Six

Seth’s time with Sheriff Richter had been pretty much a standoff, the two of them keeping their distance, with neither abandoning his post outside the courthouse door. The clock had chimed the half hour, and dusk was settling in. Seth saw two men coming his way and recognized one as Amanda’s brother. Jess was dressed in clothes suited to riding the range while the other man was dressed formally, like a businessman, or perhaps a lawyer.

“Tarnation,” the sheriff muttered, and he stabbed out the cigar he’d lit shortly after Addie and Amanda went inside.

“Trouble?”

“Mind your own business,” Richter growled even as he pasted a fake smile on his face and descended the steps to greet the two men. “Well, if it ain’t our district attorney and Marshal Porterfield. A little out of your territory, aren’t you, son?”

Seth saw the flash of anger that passed over Jess’s face, but the man held his temper. “Good evening, Sheriff. Is my wife inside?”

“Looks like before long the whole family will be down there—your wife, your sister, you… You ain’t by chance checking up on me, are you, son?”

Richter’s constant insistence on pointing out the difference in their ages—and probably their experience—would have rattled most men. The sheriff was clearly trying to get a rise out of his opponent. But Jess stood his ground. “How’s my prisoner doing?”

“Now, Marshal, let’s understand each other—anybody locked up in this here jail is my prisoner.”

The other man placed his foot on the bottom step leading to the courthouse. “I’ve come to question the man, Sheriff. I assume that would be all right with you?”

Seth remained standing near the courthouse door, observing the scene playing out on the steps below. He had thought it the safest place to be, until Amanda came barreling through the door and nearly slammed into him. She was about to say something to him when she evidently spotted her brother.

“Jess, Addie needs her medical bag. One of the prisoners is hurt, bleeding.”

Jess Porterfield took a step closer to the sheriff. “I don’t suppose this might be the young man I delivered to your care not two hours ago?”

Seth’s attention was riveted on the two men. After all, there was every possibility the kid they were discussing was Sam.

He walked down the steps until he had joined the gathering. “I could go with Miss Porterfield to get Dr. Porterfield’s medical bag, Marshal,” he said quietly, giving no indication that he and Jess had ever met.

Jess glanced at him, then at Amanda. “You know this man?”

“He lives in the boardinghouse. Please, Jess, Addie needs her bag.”

Jess hesitated, then nodded. “It’s in the buggy by that small house on the corner.” Jess pointed out the house and then headed inside the courthouse with the lawyer and Richter close on his heels.

“Stay here,” Seth told Amanda. “It’ll be quicker if I go alone.” He took off at a run, found the bag, and was back in minutes. “Let’s go,” he said as he ran up the steps and held the door for her. “Which way?”

“Down here.” She led him through a series of hallways and impressive solid wood doors with carved trim until they came to what looked like the door to a closet. It stood open, and he could see the darkness below and smell the odors of human sweat and waste.

“Stay here,” he ordered, unwilling to have her experience such filth.

“No,” she replied, and went ahead down the narrow stairway, as if it were a trip she had made a dozen times.

There was no need to seek further directions, for now the doctor, her husband, the lawyer, and the sheriff were all squeezed into a small cell where a man lay on a cot, his shirt ripped and covered in blood. Seth pushed through to reach the doctor and get a better look. If it was Sam and he was conscious, he was sure to recognize his own brother, though Seth hoped the kid would have sense enough not to reveal Seth’s true identity by crying out for help. His heart hammered with a mix of fear and rage. If Sheriff Richter had hurt Sam…

“Here,” he said, thrusting the bag at Addie. Then he steeled himself to look down at the cot.

It wasn’t Sam.

A wave of disappointment mixed with relief left him light-headed. He leaned against the cold wall of the cell.

“Steady there,” the doctor said, and he realized she was talking to him.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first man to go weak in the knees at the sight of blood. Jess, I need some room here.” She positioned herself between the injured man and the three lawmen, a clear message to get out of the cell.

“Here’s the water and rags you wanted, Doc,” a scrawny old man said as he set a pan of water on a small wooden stool.

“Where did you go for it? China?” she barked. “Sorry, Josiah,” she added as she dipped a rag in the water and squeezed out the excess.

“How did this man get injured?” Richter demanded.

The deputy looked confused, but then he glanced at Richter and mumbled, “He musta fell. Musta happened right after you left him here. He was sure fine then.” His voice shook, and there was little doubt that he was lying.

Richter turned to the man wearing the suit. “As I told you, Mr. Collins, the man put up a fight when he was brought down here. The deputy and me could hardly hold him, ain’t that right, Josiah?”

Seth saw the deputy nod and then look away.

“This man did not fall,” Amanda announced. “He has been beaten. Am I correct, Addie?”

The man moaned as Addie applied iodine to his cuts. “I would have to agree,” she said, looking at her husband, who stepped back inside the cell. “He’ll be all right,” she said in a tone meant to reassure Jess.

“Can he be moved to Whitman Falls?” Jess asked.

“Now, why would you go moving him all the way there, knowing he has to come back here to face trial?” Richter asked. He snickered and shook his head as if Jess were about the dumbest man he’d ever met.

“You make a good point, Sheriff,” Jess said as he studied Seth. “Sir, I didn’t get your name.”

“Grover,” Seth replied.

“You from Tucson?”

“Just passing through.”

Seth heard Amanda release an exasperated sigh. “He’s looking at properties for investors who are his clients, Jess. He’s perfectly…”

Jess ignored her. “Interested in making a little money on the side?”

“What do you have in mind, Marshal Porterfield?”

“Well, I’m thinking the sheriff’s deputy has about all he can handle, seeing as how all the cells down here are fully occupied. I’m wondering if maybe you’d agree to watch over my prisoner here through the night—just to be sure he doesn’t injure himself again before morning.”

It was a gift—a chance for Seth to see if he could gain more information about the Stock brothers and their plans. It was a long shot, but he was pretty sure the marshal knew exactly what he was offering. “How much?”

“Does two bits an hour suit?”

“Now just a doggone minute,” Sheriff Richter protested, but the lawyer interrupted.

“I think that’s a fine idea. From what the marshal has told me, the man lying there could very well be mixed up with the gang that’s been pulling off those robberies north of here. And if he’s not part of the gang, then maybe he’s got some idea where they could be hiding out. Seems to me this gentleman here might be able to gather some information the prisoner would be reluctant to give someone wearing a badge.”

“You’re the boss,” Richter grumbled. “But this so-called businessman here has earned himself quite a reputation at the poker table over at the Blue Parrot. From what I hear, most folks wouldn’t trust him to play a fair game of five-card stud, much less watch over a dangerous criminal. How do we know these two aren’t in cahoots?”

“Sometimes you just need to have a little faith,” Jess said, and then looked at Seth. “Deal?”

“Yes sir.” This could be the break he’d been waiting for. He only hoped the doctor was good at her work, and the man would come around before daybreak so Seth would have time to gather what information he could before Richter showed up again.

“He should sleep for a while,” Addie said, wiping her hands on one of the wet rags before dropping it back into the bloody water.

Josiah carried the pan away, and Seth took that opportunity to settle himself on the stool outside the cell. He was aware that Amanda was staring at him. She seemed undecided about what her next move should be.

“If you’d be so kind, Miss Porterfield, as to let Miss Dooley know I’m unlikely to be at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

The doctor had packed her bag and was waiting with her husband to leave, and still Amanda lingered.

“Do you…will you be all right?” she asked, her voice a near whisper.

“Come on, Sis,” Jess ordered. He waited for her at the foot of the steps while the others went ahead. “Grover is not someone you need to be concerned with,” Seth heard him say as Amanda followed him up the steps. “He’s…”

The rest was lost as the door closed, and other than the lantern at one end of the row of cells, the space was cast into darkness. The man on the cot moaned, the other prisoners settled back onto cots of their own, and Seth leaned back against the cold wall and planned his next move.

* * *

After she’d endured a lecture from her brother about the dangers of trusting strangers like Seth Grover, and she’d seen Jess and Addie off on their way back to Whitman Falls, Amanda returned to her room at the boardinghouse. Her head was spinning with everything that had happened that day—from the time she’d spent with the Baxter twins to Addie’s news about her father to her visit to the jail.

She knew she should have been disgusted by what she had seen there, but the truth was that once she got past the shock, she felt energized. Here was a cause she could champion. Her sympathies for Minnie Price—and what she assumed were other women just like her living right down the street from the boardinghouse—kept her awake long into the night. She wished she had more time to talk to Addie about what they might do, especially for these women she had once heard referred to as “soiled doves.” She thought about the woman who owned the saloon in Whitman Falls, Miss Lillian. She was ashamed by how often she and others had been guilty of crossing the street simply to avoid having to pass the saloon.

She took out pen and paper and wrote a long letter to Addie, laying out her feelings and seeking her friend’s advice for how they might work together toward better lives for these women. Tomorrow she would go to the drugstore and introduce herself to Mr. Matthews and his daughter. Together they would take up Addie’s cause and make it a complete success.

Exhilarated, she found sleep impossible, and abandoned it in favor of sitting on the window seat by the garret window. She was thinking of ways she might inspire the Baxter twins to get involved in the cause when she noticed someone scurrying across the flat roof of the Baxter home. She leaned closer to the window, trying to get a better look, and wondered what she should do. What could she do? By the time she might reach the house and pound on the front door to raise the alarm, the culprit would be long gone. Besides, the person was moving away from the house, climbing down a trellis, and disappearing from her view, obscured from her sight by the adobe wall that encompassed the property.

She wished Seth were in his room. He would know what to do. But Seth was at the jail. She strained to see the alley below and saw the same person leading a horse from the property—a horse that made no sound, because its mouth and hooves had been muffled with cloth. The person led the horse down the alley. He was stealing one of the Baxter horses! She had to do something.

She grabbed her robe and ran barefoot down the stairs, through the kitchen and past the door that led to Miss Dooley’s quarters. She peeked out the back door, moving the lace curtain aside only enough to see where the culprit might be, and gasped.

The man—or rather boy—guiding the horse was none other than Eli Baxter. She recognized him by the fringed jacket she’d seen him wear before.

Her shock at this discovery paralyzed her long enough for him to mount and ride away. She opened the kitchen door and stepped outside in time to see him crest a hill and disappear. In the alley she saw a piece of wool and knew it was one of the mufflers he had used on the horse’s hooves. She picked it up and rolled it into a ball. It would possibly come in handy when she and Eli had yet another standoff.

* * *

Not surprisingly, when Amanda arrived at the Baxter house the following morning, she found Ellie sitting alone at the table. “Where is your brother, Ellie?”

The girl kept her eyes on the closed book before her. “Sick,” she mumbled.

Amanda was hardly shocked. She had no idea when the boy had returned home, but since it had been well after midnight when she saw him leave she doubted it had been much before dawn. “I see. Has Mrs. Caldwell been told?”

“Yes, Miss Porterfield. She’s with him now.”

“And your father? Has he been informed as well?”

For the first time since Amanda’s arrival, the girl glanced at her. Her eyes were wide with fear. “No. I mean, Eli pretended to be all right until Father left for the bank, but then…”

“I see.” She did not have to ask why the charade for their father’s benefit. She placed a consoling hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Hopefully, Eli will be up to joining us later in the day. In the meantime, why don’t you choose a Psalm to read before we pray?”

She handed Ellie her Bible. To her surprise, the girl did not hesitate, but turned to Psalm one hundred, stood, and read it aloud with feeling. Amanda suspected that when her brother was present, Ellie took her cues from him, but on her own she was far more confident. After they had prayed together, Amanda followed her usual protocol of writing the day’s work on the chalkboard. She returned to the table to see that Ellie had laid her completed homework assignments out for review. She seemed disappointed when Amanda did not immediately attend to them.

“Ellie,” Amanda said as she took the seat where Eli normally sat across from Ellie. “I have been wanting to speak with you about the essay you wrote that first week of class. The one where I asked what you would do if you could do anything?”

The girl’s cheeks flared bright red, and she looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. “You mustn’t pay that any mind, Miss Porterfield. I mean, I just started writing because…well, I thought if I filled up a bunch of pages, you would tell my father that I had done good work and—”

“Are you saying what you wrote about becoming a novelist and traveling the world to gather your stories was not true?”

“No, miss. I mean, yes, miss, it’s true. I do love to make up stories, but Father says…”

“Oh Ellie, never concern yourself with what others may say when it comes to following your heart’s desire. Have I ever told you about my younger brother, Trey?”

Ellie shook her head.

“Trey was not well when he was a boy. In fact, he spent much of his childhood in bed or sitting in his room watching what happened outside his bedroom window. When he was around eight or nine, he began drawing little sketches of what he saw from that window. As his health improved, his passion for art grew as well, until just a few weeks ago he left home to spend several months in the wild. There he will sketch the things he sees, and those drawings are to be published—first in the Tucson newspaper, and eventually, Trey hopes, in a book.”

Ellie’s expression was rapt with interest, but then she frowned. “I don’t understand why you told me that, Miss Porterfield.”

“I told you that because, in spite of others in our family belittling Trey’s dreams, he has remained steadfast in following his heart. I told you about my brother with the hope that you might consider how truly passionate you are about your dreams for the future. Do you have what it might take to pursue them? I mean, what if members of your family do not approve? What if you write a novel, or two or three, and no one reads them? Would you continue to write? Perhaps a more pertinent question is, are you writing now?”

“No, but…”

“Then you must begin. While I go speak with Mrs. Caldwell about your brother’s condition, I want you to write.”

“Write what?”

“A story—a little story about anything. You must have ideas buzzing in your head. Choose one, and get it down on paper.” She pushed the inkwell, a pen, and a sheet of clean paper across the table. By the time she had walked to the door, Ellie was bent over the table, scribbling away.

Amanda smiled and went in search of Kitty Caldwell.

“I can’t find a thing wrong with the boy,” Kitty admitted, “but this much I know—he cannot keep his eyes open for longer than a few minutes.”

Amanda wasn’t surprised, but she decided not to share the information she had about Eli’s post-midnight ride. “Let him rest then, and perhaps after lunch he will improve.”

“I thought it was an act at first. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pretended to be sick, but this is different. He was actually shaking when I went into his room.”

“Is he running a fever?”

“Not that I can tell,” Kitty said. “I made him some hot broth, and he took a couple of sips, then curled back under the covers.”

Amanda worried Eli had encountered something—or someone—that had threatened or frightened him. She had to come up with some way of warning him that his adventures could end up getting him hurt, and again she thought of Seth. Perhaps Eli would respect a man like Seth warning him about the peril he was putting himself in.

Kitty continued to talk, although Amanda’s mind was too occupied to really listen, until she heard the word “baseball.” Of course. She had identified Ellie’s love of storytelling and hopefully set her on a path to pursue that dream. Eli had written in large childish letters that his dream was to play baseball. But what did she know about the sport? As usual, she thought of Seth. Surely he would have some idea of how she might help Eli pursue that safer path.

“Let Eli sleep until lunch, and then tell him I expect him in the library.”

For the rest of the morning, Amanda gave Ellie assignments she could complete on her own, and when Eli came downstairs later, she did the same with him. He seemed well enough, but subdued. While they worked, she scanned the hundreds of titles that lined the shelves of the library, looking for something that might engage each child’s special interests.

Choosing something for Ellie was easy. She chose a copy of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, hoping that, even if she had already read the novel, perhaps Amanda might help her connect deeply with the character of Jo March. But what would hold Eli’s interest enough to keep him safe at home? She rejected book after book—science books, books on geography, books on the breeding of horses. And then she saw a thin volume almost lost among its wieldy shelf-mates. She pulled it out, first taken by the fact that it had fewer pages and therefore would be less daunting for the boy. The title was Chadwick’s Base-Ball Manual for 1871. It was the perfect choice.

Toward the end of their day together, she collected the children’s work and told them that, in light of all they had completed in class, their only homework assignments would be reading.

Eli groaned and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Ellie looked worried as usual. “An entire book in one night?”

“Fifty pages at a minimum. If you go beyond that, so much the better.” She handed Ellie her book. “I want you to pay special attention to the character of Jo March.”

Ellie nodded solemnly while her brother rolled his eyes. But when Amanda handed him the book on baseball, he had a good deal of trouble hiding his surprise. “Where did you find this?” he asked.

“Oh, Eli, there are many treasures to be found in a library. You just have to be willing to look.”

With something that approached reverence, he slowly turned the pages of the small volume. Ellie looked up from her own exploration and gasped. “Mama bought that book for you, Eli. It was to be your present for our birthday the year she…”

“She died,” Eli muttered. “The day before our birthday,” he added, more to himself. “So why didn’t Father give it to me?”

“Perhaps in his grief—” Amanda began, but Eli interrupted.

“His grief didn’t stop him from giving Ellie her present.” He continued to stare at the book, only now it seemed to Amanda as if he looked at it with disgust.

Amanda sat next to him. “Eli, I do not know the story behind how this book ended up on these shelves. What I do know is that you have a love of the game of baseball, and according to your sister, your mother was aware of that as well. If I were you, I would look upon this as a belated birthday gift from your mother—one she made sure has finally reached you.”

Eli sat very still for a long moment, fingering the cover. Finally, he nodded and carefully placed the book in the leather folder he used to carry his homework assignments and books to and from his room upstairs. “May I be excused?”

“Yes. We are done for the day. You both did excellent work, and I will make sure to relay that message to your father.”

As she did every school day once the twins had been excused, Amanda stayed on writing the report she would leave on Mr. Baxter’s desk before she headed back to the boardinghouse. She was so engrossed in choosing exactly the right words for praising the children without appearing naive about what the future might bring that Ezra Baxter entered the house—and the library—before she was even aware of his presence.

“You’ve stayed late today, Miss Porterfield. Was there a problem with the children?”

Amanda stood out of respect for her employer, although it annoyed her that his first assumption was that his children had caused trouble. He walked to a cabinet next to the fireplace, took a key from his vest pocket, and unlocked it. As he waited for her reply, he removed a crystal decanter from the cabinet and two glasses and poured a small amount of amber liquid into each.

“Well?” he said, offering her one of the two glasses.

“Thank you, no,” she said primly, and picked up her report. “As for the children, today was our best day to date. They have made remarkable progress, sir. You should be very proud of both.”

“Even Eli?”

“Especially Eli. I am aware that he has his problems when it comes to discipline, sir, but my theory is that they arise from boredom. He needs to be challenged.”

He watched her closely as he drained the liquor in the glass he held, set that aside, and did the same with the glass he had offered her. “You do not approve of my sending the children away in the fall, do you, Miss Porterfield?”

“I believe families should stay together,” she replied.

“Of course, if the children remained here, you would continue to be employed. Does that not factor into your thinking?”

She bit her lower lip to stop the words she wanted to say from tumbling out. Words like I don’t need this job. Or If you think for one minute that…

To her shock, the man smiled and indicated that she should take one of the two chairs facing the fire. “Please join me, Miss Porterfield.”

It would be rude to refuse. “Miss Dooley is quite strict about mealtimes,” she said as she glanced at the clock on the mantel.

“You have a few minutes. After all, the boardinghouse is practically in my backyard.” Again, he gestured to the chair, and when Amanda perched on the edge of the seat, he sat down in the other. “I have been most impressed with your handling of the children, Miss Porterfield. Perhaps I misjudged the importance of a female influence once my wife died.”

“They have Mrs. Caldwell,” she reminded him.

The smile reverted to the more familiar scowl that lined his face most of the time. “Mrs. Caldwell is a servant, Miss Porterfield. She is hardly of the class I would choose for influencing my children.”

Of all the arrogant…

“You, on the other hand, come from a fine family—an educated family—and one of means and social standing in the region.”

Amanda glanced at the clock. It showed she had five minutes to get from here to the boardinghouse dining table or suffer the wrath of Miss Dooley. She so wished he would come to the point.

“It is for that reason, Miss Porterfield—Amanda—that I would like to propose we make our arrangement one of permanence.”

Her head was spinning with what excuse she might offer Miss Dooley for her tardiness, but as Mr. Baxter’s words broke through her thoughts she froze in mind and body. Surely, he could not be suggesting…

“I propose that we wed, Amanda, for the good of the children.”

That brought Amanda to her feet and had her backing away from him as she gathered her belongings. “I have to go, Mr. Baxter. I…thank you for…I have to go.”

He stood—a bit unsteadily, she noticed. “I have shocked you, my dear. I apologize. Please consider my offer, for I assure you, it is not made lightly.”

She had reached the doorway of the library. Ten more steps, and she could be out the door. She glanced toward the kitchen, where she could hear Kitty preparing the family’s supper, and then a movement at the top of the stairs caught her attention. She caught a glimpse of Ellie’s skirts as the girl fled back to her room and closed the door. Amanda hesitated, her instinct telling her to go to the girl and let her know that her father had not been himself, had surely not known what he was saying. And then she felt Ezra’s hand on her arm, squeezing tight.

“Please,” he whispered, and leaned in as if to pull her closer. Amanda wrenched her arm free, grabbed her cloak and satchel, and fled from the house.

* * *

The first thing Seth noticed when Amanda came rushing into the dining room was that she was ghostly pale. The second was that when her sleeve crept up to expose her forearm as she reached for her chair, there were red marks that were obviously fresh. They would possibly leave welts or bruises. Had the Baxter boy attacked her? If so, that kid was going to get a lesson in how to treat a lady.

“So nice of you to join us, Miss Porterfield,” Miss Dooley said as she paused for a moment to give Amanda time to sit down and bow her head.

When the silent prayer had ended and the boarders began passing dishes around the table, Amanda turned to their landlady. “I do apologize. My employer came home early, and he wanted to talk about the children.”

“And how are they doing?” Mrs. Rosewood asked.

Seth saw Amanda visibly relax as the conversation turned to the twins and their studies. Her previous reluctance to discuss her work had disappeared, and she was filled with enthusiasm. Clearly, she no longer had a problem with the boy. In fact, after telling them about finding the baseball book for Eli, she raised the question of whether anyone knew if there might be some man in town who would be willing to practice the game with Eli.

“I mean, one can only learn so much from reading a book,” Amanda said as she settled her gaze on him.

Seth had no idea why the next words he heard were his own. “I used to play,” he said, and the way his admission made her eyes sparkle had him offering information he should have kept to himself. “Some say I was a pretty good hitter.”

“There’s a group of men who come to the saloon regular, and two or three times a week, they get a game going out back of the place,” Ollie said.

“I cannot see Ezra Baxter allowing his son to join a game that takes place behind an establishment like the Blue Parrot,” Miss Dooley said.

“Don’t see why not, since Baxter himself is there most every night,” Ollie muttered.

“Mr. Baxter plays the game?” Amanda asked.

Ollie snorted. “Naw, he’s too highbrow for the likes of a game where he might get his hands a little dirty. Might get those fancy duds of his messed up as well. My guess is he’s not keen on letting the boy play either.”

Seth watched Amanda wrestle with this information. He could practically see the wheels of her mind turning and was pretty sure that whatever she was thinking could lead to trouble. He glanced at her arm again, and when she saw him looking, she pulled at her sleeve to hide the marks. But Seth was already working it out. If Eli hadn’t hurt her…then who? She spent all her time during the day at the Baxter house, so with the banker coming home early and keeping her late, Seth could come to only one conclusion. And it was one he fully intended to do something about.

* * *

Amanda used her excitement about the twins as a shield to hold herself together as best she could until supper finally ended. Then she retreated to the seclusion of her room where the full impact of Ezra Baxter’s words struck her. To her surprise, as soon as she had closed the door, she began to shake. She sat at her dressing table and released the tears she hadn’t realized she was holding at bay. They leaked down her cheeks in silence as she stared at herself in the mirror and replayed the incident, looking for any way she might have contributed to the sheer madness of it.

What on earth could have possibly given the man the idea that they might wed—that she might have the slightest interest in being his wife? She barely knew him, and other than that first dinner, they had not exchanged more than a dozen words. And yet he apparently felt he knew her well enough that he could make such an absurd proposal. And how much had Ellie heard? And what might she tell Eli?

What was she thinking? Her position with the Baxter children was over. How could she possibly return to that house after this? But if she didn’t complete the term, if she didn’t guide the children through the work so that they might succeed in passing the entrance examinations to the private school their father had mentioned, then what might their futures be?

She wiped away the tears that had dripped onto the front of her shirtwaist, staining it with moisture, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She would not abandon those children. There had to be a way she could tutor them without having to endure the unwanted advances of their father. Of course, given the two glasses of whiskey he had consumed in quick succession before making his proposal, perhaps he might not recall his actions—or he might pretend not to remember. He might be as embarrassed as she was. If that were the case, they could both go back to the way things had been.

But just before she had broken his hold on her arm, he had mumbled something beyond the word, “Please.” Now, as she recalled the encounter in detail, she realized what he had murmured was, “I have come to care for you, Amanda.”

Ridiculous! The man knew nothing of her. Other than reading her daily reports on the work the children had completed, what could possibly be the basis of his feelings?

She paced the room, but soon felt as if she had to escape—not only the room, but the clutches of Ezra Baxter. She needed air. Back at the ranch, she would think nothing of going for a walk no matter the hour. Here in town, such an action had to be clandestine.

She heard the clock in the parlor strike eight, heard Miss Dooley turn the key in the lock on the front door, and finally, heard the landlady close the door of her room at the back of the house. Down the hall she heard the bathroom door open, and then Miss Jensen’s door close after wishing Mrs. Rosewood a good night. Everyone was settled in for the night. Ollie Taylor was at work, and more than likely, Seth was out as well.

Amanda started to undress. What choice did she have but to also go to bed? But then she saw the shirt and pants she had brought with her from the ranch, thinking she might need them should she decide to take the children out for a ride or a trip away from town. An old hat that had belonged to her younger brother hung on the post of the bed. Her riding boots were lined up side by side in the bottom of the wardrobe.

If she disguised herself as a boy, who would think twice seeing her out and about at this hour? She needed to think, and she had always done her best thinking late at night under a starry sky. It took her less than ten minutes to change, slip out of the room and down the stairs. Once again, she left the back door unlocked and stepped outside.

As she stood on the back stoop, trying to decide her next move, she realized that for the first time in days, she felt the reality of the independence she had sought when she left home. She smiled as she headed down the alley, picking her way behind shops and the back entrance to the Blue Parrot until she reached the edge of town, where she stopped.

Now what?

This was not the ranch where she knew every inch of the land, where the creek that ran through their property was always there as a place of refuge. This was Tucson—and what lay beyond its shops and homes and other buildings was a vast unknown. She must have been out of her mind to think she could escape the bonds this place had put on her.

Defeated, she prepared to retrace her steps, but before she could someone grabbed her, placed a gloved hand over her mouth, and wrestled her to the ground.

* * *

For the last three nights, Seth had been aware of someone following him as he went from the boardinghouse to the saloon and sometimes down the alley to the rear of the bank, where he looked for signs that anyone had been checking out the entry to the place. His stalker was good, keeping to the shadows of the closed shops and wearing dark clothes to further blend into the darkness. But sooner or later the guy would make a mistake, and when he did, Seth would be ready. If somebody in town had figured out Seth wasn’t who he pretended to be, that was a danger he couldn’t risk. He also wanted to snare whoever was following him in order to learn if that was the cowboy who had left the note about checking out the Frost ranch.

In the night he’d spent watching over Jess’s prisoner, he’d picked up one key piece of information. The prisoner, who went by the name of Rusty, had heard some talk about a gang coming south, hoping to make a big strike before escaping across the border into Mexico. None of this was news to Seth, but he’d resisted the urge to press the man.

“You planning on hooking up with them?”

Rusty had looked at him and laughed. “I’m in jail. Does it look like I’m getting ready to meet anybody?”

“I just meant…”

“I was scoping out the town of Whitman Falls for them when the saloonkeeper caught me stealing a bottle of hooch from behind her bar and called the marshal on me.”

Seth had smothered a grin even as he imagined the ruckus Lilly must have raised. “She’s not somebody you want to mess with,” he agreed.

Rusty looked at him with interest. “You know her?”

Seth shrugged. “Had some dealings of my own with her. I came out on the short end pretty much the same as you.”

“Then you know that town?”

“Just passed through. I noticed it was on the way to the fort, and that made me think any payroll coming that way would have to pass right through town.”

Rusty leaned closer and lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “That’s what I was gonna tell the Stock boys.”

“Before you got arrested,” Seth added.

Rusty bowed his head. “They’re gonna think I double-crossed them. My life won’t be worth a plug nickel.”

“How’d you get the beating in here?”

“That sheriff took a dislike to me right off.”

“Did he say why?”

“Just said he was giving me fair warning to keep my mouth shut.” For the first time, he seemed to realize that he was talking freely to a complete stranger. “Aw, gol-darn it. I’m a dead man for sure.”

“I’ve got an idea. What if you wrote the Stock brothers and told them what you’d found out, and I delivered that message for you?”

Rusty stiffened. Slowly, he reached for the lantern and raised it so he could get a better look at Seth. “What’s your business in this, mister?”

“Let’s just say, like you, I’m not what people think I am.”

The lantern light glinted off a gold cap on Rusty’s front tooth as he grinned. “You thinking on joining up with them boys?”

Again, Seth shrugged. “You want the deal I’m offering or not?”

“Can’t hurt,” Rusty said, “except I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s in it for you.”

“Well, you have to tell me where to deliver your message, don’t you? And I’m thinking since you did your part, maybe I can pick up what’s owed you while I’m delivering it.”

Rusty snickered. “That or get yourself killed. Well, better you ’n me. You got paper and pencil?”

In the end, Rusty had scribbled a message and told Seth the gang could be found at the same abandoned ranch he’d checked out earlier. He’d gone there twice now. The first time, he’d left Rusty’s note under a tin cup in the falling-down house. He’d waited for hours, but no one came. The second time, the note had been gone. Neither time had he found any sign of human life, but nevertheless, he’d had a sixth sense that told him he was being watched.

From the far end of the alley behind the bank, he heard muffled footsteps and pressed himself into a doorway across from the back door of the building. He watched as a small figure dressed in dark clothes darted down the alley, head bent and features hidden under the wide brim of a hat. The person moved like a kid, and Seth thought he’d finally found his brother.

He let the scoundrel reach the end of the alley before following. When he turned the corner at the edge of town, he froze.

It wasn’t Sam—too small and slender. Also couldn’t be the bulky Baxter kid. Whoever this was just stood there, staring off into the black of the countryside. Seth waited. The guy didn’t move a muscle. Seth touched the butt of his gun and then decided not to draw. He saw no sign that the kid was armed.

Stealthily, he moved nearer until he was close enough to strike. In one swift movement, he muzzled the boy with one hand while wrestling him to the ground with the other. All the while, he hoped against hope this was his brother Sammy. And all the while, he knew he was wrong.