A Promise of Roses (26 page)

Lucas straightened. When he was sure she could stand on her own, he slipped his arm from around her back. “You're right,” he said, wiping his lips with the back of one hand.

"About what?” she asked, still slightly dazed.

"I could never make you melt.” He turned around and began descending the stairs.

"Of course not,” she said, her voice weaker than she'd have liked. “My constitution is much too strong for any such nonsense."

But her lips still tingled, and she had trouble negotiating the steps as she followed him down to the front office.

Lucas sat at the desk, concentrating on the figures in the most recent Adams Express ledger. The low lamplight did nothing to hurry the aggravatingly slow process.

Megan's head appeared from the other side of the desk, where she knelt on the floor sorting through Express records. She slapped another pile of papers in front of him. “What are we looking for, anyway?"

"Anything.
I'll know it when I see it."

"Great,” she said, bending over the stack of letters and telegrams from Union Pacific once again. “He doesn't know what he's looking for, but he'll know it when he sees it. Now there's a plan if ever I've heard one."

"What are you babbling about over there?"

"I am not babbling."

"Sounds like babbling to me."

"Well, I wouldn't be too concerned then. After all, you don't even know what it is you're looking for."

"I'll know it when I—"

"—see it.
Yeah, yeah.
Just don't expect me to be overly confident. Lucas, we could be days at this."

"Yep."

The short answer, along with the change in his voice, made her stop. She peeked over the edge of the desk to see him studying one page of the ledger more closely than the others. “Did you find something?"

"Maybe."

She jumped up and rounded the desk, coming to stand behind him. “What? Lucas, what is it?"

"I thought you were the only one who worked on the books."

"I am.
Except for the past few weeks when Caleb has been taking care of things."

"And you've always kept this ledger under lock and key, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why does the handwriting change every few entries starting six months ago?"

"What?” She leaned closer.

"It's not very noticeable, but
look
.” He used his fingers to compare two separate columns. “Your writing flows, while the other is blockier. The numbers are different, too. You make figure eight's, while this person uses two circles, one on top of the other.
Your
two's are smooth with a loop at the bottom. Whoever wrote this made a sharp angle at the bottom of his."

"I don't pay much attention to the ledger except to make sure that each day's incoming and outgoing funds come out right. Maybe Caleb did make some entries before now, and I just forgot."

"No.” He flipped ahead several pages. “Caleb's writing is more fluid, like yours. See? Who else could have gotten to your records?"

"No one.
Well, Hector, I suppose, but—"

"Hector. The one Caleb had trouble getting rid of tonight?"

"Yes. He's my regular driver."

"How would he have access to the ledger?"

She tucked her chin against her chest guiltily. “Well, he sometimes mans the office for me. Like the day I drove the stage because he refused to."

Lucas's brow wrinkled. “Do you think you could find anything with a sample of Hector's handwriting on it? Maybe we could compare something you know he wrote to the writing in the ledger."

Megan rifled through some papers on the desk, next moving to a set of cabinets along the far wall. The more she came up with nothing, the faster her movements became. As a last resort, she checked the shelves beneath the ticket counter. “Aha!” she cried out, her voice still low for fear of someone discovering their presence.

She handed Lucas a slip of paper. A note from Hector letting Megan know he wouldn't be able to take a week's worth of stage runs because his brother was visiting from
Texas
. Lucas folded the page, isolating one line of writing,
then
held it next to a line in the ledger.

"Oh, my God.”
Megan felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her and clutched the back of Lucas's chair. Not Hector. He'd been working for her too long. She'd entrusted him with too many duties. She'd
trusted
him.

"There has to be some mistake,” she said. “Maybe Hector was only keeping the records up to date to help me out. He knows how hard it's been for me to keep the Express going. People just don't want to do business with you when they find out a woman is running things."

"I don't think ‘helping’ includes breaking into a locked drawer, do you? And I'll bet if we go back through the numbers, redo the math, and compare them with your bank account, we'll find inconsistencies. My guess is
,
he's been skimming the profits for some time now."

"I don't believe it,” she said matter-of-factly. “There has to be some kind of mistake. I'm sure if we ask him, he'll have a perfectly good explanation."

"Oh, I'm sure he will. He's had six months to make up a believable story."

"Do you have any idea what you're saying, Lucas? You're telling me that my right-hand man, a person who's worked for me since he was sixteen years old, has betrayed me. You're saying he set me up to take the fall for something he's done."

"That's exactly what I think is going on."

"Can you prove it?” she asked, turning
his own
logic back at him.

"Not yet. But his handwriting in this book does prove one thing."

"What?"

"If Hector got to this ledger and made these entries, he probably knows a lot more about what goes on around here than you think he does."

She stared at Lucas for a long minute. Then quietly she asked, “You think he's involved in the payroll robberies, don't you?"

He met her gaze steadily. “I think so."

"Oh, God,” she said again, covering her face with her hands. Pain thrummed behind her eyes. “How can this be happening? I can't believe—"

"
Shh
!” Lucas clamped a hand on her thigh, turning his head to listen more closely.

This time Megan heard the noise, too.
A low, grating sound just beyond the front door.
Lucas shoved the ledger back into the drawer and with a quick twist locked it away. Taking the key with him, he blew out the lamp, grabbed her hand, and made a silent run for the back of the office. But before they reached the stairs, the front door opened. With a quick shove, Lucas pushed her behind the row of oak cabinets, hunching down beside her. He held a finger up to his lips, warning her to remain silent.

From their hiding place, they could hear footsteps, the shuffling of papers, the opening and closing of drawers.

"Hurry up!” someone whispered.

"I'm hurrying,” someone else replied.

Megan slumped when she recognized one of the voices. Even though the words were low and muffled, she knew beyond a doubt that the man breaking into the office was Hector.

As if reading her thoughts, Lucas nudged her elbow, mouthing a one-word question. “Hector?"

With dread weighing heavily on her, slowly, regretfully, she nodded.

Another drawer slid open, and a sigh of relief reached their ears.

"Now tear out those pages,” the other man ordered. “I can't believe you were stupid enough to write in the company records."

"I had to cover my tracks,” Hector said. “Otherwise she would've figured out that I was taking money out of the cash drawer."

"What the hell did you do that for, anyway?"

They heard paper ripping as Hector tore pages out of the Express ledger.
“'cause you take too long
gettin
’ me my cut of the payroll money.
You and the guys stop at every saloon between here and the hideout to buy whiskey and women. I'm lucky to get anything by the time you show up."

"You get your share."

"Yeah, but I deserve more. Without me, you wouldn't know when to stop the stage. I'm the one who finds out when the railroad is shipping the payrolls via the Adams Express."

"And you're paid well for your trouble."

"Not well enough. Don't you care that Ma and I can hardly keep food on the table?"

"Doesn't the Adams woman pay you for driving the stage?"

"Sure, but that doesn't go far.
Especially with Ma being sick and all.”
Hector's tone became more serious. “She's your ma, too,
Ev
."

A wave of nausea rushed over Megan. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The conversation swirled through her head like a bad dream. Discovering that Evan was the other intruder shocked her enough. But the rest ... Not only was Hector responsible for the payroll robberies, but he and Evan—the leader of the outlaws who had kidnapped her—were brothers.

She felt like such a fool. She hadn't even known Hector's mother was ill. If only he had told her, confided in her, she would have managed to give him a raise. Or even lend him the money he needed until they got back on their feet. Maybe then he wouldn't have been so easily convinced to betray her trust.

"Shut up and let's go,” Evan said. The ledger pages crinkled as he shoved them into his pocket. Footsteps sounded across the wooden floorboards. The front door whispered closed behind them, and Megan heard the key turn in the lock, leaving them alone in the building once again.

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Lucas patted her back and helped her to rise. He lit the lamp on the desk,
then
opened the drawer, which the two men had forgotten to relock. The key they had used, a duplicate to Megan's, still rested in its hole.

"Now do you believe me?” he asked.

She nodded, feeling sick to her stomach.

He flipped open the ledger. The rough edges of torn paper remained where pages of records used to be. “There goes our evidence,” he said grimly.

"What do we do now?” She didn't have much hope that they'd be able to prove her innocence with the only evidence of someone else's involvement missing.

He answered her with a conviction she found comforting, even through her gloom. “We get Brandt and the marshal and tell them what we found."

"What will it matter?” she asked. “The proof we found is gone. Hector and Evan took it."

Lucas eyed her for a moment. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Then we'll just have to get it back."

The light blazed brightly inside Brandt Donovan's hotel room, though it was nearing three o'clock in the morning. Megan sat in a maroon medallion-backed armchair beside the window while Lucas tried to convince his friend to go along with his plan.

"Absolutely not.”
Brandt paced the length of the room, occasionally spouting a string of choice phrases at Lucas's proposition. “Are you crazy?"

"It's the only way,” Lucas explained again.

"It can't be the only way. You'll get yourself killed trying to walk back in there."

"That's why I need you at my back."

He stopped in midstride. “I'm telling you, it's crazy."

"We have to get back the evidence that will clear Megan."

"Ever think of leading the marshal to their hideout and letting him take care of it?"

"No."

Brandt threw up his hands and resumed pacing.
“Why not?"

"Because neither the marshal nor his deputy would get within two feet of the place before they shot ‘
em
dead."

"What makes you think they won't do the same to you?"

He took a deep breath and tried once again to explain his plan. “The marshal and his deputy will be there. So will Caleb Adams and any other able-bodied men who want to join the posse."

Getting up from the bed, he stood in front of his friend, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. “I want you with me, Brandt. This is dangerous, I know, but I wouldn't trust another soul to guard my back."

Brandt held Lucas's gaze for several long seconds. Then he ran splayed fingers through his chestnut hair and shook his head. “Damn it, McCain, you make it hard for a man to say no."

Lucas chuckled. “That's the idea."

"All right, then. I'll go with you.
But no funny business."

He nodded.
“Agreed."

"And no heroics.
We go in, take the outlaws into custody, and get the hell out."

"That's the plan."

Brandt went on listing conditions as though he didn't trust Lucas not to get himself killed. “We keep Marshal Thompson and the others at our backs. I'm not going in there if I don't know for damn certain there are half a dozen guns backing me up.” He paused, his brow wrinkled in thought.

"Anything else?”
Lucas asked, amusement radiating from his smiling eyes.

Brandt hesitated,
then
shook his head. “That's all."

From the other side of the room, Megan piped up. “I have a question."

Both men swung their heads in her direction, as though they'd completely forgotten her presence. Not surprising, since neither of them had ever known her to be silent for so long.

"What's that?” Lucas asked.

"What do you want me to do?"