Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (8 page)

He slammed the ledger book shut and shoved himself away from the desk. He rested his feet on the edge and contemplated his wife. It stuck in his craw that he didn’t know what she’d been doing all those months in Guthrie. He’d tried to beat it out of her, but she remained close-mouthed, which told him something happened there. If she’d been spreading her legs for some loser, he’d find out. Just as soon as this mess was cleared up with the business he’d hire someone to poke around up there and see what she’d been doing besides waiting on tables.

“Louis, we have to talk about the disaster looming.” His partner, Greg Sanders entered his office without knocking, just like he owned the place.

His gut tightened as he pondered the man. The idea of setting up this hoax with Sanders had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but now he wished he’d done it alone. Sanders was stupid and testy, and contributed nothing to the business in the way of bringing in new clients.

“What disaster is that, Sanders?”

“Don’t play games with me. We both know we can’t continue with this scheme. It’s worked for more than five years, but it’s done. We need to cut out, take the money we have with us and start over somewhere else.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I put a lot of effort into building a name for myself in Galveston. Unlike you, I’ve cultivated the elite of the town, and joined the best clubs. My wife is the darling of the city, and we live in one of the biggest and finest houses around. This is the life I was meant to have, and this is where I’m staying.”

“You’re forgetting we said from the start this would give us five, six years. We agreed to dissolve it all and start over.” Sanders leaned over the desk, his eyes panicky. “There’s rumbling the Market might be seeing a drop. If Wall Street takes a tumble, we’re dead.”

Louis eyed the man with disdain. “You worry too much. The Market is doing fine, and with a few more clients to shore things up, we’ll be solvent. Stop looking for a catastrophe around every corner.”

Sanders straightened and shook his head. “That’s what I get for going into business with a common criminal. I, at least, have some background in finance.”

Louis lunged forward and grabbed Sanders by the throat. “I might have been a common criminal, but I’ve made more money for you than that fancy college degree of yours ever did.” He released him, shoving him backward. “And don’t forget it.”

Chapter 8

The sun beat down on Hunter’s head as he walked from school to the bank where his father worked. In his hand he held a note from his teacher, which Hunter had the feeling was another request for a meeting to discuss Hunter’s failures as a student. He hated having to deliver the note and seeing the disappointment in his father’s eyes. Why couldn’t he be smart like Michael, or Rachel, or Ellie? Why did all things relating to school seem to elude him?

Not wishing to have the entire family witness to his disgrace, it was better to see Papa at work. He pushed open the large bronze door to the Kansas Fidelity Bank where his father was Bank Manager. The bank was quiet, and Hunter nodded to Mrs. Abrams who left just as he arrived.

Hunter kept the note behind his back and approached his father’s desk. ‘Henry Henderson’ was engraved on the bronze plate above Papa’s desk. He put down his pen and smiled when Hunter grew near. “Good afternoon, son. What brings you here today?” He frowned and added, “Is everything all right at home?”

With one brother and two sisters and no Mama since she’d died of influenza, Hunter was aware that his father worried a lot about them being on their own while he worked. “Everything is fine.”

His father continued to smile at him, making Hunter shift from foot to foot. “Well, actually, I have something for you.” He held out the note.

Papa took the note and opened it. But instead of disappointment, his eyes reflected sympathy. “More trouble with your lessons?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Come here, son.” His father held out his arm and Hunter circled the desk until he stood next to Papa, snug against his side.

“I know school is harder for you than your brother and sisters. Every child is different, and I wish you could have as easy a time as they do. But you are Hunter, my second son. You are unique and the way you are is how God wanted you to be.”

“Why wouldn’t He want me to be better in school?”

His father chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Because most likely He has other things planned for you than an easier time at school.”

“Hands up!” The loud scraggy voice cut into their conversation.

Papa stood and pushed on Hunter’s head at the same time. “Duck under the desk and don’t come out until I tell you.”

Before he was shoved under the desk, Hunter saw two steely black eyes staring at the bank teller who had his hands in the air. His father walked slowly toward the robber, but flicked his glance at the teller. “Give him the money from your drawer.”

“Are you sure, sir?” The teller’s voice shook.

“Yes, Felix. Just give him the money.”

His father stood patiently as the money was scooped out and dropped into the bag the robber held open. Once the drawer was empty, the teller stepped back. Hunter’s heart pounded as he watched the robber tie a string around the top of the bag.

With one smooth movement, he raised his gun and shot the teller in the face. In slow motion Hunter watched him turn toward his father, and laughing, shot him in the head. The thief glanced in the direction of the desk, forever burning into Hunter’s mind the face of the man who’d killed his father in cold blood right before his eyes.

Hunter jerked awake, rolled over, and groaned. It had been a while since he’d had that dream. The dream that had driven all his actions for ten years with the Texas Rangers. Every single town he entered, every criminal he faced, he was always looking for those black steely eyes. Eighteen years ago he’d seen his father gunned down. And he was no closer to catching the bastard then he’d been that day, a mere thirteen years old.

In all those years, he’d told no one that he’s seen his father killed. Two days after the funeral his father’s sister, Tori, had come to take care of them. Unable to find employment in the town where they lived, and facing eviction from their home, she’d entered into the Oklahoma Land Run and dragged them all to Guthrie.

Hunter shook his head to clear it. He’d sworn that day he would find the man and kill him. No matter that he was a sworn law enforcement agent. He would shoot the man in cold blood as that scum of the earth had murdered his father. The hatred and burning desire to find him had eaten him up inside.

Hunter had failed at keeping his mother alive. When she’d died of influenza three years before his papa, he knew it was his fault. She’d caught the illness from nursing him. He couldn’t save her, even though he’d never left her side after he recovered. Then he couldn’t save his father. He’d sat there like a statue as the bastard put a bullet in his head.

Another reason why finding Emily was so important. She needed protection and he’d let her down, too. No matter that she refused to tell him her story. He’d been a law enforcement agent. He should have guessed, or forced her to tell. How could he protect her if he didn’t know what she faced?

The longer they were separated, the more certain he was of his feelings for her. He wanted her. Not just in his bed—surely that, but as his wife. Forever and always. And if necessary, he would tear apart this town to find her.

He threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had a lot of work to do, and lying in bed wasn’t getting it done.

It hadn’t taken Hunter long to find Emily. Despite the hustle and bustle of the place, Galveston was in essence a small town. With her husband being a prominent citizen, it had been easy. A few questions here and there and he knew her real name, her husband’s name, and her address.

Her husband.

When he’d first heard that word, all the breath had vacated his body, leaving him reeling. That had to be the man who had dragged her back to Galveston from Guthrie. He had known she was hiding a secret from him, but a
husband
was a mighty large secret.

He returned to his room, contemplating whether he should pack up and leave. It was not his way to steal another man’s wife. He firmly believed in the marriage vows and would never encourage a woman to betray them.

But there was more to this story than a woman seeking time away from her husband. Clearly, Emily had been hiding in Guthrie. And from what Helen had told him, she’d been upset and fearful right before she left the restaurant. Instead of being crushed by this news, he was determined to see her. To hear from her lips that she was happily married, had no fear of this husband, and had merely been engaging in some independence.

His gut told him differently.

And so began his daily visits to her house, waiting outside for hours to see her. The first time she appeared it had taken all of his control not to rush across the street and grab her. Demand to know what was going on. The binoculars he carried showed she was thinner, tightness around her mouth giving her a bleak look. The dark circles under her eyes bothered him—Emily Smith was not a happy woman.

He watched her for two weeks, realizing she followed a schedule. A chauffer drove her to stores, a Women’s Club, a private house, and church. Each day was the same routine. Thanks to a horse and carriage he’d rented he was able to follow them.

At the beginning of the third week he decided to approach her. Since the chauffer sat outside whatever building she was in the entire time, Hunter assumed she was being watched. Whoever had snatched her back didn’t want her to run again. He had to be careful not to alarm her, or let the driver know he was making contact. Until he knew if she was in danger, he didn’t want to bring attention to himself.

About ten minutes after Emily had entered the General Store for her Monday afternoon visit, he left his carriage and strode across the street, his heart pounding. A quick glance told him there were enough customers to keep the store clerk busy and for him to go unnoticed.

Emily had her back to him, fingering body lotions. He touched a few items as he made his way toward her. A quick glance around the store revealed no one paying him any attention. He got as close as he could without appearing to crowd her.

“Emily, don’t turn around.”

All the blood drained from Emily’s head to her feet, leaving her lightheaded with black dots dancing in front of her eyes. She gripped the edge of the counter.

“Hunter?” She didn’t turn, and merely whispered his name.

“Yes.”

She began to shake, tears forming in her eyes, the first ray of hope she’d experienced since she’d arrived back in Galveston consuming her. How in heaven’s name had he found her?

Hunter moved to the other side of the counter and kept his eyes cast on the shaving soaps as he handled them, sniffing each one. “We need to meet somewhere and talk.”

“I’m being watched.”

“I know.”

She opened a lotion bottle and put a dab on her hands. “Our driver, Martin, used to leave me, and returned when I instructed him to. Now he’s been ordered to sit outside until I emerge from my appointments.” Tears slid from her eyes to drip like drops of early spring rain onto the bottles of lotion. She had to pull herself together before she threw herself into his arms and begged him to run. But she had no reason to believe he’d come to take her away. Perhaps he was only here in anger, to know why she’d left, why she’d been in Guthrie to begin with.

Why she’d allowed him to kiss her when she was a married woman.

“Tomorrow you go to the dressmaker.” The familiarity of his voice soothed her, giving her courage.

“Yes.” She wiped her cheeks. “You’ve been watching me.”

“For two weeks.”

He moved to the other end of the counter, flipping through men’s handkerchiefs. “Do you trust your dressmaker? Would she help you?”

“Millie is my only friend in Galveston. My only ‘real’ friend, that is.” She hesitated. “I think she would.”

From the corner of her eye she caught his brief nod. “There is a back door to the dressmaker’s shop. After about ten minutes slip out the back and I’ll meet you.”

Before she could say yay or nay he was gone. She looked up from the lotions she’d been studying, and the space where he’d stood was empty. Frantically, she moved her head in every direction, but he’d disappeared. Leaving her wondering if her mind had snapped and she’d imagined the entire encounter.

Fear and excitement warred within her. If Louis caught her with Hunter she would pay with another beating. And she wouldn’t put it past her husband to shoot Hunter on the spot and claim he was protecting his wife. He would probably get away with it, too.

No longer interested in shopping, she left the store and surprised Martin by opening the automobile door and climbing in before he could assist her.

His head snapped around. “Finished so soon, Mrs. Smith?”

“Yes. I feel a slight headache coming on.”

Martin tugged on his cap and started up the vehicle.

The next day Emily placed her hand on her stomach to quell the butterflies that had taken up residence since she’d arisen. She checked the white china clock with the pale roses painted on it again. In two hours she would be face-to-face with Hunter, and no one watching. What would he say? Was he angry? Happy to see her? Disgusted with her subterfuge?

“You seem quite cheerful today, Mrs. Smith.” Maria fastened the frogs on Emily’s jacket and smoothed the material. “It is good to see you happy.”

“I am looking forward to my visit to the dressmaker.” She had better subdue her excitement. If Maria decided to report to Louis that his wife was happy for a change he might find some way to make her miserable again.

“The air has a bit of a nip in it today, perhaps you might consider bringing a shawl.” Maria reached for the brush on the vanity table as Emily settled in front of the mirror.

Emily was too distracted to worry about nips in the air and shawls. Soon she was going to see Hunter! She fought to keep the grin from her face as Maria brushed, then twisted her mass of hair into a neat bun at the back of her head. One more glance at the clock told her another ten minutes had passed since last she’d checked.

Finally Maria finished fussing with her. Emily grabbed the shawl her maid had insisted upon and left the room. Breakfast smells greeted her as she turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and headed to the breakfast room. Food held no appeal, but not wanting to deviate from her normal routine, she continued on down to the brightly lit room.

It appeared Louis had already had his breakfast, leaving her feeling weak with relief. He watched her too closely and if she gave anything away, he would certainly pounce on it.

“Mrs. Smith, Cook will send in hot food for you, if you will take your seat.”

“Thank you, Malcom, but I feel a bit of digestion upset this morning, so I’ll just take a cup of tea. And maybe some toast.” She would force it down just in case Louis heard from Cook that she’d passed on breakfast. Such a strain living like this. Always being careful what she said, what she did. Who was watching.

As the butler deposited the pot of tea and toast in front of her, he said, “Mr. Smith requests your presence in the library when you are finished.”

Her stomach tightened with fear. Had he discovered her assignation? After only a bite or two, she pushed the plate away and took a sip of tea. No point in putting off the interview.

Louis sat at his desk, head down, as he wrote in a ledger.

“You wished to speak with me?”

He carefully placed the pen in the holder and leaned back, running a cool glance over her. “Yes.”

She waited patiently, knowing how much he loved to raise the tension when he dealt with her.

“What are your plans for today?”