The Engagement Bargain Page 12

  “I’ll tell Mrs. Franklin.”

  “Mrs. Franklin. That’s an easy name for remembering.” Mrs. McCoy released her son and patted the marshal’s cheek. “I won’t expect you and Jo. You two need some time alone after being apart. I will see you on Sunday, though, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss your fried chicken for the world,” the marshal said.

  Mrs. McCoy waved over her shoulder and set off down the street, her pace clipped.

  Caleb tossed Anna an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind. She won’t be satisfied until she knows we’re well fed.”

  “Her concern is quite endearing.”

  “Don’t worry. You get used to it after a while.”

  Anna stifled any comparisons. Her own mother had never been affectionate, and she had never picked up Anna at the train station. A waste of time when there was important work to be done. Victoria Bishop had far more vital tasks than meeting her daughter at a train station. Anna was far too independent to care. She was a grown woman, for goodness’ sake.

  Her mother simply had a different way of showing her love.

  Jo caught sight of something in the distance and clapped her hands. “There they are!”

  She knelt and held open her arms, and two toddlers and her oldest child rushed into them. Jo made a great show of collapsing beneath the weight of the three squirming children and smothered them with kisses. Anna’s heart ached a bit. This was exactly the sort of scene she’d pictured reading Jo’s letters. The yearnings in her chest were exactly what she’d been avoiding.

  No, that wasn’t right. She enjoyed her life. She relished fighting for something larger than herself. She knew her place in the scheme of things. She had the honor of working with women who’d carved a place in history for themselves. She had the luxury of joining a legacy already in process. Small gestures were wasted when Anna had no doubt Susan and Elizabeth would be heralded long after they were gone.

  After much giggling, Jo rose and clasped hands in a row and towed them toward Anna.

  “I have someone very special I’d like you to meet,” Jo said. “This is Miss Anna.”

  A lovely little girl, no more than four years old, offered a quick bob of her dark head. “Hello, Miss Anna. I’m four. My name is Jocelyn.”

  “That’s a very pretty name.”

  Though young, Jocelyn enunciated each word slowly and carefully. She was a petite version of her mother with two dark braids slung over her shoulders and expressive green eyes.

  Instantly charmed, Anna smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Jocelyn. That’s a very unusual name.”

  “It was my great-grandpa’s name.”

  “Well I think it’s a very bold name for a girl.”

  The younger child, a blue-eyed boy with a shock of dark hair, stuck his pudgy fist in his mouth.

  Jo patted his head. “This is Shawn. He’s two. He doesn’t talk very much.”

  “Horse!” Shawn pointed a dimpled finger toward the street. “Horse.”

  Jo hooked him beneath the arms and hoisted him onto her hip. “He’s mad about horses these days.”

  The oldest girl, who appeared to be about ten or twelve, was the last to speak. She had blond hair and blue eyes, and she was definitely not the natural child of the dark-haired parents standing before her. Though Garrett’s niece, Jo spoke warmly of Cora as her “oldest child.” More recently Jo had fretted that Cora was taking on too much responsibility for the younger two children, and Jo worried Cora was missing out on her own childhood. Seeing the obvious affection surrounding the family, Anna didn’t think there was much to fret about in that regard.

  Cora was simply mature for her age, a product of losing her parents young, no doubt. Grief had a way of aging people, even children.

  “I’m Cora,” the girl said.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Cora.”

  The marshal took his niece’s hand. She smiled up at him, her face adoring. “Can we have ice cream?” she asked.

  Jocelyn circled around to his opposite side and took his free hand. “I want ice cream, as well.”

  “First we have to find your mother’s trunk,” he said. “Then we’ll have lunch. Then ice cream.”

  Jocelyn resisted her father’s change in direction, digging in her heels. “Are you eating with us, Miss Anna?”

  “That would be nice,” she said, unable to recall the last time she’d eaten. The whole day was a blur. “I’m famished.”

  “Me, too,” Jo said. “We’ll find the trunks and stow them in the telegraph office while we eat. I’ll sit with you while Garrett gets the trunks,” Jo continued, though she gazed longingly at her husband. “I can’t leave you alone, and Caleb can’t escape his conversation. It’s Mr. Patterson. He can talk the ears off a whole field of corn.”

  “You two go,” Anna replied. Clearly husband and wife had missed each other, and Anna didn’t need tending. “I’ll wait here. I could use the rest.”

  A lie. Since her initial discomfort from traveling had passed, she’d rather do anything but rest. She wanted a hot meal and brisk walk after her time on the train, but she also sensed the couple needed time together.

  Marshal Cain linked his free hand with his wife’s, and together they meandered toward the pile of luggage the porter had retrieved from the train. Jo pressed her forehead against his shoulder, and Anna turned away. The gesture was too personal, too heartfelt.

  She caught Caleb’s gaze and he leaned away from Mr. Patterson. His inattention didn’t appear to bother the man as he continued speaking.

  Caleb rolled his eyes, clearly unmoved by the tender moment. “Nearly four years they’ve been married and you’d think it was yesterday.”

  The wistful tone of his voice was at odds with his exasperated expression.

  He shook hands with Mr. Patterson and tipped his hat. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

  The man looked as though he wanted to prolong the conversation, but Caleb didn’t give him the chance, smoothly turning away without being outright rude.

  “Stay here,” he said, facing Anna. “I’ll help Garrett with the luggage while Mrs. Franklin is freshening up.”

  Anna sagged. “I miss my good health. Only a moment ago I was ready for a long walk after sitting for so long.” She collapsed back onto the bench with a weary grin. “But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know how sitting on a train doing nothing could have exhausted me so.”

  These swings in her health were annoying at best, debilitating at worst.

  “You’re healing. It takes time.”

  “I’d argue with you, but I’m far too drained.”

  He flashed another of his grins. The kind that curled her toes and sent a flutter through her belly. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. Exhaustion was taking its toll.

  She took the opportunity to study the crowd. People raised their voices to be heard over each other. Someone brushed against her skirts. Sitting up, she caught the gaze of a gentleman standing near the train. He was plainly dressed in a dark suit and hat, with nothing to distinguish him from the other men milling about. Like any other banker or businessman, he naturally blended into the crowd. He surveyed the people around him, his gaze intense, as though he was searching for someone.

  A shiver of apprehension raised gooseflesh on her arms. She might be anonymous, but so was the person who’d made an attempt on her life. Anybody could have shot her. Any one of these people jamming onto the platform.

  Anna glanced around, searching for either Jo or Caleb. Two men hoisted an enormous steamer trunk between them and blocked her view of the spot where Caleb was giving instructions to the porter. Jo and her family had disappeared into the cramped shop attached to the depot. The telegraph office, she presumed.

  The man near the train kept his steady vigil of the crowd.
He lifted his pocket watch and checked the time. A young woman in a smart burgundy dress, her hair a shade of blond that defied nature, approached him and touched his sleeve. The man grinned and stuck out his elbow. Smiling in greeting, the woman hooked her hand over his bent arm.

  Anna blinked.

  Good gracious. The gentleman was simply waiting for his companion, and yet she’d read something sinister into his innocent actions.

  Chagrined, she realized he’d been looking behind her, and yet she’d been certain he was looking at her. Studying her.

  Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she rubbed her damp palms against her skirts. As the passengers departed for the extended break, the platform grew crowded. Footsteps shuffled, vibrating the bench, dozens of conversations melded together in boisterous confusion.

  A woman in a violet dress stomped on her foot and muttered an apology. Anna’s breath came in short gasps, and her head spun. Tears sprang behind her eyes, and she pressed a fist against her mouth. There were people everywhere. Closing in, brushing against her, looking at her. She wanted to run, but her legs remained paralyzed.

  She’d been shot in a public square during a speech. Why was a crowded platform any different? What if the killer fired into the crowd? With her side stitched and her stamina gone, she’d never survive another stampede like the one on the day of the rally. And where would she run? A hysterical giggle bubbled in the back of her throat. Her gaze darted toward the train and then toward the street. She couldn’t breathe.

  A violent shudder traveled all the way down the length of her body. Clamping shut her jaw, she fought to regain control of her shaking. Despite her efforts, the shivering continued. She wrapped her arms around her middle, her teeth chattering. Nothing helped.

  She had to escape.

  Leaping from her seat, she clawed at the ribbons of her bonnet, desperate to escape the tunneled vision. She lurched away from the squeeze of bodies. A hand touched her shoulder, and she jerked away.

  “Anna,” a familiar, soothing voice said close to her ear. “It’s all right. Just take a deep breath and hold on to my arm.”

  Her vision swimming, Anna clutched his sleeve and stared into Caleb’s vivid green eyes. “I can’t breathe.”

  She was suffocating. The edges of her vision turned hazy. In another moment she feared she’d faint dead away before the crowd of people. Her heart would hammer right out of her chest.

  “You can breathe. You can. Relax.”

  His fingers worked the ribbons of her bonnet, brushing against her neck. He flipped back the brim, and the hat fell down her back, anchored by the loose ties at her neck.

  “You’re not trying.” He sucked in a breath, and she automatically mimicked his movements.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Just keep breathing.”

  As the air filled her lungs, her vision focused and her heartbeat calmed. He kept his fingers wrapped around her forearm for support. The voices swirling near her came into focus. She wasn’t suffocating. She wasn’t dying. The odd interlude had left her disoriented and exhausted.

  With a muffled sniff she pressed her free hand against her forehead, unable to meet his eyes.

  What must he think of her? “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “It’s anxiety.” His deep timbered voice was soothing and free of censure. “To be expected, considering what happened to you.”

  Anna tipped back her head and chanced a peek at his face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. All at once I felt as though everyone was looking at me, talking about me. I knew it was silly, but I couldn’t stop the panic.”

  “It’s a common reaction,” Caleb said after a long pause. A certain hesitancy in his voice sharpened her attention. “Did you feel as though your heart was about to leap out of your chest?”

  “That’s exactly right,” she said, blinking in astonishment. “How did you know?”

  * * *

  Caleb considered the consequences of admitting the truth and tossed his pride aside. “It’s happened to me before.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t like cities.” He sighed. “I avoid closed-in spaces. When I was growing up, everyone else was fascinated by the caves along Hackberry Creek. Especially after it turned out we had a real live outlaw hiding his loot in those caves. My brothers sold tours for years after that. I never went along.”

  “It’s a good thing you became a veterinarian instead of a bank robber. You’d have no place to hide your ill-gotten gains.”

  “I’m not much good at giving cave tours either.”

  “I’m glad you found your calling.”

  A bittersweet note crept into her voice.

  He tilted his head. “As have you. We both found our place.”

  Her expression turned wistful. “Yes.”

  There was no conviction behind the word. He’d seen her fire, though. He’d seen her on the stage. From Jo’s letters and the stories he’d read in the newspapers, he knew the power she wielded in the suffragist movement. She had a natural presence that drew people toward her. She reminded him of the fireflies he’d captured as a child, beguiled by their light. Fireflies died in captivity.

  That’s what they’d done by bringing her out here, they’d placed her in a jar for safekeeping. He knew well enough that safety didn’t last long before it became smothering. She’d been pacing her hotel like a caged animal. He had no doubt she’d soon find the town oppressive.

  “Caleb McCoy,” a voice called. “Glad to see you’re back in town.”

  The interruption was like a frigid dunk in the rain barrel. Caleb and Anna sprang apart. Hiding his annoyance, Caleb spun around and discovered the mercantile owner’s wife from Cimarron Springs.

  “Mrs. Stuart.” Caleb hid his scowl. “How are you?”

  Probably filled with gossip. The woman delighted in spreading the “news” of the town.

  He’d much rather finish his conversation with Anna. There were things about her that none of them understood. Even Jo, who probably knew Anna better than anyone, didn’t have all the pieces. Had they been making false assumptions, making the mistake Reinhart had warned them about, filling in the missing pieces of the puzzle? Forcing the edges together to make a whole?

  “Good to see you, Caleb,” Mrs. Stuart said coyly. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “Well, of course you know my sister and her husband live in Kansas City. When I heard what happened at the rally, and then your stay was extended, well, I simply had to ask her to check on you.” She leaned closer. “All this time I thought you were still sweet on Mary Louise when you’d transferred your affections elsewhere.”

  Anna was staring at him as though he’d grown a second head.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said. “I don’t follow.”

  What was the woman blabbering about?”

  “You know.” She gave an exaggerated wink.

  Anna had taken the opportunity to replace her bonnet, securing the ribbons beneath her ear with a large bow. He found the bonnet as annoying as she did, especially since the rounded brim blocked his view of her expression. He’d sensed her panic even before he’d seen her face. He was attuned to her, though he didn’t know quite how or why.

  After everything she’d been through in the past week, he was surprised she hadn’t had a lapse sooner. She’d been injured in a city far from home, far from everything and everyone she knew. They were no closer to catching the man who’d shot her than they were the day of the rally. Even with the Pinkerton detective, Caleb was skeptical of finding the man before he tried again.

  He moved nearer to Anna. They’d brought her back here for her safety.

  A duty he took seriously. “What were you saying?”

  Mrs. Stuart elbowe
d him. “You know.”

  “No, I do not know.”

  The day had started too early and gone on too long. He was grateful to be home at last. While he wanted Anna settled, he also wanted to check on his house and make his rounds. There’d be other needs, as well. Anything anyone had put off in his absence would gain a new urgency now that he’d returned.

  Mrs. Stuart crossed her arms over her chest and opened her mouth to speak. The two men carrying the trunk grimaced and walked between them. Whatever had been packed must have been heavy. The two burly men had unloaded an entire stack of baggage without incident.

  One of the men muttered. “Biscuits and beans, what’s she got in this thing—rocks?”

  “Bricks more like it,” the second man replied.

  The first man caught his toe on an uneven footing. He lurched forward, and his hand slipped. The trunk toppled to one side. The second man’s arms twisted beneath the teetering weight. He released his hold and sprang away. The trunk crashed to the ground, and the top flipped open.

  Two things happened at once.

  Mrs. Stuart said, “Your engagement, of course. I know all about it.”

  And a limp, pale hand flopped out of the overturned trunk.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna blinked and looked again. Caleb knelt before her, blocking her from the grizzly sight.

  He chafed her cold fingers between his. “It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t look.”

  “I couldn’t look if I wanted.”

  A crowd of people had quickly circled the trunk, pointing and gesturing.

  Caleb glanced over his shoulder and recognition lit up his face. “Here comes Tony. You’ll like her. She must be going on seventeen or eighteen now. She reminds me of Jo. You’ll see why once you meet her. Smart as a whip and unshakable. She’s good with animals, too.”

  A young girl marched across the platform toward them. The resemblance to Jo was uncanny, although Tony was much taller and more angular. She wore trousers and suspenders over a button-up chambray shirt. As she approached, Anna noted her eyes were blue, another difference between her and Jo. And yet her carriage, the way she cut a path through the crowd without saying a word, reminded Anna of Jo’s forthright manner.