The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (76 page)

She’d stood up to the Englishman, judging by the direction their conversation had taken and the expression of surprise on Edwin Beck’s face. Allowing himself a satisfied smile, Jeb skirted around more than one obstacle to reach the woman he’d been hired to protect, placed his palm against her back, and moved her toward the door.

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady,” he said in a mock English accent.

She frowned. “How much did you overhear?”

“Enough.” He gestured to the door. “It’s midnight, Cinderella. Time to leave the ball.”

Strangely, she put up no further protest as Jeb led her outside. Emerging into the chill of the evening, Anna shrugged out of Jeb’s grasp.

“I know I’m going to wish I hadn’t asked,” Jeb said as he lifted her into the carriage, “but what’s got you riled up now? You were practically glowing a few minutes ago.”

She fell back against the seat, her arms crossed. “My father has attempted to barter me off like a piece of prized horseflesh.”

“To Beck?”

“Yes.”

They rode in silence until the Finch gates closed behind them and the carriage stopped. Anna allowed him to help her out of the carriage, though only because her fancy gown did little to aid her in climbing down from such a height.

He thought about following her inside, then decided against it. She was wrong about Doc Holliday, and any attempt on his part to convince her of that tonight would not end well. He adjusted his Stetson and turned toward the stables and his meager bunk.

“Mr. Sanders.”

Jeb turned at the sound of her voice but said nothing. To his surprise, she stormed toward him like a woman on a mission. That mission, as it turned out, was to kiss him goodnight.

Truly and soundly kiss him.

“That, Anna Finch,” he said as he held her against him and savored the warmth of her breath against his neck, “was a memorable way to end an evening.”

“I hate fighting.”

“As do I.”

“Then apologize, and we shall not speak of it again.”

He looked down at her wide, brown eyes. “Apologize? For what?”

There the memorable evening ended. Anna stormed away, slamming the door as she went inside.

“Women,” McMinn said from the other side of the carriage. “Who can understand ’em?”

“Surely not me,” Jeb said. He walked toward the bunkhouse.

“Wake up, Pinkerton man.”

“Anna?” Jeb drew the blanket up to his chin to hide his bare chest. “What are you doing here?”

Something dropped onto the blanket. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light. It was a newspaper. A Colorado Springs newspaper.

“Read the headlines.”

“ ‘Faro dealer murdered in cold blood by notorious Doc Holliday.’ ”

She snatched it from him and read the article aloud. When she got to the time of the incident, Anna paused. “Doc was with me at the Antlers Hotel at that hour. A dozen people will testify to it.”

“You’re sure?” Jeb leaned up on one elbow. “Absolutely sure?”

“There’s no doubt.” Her attention strayed to his midsection.

“Looking for another spot to shoot me?” he asked, gathering the blankets higher.

The prettiest color of pink rose in Anna’s face, and she let the newspaper drop once more. “What are you going to do, Jeb?”

He gave her a sideways look. “So it’s my plan now? I figured you weren’t going to speak to me until I apologized for whatever it is I did.”

“You’re good at what you do,” she said, “and I want this man caught. I’m willing to forgive your tendency to order me around.”

He stood up, the blanket wrapped around his waist, and she backed into the doorway. “No, you don’t, Anna Finch. I’m not going to do a thing for you until the two of us come to an understanding, so you might as well come back here.”

She didn’t move.

“All right,” he said. “I guess you can find another hired gun to do your investigating for you.”

“Really, Jeb.” She fiddled with her hair as her eyes once again found his middle. “This is important. A man’s life is at stake.”

“Yes, it is.” He moved an inch toward her. “Mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to make a point, Anna. You and I are dancing in circles when we ought to be waltzing together.”

Her attention came up to his face. “What? We just waltzed last night.”

“Look, woman, I’m trying to be poetic.” He shrugged. “I swore I’d never let another woman get hold of me, and long as I live I’ll never figure out how you did it. But you have.”

The source of his discomfort furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?

“I’m talking about how infuriating it is to fall in love with a woman when that’s the last thing a man needs or wants.”

She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her.
“I’m
infuriating?”

“You could come over here and argue the point, but that’s probably a bad idea.” He paused. “About that murder, give me some time to formulate my plan. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve decided how to go about this.”

She slipped out the door without another word, and Jeb reached for his shirt, his mind already running through possible leads.

Anna spent the day alternately pacing her room and attempting to concentrate on what she’d begun to call her Holliday project. The fact that she might actually help bring a guilty man to justice was more than Anna could fathom. Was this how Jeb Sanders felt when he concluded a case? If so, perhaps her next job should be as a Pinkerton.

The sun was firmly in the western sky before Jeb finally sent up a note. “We leave at half past six,” she read. “That’s all? No details?”

She got nothing further from him on the ride to the train station or, for that matter, on the trip to Colorado Springs. “Are you just going to ignore me?” she finally asked.

He shook his head. “I’m working, Anna.”

“So am I, Jeb Sanders, and if you don’t tell me what you’re up to, I’m going to make a real fuss. You don’t want every eye in the place on you when you’re trying to fit in, do you?” She pointed to the bag in his hand. “You can start by telling me what’s in there.”

“Keep quiet until we get to Holliday.” He paused. “If you’d like to play the spoiled society girl, go right ahead. But know it will be you who ruined this opportunity, not me.”

How she hated it when he was right. Or rather, when she was wrong. “Sorry,” Anna muttered.

They left the train station and walked to the Antlers Hotel, and Anna showed him to Doc’s door.

Doc answered their knock promptly. “I’m glad you could come on short notice,” he said to Jeb. “My understanding is the man’s still here.”

“My contacts tell me the same thing,” Jeb said.

“Forgive me,” Doc told Anna, “I’ve not so much as greeted you. It’s charming to see you back so soon.” He glanced at her empty hands. “You’ve not brought your writing instruments.”

Her smile was quick. “I’m sure I can purchase something that will suffice.”

“Yes, do that,” he said. “If, of course, your Pinkerton friend doesn’t mind.”

Jeb nodded his approval, and Anna reluctantly left them to fetch what she needed. She hurried toward the mercantile a block from the hotel. While her surroundings were the height of small town charm, Anna could barely take in what she saw for wondering what was going on between Jeb and Doc. She paid for the items then nearly ran back to the Antlers.

Two Doc Hollidays waited for her in the hotel room. One, however, outweighed the other by a good fifty pounds.

“Truly, you could fool my dear departed mother,” the real Doc said, “for there was a time when I could have passed for a man of your breadth.” He seemed to shake off the memory as his expression sharpened. “You’ll need the stickpin.” He handed Jeb the diamond pin from his lapel.

Jeb allowed Anna to put it into place, then stepped back to look in the mirror. “If I’m not back by eleven, go to the sheriff.”

“Wait!” she cried. “Please tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I’m going to catch a killer, Anna,” he said. “So come over here and give me a proper send-off.”

He held out his arms, and she moved into them. He kissed her.

Long after he was gone, Anna stared at the door. Finally, she turned her attention to Doc, who watched her intently, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Shall we get back to it?” she asked.

Smoke and the sounds of what used to pass for fun swirled around Jeb as he stepped into the Wagon Wheel Saloon and went straight for the faro tables. Halfway there, a woman’s laugh made him freeze.

Ella
. He hadn’t thought her presence would ride so high in his mind today.

If he closed his eyes, he knew he’d hear the crack of the pistol. See the blood. Watch a good woman die.

And yet as he prepared to confront the man who murdered his wife, he knew he also needed to put to rest the belief that killing the man who shot Ella would even the score. Nothing on this side of heaven would atone for his loss, and yet the Lord had somehow seen fit to let him love again.

It was a mystery he knew he’d never solve.

He didn’t deserve Anna Finch, but he’d be a fool to let her get away. And while he was a lot of things, a fool wasn’t generally one of them. So he kept his eyes open and his mind on the job at hand.

Though the crowd stood shoulder to shoulder in some places, it didn’t take but a few minutes to find the person he sought. In the far
corner of the room sat the man whose face matched the picture in that day’s paper and Jeb’s memory of that night in Leadville so long ago. His mustache was thick in the middle and tapered down on each side, his jaw square and prominent. With brown eyes and a sturdy build, he couldn’t possibly be the ailing dentist from Georgia.

Jeb marveled that he’d ever believed they were the same person. But then, how many people really knew what Doc Holliday looked like? If a man claimed to be a legendary gunfighter, it was usually in a body’s best interest to believe him.

Moving closer, Jeb kept his attention on the suspect. The suspect, however, had his attention focused on a fetching blonde. When Jeb reached them, the blonde took one look at him and scampered away. The imposter turned.

“You Doc Holliday?” Jeb asked, one hand on his pistol.

The imposter rose. “Who wants to know?”

Jeb stepped into the light, and the color drained from the other man’s face. “Who do you think?”

The man’s hand went to his gun, but Jeb was faster. With the man who murdered Ella Sanders in his sights, Jeb’s finger found the familiar spot on the trigger. One move and the man was dead. Sent straight to the One who would judge his reprehensible actions.

It would be so easy to justify it all.

“Go ahead,” Jeb said. “Give me a reason to kill you.”

But the stranger just stared, his weapon drawn but his expression showing only fear. “I didn’t mean no disrespect,” he said. “The opposite, you know? It’s just—havin’ a
name
, it gets you places.”

“Leadville. Eighteen seventy-seven.” Jeb watched for any recognition on the stranger’s face. “Her name was Ella and she was my wife.”