Anna Finch and the Hired Gun (29 page)

Read Anna Finch and the Hired Gun Online

Authors: Kathleen Y'Barbo

BOOK: Anna Finch and the Hired Gun
2.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Now that’s a lovely smile.”

Anna turned toward the voice and saw Edwin Beck. She picked up her pace.

“Miss Finch, you wound me,” he said when he caught up to her. He glanced down at her skirt. “Dare I ask whether you’re still in possession of the pistol you mentioned at our last meeting?”

On any other day she might have been able to act the polite, well-bred girl her parents expected her to be. But with notes on Doc Holliday’s story vying with her irritation over Jeb Sanders’ behavior, her ability to tolerate the younger Beck brother was severely compromised.

Thus, Anna kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

“Fine,” Edwin Beck said. “I deserve no less for my abominable behavior. It’s just that, well, I am hopelessly smitten.”

To laugh aloud at the ridiculous statement seemed rude, so Anna picked up her pace.

“And I was led to believe you were amenable to my advances,” he continued. From the stunned faces of the trio of matrons exiting Simon’s Apothecary, the comment did not go unheard.

Anna stopped short. “You were led to believe this by whom? Certainly not me.”

He looked sheepish as he toyed with the watch chain on his waistcoat. “I’d prefer not to answer that. A gentleman takes his promises seriously.”

“I see.”

“Miss Finch.” He removed his hat and held it against his chest, his expression passably contrite, his features more than passably handsome. “If I thought it would affect your opinion of me, I would kneel right here in the middle of downtown Denver and beg your forgiveness. Shall I?”

“Truly, Mr. Beck, I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day.”

The source of which apparently had gotten off the train in time, for a block away Anna spied Jeb Sanders making his way toward them. When their gazes met, the hired gun had the audacity to wave. She suppressed a groan.

Holding her writing case against her side, Anna refused to acknowledge the Pinkerton. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Beck, I must get to the bank to see my father.”

Before she took three steps, Daniel’s brother stood in front of her. “That’s impossible. I just left the bank, and your father’s not in the office today.”

“I see. Well, thank you for that information.”

Now what? She could take public transport, at least to within a few blocks of home. Not ideal, but better than walking all that way.

She moved away from Edwin, hoping he would leave her to her thoughts. He did not.

“It was that Pinkerton fellow.”

Anna slid him a sideways glance. “Excuse me?”

Daniel’s brother shrugged. “A vow can be broken when to keep it is dishonorable. The man who told me you were amenable to my advances was the Pinkerton. What’s his name?”

She glanced behind her and found Jeb Sanders had paused and now had company. Hank Thompson had joined him, and both men watched her.

“Thompson?” she offered. “Hank Thompson?”

“No, that’s not it.” Edwin snapped his fingers. “Sanders. That fellow my brother’s so fond of. He’s the one.”

Anna shook her head. “Are you telling me that Jeb Sanders …”

“Indicated you had an interest in me?” His smile broadened. “Don’t be angry with the chap. I’m sure he only had your best interests in mind.”

She turned to look past Edwin at the man in question. Jeb had the audacity to grin. “And why would you think that?” she snapped.

“Because a union of the Beck and Finch families could only be beneficial to both of us.” He moved a strand of hair that had escaped her bonnet. “And my understanding is that once you are securely wed, he is no longer in your father’s employ.”

“Mr. Beck,” Anna said. “Surely you’re not proposing that … well, surely you’re not proposing. I barely know you.”

Features that reminded her so much of Daniel softened. “Of course not, Miss Finch,” he said. “What sort of suitor would make such a crass offer to the one whose hand he seeks?”

It was too much, this talk. The Pinkerton watching. The story
awaiting her attention in the writing case. Anna began moving away, taking a step backward.

“Are you unwell, Miss Finch?”

“I—” Anna’s foot landed on an unstable board and her balance faltered.

Jeb watched Daniel’s brother talk to Anna Finch while Hank Thompson yammered on.

“A plum assignment, Jeb,” Hank said. “A real plum assignment.”

He forced himself to look at Hank. “Sorry,” he said. “What were we talking about?”

Hank’s smile didn’t quite fit the rest of his expression. “I said that while I’m dividing my time between Denver and Leadville, you’re following Anna Finch. Some men get all the luck.”

“I don’t know about that,” was the best response Jeb could manage.

“Do you think she’ll marry Beck?” Hank asked. “Much as we try to keep it from happening, if she wants to marry him, you know her pa’ll encourage it.”

Jeb could only nod. A thought occurred to him. “Hank, what’s stopping you from giving Daniel’s brother a challenge? You’d make Anna Finch a fine husband.”

“That society gal’s got no interest in the likes of me.” He shrugged. “I can’t get close enough to kiss her hand.”

Guilt slammed Jeb between the eyes. He’d certainly done more than kiss her hand.

Before he could respond, Hank slapped him on the back. “Hate to do this, but I’ve got business to attend to.” He cast another long look at Anna Finch, then returned his attention to Jeb.

“What?” Jeb asked when his friend continued to stare at him.

“Just figuring.”

“That so?” While Jeb didn’t much care for the former Pinkerton using witness interrogation techniques on him, he cared even less to reveal what Hank was looking for.

Hank scratched his head, then shoved his fists into his pockets. Then, slowly, he began to shake his head. “Take care of her,” he finally said.

“I am.” Jeb glanced in their subject’s direction and found her far too interested in the Englishman.

“She’s something special,” Hank said. “Now go handle that problem she’s having.”

Jeb looked up sharply. “What problem?”

“The problem of spending time with the wrong man.” Again Hank shook his head as he walked away. “A special one, for sure.”

“Too special for Edwin Beck,” Jeb muttered under his breath as he aimed his boots toward the couple now engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Just as he came up behind Anna Finch, she stumbled backward.

Jeb caught her and turned her around to face him. Her face was pale. “I’m taking you home now,” he said. “No argument.” He spied Isak, Daniel’s driver, and waved to him, then guided Anna that direction. “Your carriage awaits.”

Isak greeted them, and Jeb helped Anna inside and climbed in with her. Only then did he notice that Daniel’s brother had followed.

“Sorry,” he said as he exchanged a look with Isak. “If you don’t mind, I’m paid to see to her safety.”

“But that’s my carriage,” Beck said.

“It’s your brother’s carriage.” Jeb paused. “I’ll see that it’s returned to you as soon as we’re done.” He stared down at Edwin Beck. If the man wanted trouble, he’d find it right here. Nothing would make Jeb happier than an excuse to wipe the smirk off the Englishman’s face.

When Daniel’s brother stepped back from the carriage, Jeb nodded to Isak. A crack of the whip and the horse lurched forward.

Inside the close confines of the Beck carriage, Jeb became uncomfortably aware of the woman seated beside him. “Miss Finch, there won’t be a repeat of today’s adventure.”

“Of course not,” she said, her face suspiciously innocent.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

She smoothed her skirt and didn’t answer.

“Fine. Make all the plans you want. They won’t work. You’re not going to run off and do anything foolish again. He’s a cold-blooded murderer, and you’re a woman of quality. What possible reason would you have for saving his skin?”

Anna Finch turned to face him with fight in her eyes. “Mr. Sanders, I recall that you are a believing man, yes?”

“I am,” he said, wary of what might come next.

“Then surely as the book of John says, the truth will set a man free. Or, should Mr. Holliday prove to be all that you’ve alleged, have you considered that the truth might bring justice where it has been lacking?”

He hadn’t. Her look of satisfaction goaded him.

“It’s settled, then,” she said as she leaned back against the seat.

And yet as he studied her, Jeb had the strong suspicion nothing had been settled at all. That in fact, quite the opposite had just occurred.

He spied the Finch home ahead and forced himself to relax. Once the carriage stopped, Jeb jumped out and reached for Anna to help her down. Best to steer the topic to safer ground, he decided. “According to the schedule, I should be ready for tonight’s event by eight.”

She shook her head. “Actually, I think I’ll beg off for tonight’s event. I doubt the governor will miss me if I stay home.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Jeb said. “I’ll just wait for the schedule.”

Anna turned without so much as a wave and walked toward the house, leaving Jeb to stare. “I’d miss her. Wouldn’t you, Isak?”

The driver grinned but kept his silence, though Jeb swore he heard Isak laughing as the gate closed behind him. It was enough to send Jeb off in pursuit of Anna.

“Miss Finch, a minute of your time,” he called, taking the steps to the front door two at a time.

“Not now,” she said.

“Now.” He stepped between Anna and the door and linked arms with her. She seemed about to protest, but her expression changed and Jeb knew he’d won. “Let’s take a walk away from prying eyes.”

To his surprise, she handed off her case to the maid who’d met her at the door and joined him without complaint. Jeb led her away from the house and down a path that curved into a stand of trees at the back of the property.

Satisfied they would not be overheard, Jeb paused. “I’m going to
make this simple, Miss Finch. All verbal sparring and Bible quotes aside, I want your word that what happened today will not happen again.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide beneath her bonnet’s brim. “You have my word.”

Her quick agreement took him by surprise. “Simple as that?”

Anna nodded. “Simple as that.”

“All right, then.” He rocked back on his heels, reluctant to leave though he knew spending time alone with Anna Finch was a bad idea.

“It’s lovely here.” She walked a few steps down the path, then paused. “Over there,” she said, her voice wistful, “I once had a playhouse. A castle, actually.”

“For a princess,” Jeb supplied.

She looked back at him. “Yes, I suppose.”

His companion seemed content to enjoy the afternoon, and her inattention gave Jeb time to study her. Much as he hated to admit it, she was a lovely woman. A woman who could shoot and ride like a man.

A woman he wouldn’t mind kissing again.

“Mr. Sanders, may I ask you a question?”

He smiled. “I’m sure I’ll regret this, but go ahead.”

She moved toward him. “How badly do you wish to be finished with this assignment?” When he did not respond, she stepped past him. “Your silence speaks for itself.”

“Wait.” He caught up to her and saw she’d begun to cry. “What’s this?”

“Mr. Sanders, if it were within my power to discharge you from your duties, I would certainly do so.” She straightened her shoulders and swiped at her cheeks. “Although I admit it would be easier to find a husband and be relieved of not only the burden of a hired gun shadowing my every move but also that awful Mr. Mitchell.”

Evidently Mitchell needed another reminder of their agreement to keep Anna Finch out of the papers. He made a note to pay the man a visit as soon as possible.

Jeb reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, then dabbed at Anna’s cheeks. “It’s clean, I promise.”

Her smile was brief, her gaze intense. “I’m sure another man can be hired should you require a release of duties. You do not have to arrange my matrimony to achieve this.”

“Arrange matrimony? Me?” When he stopped laughing, Anna Finch started walking again. “I’m sorry,” he called. “Why would you think that I’m arranging a marriage? Me, of all people?”

She froze, then turned slowly to return to the place where he stood. “Who am I to believe, then?”

“Believe?” Jeb shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Miss Finch seemed to consider the question a moment. “I’ll not marry Edwin Beck.”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “I refuse to allow it.”

“You refuse?” The words came out like a whisper. “But he said …”

It took all he had for Jeb not to pull her into his arms. “Who said?”

“So you’re not.” She paused to snatch the handkerchief from him.

“No, Miss Finch,” he said as gently as he could, “much as I enjoy a cold bedroll and bad campfire coffee, I’m making do just fine here at your humble home.”

She smiled and held out his handkerchief.

“You keep it,” he said. “Now tell me how you came to think this.”

“Well, I was speaking with …” She seemed reluctant to continue, so Jeb decided to help.

“With Edwin Beck?”

Fresh tears began, and this time he ignored good sense and gathered Anna to him. Resting her head against his chest, she gathered two handfuls of his shirt. “He said you’d encouraged him to pursue my hand. That you told him I would be amenable to his advances.”

Jeb bit back what he wanted to say and gathered Anna tighter to him. “I’m sorry he upset you. I know what he did on that carriage ride you took with him. Likely he’s not happy that I set him straight on how to treat a lady.”

This time she looked up to meet his stare. “You confronted him?”

“I did.”

Her lip trembled. “But how did you know?”

“I told you, I’m good at what I do.” He grinned.

“You are, aren’t you?” Anna released her grip on his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles with her palms. Jeb grasped her wrists and stilled the motion.

“Miss Finch,” he said slowly, “I’m not saying that some man ought not snatch you up and marry you. Any fellow would be lucky to have you.”

“Do you think so?” she whispered.

“I do.”

Kissing her bore hard on his mind, but Jeb knew better than to try it. Nothing good would come of it, and as before, there would be plenty of regret afterward.

Other books

Just His Type (Part One) by June, Victoria
Dark Space by Stephen A. Fender
One Hot Desert Night by Kristi Gold
A Cold Day In Mosul by Isaac Hooke
This Republic of Suffering by Drew Gilpin Faust
The Seven-Petaled Shield by Deborah J. Ross
Our House is Not in Paris by Susan Cutsforth