Only in My Arms (49 page)

"Perhaps they don't have your discerning eye," Ryder said dryly. "Or perhaps she's inviting a thief." He glimpsed Mary's questioning frown. "If it's insured, then she would be reimbursed for its loss."

Mary was left to wonder at it as the Dodds disappeared into their waiting carriage without incident. She pointed out several other people to Ryder and received little comment in return. It was obvious to Mary that he was searching for a very particular face in the crowd.

"There's Warren Hamilton," she said, as the senator exited the theater. There was no mistaking the sharp features of the Massachusetts' politician. In most cartoons Mary had seen he was unimaginatively represented as a hatchet. In person, it seemed the cartoonists had been kind. "Is that who you've been—" Mary stopped because she felt Ryder stiffen as the senator stepped to one side and revealed the presence of the young woman on his right. "Oh," she said, her voice hushed.
"She's
the one we've come to see."

Ryder placed a hand on Mary's shoulder as she came up on tiptoe and began to crane her neck in order to catch a better glimpse of their quarry.

Feeling a bit like an unruly puppy who has just been ordered to heel, Mary nonetheless shrank back into the shadows. She had seen enough to form an initial impression. Anna Leigh Hamilton was acknowledged as a beauty for very good reason. The woman's sunshine yellow hair caught the eye, and her flashing eyes and smile held one's gaze. She cut a dainty figure on the arm of her tall, angular father. She was as ebullient as he was sober, as generously proportioned as he was spare. His impatient air faded only when he cast an indulgent smile in her direction.

Ryder retreated a step backward into the safety of deeper shadows when Anna Leigh glanced in his direction. She did not see him, but looked past him instead, trying to spy the location of the carriage that was meant for her and her father. The doorman also saw her look and immediately stepped forward to search for Senator Hamilton's carriage himself.

"She's a princess," Mary said softly. "Everyone does her bidding."

Ryder nodded. "Let's go. I've seen enough. She's here and we can follow—"

Mary laid her hand on his forearm, stopping him. "Wait," she said. "Isn't that your uncle?"

Wilson Stillwell emerged from the theater, accompanied by two gentlemen. Mary recognized neither of them, but she was struck by the fact that they nodded politely to Anna Leigh and addressed her father while Wilson Stillwell made no acknowledgment.

"Your uncle has as little time or regard for Miss Hamilton as you do," Mary said. "He cut her and her father dead."

"I doubt that it was on my account," Ryder said dryly.

Mary sighed. "You might give him the benefit of the doubt. Miss Hamilton maligned you, and your uncle is responding to it in the only way left to him."

Ryder did not argue with Mary's interpretation. Certainly she was correct in that Wilson Stillwell had made a direct cut. Ryder was just unsure of the motivation. He tore his attention away from his uncle and surveyed the thinning crowd. He and Mary could not afford to stay much longer as they would be noticed by the doorman who had returned to his post. "Come on," Ryder said. "Our driver's circled the block for the third time. We need to go."

Mary let her arm be taken. She was briskly escorted across the avenue just in time to meet the hack as it completed its final tour. As Mary clambered into the cab, she vaguely heard Ryder give the order to their driver to follow Senator Hamilton's carriage. She had her face pressed to the hansom's window as Ryder settled himself in the seat.

"What are you still looking at?" asked Ryder.

Mary did not pull back, turning her head sideways to keep her vision trained on the same point when the hansom began to move. "Your uncle's not gotten into the carriage with his companions," she said. "I believe he's going around to the side of the theater. Why yes, there he goes. What do you suppose he intends to—"

"Miss Yvonne Marie," Ryder said.

"What?" asked Mary. Then, "Oh. I see. He wants to make the actress's acquaintance." She turned away from the window. "He's never married?"

"Briefly. Years ago. My aunt died in childbirth. The child died a few days later. He never remarried."

Mary was genuinely moved. "How sad for him. Then you're all he has."

"It may explain Wilson's actions," Ryder said tightly, thinking of his own dead wife and child. "It doesn't justify them."

"No," she said quickly. "Of course it doesn't."

Ryder sighed. "I'm sorry." He patted the space beside him, and Mary came across the swaying carriage willingly. "I know you had hopes that he could help us."

That comment surprised her. "I haven't given up. Perhaps he still can. You saw how he was with Senator Hamilton and Anna Leigh. He might be willing to help if for no other reason than to get his own revenge. I've not seen or heard anything that makes me think we shouldn't ask."

Ryder slipped his arm around Mary's shoulders. He gave her something else to think about. "I need to get into the War Office records," he said. "I'd be pleased to entertain some ideas as to how that could be accomplished."

"I'll do it," she said immediately. "What are you looking for?"

"Out of the question." He leaned forward as the hansom slowed to take a corner. Ryder looked out the window, marked the street, then relaxed and settled back. "I want to see the transfer orders and records for anyone connected to Fort Union."

"You could find those things there?"

He nodded. "Every document finds its way to the War Office sooner or later."

Mary considered what Ryder might be after for a moment. "This has something to do with those men who left the theater early, doesn't it?"

Ryder smiled, not at all displeased that she had put it together. "No one will ever accuse you of being slow off the mark," he said. "Yes, it has to do with them. The taller one was vaguely familiar, but I recognized the other one. He was a private when I last saw him. I can't think of any reason for those stripes he's wearing now except that he was one of the two men who brought me in."

Mary's eyes widened. "You mean at Colter Canyon?"

"Patrick Carr," Ryder said. "He accompanied Davis Rivers up to the ridge to search for me and Anna Leigh after the raid."

"I met Lieutenant Rivers," Mary said slowly, trying to place the time and situation. "It was my first day in Arizona. The lieutenant and a small party of soldiers accompanied my family and me from Tucson to Fort Union. I don't recall ever seeing Carr."

"You weren't at the fort very long," Ryder reminded her. "And he may have already been transferred back here." His dark brows were drawn together as he tried to make sense of it. "His part in the trial was done a while back, but it's still surprising that he would have been brought East. No one moves privates around like that."

"But you saw that he's an officer now."

"A sergeant," he said. "It still seems unlikely that he should find himself in Washington. And the promotion was accomplished rather quickly. He was still a private when he testified against me."

Now Mary was frowning as well. "What can it mean?"

"That's why I have to get into the War Office," he said. "Apply yourself to solving that problem. I'm known to too many people there to simply walk in and ask to see enlistment and transfer rolls."

There was no time to give it any thought as their hansom slowed again. They looked out together and saw that Senator Hamilton's carriage was leaving the street to enter a wide, semicircular drive in front of a gray stone mansion. Ryder slid back the communicating panel and ordered their driver to keep going down Jefferson Street. When they were out of sight of the Hamilton residence, he had the driver stop. He got out of the carriage, helped Mary down, and paid the driver. "We won't be needing you any longer," he said, adding a generous tip for the man's time.

"Now what?" Mary asked when they were alone on the street. In the distance she could hear the approach of another carriage. "Do you have any plan?" The words were drawn out of her rather breathlessly as Ryder was pulling her off to the side where a row of sturdy, bare-limbed oaks lined the avenue like palace guards. He took her behind one of them so they were completely out of sight of any passersby. "What are we doing?" she asked, leaning back against the tree. The bark was wet from the earlier rain and droplets of water fell from the limbs overhead. She wiped one away from where it splattered her cheek. "Ryder?"

"We're waiting."

"Waiting? But—"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh."

Mary stilled instantly and listened with all of her senses. The night air was cool and crisp, and it seemed to sharpen the sounds around her: the occasional water droplet hitting the carriage roof, the rhythmic clicking of the wheels, and the clop-clop cadence of the horses' hooves. She became aware that the carriage in the distance wasn't coming any closer, but had turned. Sound and rhythm were altered as the equipage moved over gravel instead of wet cobblestones. She looked up at Ryder and saw he was looking intently in the direction of Anna Leigh Hamilton's home. There was almost nothing he could see from such a great distance. His view was obstructed by the iron fence bordering the property and the row of hedges that lined the driveway. But they both could hear Anna Leigh's clear melodious voice raised in greeting. The words were not clear, but the intention was, and her guest—only one voice was raised in reply—was invited inside.

The carriage left immediately and passed within a few feet of them. It was a hired hansom and offered no means to identify who had arrived in it.

"Apparently we were not the only ones following Anna Leigh and her father," Mary said. Her eyes narrowed on Ryder's face. "But I think you suspected that."

Ryder nodded. "I saw the hack when I looked to see where we were turning." He pointed to the house. "I'm going over there to look around. I want you to wait here." Even in the dark Ryder had no difficulty seeing that Mary's mouth was pursed to one side in obstinate disapproval. "All right," he said, giving in because there was so little choice. "But you follow me—follow me quietly."

Mary saluted smartly.

"Very amusing," he said in a tone that made it clear that wasn't so.

She shrugged unapologetically and gave him a small push in the direction of the house, then became his shadow.

The carriage that had deposited Anna Leigh and her father at their front door had been taken to the rear of the house. Crouching low, Ryder led Mary along the hedgerow until they had to cross the driveway openly to reach the front porch. This was accomplished quickly, the light spilling from the house marking their path. They stole across the low, wide porch silently, stopping when they reached the first lighted window.

Ryder gestured to Mary that she remain where she was while he ducked and crept beneath the window to stand on the other side. His first look inside was brief, and it appeared their stealthy approach was all for naught as the room on which he peered was empty.

Disappointed, Mary sighed audibly.

In the next moment she cried out, startled this time by the sudden movement of the interior curtains and the subsequent crash of a vase. Ryder's disapproving look had no impact on Mary because her eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation of being found out. She felt herself being swiftly dragged to Ryder's side of the window where he held her tightly. She did not mistake that he had comforting her on his mind. He wanted to make certain there were no more outbursts. His hand was hovering very close to her mouth, ready to clamp it if she squealed again.

From inside the room there was another noise, and since Ryder hadn't made a move to leave the porch, Mary opened her eyes a fraction. A fat tabby cat sat on the interior sill and peered at its own reflection in the glass. Mary grimaced as she realized her sigh had caused the cat to jump and in turn to frighten her.

The tabby was supremely uninterested in the broken vase or the pools of water on the hardwood floor. She licked her paws, preening beautifully.

As interested as she was in the cat, Mary didn't see the approach of Anna Leigh until the young woman's hands closed around the cat and lifted her off the sill. Mary would have jumped back if Ryder hadn't held her. She wondered why Ryder didn't move until she realized that the gaslight inside the house made the windows reflect only the interior of the room back to the occupants.

Mary looked through the delicate web of lace curtains to the door that was opening a little wider. She saw Anna Leigh turn away from the window, still stroking the cat. "It's only the cat," she said. Her voice was a trifle muffled through the glass but perfectly understandable. "She's broken a vase. It didn't wake Papa, did it?"

For the first time Mary realized the person standing just outside of her vision in the doorway was not Anna Leigh's father. She squinted, but couldn't make out the shadowy form. Was it a servant? she wondered. Or Anna Leigh's guest? And who would the senator's daughter be entertaining after her father had retired for the night?

Anna Leigh raised the tabby and rubbed her cheek against the soft fur. "Clumsy cat," she said affectionately. Then to the person in the doorway: "Oh, I think I do hear Papa. Tell him what happened and that everything's all right. There's no need to trouble anyone. I'll clean it up myself."