Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose (29 page)

Penny’s husband glared at her before preceding Trace to the doorway. He opened the door and moved onto the porch as Trace, right behind him, asked, “So when do you expect to welcome your child?”

“Sometime in the early fall.”

Mary Rose stood listening to the men as they moved away, the door closing behind them. Turning on her heel, she walked to the mirror behind the front door and gazed at her lips swollen from Trace’s ardent ministrations. Yes, there was even the flush of a woman in heat around her eyes. No wonder the captain had stared. She closed her eyes in defeat. Trace had been right all along. Anyone could see she was now a woman in disgrace. She had fallen for a man who believed in honor but not love. The farce of an engagement was still on.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mary Rose stroked the knife across the potato, pulling the red skin away from the white flesh, and fantasized peeling Trace’s shirt from his body. She thought about the deep tan of his skin, how when she kissed it the other day it left a tang upon her tongue. With a sigh, she dropped the potato into the pot and reached for another.

“That sounds like the sigh of a woman in love.”

Her eyes widened. The potato fell from her hand, and the blade nicked her finger. “Ow,” she cried and stuck her finger into her mouth.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Penny moved forward. “Let me see.”

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled.

Penny gave her a deep look. Mary Rose removed the finger from her mouth and held out her hand.

“Just a little cut.” Penny smiled. “Run some water on it, and I’ll get a strip of linen to bind it.”

Mary Rose pumped the handle, and as the cold water poured from the channel, she thrust her hand beneath the flow.

“So what were you thinking about?” Penny’s voice came from the pantry.

“Nothing in particular, just thinking,” she answered. Pulling her hand back, she wiped the water from her skin.

“Okay, let me have it again.”

She held the finger out to Penny and watched as she wrapped the cloth around it, then tied the ends together.

“So you weren’t thinking about anything or anyone in particular?”

She shook her head.

“Not even a certain U.S. Marshal?”

Blood rushed to Mary Rose’s cheeks, and Penny Wallace giggled.

“You never could lie. He is quite handsome, this Marshal Castillo.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Is he the one who gave you that beautiful ring?”

Glancing down, Mary Rose looked at the gold ring that graced the third finger of her left hand. “Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

Her face contorted in doubt. “I don’t know.”

Penny shook her head. “You must know, Mary Rose.” She bit her lip. “If you don’t, you’ll end up like me.”

Her heart thudded to a stop. Her fears were true. “I thought you loved the captain.”

This time her friend shook her head. “I do, but the love is a bit one-sided.” She placed a hand upon her rounding abdomen. “I’m hoping this will change how he feels. If I have a child, a son, perhaps he will see me in a different light.”

Mary Rose squeezed her hand tight. “He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

Penny swallowed hard. “I’m sure it’s my fault. I always seem to be making things worse.”

“Penny,” she began, but her friend shook her head.

“No, enough about me. Let’s talk about something happy. Tell me about this whirlwind courtship.” Penny smiled. “And don’t leave anything out.”

****

The map covered Rand’s desk, and three heads pored over the topography pictured there.

“So you think the guns might be in Coyote Canyon?” Doubt filled the question that came from Captain Augustus Wallace. For the past hour or so, he had been tearing apart both Trace’s and Rand’s statements.

“That’s what we figure, Captain. I’ve got a few men checking the caves.” The sheriff pointed at the mark on the map.

“Why are you leading the investigation?”

“We’ve had a couple of incidents here in town, and we’d hoped to keep a watch and try to find out who the local contact is,” Trace explained.

“Yes,” the captain said, “it’s rather curious that she was the only one left alive, with the others being so savagely murdered.”

Trace stepped back. “What are you getting at?”

Captain Wallace stood up and arched a brow as if brushing off his next statement. “I’m not getting at anything, except for the fact her wound was apparently minor in contrast to the others. I can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, she was the orchestrator.”

Trace’s eyes turned murderously cold. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer.”

“I’ve been the sheriff here for the past seven years, and that little girl and her brother have been pillars of the community,” Rand added.

“There is always a first time.” The captain glared at them. "We all know the Irish are thieves and charlatans. All one must do is look to New York."

“She was not involved.” Trace’s voice crackled. “I found her hiding in the bushes along the pond. She was definitely scared, frightened.”

“It could have been an act,” Captain Wallace ventured.

Trace stepped forward. "And here I thought you were her friend."

Rand moved to block his way. Beneath his breath he mumbled, "Steady." Turning, he looked at Captain Wallace. “Look, this was an outside job. Neither Mary Rose nor her brother had anything to do with the attack or the missing rifles,” Rand stated.

“You willing to bet your badge on that? Both of you?” the captain scoffed.

“Damn right,” Trace hissed. “Mary Rose couldn’t kill her own brother. Let alone bash his brains out and then sit there for twenty-four hours hoping someone would come by.”

“You’d be surprised what people can do when they are desperate.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed. “You speaking from experience, Captain?”

The captain shot him an equally dark glance. “No, Marshal, I’m not.”

Slipping past the edge of Rand’s desk, Trace snarled back, “Who made you holier than thou, Captain? Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out.”

“As a representative of the government, it is within my authority to issue a statement of negligence. This was federal government property, and if it is not found, Thornton’s Freight will be held responsible.”

“You sit there, taking her kindness and hospitality, and in the next breath you are so ready to accuse her of wrongdoing?” Trace growled.

“We all know how the Irish are,” Captain Wallace sneered.

“Why you yel—”

Rand stepped in and grabbed Trace’s arm, pulling him back. “Look. This arguing is getting us nowhere. I’ll make a copy of the statements this evening and bring them over to Mary Rose’s place.”

“Yes, do. I wish to speak to this Caleb Gentry. Where can I find him?”

“Probably over at the freight office. I’ll walk you over,” Rand offered, pushing Trace back with a shove of his hand and a warning glance. The clock on the wall struck five, and the captain turned to look.

“I think perhaps I’ll save that for another day. Since dinner will be soon, I’d like to go freshen up.” One side of the captain’s mouth lifted in a scornful smile. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner, Marshal.” Turning then, he walked out.

Trace wanted to spit fire. His hands ached to plant themselves in the middle of that man’s face, regardless of the consequences.

“Look at me.” Rand’s voice blared in his ear.

He turned his gaze from the figure beyond the door to his friend’s face.

“You gotta get your anger under control. For God’s sake, you are supposed to be a U.S. Marshal. He’s baiting you.”

“You were not so good at it yourself,” Trace snapped.

Rand ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “No, you’re right, I wasn’t. Look, maybe it’s not a good time for you to have dinner with her. At least not until we get some answers from your wire.”

“I’m going there for dinner and to make sure she’s safe.”

“I got some business down near the saloon. I’m sending another patrol out. I’ll come by later on tonight to make sure you haven’t killed each other.”

Trace nodded.

“Oh, and there’s a bottle in the bottom drawer. One glass won’t kill ya before you go.”

Trace watched Rand walk out the door and disappear from view. With a groan, he sat down heavily in the sheriff’s chair, pulled open the bottom drawer, looked down at the bottle and glass, and took them from the shadows. He poured a neat two fingers’ worth and held it up to the lamp, studying the refraction of the light as it bent through the liquid.

He couldn’t dispel the feeling that the captain seemed too eager to place the blame on Mary Rose. Why did everyone feel the Thorntons were the perfect scapegoats? He brought the glass to his lips and drank. Having the captain as the army’s representative, given his negative feeling, did not bode well when it came to releasing her funds at the bank. Why did the captain feel the need to persecute her?

Trace shifted in the chair and felt something hard roll under his hip. He grimaced and shifted his weight to the other leg, then sent his hand into his pocket to retrieve the offending object. Opening his hand, he gazed down at the gold button found in Moe’s box. “You’re my key. If only you’d speak louder.”

****

Captain Wallace moved through the street in the direction of the Thornton home. Once past the general store, he paused and, finding no one around him, ducked into the back alleyway. His steps hurried, he crossed the darkening streets toward the freight office. Standing in the shadows, he waited.

Behind the glass, he made out the dim shadows of a man moving against the light. A wicked smirk bent the edges of his lips, and he moved unheard to the porch. Sticking to the darker patches away from the light, he approached the doorway. Close enough to see inside, he took a moment to watch the clerk make an entry into a ledger book. Then, seeing the yawning gap of the loading dock doors as an easy entryway, he entered.

All those years of chasing rebels had taught him the use of stealth. Keeping his weight carefully on the balls of his feet, he managed to move without a sound to the back entrance of the office area. From this vantage point, he could see Gentry stood alone. His hand reached to slide the leather cap from the handle of his service revolver and pull the weapon into his hand.

“Hello, Gentry,” he called out softly.

He watched the man’s shoulders flinch. His head rose, and the papers he’d been holding fluttered down.

“Turn around, and do it slowly.”

The freight clerk raised his arms and began to circle. “Augustus,” he hissed. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t,” he sneered, moving closer.

Caleb’s eyes rounded and focused on the gun that never wavered in its aim.

“Now, just calm down, Augustus.”

“Calm down?” The words hissed from the captain’s mouth like steam from a kettle. “Your bungling has cost us dearly.”

Caleb licked his lips nervously. Wallace took satisfaction in the fine sheen of perspiration dotting the clerk’s upper lip.

“
You
were supposed to kill them all, including the girl,” Caleb reminded him. “If anyone messed up, it was you.”

Wallace’s lips pulled back, revealing his white teeth like those of a rabid wolf. “You find that coin?”

He shook his head. “I-I’ve searched the office. She must have found it and taken it home.”

“Yes, that makes sense.” Wallace lowered his weapon, and Caleb breathed a sigh of relief—until Wallace’s hand reached out and snared the fullness of his shirt, gathering the material and yanking him close. “I am through with your groveling. I’ve already taken care of two loose ends, Daniel Thornton and my brother. All you had to do was find that damn coin you let get away. But no, you let a snip of a girl get in your way, and now some U.S. Marshal’s come in like a knight on a white horse. I’m through groveling to some wet-nosed, untried officer. I’m getting out, and you’re going to help me,” he snarled.

Gentry sputtered. “You killed your own brother, not me.”

“I’d think that would make you a bit more frightened, Gentry. You’re just another bump in my road to freedom.”

The clerk swallowed hard. “Daniel has a study. I saw her in there the other night.”

“Did you see the coin?”

“No, but it must have been there. I tried to get it, but the box was empty. She must have it on her.”

Wallace let go of the clerk’s shirt and shoved him back. “You’d best be telling the truth. I will have that house turned inside out tonight. You bring two horses to the Thornton house after sundown. I’ll have that coin, even if it means the death of a woman or a marshal.”

****

“Really, Mary Rose, he’s crazy about you,” Penny confided. “You can see it when he enters the room. The way he looks at you!” She sighed. “Why, it’s as if you’re a piece of pie and he can’t wait to take a bite.”

“If only…if only he would say he loved me.”

“My dear friend, words are just words,” Penny replied, a sadness in her voice Mary Rose hadn’t heard before. “But actions,” she continued, blinking back the raw emotion that rocked her voice, “say it all.”

Mary Rose swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “Penny—” The front door opened, and she didn’t finish her question.

Her friend turned and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Oh, that must be the captain now.” She stood and composed her face. “Take a few moments, won’t you, Mary Rose, and think about what is in your heart?”

As her footsteps faded into the other room, Mary Rose stared at the grain of the wood in the table and concentrated on the words her friend had spoken: “…
actions say it all.”
Trace had shown her nothing but unconditional consideration, even if the word “love” was missing from his vocabulary. She closed her eyes, and the image of his face when they were together filled her vision.