as a rebel. In his first months undercover, he had quickly established himself as a man good at poker and handy with a six-shooter. The combination gave him the right to travel under his own name, for many outlaws had been brought up in good families with strong moral values before they turned to lives of crime.

For several weeks now, he’d been hanging around the small town of Whitman Falls—a place the railroad had bypassed, but a thriving town nevertheless. Fort Lowell was near enough that the stagecoach carrying the monthly payroll for the soldiers garrisoned there came right through town on its way. That delivery was one of the reasons Seth had decided to take a room above the local saloon and stay for a spell. The fact that the saloon’s owner—Lilly Goodspeed—was a friend and one of the few people who knew his true profession helped make his stay in the small town more tolerable.

An outlaw gang run by the notorious Stock brothers and thought to be responsible for a couple of bank robberies and stage holdups in northern Arizona was rumored to be moving south. Seth had a hunch that they planned one more big strike—possibly the payroll—before they headed out for the border and Mexico. It was a pattern he’d seen before, and it was his job to make sure they didn’t succeed—hopefully without revealing his true identity.

He also had a personal reason for foiling this particular robbery. He’d gotten word from his mother that his youngest brother had run away from the family’s Chicago home around the time that the gang had been operating farther north. He knew his brother, knew he was reckless and always seeking adventure. The latest reports Seth had received from his supervisor had mentioned a kid—fair-skinned and blond, with a missing finger—who appeared to be working as a lookout for the gang. The description was broad, but it fit Sam—a boy who had spent years in the city and one who knew little about life on the frontier.

It was certainly possible that Sam could have joined the gang—a long shot to be sure, but if he was that kid, this might be Seth’s last chance to save his brother from spending his life on the run, rotting in prison, or getting killed.

As he walked from the shadows of the livery stable where he’d left his horse, he squinted into the sunlight and watched a wagon creak its way around the plaza that anchored the town. He spotted two women, the younger woman driving the team. Seth stopped next to a hitching rail and watched as she pulled to a stop in front of the mercantile.

He kept watching, telling himself that it was out of boredom. The higher the sun rose, the quieter and more deserted the streets seemed. A few people had sought the shade of chestnut trees, but other than that there was little activity.

The older woman climbed down while the younger woman set the brake, wrapped the reins around it, and jumped down as well. She was talking the whole time, waving her hands to make her point, and when she pushed her sunbonnet off her head and allowed it to hang down her back, held by thin ties, he saw that she was a redhead—strawberry blond, his ma would say.

Either way, in Seth’s experience, women with red hair, and the lively temperament that seemed to go along with it, could be trouble. It was as if something in their blood made them high-spirited. Still, there was no doubt she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in some time, and he was far from immune to the natural desires of a man in his prime.

He forced himself to look off to the opposite side of the plaza, toward the saloon. He mentally reviewed the information he’d picked up the night before while playing cards with a couple of strangers and a local by the name of Gus Abersole, who seemed to be a fixture in Lilly’s saloon. One of the strangers had asked Gus about the garrison at Fort Lowell, how many men were stationed there and such. The man kept his tone casual, but Seth was practiced enough to know when somebody was fishing for information. Abersole’s tongue had been loosened by the three shots of rye the man had bought him. He’d babbled on about troop numbers and routines until Seth had wanted to clobber him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a feminine squeal of delight, and he looked back toward the mercantile in time to see the store’s owner greeting the new arrivals, and then leading the women inside. As the younger woman held the door, Seth got a better look at her. She was a beauty all right, and there was something about the way she carried herself that made him want to move closer.

It wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself. After all, he’d been working hard for weeks now. On the other hand, why tempt fate?

Against his better judgment, he pushed himself away from the hitching rail and headed for the store. He’d been meaning to buy some jerky to have with him on his nightly rides to survey the area as he looked for possible places where a gang just might choose to ambush a stagecoach or the wagon carrying the payload.

Once again, the change in light from the strong sun to the shadowy, cooler interior of the store took some getting used to. Seth was aware that the women had all been talking when he entered, and now, as he shut the door and the bell above it went silent, all conversation had stopped.

“May I help you, sir?” The proprietor stepped forward, but he heard the wariness in her tone that he’d grown used to over the last couple of years. He knew she had seen him around town, but this was the first time he’d come to her store. Whitman Falls was a small place, and his way of dressing all in black—from his hat to his boots to the sack coat he wore to cover the pistol he carried—was hard to miss. Further, it sent a message for folks to keep their distance.

“Yes, ma’am. I could use some jerky.”

Eliza McNew led the way toward the back of the store past the two women. Seth tipped his hat and waited at the counter. “Ladies,” he murmured.

The younger one let out a gasp that had the older woman looking at her with surprise. She stared at him, her hand fluttering around her mouth, her eyes wide with recognition. But Seth felt certain they’d never met—he would remember meeting a woman as beautiful as she was. Still, there was something about her.

The older woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name is Constance Porterfield, and this is my daughter, Amanda. And you are?”

“Name’s Grover, ma’am.” He accepted the handshake and was surprised at how firm and strong it was. Porterfield. The local marshal was a Porterfield—couldn’t be a coincidence. “I met Marshal Porterfield when I first came to town—any relation?”

“My son. He’s planning on running for district sheriff,” she added with the obvious pride of a mother, and, perhaps, the need to impress Seth with the fact that this family had the law on their side.

Seth and Jess Porterfield had come to an understanding a couple of weeks earlier when the marshal had confronted Seth and suggested he move on. He had decided to take Porterfield into his confidence without revealing that his true concern was the fort’s payroll. The marshal had agreed to give him the time he needed to foil the gang on one condition. “Stay away from my sister.”

Seth had laughed and told him that wouldn’t be a problem since he didn’t know the man’s sister. But now that they’d been introduced and he’d gotten a good look at those cactus-green eyes and plump, rosy lips that could stop a man in his tracks, Seth was pretty sure he might have trouble keeping the bargain he’d made.

“It’s been some time since we’ve had anyone move to Whitman Falls, Mr. Grover. Are you thinking of settling here with your family?”

He ducked his head to hide the smile that curved his lips. Mrs. Porterfield was clearly good at gathering information. He was well aware that she was really inquiring about his marital status and intentions for making Whitman Falls his home. “No, ma’am. Just passing through.”

The shopkeeper wrapped the jerky in brown paper and handed it to him. “On the house,” she said. “My way of welcoming newcomers.”

Seth doubted that. The way Eliza McNew’s hand shook slightly as she presented him with the package, it was more likely that free jerky was her way of letting him know she would be obliged if he didn’t cause her any trouble or rob her store.

“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am.” It wasn’t the first time a business owner had offered him free stuff hoping that he would leave them alone. It meant his cover was working.

But Mrs. Porterfield did not seem intimidated. “Exactly what is it that you do, Mr. Grover?” she asked. The daughter remained silent, but she looked directly at him—in fact, it was a little like she was looking him over, trying to come to some decision.

“At the moment, I need to check on my horse, ma’am.” Seth tucked the package of jerky in the patch pocket of his coat and saw the daughter’s eyes widen with interest when his action revealed the gun he wore strapped on his hip. He tipped his hat. “You ladies enjoy your day,” he said as he set his hat lower over his eyes and left.

It occurred to him that Amanda Porterfield had not exhibited the usual female reaction to seeing a gun. Her eyes had widened, to be sure, but with excitement, not alarm. She had been unable to look away.

“Another sign she’s trouble,” Seth muttered. If she had the sense God gave her, she’d surely be a little more wary. After all, she didn’t know him, and he was totin’ a six-shooter and refusing to answer simple questions.

Stay away from my sister, the marshal had warned.

“Good advice,” Seth said as he crossed the street to the livery, where he could hear the clang of metal on metal as the blacksmith pounded a new shoe into place. Of course, from the way she was studying him back there in the store, he had a feeling that Amanda might have other ideas.

He’d have to make sure he avoided any further contact.

* * *

Amanda barely heard the conversation running between her mother and Eliza as they ate lunch. She was still thinking about the stranger.

A few weeks earlier, when she’d visited Addie, she had seen him from her friend’s bedroom window. He’d been standing across the street, not far from the jail. He’d looked dangerous, and at the same time, there had been something about him that made Amanda unable to look away.

That day she had observed him from a distance. Standing right next to him was a different experience entirely. It had, quite frankly, taken her breath away.

“Of course, taking the position to tutor these children would mean a move to Tucson, and Amanda knows no one there,” Eliza was saying. “Wouldn’t you be terribly lonely, Amanda?”

“Addie and Jess might make Tucson their home one day, if he gets himself elected and Addie can set up her practice,” her mother interjected. “And with Addie all involved in that jail reform project of hers, they go there at least once a month now.”

“Maybe they know someone willing to rent a room,” Eliza suggested. “Or it’s possible that room and board are part of the salary.”

“I haven’t even applied yet,” Amanda reminded them, but the way her mother barely glanced at her before continuing her conversation with Eliza told her that the decision had already been made well before now. “You tricked me,” she said. “You and Doc Wilcox have already set this in motion.”

Eliza grinned while Constance Porterfield pursed her lips and frowned. “I wouldn’t say that I deceived you. I did have a conversation with Doc, and we did go over the pros and cons of your applying. He said he would speak to his friend—Mr. Baxter—in Tucson, and in the end…”

“In the end, don’t I get some say?”

“Not really,” her mother replied. “Not unless you want to spend another season on the ranch where, with your younger brother off sketching canyons and waterfalls in Yellowstone, we are short-handed, and there is the distinct possibility that you might be called on to take his chores. That is more a probability now that Maria is expecting and unable to do her usual level of work, as if she were any man.”

“I am not Maria,” she reminded her mother through gritted teeth.

She was so weary of her perfect sister’s ability to do pretty much anything she set her mind to. Amanda had long ago understood that, as far as neighbors and friends were concerned, her own role in the family was that of “the pretty one.” But lately, instead of being flattered by this, the label had begun to irritate her. Recently, she’d been reading about some women in the East who had been active abolitionists during the war and then turned their attention to the fight for a woman’s right to vote. The point was that women were beginning to stand up and speak out, which appealed to her. She saw a possibility to be more than just the pretty one.

“No,” her mother replied, placing a gentle hand on Amanda’s clenched fist. “You are not your sister, and more’s the good in that. You have gifts of nurturing and inspiring others that she cannot equal, Amanda, and now you have the opportunity to share those unique talents with the Baxter children. Do you have any idea how very proud your father would be of you?”

Amanda knew when she was being hoodwinked. Her mother was a master at the craft. Everyone knew how devoted Amanda had been to her father—how much she had strived to please him. Invoking his memory—and the promise of his approval—always worked.

“You don’t play fair,” Amanda muttered.

“I know,” her mother admitted. “But I always do what I think best for you—what I think your father would want for your happiness. The truth is that you are miserable these days, so why wouldn’t you leap at the opportunity to change your surroundings?”

“But teaching? I mean, how does that differ from me taking care of Max?” They had adopted little Max when his mother deserted him after accusing Chet of being the father. Once that lie had been debunked, she’d run off with their foreman, leaving her child behind. To Amanda, Max had become another younger brother, and more often than not, watching over him had been her responsibility.

Eliza laughed. “The difference is that you will be helping the Baxter children learn, and believe me, from what Doc said, you will have your work cut out for you.”

Amanda realized how little she knew of the proposed job. “How old are these children, and what does their father do? And why do the Baxters need a private tutor for their children in the first place?”

She saw her mother exchange a glance with Eliza. “The children are twins—a boy and a girl. I believe Doc said they were around fourteen. They…”

“Fourteen? That’s practically grown,” Amanda protested.

“Yes, well, Mrs. Baxter died several months ago,” her mother explained. “Mr. Baxter owns a bank in Tucson so he’s away from home a good deal, and he needs help. They have a housekeeper, but she is not educated, and he wants the best for his children, especially the boy.”

“And where will I live?”

“There’s a boardinghouse. Doc has apparently proposed your room and board as part of your compensation.”

“A boardinghouse?”

“You wanted a little independence,” Eliza reminded her. “I should think the arrangement is far better than being offered a room in the Baxter house.”

She had a point. “What if it doesn’t work out with the Baxter children?”

Her mother cupped her cheek. “Oh, Amanda, how could they resist you? I know you’ll find ways to win their loyalty. You’ll be quite wonderful.”

Eliza seemed less convinced. “Just remember that children—especially those who are truly bright—have been known to use their intelligence for testing authority rather than for learning.”

“Not unlike you, Amanda,” her mother said as she cleared away the dishes from their lunch and repacked the hamper.

Amanda had to admit that life in a town the size of Tucson was likely to offer far more opportunities for adventure than staying at the ranch. And there was a bonus. Maria wouldn’t be there to boss her around. And with the territory on track for statehood sooner rather than later, it occurred to Amanda that there might be an organization of women there willing to fight for the right to vote. She could perhaps join forces with them. She could also help Addie with jail reforms. In short, she could reinvent herself in a community where no one knew her.

“Well, I suppose I could at least apply,” she said, making sure she included an edge of grudging willingness in her tone. Of course, she didn’t fool her mother for one minute.

“Excellent. However, let us be clear on one matter,” Constance Porterfield said in that low, calm voice she reserved for laying down the law to her children. “If you do this, you are going there to teach these children. I saw how you set your eyes on that young man who just left, and if for one minute you think taking this job will give you the opportunity to find romance—especially with someone like that—think again.”

“Oh, Mama, I don’t know where you get these ideas, but—”

Her mother dismissed further discussion with a wave of her hand. “As soon as we have finished our shopping, we will pay a call on Addie. Hopefully, she will agree to keep an eye on you. And if Jess wins the election, and they move there, I have no doubt that your brother will make sure you behave appropriately.” It was obvious to Amanda that her mother had looked at this matter from every possible angle.

“Addie is my friend and sister-in-law, not my keeper,” she snapped.

“She is also mature beyond her years, and I know I can trust her to make sure you remain focused on your duties and not on some handsome but highly inappropriate suitor. I warn you now, Amanda, if I hear of one encounter with any wild young stranger, even by chance, I will come to Tucson myself and haul you back to the ranch.”

“There are bound to be eligible men in Tucson, and they will all be strangers to me,” Amanda protested. “I can hardly avoid them.”

“You can avoid young men like that Grover fella, and you will.”

“When Chet Hunter showed up at the ranch, and Maria started…”

“I was half out of my head with grief over your father when Chet came. You know that.”

“I also know that things worked out just fine for Maria and her stranger, so why should there be so much fuss about me and…” She had gone too far and realized it the minute she saw her mother give Eliza an I-told-you-so look of triumph. “Not that I have a care what any man thinks or does,” she hurried to add.

Both Eliza and her mother snorted with derision. “Your mouth to God’s ears,” her mother said. “Now let’s see about buying you a dress that’s proper for a schoolmarm. Something with deep pockets, I should think.”

“I thought I was here to buy a party dress,” Amanda said.

“Oh, all right, we’ll buy one of each.”

By the time they headed back to the ranch late that afternoon, Amanda’s life had taken a complete turnabout. She was newly outfitted with not one but two dresses, Doc had assured her that an interview with Ezra Baxter was a mere formality, and Addie had solemnly agreed to be her jailer. Although, as soon as Amanda’s mother turned away, she had squeezed Amanda’s hand and grinned as she had when the two of them had been girls playing together.

Her brother, on the other hand, had scowled at her. “I can’t have any trouble, Amanda. If I’m gonna be running for sheriff and…”

“Your sister knows how important the election is for you, Jess. It shouldn’t be too much to ask that you watch out for her once you gain the office and you and Addie move to Tucson.” Their mother had a way of simply assuming that once any one of her children set sights on something it would be achieved.

“I could campaign for you,” Amanda suggested, giving her brother a teasing smile.

“Don’t do me any favors,” he grumbled as he kissed her cheek and then held the door open for them.

Once outside Doc’s office, Amanda spotted Mr. Grover. He was sitting outside the saloon, his boots propped on the hitching rail and his hat covering most of his face. She had the oddest feeling he was watching her and only pretending to nap.

Her mother had deliberately steered her toward the opposite side of the street that ran along the plaza—a move she would have made under any condition to avoid walking past the saloon. Once they had returned to the mercantile to collect their packages and bid Eliza farewell, she saw that the stranger had moved on and was now standing outside the livery around the corner from Eliza’s store, talking to the blacksmith about the horse he was examining. She and her mother climbed onto the wagon, and she picked up the reins.

“Eyes to the front, young lady,” her mother muttered as they passed the livery, and the cowboy dressed all in black tipped his hat—proof that she had been right to think he was watching her.

On the ride back to the ranch, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man. When they were shopping, she’d heard Eliza whisper to her mother that it was probably a good thing Amanda would be leaving Whitman Falls. Eliza had been sent a wanted poster that pictured a Sam Grover to post in her store that also served as the local postal station.

“He’s suspected of being part of a gang of notorious outlaws,” she had whispered. “Grover’s not that common a name around these parts. There has to be some connection, and if they are related, the young outlaw most likely learned his ways from his brother, don’t you think?”

Eliza also said that when she had repeated her suspicions to Jess, he promised to keep a close eye on the stranger. “The man has taken a room above the saloon, and word is that he’s an accomplished card player, as well as a fast draw with that black-handled gun.” All this information was exchanged while the two older women thought Amanda was trying on dresses and bonnets and too absorbed in her shopping to hear their conversation.

But she had heard it all, and she was well aware that with every new detail revealed about him, she should have been disgusted. The truth was that she was absolutely fascinated, and the idea that he—and whatever adventure might be following him—would be in Whitman Falls, while she was in Tucson, was the one detail that dampened her enthusiasm for her new circumstances.

* * *

It didn’t take Seth long to learn why the Porterfield women had been in town. He felt some sympathy for the folks in Tucson because the younger one was trouble that came packaged in a tall, slender body tied up with a mass of strawberry blond hair that reminded him of the heat at high noon. She had a pair of green eyes that seemed to see everything and like most of what she saw. Seth knew that look, having seen it often enough on his younger brother’s face. He’d be willing to bet that Amanda Porterfield thrived on excitement.

She had also led a sheltered life, if he was any judge of her mother’s influence. That combination, along with her breaking free of her mother’s apron strings to live away from home, could make her reckless. And still, knowing all of that, he could not shake off the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with a fire in her eye, and a way of looking at a man that made him feel anywhere from a couple of inches to ten feet tall, depending on her mood.

The news that she was moving to Tucson to teach some rich man’s kids troubled Seth. The fact that he had just that morning gotten word that had him looking at a move to Tucson as well could complicate matters.

“Best keep your distance, Grover,” he muttered to himself as he stepped inside the saloon where the owner, Miss Lilly, was seated at a table studying the ledger her manager and bartender, Pete Townsend, kept for her.

“You know how to read, cowboy?” In spite of their long friendship, Lillian understood the need to treat Seth as if he were just another stranger.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Any good with figures?”

“Pretty good.”

Miss Lillian kicked the chair opposite her away from the round table and motioned for him to sit. “Take a look at these. Tell me what you see.”

Seth was aware of Pete wiping glasses with a dish towel and scowling at his boss. “Don’t you trust me, Miss Lilly?” Pete asked.

“I make it my business not to trust anybody. Nothing personal, Pete.” She shoved the ledger toward Seth. Pete threw down the towel and stalked out the back door.

“Now, Lilly, what’s your problem with Pete? You’ve known the man for a decade or more, and in all that time, you’ve never found fault with his bookkeeping.”

Lilly grinned, and after a glance toward the back door, whispered, “Had to have some excuse to talk to you, Seth.” She leaned closer. “I heard talk earlier today that a couple of them robbers you been stalking may be headed this way herding a dozen horses or so. Sounds like they mean to hole up somewhere in the area and get ready to make a fresh strike before crossing the border. I figure that’s the reason for rounding up spare horses—they’ll need fresh mounts for the escape. And take a look at this,” she added, pushing a crumpled bill across the table.

Seth studied the money, noting the serial number. He had a memory for numbers and knew instantly that the bill had come from a robbery committed a month earlier. “Who passed this?”

“One of those two playing cards with you and Gus last night.”

Seth had no reason to question Lilly’s information. The two had worked together on other cases before she’d bought the saloon in Arizona. On one such case, she had saved his life, throwing a heavy glass beer mug at a man about to stab Seth as he fought off two others in a brawl. The minute he’d walked into her saloon, the Dandy Doodle, one night when the place was filled with customers, she’d played her role to perfection. She’d made a point of acting like she’d never seen him before but sure didn’t like what she was seeing now. She’d rented him a room, saying at the first sign of trouble she would evict him, and he might as well know right away she did not tolerate card sharks or cheaters in her place. All of it a well-rehearsed act for the benefit of her other customers.

“Did you hear anything they said after I left?”

“Not them, but another customer who stopped in earlier today was jawing about a gang having been seen north and east of here—Texas, maybe—and heading south.”

“Why was he talking about it at all?”

“He’d come in on the stage and heard about the robberies. It’s gossip, I know, Seth, but you can’t discount it altogether.”

Seth nodded. He was piecing together the information he’d been gathering ever since arriving in Whitman Falls. He still thought the next hit would be either the delivery of the payroll to Fort Lowell or the train that bypassed town on its way to Tucson. On the other hand, there was also the possibility they would go after the delivery of payment to miners in the hills closer to Tucson—a payroll that would come by train and then be transferred by mule to the mines. Trouble was, he couldn’t be in two places at once. He’d have to gamble.

He picked up a deck of cards. “Pick one, Lilly,” he said, fanning the cards in front of her. She slid one out, looked at it, and laid it face down on the table.

“One more,” he instructed, and after she’d chosen, he shuffled the cards. “The card there on the left is Tucson. On the right is staying here.” He dealt two cards, placing them face up on top of Lilly’s—a four of spades on her Tucson card and the king of hearts on Whitman Falls. He let out a breath, certain that the decision had been made.

“Looks like I stay put,” he said, reaching for the cards.

“Not so fast, cowboy,” Lilly said with a grin. She flipped her card for staying in town over—it was the ace of diamonds, beating his king. Then she turned over the Tucson card to show the three of clubs. He’d won with a four.

“Pack your saddlebags, Seth. Looks like you’re headed for Tucson.”