The Circle Eight: Nicholas (16 page)

“No, why would I be mad?” She bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. “I am simply nervous about meeting my daughter.”

He made a noise in his throat but didn’t speak again. It was for the best because if he had uttered another word, she might have had to shoot him. That would be a bad start to the day.

Nick knew something wasn’t right but he didn’t know what. The night before had been the most amazing experience of his life. Hell, his knees were still wobbly from all they’d done to and with each other. She had come out of the house and his foolish heart had almost taken over.

He’d nearly told her he loved her.

In the end, he hid behind his contentious self and hurried her along. Maybe she was anxious about meeting her daughter but he suspected it was something else. Something he had done and he had no idea what it was. He doubted she would tell him either. Women were perverse like that.

They ate breakfast in silence. Well, he ate and she picked at her food. He decided against asking if she was going to eat her biscuit and finished his own food. They left the restaurant in the awkward silence they’d arrived in.

She didn’t speak until they were both mounted. “Tell me the name of the feed store.”

Gone was the sweet, beautiful woman who had knelt between his knees twelve hours earlier. He wanted her to return because this Winnie was the businesslike harridan he’d met so many months ago when searching for his sister Elizabeth. The sweet, soft woman he’d woken up next to had vanished.

“Conklin’s. I know right where it is. It’s on the way out of town heading toward the Circle Eight. Near that Devereaux’s furniture place.” He had been surprised when Bertha had told him the name. He’d passed by it three times already coming and going from the city. Then again, nothing in his li
fe had made sense since he’d fallen in love with Winnie. Why would this be any different?

They
headed north toward the feed store, her back straight as a poker. Her beautiful blue dress had made her eyes glow in the same shade. Her hair about sparkled in the bright sunlight. He’d been honest when he told her she was pretty as a picture. Now she was cold as though she really was a fancy painting and not the hot, sensual woman he loved.

The idea she might not want to be with him for good was incomprehensible. He refused to contemplate it or it might damn well happen. On the other hand, he couldn’t pine over her like a lovesick fool either. He shoved it all to the back of his mind. There was no use dwelling on something he couldn’t control. Her daughter was the important mission now and that was what he kept returning to.

Martha. Little Martha, the lost daughter. Nick promised her he would help her get her daughter back and there was no way he would fail her. He’d sooner cut his own heart out.

No, they could not fail.

The ride to Conklin’s took less than an hour but it might as well have been a week. The silence was crushing in its awkwardness. If they convinced the storeowners they were a happily married couple, he’d eat his hat.

“I reckon we should actually talk to each other if we’re supposed to be married.”

She snorted. “Most married couples don’t spend the time to speak to each other.”

At this, his ire rose. “Yes they do.”

She didn’t turn around. “
Not in my experience.”

“Then you don’t know my family,” he nearly growled. “My brothers are happily married
, as are two of my sisters. Happy people who not only talk to each other but laugh too.” She was silent and they were steps away from Conklin’s. “Winnie.” He pulled his horse to a stop. “Please.”

“Please what?” She finally turned to
look at him, her blue gaze sharp enough to cut him. “I can be a loving wife in our farce. How about you?”

Farce
.

He’d used that word earlier. Now he saw what he’d neglected to. His choice of words had hurt her. Nick had no control when it came to his mouth. No doubt it wouldn’t be the last time he unintentionally caused her harm.

Nick rode up beside her and tried to take her hand. She held fast to the reins, refusing to release. He simply put his hand on top of her gloved ones.

“I ain’t good with words and sometimes stupid shit comes out of my mouth but I damn sure didn’t mean to hurt you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant to say certain things, you obviously felt them or you wouldn’t have said them.” Her logic baffled him.

“We won’t convince these folks of anything if you can’t look at me without growling.” He had to make her see what would happen if she didn’t snap out of her haze of anger.

Realization crept over her face along with a lovely shade of pink on her cheekbones. “I don’t want to miss my opportunity with her.”

“I know you don’t.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Winnie.”

She glanced at the storefront and then back at him. “When this is over, we need to speak of what we have. I don’t like this unspoken something between us. It’s too hard on my heart.”

Nick knew what she meant although he couldn’t put it into words. They had something but it wasn’t defined, which made it prickly and hard to hang onto.
It damn sure made her prickly too.

“Fine with me. Let’s go and get your daughter.”

Her face softened a bit. “Thank you for everything.”

He shrugged. “I would do anything for you.”

She opened her mouth as if to respond but then nodded instead. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, she kneed the mare into motion. They were at the front of the store in minutes.

The front of Conklin’s Feed Store was a gray color with two windows on either side of the door. The building itself was only two steps from the ground. A sturdy hitching post, oft used by the look of it,
waited outside.

Nick dismounted quickly, peeking through the windows as though he would be able to see the girl. He secured both horses before reaching up to assist her down. She was also looking through the window, her face taut with tension.

“Winnie, c’mon down.” He had to call her twice before she reacted.

She offered him a shaky smile before she leaned down. He grasped her waist and pulled her to the ground gently. He waited until she raised her face to look at him.

“I’m frightened.”

He chucked her under the chin. “You? Fearless warrior? I reckon that’s not true.
”

“I am far from fearless.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks. “Right now I fear I may
turn into a puddle of pitiful from this heat and my own cowardice.”

“Then we’d best get inside before you do.” He took her arm and marched up into the store before she could protest.

The inside of the store had an earthy smell with stacks of buckets, shovels, bags of all types of feed from chickens to horses. There were tins of horse liniment, curry brushes and hoof picks all stacked together on barrels. The light was muted in the store. There was only one lantern list toward the back on a long wooden counter.

Winnie looked around as though someone was jerking her head from left to right, behind her and then forward. There was no one to see. The store appeared to be deserted.

“Is anyone here?” Nick called out.

A man popped up from behind the counter, startling Winnie. She jerked and stumbled
against him.

“Easy,” Nick whispered to her. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

If he were honest with himself, there might be something to fear, but it wasn’t danger. No, it was not finding Martha or worse yet, finding she had passed. There were bad things in the world and both of them knew that firsthand.

The man was in his forties, possibly fifties. His hair had receded to the point there was none left on the top of his head. Unfortunately he decided to
grease up what hair he had left and comb it over the balding pate. His eyes were narrow, flanking a hawk-like nose and small lips that were currently pursed as he surveyed them. He had a medium build with muscled arms as though he did a great deal of work with them, but his chest and shoulders were not oversized. He was an odd looking man.

“You folks lost?”

Nick didn’t like the man already. They were well-dressed customers in his store and he treated them as though he didn’t want them there. What kind of foolish storeowner would behave like that? A rotten one.

“No, we ain’t lost. We’re here—“

She cut him off. “Good morning, sir. Are you Mr. Conklin?” Winnie had recovered her normal aplomb.

“Who’s asking?” The man’s impossibly
narrow gaze narrowed even more.

“My name is Winifred Graham and this is my husband
, Nicholas Graham.” She smiled, her smile shining in the dim light.

Her pulse thrummed against his hand, fast and erratic. While she appeared the calm, cool proper lady, she was anything but on the inside. She was amazing.

“You looking for feed?” Conklin’s gaze slide up and down her body, pausing on her breasts before doing it again.

Nick heard a growling noise and realized it
emanated from his own throat. Winnie squeezed his arm in warning.

“Not today but I will send my groom, Mr. Bartholomew
, by when he returns from his trip.” She stepped toward the counter.

Mr. Conklin hadn’t relaxed his stance. If anything he watched her as a snake might watch a mouse meandering too close to its lair.

“You here to order then?”

“We would like to speak to you about something.” Winnie put on a bright smile.

Conklin glanced at Nick and his mouth twisted. “If you ain’t buying or ordering, then you need to get on your way.”

“Mr. Conklin, we only need a few minutes of you
r—”

“No, I’m a businessman, not a fella to stand around
chatting like a woman all day.”

“Horse liniment.” Nick snatched up a can and held it up. “I’ll take one.”

“That’ll buy you a minute of my time. Then you get gone.” Conklin waited while Nick paid for the tin, an inflated sum, which he tossed on the counter.

“We are looking for a little girl named Martha who used to live at Fuller’s Home.”

Conklin’s expression tightened. “I don’t know no girl.”

“We know she was adopted by you and your wife when the home closed. We have a witness who confirmed the information.” Winnie’s voice remained steady and strong. To think she had no confidence in her strength. She was stronger than any person he’d ever met and that said a lot.

“That so? I don’t know a girl or no witness.” The man’s hand fisted on the counter and Nick knew he was lying.

“Martha’s parents have returned to claim her. There was a mistake and she shouldn’t have been given to a new family.” Winnie told the truth,
if only a slightly tilted version of it.

“Fuller’s Home closed two years ago. They took their time in claiming a crippled girl.”

Triumph zinged through Nick. “We didn’t say she was crippled.”

Conklin’s eyes widened. “Sure you did.”

“No, we didn’t.” Winnie set her reticule on the counter. “We want to return Martha to her family. I realize this might be difficult to contemplate letting her leave, but I’m afraid we must insist.”

“Insist, eh?” Conklin looked at Nick. “What are you gonna do if I kick you out and call the sheriff?”

“Send a message to my brother and brother-in-law, both Texas Rangers.” Nick had never been so glad he had Texas Rangers in his family. Even if they weren’t actively working, a Ranger was one until he died.

Conklin swallowed audibly. “You can’t come in here and threaten me, talking crazy about a girl. I can shoot you where you stand and claim self-defense.”

Winnie’s smile had turned brittle. “I sincerely doubt you can reach your gun before I shoot you with the pistol in my reticule.” Sure enough her hand gripped the hard object beneath the blue material. Well, hell, she was more than amazing.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yes, I would. You will bring Martha out here and let us speak with her.”

Conklin stuck his chin in the air. “I told you I don’t know no g—
”

As if he conjured her, the girl
came through the front door, skidding in as children were wont to do. Her dark hair was in haphazard braids, flying behind her as she moved. She wore a plain gray dress and a tattered apron. Her right leg was indeed cocked inward as though her hip was misshapen. It didn’t stop her from moving at a brisk pace, though. She barely spared a glance at Winnie and Nick as she made her way to the counter, a burlap sack clutched in her hand.

Winnie, however, sucked in a breath and trembl
ed against him. He held her upright, noting the tears that sprang to her eyes.

“Be strong, honey,” he spoke for her ears alone.

“Girl, what the hell are you doing? Get back to the house.” Conklin’s face had flushed a ruddy shade.

“Mrs. Conklin said to get this to you right away.” The girl sucked in a great gulp of air after every two words as though she had run to the store.