His Substitute Mail-Order Bride Read online

  “I can’t help but feel responsible.”

  He frowned, the stern effort thwarted by his swollen eyelid. “Had you announced that you were carrying the crown jewels in your trunk, that doesn’t give outlaws or anyone else the right to steal from you.”

  “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  “That’s a sensible enough reaction.” A half grin softened the harsh lines of his face. “And speaking of being sensible, I certainly don’t recommend that you announce you’re carrying the crown jewels.”

  She offered him a reluctant smile in return. “Yes, one must be sensible.”

  He stood and then hesitated, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. The silence lengthened, and her pulse picked up rhythm. Had he discovered the truth already? Had Susannah said something in her letter?

  “Anna,” he said at last, “I hope you find what you need here in Cowboy Creek.”

  She exhaled a relieved breath. “Me, too.”

  “Lock the door behind me. I’ll stop at the front desk and tell them you’re not to be disturbed.”

  He grasped his hat from the table and stepped into the corridor. She closed the door behind him and turned the key, then leaned against the wooden frame. For the time being, all she needed to do was survive. One hour, one day, one month. One foot in front of the other.

  Anna had sided with Charlotte all those years ago, yet Russ didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d jilt someone without a good reason. Charlotte, on the other hand, had left Philadelphia behind, never to return. Not even after their father’s funeral. She might have at least written or sent a telegram. Something. Instead, she’d walked away from her only sister without a backward glance.

  Between Charlotte and Russ, her sister’s behavior had proved more questionable in retrospect.

  Anna’s world wobbled, and she clutched the doorknob behind her, letting it dig into the palm of her hand. All this time she’d painted Russ as the villain, but now she didn’t know what was true.

  She didn’t know whom to trust. Especially when she couldn’t even trust her own heart.

  * * *

  Russ loped down the stairs and stepped onto the boardwalk. A light caught his attention, and he turned left, toward his office.

  The door was open to catch the evening breeze, and he discovered Simon hunched over a stack of papers.

  “It’s late,” Russ said. “You should be home.”

  His law clerk rubbed his eyes with fisted hands and stifled a yawn. Simon was young with jet-black hair slicked over his ears and dark eyes. His swarthy good looks had earned him a bevy of female admirers. Though Simon could have his pick of the young women in town, he worked relentlessly, ignoring their advances. He was driven by unknown forces. Russ only knew that Simon had been orphaned at a young age. He simply accepted the younger man’s compulsion to excel. Sometimes the only way to escape the past was by building a new future.

  Simon had been a porter at the Cattleman Hotel until Will sent him to law school. Russ had never asked his age, though he suspected Simon was far too young for the work he’d undertaken. The law clerk was smart as a whip and tenacious. He might be young in years, but he possessed an old soul. Simon accomplished more work on his breaks from school than most men achieved in twice the time.

  The younger man indicated the stack of papers. “Jason Mitchell dropped these by.”

  Russ gave the papers a cursory glance. “Jason Mitchell of the Mitchell Coal & Mining Company, I presume?”

  “That’s the one.” Simon pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned again. “He’s buying the Henriksens’ farm.”

  Russ set the papers aside and thumbed through a stack of mail. “I spoke with Artie Henriksen a while back. He was looking for signs of coal on his property. I guess he found it.”

  “Everyone is looking for coal. The whole county has coal fever. Jason Mitchell is paying good money for the land.”

  “Is that what we want?” Russ held an envelope to the light. “Do we want to turn Cowboy Creek into a coal mining town?”

  “You’re going to be the next mayor. What do you want?” Simon asked.

  “I want the best for the town.” Russ tossed the letter back onto the stack. “Coal mining is hard work. Dangerous. Men die young when they work in the mines.” He took the chair on the opposite side of Simon’s desk. “Then the mines dry up, and the town dies.”

  “That’s a grim picture.”

  “That’s why good leadership is important. Someone has to be on the lookout for the next opportunity. Nothing lasts forever.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “In the end, my opinion doesn’t matter. I can’t stop people from selling. They have to do what they think is best.”

  “Not everyone is selling. Your brother is staying.”

  “He’s a rancher at heart. It’s in his blood. Not everyone has that kind of fortitude.”

  Simon stood and crossed to the potbellied stove in the center of the room. He grasped the blue-speckled kettle and poured a mug of tepid coffee. “There’s more. Someone else is buying land outside of town. He’s going after the same plots of land in Jason’s path.”

  Instantly awake once more, Russ’s attention sharpened. “Who?”

  “I’m not certain. When I was filing the deeds for the Henriksen sale, the clerk was complaining. Said it was the third sale he’d recorded this week. I’ve only recorded two for Jason Mitchell.”

  “Maybe Jason is working with another lawyer. Playing us at both ends, perhaps?”

  “I don’t think so. He isn’t that sort of fellow. Besides, the clerk was muttering about a girl. He kept saying, ‘she’ was very annoying.”

  “Then who is buying up the land?” Russ drummed his fingers on the desktop. “I’ll do a little digging.”

  “I can do the digging. You’ll be busy.” Simon tossed him a knowing look. “Weren’t you expecting someone special on the train today?”

  A flush swept over Russ’s face. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

  “Are you going to introduce me?”

  “She didn’t arrive.”

  Simon’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Except you’re not very neat. Your desk is a mess. Some of your letters smelled like perfume. That’s difficult to ignore.”

  “It wasn’t a secret. It just, well, it just wasn’t news either.”

  “That’s not how a man in love acts, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Russ offered a wry grin. “And you know a lot about being in love?”

  “It’s in the air. Have you seen Walter lately?”

  “Walter Kerr, the photographer?”

  “Yes. I ran into him at the newspaper offices. He must have mentioned Sadie’s name four times in a ten-word conversation.”

  Russ stroked the neatly trimmed whiskers on his chin. “He took Sadie’s photo recently. He’s become our local photographer these days.”

  “They’ve been seen twice dining at The Lariat with their heads bent together.”

  “We shouldn’t gossip.” Russ stored the tidbit of information in case his mother tried her hand at matchmaking him with Sadie Shriver. He could safely tell her the bride was spoken for. “Have you finished up all the paperwork for the Mitchell Coal & Mining Company?”

  “I’ve gotten as much done as I can until the clerk files the deeds.” Simon took his seat once more and set his coffee cup on his blotter. “Maybe I’m wrong about Jason Mitchell. He’s a handsome sort of fellow. I can see him asking a girl to do his bidding. Especially if he doesn’t want us to know what he’s doing.”

  “Maybe,” Russ said. “You’re right, Jason doesn’t seem like the sort of man who’d play both sides, but it’s worth checking.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why represent him at all? If you don’t want a coal m
ine taking over Cowboy Creek, maybe we shouldn’t be doing business with him.”

  “Because he’s going to buy the land whether I like it or not. I’d rather be the solicitor on record. Someone has to make sure the ranchers are getting a fair price for their land.”

  “True.” Simon sipped his coffee. “I almost forgot to mention, someone came by looking for you.”

  “Who?”

  “Didn’t leave a name. Said he was new in town and wanted to inquire about some legal work. Asked questions about you.”

  “About the law offices?”

  “No. About you personally.”

  That got Russ’s attention. “What did you tell him?”

  It wasn’t unusual for people to solicit business unannounced. Personal questions, however, were highly irregular. No one cared what their lawyer did outside of working hours unless he was caught doing something illegal.

  “What’s there to tell?” Simon shrugged. “He asked me if you had family in town.”

  Russ leaned forward and braced his hands on the edge of Simon’s desk. “Didn’t you find that odd?”

  “Of course I did. That’s why I remembered him. Don’t worry, though. I didn’t tell him anything he couldn’t find over at the courthouse.”

  Russ let his hands drop. The kid had a point. The town kept a registry of names. Perhaps the man was looking for Seth.

  Or Adam.

  The jarring thought shot him upright. Adam was often involved in shady dealings while doing work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Though his brother rarely spoke of his occupation, Russ was aware that his brother often changed his identity depending on his current case. If someone had discovered Adam’s true identity and wanted to track him down, questioning relatives was an obvious means of gaining information.

  Russ made a mental note to speak with Seth. They’d best be on their guard until they knew for certain what information this mystery man was after—and why. “Did he say if he was coming back?”

  “Nope. Just left.”

  Russ fisted his hand. “Sounds like an odd fellow. What did he look like?”

  At least he could tell Seth who to look out for.

  “He was older. Had gray hair. Had one of those faces that looks young even with wrinkles. Boyish. Kind of like the sheriff.”

  The term older didn’t help much. Sheriff Getman was in his fifties. Then again, to someone as young as Simon, everyone probably appeared old.

  “If you see him again, point him out to me. Better yet, see if you can get his name.” Unease skittered along Russ’s nerve endings. They hadn’t had a letter from Adam in ages. The more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. Was Adam in some sort of danger? “Can’t be too careful these days,” he added.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing. Just sounds like an odd fellow,” Russ said, lest Simon let something slip and spook the man. “Best to keep an eye on him, just until we have more information. He might be good business for us.”

  Or he might be a danger to Adam.

  Simon nodded. “Will do.”

  Despite his feigned indifference, Russ vowed to speak with Seth as soon as possible. The two problems nagged him, dominating his thoughts. A woman was buying up land, and someone was asking about his family. Were the two people connected?

  Adam had vowed that his job would never put the lives of his family in danger.

  Had his brother lied?

  Chapter Six

  Anna awoke the following morning long past dawn. Though she rarely slept late, the extra rest left her feeling rejuvenated and optimistic. Dressing quickly, she discovered a note from Russ slipped beneath the door. Her seeds had been delivered to the lady doctor, and she’d offered to assist in organizing the collection.

  Anna glanced at Russ’s carefully drawn map with a grin. The town wasn’t so large that she couldn’t recall the place they’d visited only yesterday.

  Anxious to assess the damage to her seed collection, she soon found herself standing before the door of Dr. Mason’s office. The woman who answered her knock was not at all what Anna had expected. The lady doctor was young, in her mid-twenties, and wore her chestnut hair loose, the strands barely brushing her shoulders. Shorter than Anna, she wore a sturdy, white cotton apron over her beige calico dress. The apron flared over her stomach, indicating the early stages of a pregnancy.

  “You must be Anna Linford.” The woman stuck out her hand and gave Anna’s fingers a quick, firm shake. “I’m Dr. Marlys Mason. I apologize for missing your visit yesterday. I checked with the hotel when I returned from my case, but you were sleeping. Since you’d finished your dinner tray, Mrs. Foster and I decided not to wake you. A good appetite is an excellent sign of health.”

  “I’m doing quite well,” Anna replied cheerfully. “No ill effects from my encounter with the outlaws.”

  “Excellent. Come this way. I’m grateful you’re feeling better this morning. I’ve been curious about your collection.” She pivoted on her heel and swept through an inner door.

  Taken aback by the woman’s brisk speech, Anna paused a moment before following. The doctor led her into a large room that looked more like a laboratory than a physician’s office. Two large raised tables dominated the space. Cupboards lined the walls from floor to ceiling, the expanse broken only by a smooth countertop. The entire room gleamed as though every surface had been recently polished. A crisp, clean, almost metallic smell permeated the space.

  One of the tables held a row of familiar burlap sacks along with a larger bag secured with twine.

  Her seeds.

  A flush of excitement swept through Anna. “The mayor kept his word.”

  “Why wouldn’t he? But first we should see to that cut on your arm.” The doctor crossed her arms over her chest. “Mr. Halloway also mentioned you’ve been feeling ill.”

  “A relapse. I had the flu before I left Philadelphia.”

  “I read about the outbreak in the newspapers.” Marlys dropped her hands to her sides. “My husband, Sam, runs the local gazette. He subscribes to newspapers all over the country. I watch for outbreaks. Smallpox, measles, influenza and the like. The pattern of a disease can be quite fascinating and often predictable.”

  “You don’t say,” Anna replied noncommittally, her ears buzzing. “Your husband receives the Philadelphia Gazette?”

  “No. I don’t believe that’s one of his newspapers.” Dr. Mason grasped a low, wheeled stool. “Have a seat. I assumed you wanted to ensure your collection was safe before I examined you.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  Dr. Mason took another low stool for herself, then took Anna’s wrist. “Your pulse rate is slightly accelerated.”

  “Brisk walk here.” Anna swallowed hard. “From the hotel.”

  There was no safe corner anywhere. She should have changed her name. She should have gone by Darby instead of Linford from the beginning. She hadn’t been thinking about newspapermen and running into other people from Philadelphia. Escaping had been her first and only goal. For the past three months, debtors had been pounding at her door, demanding payment on her late husband’s credit. She hadn’t been able to waste time thinking about the finer details of disappearing.

  “Walking is excellent exercise,” Dr. Mason said. “I highly recommend at least thirty minutes a day. More if you can manage. There’s a lovely path following the Cowboy Creek.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I’ll point you the way before you leave.”

  Anna wouldn’t have much time for strolls through the countryside once she started work, and she’d get plenty of exercise going up and down the hotel stairs.

  The doctor rattled off a series of questions that Anna dutifully answered. After jotting down a few notes, she checked the cut on Anna’s arm, applied a salve and rewrapped the wound. Then sh
e plucked a second tin of salve from the counter at her elbow.

  “Apply this morning and evening,” the doctor said. “If there’s any redness or swelling, contact me immediately.”

  “Thank you,” Anna said. “Is there anything you can give me for the fatigue?”

  “You’re sure you’re not expecting a child?”

  “I’m certain.” Anna blushed at the blunt question. “I had an examination in Philadelphia before I traveled to Cowboy Creek. Having children isn’t possible.”

  She’d seen numerous doctors over the last year, and they’d all given her the same answer.

  “Why?” Dr. Mason tilted her head.

  “Why can’t I have children? Well, um, I was married for two years. We didn’t have any children. The doctors all had different diagnoses, but the conclusions were the same. My cycle has never been regular, and nothing I’ve tried has ever regulated the effect. I’m barren.”

  “That’s flawed deductive reasoning. Many women with irregular cycles have been known to bear children.” She patted her stomach. “I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  Dr. Mason asked several more personal questions, before inquiring whether or not Anna wanted children in the future.

  Anna held up her hands. “There’s really no need to speak of this anymore. I’m widowed now.”

  “My apologies, Mrs. Linford.” Marlys penciled another note, a deep crease between her dark eyes, then stood. She mixed an herbal concoction from the glass jars lining her counter. “Add a teaspoon to your morning tea once a day. If you don’t feel better in another week, come back for another examination. There are several things that might be causing your symptoms.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Any number of things. The body is attuned to mental stress as much as physical stress.” Marlys turned to take down another apron from a peg on the back of the door. She held it out to Anna. “You’ll want to wear this to protect your clothing while you tend to your seeds.”

  As Anna knotted the strings around her waist, Marlys produced a basket with a tight mesh lining stretched over the open bottom.