Gunpowder Tea (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (19 page)

The woman obviously felt the same attraction.

Not good, not good at all. The last thing he needed was a diversion, especially one as fetching as Miss Beckman.

Business!
Must concentrate on business. So far, his time on the ranch had turned up nothing in the way of useful information. He was no closer to blowing the Phantom’s cover now than when he had first arrived. Stackman was running out of patience and Taggert couldn’t blame him.

His reputation as a Wells Fargo detective was on the line; Taggert needed answers and he needed them now.

He didn’t start out as an investigator. Had it not been for his
father’s violent death, Taggert probably would have pursued a law degree. Not that he was complaining. Working under Chief Special Officer James B. Hume, Taggert had the privilege of catching desperadoes from San Francisco to St. Louis and recovering enough stolen loot to keep the company solvent. The same dogged determination used to track down ten-thousand-dollar bandits was utilized to hunt down fifty-dollar embezzlers.

He meticulously avoided distractions whenever he was on assignment. Some even said he had a one-track mind. That and his powers of observation made him a force to be reckoned with. But to tell the truth, he was sorely out of practice. His gut feeling wasn’t all that sharp, not like it used to be. No surprise there. For more than two years he did nothing but push paper around a desk. A man’s skills could get mighty rusty from lack of use.

After what happened with the Vander case, he never thought he would be in the field again. He no longer had the stomach for it. But that was before his best friend and Wells Fargo detective Paul Lester disappeared without a trace while working on the Phantom case. Not only did Taggert intend to uncover the outlaw’s identity, but he wouldn’t rest until he found out what had become of his friend.

That was easier said than done. None of his previous assignments had been as challenging as the current one. The Phantom was either exceptionally clever or exceptionally lucky. Cleverness only went so far and luck always ran out, and that was what Taggert counted on.

Miss Beckman might hold a clue to the man’s identity or simply be an innocent bystander. Whatever the answer, he could not,
would
not
permit himself to be further distracted by the lady’s considerable charms.

He started for the bunkhouse with long, even strides. He was so deep in thought and the moon was so bright that he almost missed the flash of light on the distant range.

Running most of the way, Annie finally reached the courtyard, chest rising and falling beneath her labored breathing. She rested her hand on the gate and glanced back. No sign of Branch.

She lowered her shawl and fanned her face with a flick of her hand, trying to calm her rebellious emotions.

Try as she might, she couldn’t shake away the memory of being held by Branch. A gal could get lost in those strong arms of his. And what about those shoulders and that chest? Although he hadn’t kissed her, it wasn’t hard to imagine his lips pressed against hers and her mouth quivered as if in anticipation.

Appalled at the direction her thoughts had taken, she pressed her fists to her forehead. Stop it! What was wrong with her? She was here for one reason and one reason alone. She had no time for foolish notions.

“Get it done, Taggert. Now.”

The memory put her thoughts back on track. Why was the banker interested in her? Had Miss Walker said something?

She didn’t know whom to trust. The ranch hands? Could she trust any of them? Normally when she worked a case, she was in constant contact with the Pinkerton home office or, at the very least, local law enforcement. Neither was possible out here and she felt isolated and very much alone. She tried to think what her father would have done had he been assigned to the case. When no answers came, she said a silent prayer.

Okay, God. What am I missing? What am I not seeing?

She finished her prayer with a sigh and stepped through the gate. A flash of light caught her eye and she stopped to take a closer look. The light was barely larger than a corn kernel. It glowed for a moment and then went out.

Odd. She thought all the ranch hands had returned after sundown, but maybe not. Or maybe she was simply imagining things. With a backward glance, she hurried into the house.

Chapter 16

The only person to get into trouble for following a good
example is a counterfeiter.

A
nnie peered out of the glass door that afternoon as she pulled gray hair from the bristles of Miss Walker’s hairbrush. Still shaken by last night’s encounter with the man she now knew as Taggert, she tried to calm her rampant emotions.

The rumbling sound of Dr. Fairbanks’s horseless carriage offered a welcome relief from her wayward thoughts. The doctor’s vehicle pulled in front of the house with a boom that shook the glass panes.

“Good heavens,” Miss Walker called from her bed. “It’s not bad enough that you make me wear this confection. Now I have to put up with Sawbones and his old clunker. Can’t a woman be left alone?”

Annie turned away from the door. “You look very pretty today.” Earlier she had washed Miss Walker’s hair in a basin, brushed it, and tied it back with a blue ribbon.

What Miss Walker called a confection was in reality a nightgown Annie found tucked in a bureau drawer in her room. Miss Walker denied it was hers and said it had probably been left by one of
her failed “heiresses.” No matter, the gown was a vast improvement over the plain nightshirts Miss Walker favored. The blue brought out the color of her eyes.

Miss Walker was still grumbling when Annie left the room and hurried downstairs to let the doctor in. Chatting amiably, he followed her up to the second floor and into Miss Walker’s room.

He greeted his patient with a cheerful smile. “Good morning.” He set his black bag on the floor. “How are we today?”

Impatience crossed Miss Walker’s face. “
We
should only be used by politicians, expectant mothers, and people with tapeworm.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dr. Fairbanks said good-naturedly. He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto a chair. “I have some good news. We can get rid of this apparatus.”

“That’s wonderful,” Annie exclaimed. It was the news she had been waiting for.

“Does that mean I can also be rid of this annoying cast?” Miss Walker asked.

“The wooden horse goes but the cast remains,” he said. “At least for a couple more weeks.”

“Weeks!”

Fairbanks shrugged. “It takes a good twelve weeks for a bone to heal properly, and at your age—”

“What are you talking about?” Miss Walker glared up at him. “Like any woman my age, I’m not a day over fifty!”

The doctor chuckled. “I’ll let you and your bones argue that point.”

Annie gave Miss Walker’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Just think. You’ll be able to sit up and move around.”

“I want to do more than sit.” Miss Walker threw off her covers. “Don’t just stand there,” she snapped at the doctor. “Get on with it.”

Without further ado, Dr. Fairbanks unhooked the leather straps attached to the cast and gently lowered her injured leg onto the bed. “There you go. You’re not ready to dance yet, but it’s a start.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Miss Walker growled. “I want to get out of bed.”

Fairbanks scratched his head. “Very well. I have a pair of sling-top crutches in my office. They were designed for wounded soldiers but I’ve yet to find any crutch safer.”

“Now! I want to get out of bed now,” Miss Walker insisted. “And I want to go downstairs.”

Fairbanks considered her request for all of two seconds. “In that case we’d best get some help. Miss Beckman, would you be kind enough to fetch a ranch hand or two?”

“Yes, of course.”

Moments later Annie found Ruckus, Stretch, and Branch sitting in the shade of the veranda. It was unusual to find the ranch hands sitting around so early in the day, but then, it was exceptionally hot.

“We just got through pulling twin calves,” Ruckus explained.

Stretch mopped his forehead with his kerchief. “It was like pulling a locomotive uphill.” Ruckus grinned. “They’re in the barn if you want to see them.”

“I do,” she said. “But first we need help carrying Miss Walker downstairs.”

“Downstairs, eh? She’s making progress.” Ruckus stood. “Come on, Stretch. You too, Branch.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh no, I mean . . .”

Ruckus looked from Branch to her. “Is there a problem?”

Branch’s face darkened dangerously and he looked ready to pounce. What was he so afraid she would say? His real name? Or that he and the banker were in cahoots?

“Two of you should be enough,” she said. She gave Branch a meaningful glare.
We
won’t be needing you.

Oblivious to the undercurrents, Ruckus persisted. “We might need an extra hand taking that apparatus apart.”

Branch’s gaze remained on her face. “Let’s not keep the boss lady waiting,” he said with a few visual daggers of his own.

Seeing that it would do no good to argue, Annie spun around and led the way into the house and up the stairs.

Leaving Stretch to dismantle the apparatus over the bed, Branch and Ruckus carried Miss Walker down the stairs and planted her on the leather couch in the large room.

Dr. Fairbanks lifted her injured leg ever so carefully and propped it upon a footstool. The plaster cast encased the entire leg, leaving only her toes showing.

Annie placed a pillow behind her back. “How’s that?”

“Fine, fine,” Miss Walker snapped, though she sounded out of breath. “Now stop fussing, all of you.”

Dr. Fairbanks arched his brows. “You do know you’ll have to go through the same ordeal tonight when you retire?”

Miss Walker ran her hand over the pillow by her side. “I’ll sleep down here if necessary.”

Annie felt Branch’s gaze and her face burned. Avoiding his eyes, she kept her focus on the doctor. “Do you know if Mr. Stackman will be coming to the ranch?”

Dr. Fairbanks shook his head. “I heard he’s in Tombstone on business. Won’t be back for a day or two.”

This time she did glance at Branch but his closed expression
revealed nothing. Her mind scrambled. She couldn’t be certain if Mr. Stackman was truly the Phantom, but she now knew that he and Branch were in cahoots. For that reason alone, it would be interesting to know the nature of the banker’s business.

As if to guess her thoughts, Branch’s gaze sharpened and his eyes grew dark. The visual warning to watch what she said couldn’t have been clearer had he spoken aloud.

Annie quickly looked away.

“Ruckus, how’s my horse?” Miss Walker asked. She never failed to query her ranch hands on her horse’s care.

“Like I told you, Miz Walker,” Ruckus said. “Baxter has been groomed and exercised every day.”

Miss Walker gave a brusque nod. “I should hope so.”

Stretch walked into the room. “I took all the wood down and carried the lumber outside. Anything else you need me to do?”

“That’s it.” Ruckus turned to Miss Walker. “If there’s nothing else, me and the boys will mosey on back to work.”

“Not so fast.” Miss Walker’s demeanor had improved considerably now that she was downstairs and she took full command of the room. “What’s going on?”

Ruckus and Stretch exchanged glances. “Goin’ on?”

“You both look like you’ve been attacked by a hay cutter.”

Ruckus wiped a hand across his clean-shaven face. “There’s a Wells Fargo detective on the loose and word is he’s looking for a man with a beard and mustache.”

Miss Walker’s eyes narrowed. “Why should a detective be of any concern to you?”

Ruckus clutched his hat to his chest, his face as red as an overripe tomato. “The truth is . . . I haven’t always been picking grapes in the Lord’s vineyard. As a lad, I stole tobacco from a general store.”

“Oh dear.” Miss Walker pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “A hanging offense if I ever heard of one.”

“And when I went to the owner’s house to make amends, he thought I was seeing his wife.” Pointing to his crooked nose, he continued, “I didn’t even see his fist coming.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “As God is my witness, I swear I never even thought about smoking after that.”