Romancing the West (2 page)

Seth hauled his body out of the tub and nabbed a towel. He felt for the man--a widower with two kids--but
damn.
“So my first assignment is to fetch your intended bride?”

“President Hayes is counting on me to organize and supervise PMA. I’m counting on you to deliver Emily safely to me so I can concentrate on doing that. When you think about it, this matchmaking venture is of national importance.”

Seth suppressed a grunt. Wouldn’t want
Fox
thinkin’ he was unpatriotic.

“I’ve penned a proposal of marriage. I’m hoping, after due consideration, that she’ll agree.”

He jerked on his shirt, poleaxed by what he was hearing. “You mean you haven’t discussed this with Miss McBride? Don’t you think she’d like to hear the proposal from
you?”

“I can’t leave Phoenix or my children. Not now. If she balks, you’ll have to plead my case. Explain the advantages of a practical, amiable marriage.” He shrugged on his frock coat, his actions and tone matter-of-fact. “Rumor has it you can talk any woman into anything. I’m counting on you to persuade her.”

“Am I to take it she’s not as
fond
of you as you are of her?”

“She’s fond of Zach and Zoe and she likes me just fine. Problem is she fancies herself in love with Rome.”

“Your
brother?”

“Been moony-eyed over him since she was a kid. Rome has no interest in her, trust me.”

Seth jammed his feet into his boots, cursed a dull throb at the base of his skull. “This has disaster written all over it.”

“I have faith in your abilities.” Athens slicked back his hair, pocketed the comb. “Another thing. Paris is to know nothing about this.”

“PMA or Emily?”

“Both. At least for now. I don’t want her to get her hopes up in case you come back empty handed.”

Seth smirked. “I thought you had faith in my abilities.”

“I also have faith in fate intervening and sabotaging my life.”

“You a bitter man, Garrett?”

“Realistic.”

Fully dressed, they exited through the rear door of the bath and hair dressing emporium. They agreed to meet up for dinner to celebrate Josh’s birthday. Naturally, Paris would be there as well as Zach and Zoe.

“Remember,” Athens said, “if Emily comes up in conversation, you’re to say nothing of your impending mission.”

Seth didn’t figure bride-fetching counted as a mission, but held his tongue. He shook hands on the matter, and the two men parted. Avoiding talk of Emily this evening should be simple, so long as the men controlled the conversation. He wouldn’t be lying to his best friend’s wife, just omitting information of
national importance.
Besides, once he returned to Arizona Territory with Emily, Paris wouldn’t mind that she’d been kept in the dark. All she’d care about was that her friend was no longer thousands of miles away. She’d be happy which meant Josh would be happy. Emily and Athens’s problems would be solved and Zach and Zoe Garrett would have a ma.

By the time he rounded the corner and hit Washington Street, he’d convinced himself he was on a
mission
of good will, ensuring the happiness of Emily and the Garretts, and the wellbeing of the honest, hard-working folk of the west. This time next month he’d be kicking criminal ass Peacemaker style.

With the meeting behind him and free time ahead, Seth surveyed the wide street bordered with cottonwood trees and adobe buildings. In addition to a couple of respectable hotels, assorted general merchants, a schoolhouse, a library, and the newly erected National Bank, Phoenix boasted sixteen saloons, four dance halls, two monte banks, and one faro game. Just now, the colorful side of this booming oasis appealed to him most.

Specifically, Fletcher’s pleasure palace. He sauntered up the boardwalk, aiming on celebrating his new job by riding a feisty dove. Best to see to his needs now. Calico Queens would be sparse in Heaven, California, a town whose citizens, according to Paris, had been raised on prunes and proverbs.

“Just the man I’m looking for.”

Seth stopped short as a freckle-faced half-pint blew across the street and blocked his path. He touched the brim of his hat in greeting. “Be more pleased to hear those words if you weren’t my best friend’s lovely wife.”

Paris Grant waved off his innocent flirtation with a snort. “I’m not lovely. I’m fat.”

“You’re with child and you’re glowing.”

“You mean sweating.” She fanned her face with her hand. “It’s hot as the devil’s kitchen.”

Seth guided her into the shade. She looked flushed and anxious. Couldn’t be good for the babe. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, hon. You should be wearing a bonnet or--”

“--carrying a parasol. I know. I forgot. I was in a hurry.”

Impetuous as always. “Where’s Josh? Ain’t like him to let you walk around town alone.”

“He took Zach and Zoe for a buggy ride so I could take a nap. Only I couldn’t rest because I’m agitated.”

“I can see that.”

“I knew you’d arrived and I wanted to talk to you. You weren’t at the jailhouse so I figured I’d find you in one of the saloons.”

“Seeing that you often tread where you don’t belong, I’m relieved you ran into me on the boardwalk.” Imagine if she’d stormed Fletcher’s? Although, if she caught him with his pants down, she’d probably declare them even. Several months back, he’d walked in on her and Josh.
Don’t think about your friend’s woman in the all-together.

“I need to talk to you regarding an urgent matter.”

Damn. “Why don’t we go back to your brother’s house and--”

“Why don’t we slip in here?”

Before he could protest, Paris nudged him inside a merchant’s store. Cafe Poppy. A fancy bakery of sorts. He smelled something sweet. Cookies? Cake? Almost as delectable as the tasty morsel rounding the counter. She was new in town. New to the region, given her sophisticated appearance. Her bustled blue gown and fancy up-do were more suited to a cotillion than a cafe. She reeked of elegant grace and cake batter. Intrigued, Seth considered spending the afternoon here rather than Fletchers. Then he noticed the wedding band. Damn.

“Afternoon,” he said with a pleasant smile. Hard not to smile at a rare beauty, hitched or otherwise.

“Thank you for frequenting Cafe Poppy.” She bested his smile and escorted them to one of six tables. “I’m the proprietor, Mrs. Kaila Dillingham.”

Her accent--British?--caught him off guard, as did her enthusiastic greeting. He’d expected reserved, stuffy. Instead, she was friendly. Friendly
and
beautiful. “Pleasure, ma’am.” He wondered about her husband. Were he the law in this town, he’d inquire outright. Keeping the peace meant knowing a piece about those in your jurisdiction. Given his new appointment, he supposed that included everyone west of the Mississip.

Mulling that over, he eased Paris into a padded chair. Calico cushions to match the calico tablecloths and curtains. Sure was a frilly place. “Name’s Seth Wright. This here is--”

“--a woman dying of thirst,” Paris finished. “Could I bother you for a cup of tea, Mrs. Dillingham? And maybe some of whatever smells so good? Seth will have coffee,” she said before he could order. God forbid he prolong the conversation. “Thank you,” she added, dismissing the woman with a polite smile.

Apparently, the urgent matter was for his ears only. The best he could do was hear her out and hope this urgent matter concerned anything but Emily McBride.

“It’s about my friend Emily.”

Naturally. He settled back and listened as Paris relayed the same story Athens had shared minutes before. “I understand that you’re disappointed,” he interjected. “But, honey, things don’t always go according to plan. You’ll see Emily again. The timing’s just off.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. She’s in trouble.”

The hitch in her voice summoned a pain in his neck. He massaged the telling ache with a frown.

“What kind of trouble?”

“I can’t say precisely. It involves a secret and I made a promise. Promises are sacred.”

A belief that had gotten her in a passel of trouble in the past. “Why are you confiding in me and not Josh?”

“Josh wouldn’t do what has to be done because he won’t leave me when I’m in this condition. He’d send you. When I learned about this, you were still Sheriff and I didn’t want to impose so I sent Phineas Pinkerton.”

“The poet?” Seth had seen the pretty boy recite his flowery prose in various theaters, including the Desert Moon, the opera house owned by Josh and Paris. Didn’t care for the man’s delivery, though the poems were clever.

“In addition to a professional poet,” Paris informed him in a hushed voice, “he’s an intuitive detective.”

“A what?”

“Someone who solves crimes by reading or hearing a recounting of the case.”

“Does he have a background in law? Practical experience in enforcement?”

“He doesn’t need it. His deductive skills come naturally.” She frowned. “You look skeptical.”

“I am skeptical.” That was putting it mildly. “Paris, two of your brothers earn livings investigating and apprehending criminals. They’ve known Emily all their lives and when they’re not on the trail, they live in the same town as your friend. Why not alert them?” He thought back on Athens’s theory that Emily had made a bad investment. He’d mentioned her trusting nature and now Paris cited criminal types. Was it possible the preacher’s daughter fell prey to a flim flam man?

Paris shook her head so hard, her bun came loose. “Rome and Boston can’t know about this.
None
of my brothers can know.”

Naturally. “What about the local authorities--”

“Loose-lipped ninnies. Not an option.”

“Hence Pinkerton.”

“Hence my problem. Yesterday, I received a telegram from Mr. Pinkerton. He’s been offered a lucrative northeast tour. Regrettably, he said, he cannot continue his journey to Heaven. He’s heading back to New York!”

Tears sprang to her big brown eyes as she spewed the rest of her hushed tale. “If I don’t send help, Emily will take action herself. She’s
that
desperate to keep her secret and what does she know about thwarting blackmailers? She’s resourceful, but
still.
I’m beside myself with worry, Seth. Emily’s had a powerful run of bad luck. If you don’t go, something awful is going to happen. I just know it!”

“Hold up.” He pressed a clean bandana into her hands, hoping she’d stem the tears before they flowed. Weepy woman gave him heartburn. “Someone’s blackmailing Emily?”

“Don’t ask me why. I can’t tell you. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone and promises are--”

“--sacred. I know.” He should’ve begged off Josh’s birthday celebration and taken an overdue holiday. He should have known better than to get mixed up with the Garretts. A pain in his neck, all of them, including, no,
especially
Paris. “How am I supposed to help Emily if I don’t know the problem?” How was he supposed to deliver a proposal to a woman mixed up in some sort of scandal? PMA was a government agency. Low profile. Athens expected to hook up with a preacher’s daughter, an angel. A respectable mother for his children.

“You understand women more than any man I’ve ever met, Seth. Use your imagination.”

He leaned forward, incredulous. “Are you suggesting that I seduce your friend into revealing her secret?”

“I’m suggesting you earn her confidence.” She blew her nose into his bandana. “Besides, you couldn’t woo Emily. She’s in love with Rome.”

He’d yet to meet a woman he couldn’t woo, but that was beside the point. “Maybe that’s just a girlish infatuation. Maybe she’s meant for someone else.”

Paris pursed her lips, studied him for a spell then smiled. “Maybe.”

He started to give her an earful then Mrs. Dillingham walked over with a loaded tray and stole away his breath. Gorgeous. Mr. Dillingham was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.