Flora's Wish (10 page)

She took in a deep breath of pine-scented air and let it out slowly. With her hands bound by the cuffs, her corset far too tight for exertion, and her pride dented, Flora found the process difficult at best. Each time she managed to get her elbow up on the seat, the buggy would hit some sort of rut and she would bounce back down on the floor. After a point, she suspected the lawman was not completely innocent in this, though his expression belied the fact.

She peered up at him. “Mr. McMinn, I demand you either help me or release the handcuffs so that I might help myself.”

“You demand?” He paused to allow his eyes to sweep over her before returning his attention to the road ahead. “From where I sit, you don't appear to be in a position to demand anything, Miss Brimm.”

“And yet eventually you will have to explain to someone why you returned to the Crescent Hotel with Flora Brimm trussed up and cowering on the floor of your buggy. For if I am such a wanted woman, you would have seen me jailed. Instead, you're forcibly returning me to the hotel in handcuffs. Inquiring minds might ask what nefarious purpose you have in mind.” A pause for effect. “And me, a defenseless woman?”

“Defenseless?” His tone combined with an inelegant snort told her his opinion of the thought. “Miss Brimm, were I to testify in court as to many of your other attributes, lunacy among them, I would have much to say on the matter. But defenseless? A woman who treats a walk on a fourth-floor ledge like a stroll in the park? Hardly.”

“Fine.” She maneuvered around to alleviate a cramp jabbing at her shoulder and fixed her eyes on the canopy of bright green leaves overhead.
Lord, You are in control, not this overbearing fool. While I know I'm supposed to love all Your children, I just cannot imagine You meant him too.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm praying.”

He flicked the reins and the horse picked up its pace. “While you're at it, say a prayer for me.”

“Don't worry. I've already mentioned you.” Flora slid him a look. “Twice.”

“I see.” He nodded toward the road. “We're almost back to the hotel. I'm going to strike a deal with you. I'll take off those handcuffs if you'll promise not to run.”

“Brimms do not run,” she said as the wheels bounced over another rut and she braced herself against the seat. “Except for office.”

“Right.” He pulled back on the reins until the buggy came to a stop. Slowly he swiveled to look down at her. “And Pinkertons don't run either. They shoot.”

“Then neither of us has anything to worry about, do we? Now get these handcuffs off.” At his cross expression, she said, “Please?”

He hauled her up onto the seat as if she weighed nothing and waited while she settled into place. When she held her hands out in his direction, he drew the key from his pocket. “Hold still now,” he said as he grasped her wrists.

Flora did, but the horse did not as a hawk swooped nearby and caused the mare to jolt. The lawman fumbled with the key and then lost it on the floor. Retrieving the key while holding tightly to the reins took some time, but Mr. McMinn finally emerged victorious. This time, he quickly stabbed the key into place and released the lock on the cuff encircling her right hand.

As the cold metal fell away, Flora flexed her wrist and offered up the other. “What?” she asked when he shook his head.

“No, I think I'll wait on removing that one,” he said as he dropped the key into his vest pocket.

“Wait?” She shook her arm and felt the cuff's weight against her skin. The other half of the contraption dangled free, its cold metal sliding against her palm until she grasped it with her fingers. “Stop joking and remove this at once. I've done what you asked.”

“No, not completely.” He settled back in his seat and set the horse in motion again. “I'll remove the other handcuff when you hold up your end of the bargain. Until I get Tucker, you get to wear the cuff.”

“Of all the nerve! I am completely trustworthy, and I resent the fact that you assume otherwise.”

“Trustworthy?” His irritating chuckle made her want to pinch him. “If you recall, Miss Brimm, I first made your acquaintance behind a collection of potted plants. I was there on official business, but you? I believe we can agree you were
not
looking for a chessboard.” He held up his hand to prevent a response. “Then there was our little stroll on the fourth-floor ledge. And I can't say as I would call a woman who waltzes across the dance floor and into an elevator with a stranger—”

“I did
not
dance with you into the elevator, sir,” she said, her patience nearly at its end.

“Fair enough. But I have the key to those cuffs, and you're the one who still needs to finish your part in this investigation. Find Tucker and I'll take off the other one.”

Apparently this was Mr. McMinn's final word on the subject, for he turned his attention to the road ahead and did not spare Flora another glance. A few minutes later, the carriage rolled up the final hill, and the cedars and pines parted to allow the Crescent Hotel to come into view.

Flora pulled her sleeve down over the cuff on her wrist and then reached for her reticule. The drawstring bag, if situated just right, would allow the other handcuff to slide down inside where only the chain connecting the two pieces would be visible. At best, she would draw no attention. At worst, she might appear as if she wore some sort of odd chained purse on her arm. Either was preferable to walking through the lobby of the Crescent Hotel with the restraint in full view.

“Welcome back, Miss Brimm, Mr. McMinn.” This from the same doorman who had led her to her doom less than a half hour ago. Though his expression did not show any emotion, he averted his gaze when she turned toward him.

“Why, thank you,” she said as sweetly as she could manage, and then she allowed the fellow to help her down from the carriage.

Mr. McMinn waited until the doorman came around to take the reins and then walked over to join Flora at the curb. “All right, my dear,” he said as he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Flora shook her head. “If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not offer the other guests any indication of familiarity between the two of us, sir. We have a business deal pending and nothing else.”

His dark gaze swept the length of her in a manner that might have caused a lesser woman's knees to buckle. “I see,” he said slowly. “So basically it's the same as your engagement. Just a business deal.”

Flora gasped. How could he know this? But before she could respond with any sort of well-formed protest, the Pinkerton agent had pressed his palm against her back and was guiding her through the open front doors of the hotel.

“Shall I give you Mr. Tucker's room number?” she asked as they passed the front desk.

“You're going with me anyway, Miss Brimm. Lead on.” He ushered her to the elevator, and then he shadowed her every step until they reached the second floor. “Which room is his?”

She told him and then asked, “Should I knock or do you prefer I leave you here to do that yourself?”

“Oh, no,” Mr. McMinn said. “I have no assurance the man I'm looking for is behind that door. You're coming with me. And yes, I believe I'll have you knock. I'll stand out of the way. You get him to open the door and I'll do the rest.”

She held out her hand. “What about the handcuffs?”

“I'll take them off once I have Tucker.”

Flora shook her head. “But what if I run?” she asked in her most sarcastic tone.

“And not for office?” was his quick response. “You won't. Not when I have the only key. I have a feeling that no matter what happens after you knock on that door, you won't go far until I reclaim my cuffs. Let's get this over with.”

Flora took a few steps toward the room Mr. Tucker had indicated was his and then stopped to turn and face her captor. “You do realize I am only helping you because I believe Mr. Tucker is innocent.”

“Of course. I have no doubt you believe that. You also want those cuffs off. Now, can we please get back to business?”

“Yes, but I want you to understand why I'm doing this—”

“I understand just fine.” He nodded to her wrist. “It doesn't hurt that you know you'll be trotted back down the hill to be handed over to the sheriff if you don't cooperate.”

He had her there. Still, she managed to give the man a look she hoped would show him how wrong he was.

“Come on,” he urged. “I don't like standing out here. We're starting to look obvious.”

She nodded and straightened her back, clutching the reticule so the chain wouldn't clink. When she reached the proper door, Flora lifted her free hand to knock twice.

And then twice again.

Nothing.

She looked over at the man who had flattened himself against the wall, his right hand now resting on the barrel of a pistol tucked into a holster under his jacket.

“Knock again. It wouldn't hurt to call him by name, either. Criminals can be a skittish bunch.”

She rolled her eyes and then complied, calling Mr. Tucker's name as she implored him to open the door. Again there was no response. Flora looked to Mr. McMinn for their next move.

He reached over to wrap his fingers around the doorknob and then slowly turned it. As the door cracked open, Flora peered inside. He nodded as if urging her to enter.

She shook her head. “A lady,” she whispered, “does not enter the room of—”

Mr. McMinn pressed his palm to her back and gave her a gentle push, sending Flora through the open door. When she turned around to glare at him, she instead watched him press past her.

“He's gone.”

G
one?” Flora's gaze swept the room as her heart and her hopes fell. Indeed, the place appeared as if no one had been in residence for some time. “But that's not possible,” she said with difficulty. “He told me this was his room number. I'm certain of it.”

Mr. McMinn made quick work of searching every inch of the room and then turned to face her. “Maybe you remembered wrong. Or he told you wrong. In either case, there's no sign of him here.”

“No, I…” She shook her head. How could she remember wrong when the room he'd claimed was his sat one floor beneath her own? “I just couldn't be…”

“Wrong?”

Flora nodded, though she knew that the error to which he referred was not the same as the one she was considering. While she might have misheard or incorrectly recalled the room number, she was most concerned that she had once again chosen the wrong groom.

An image of Will Tucker lying on a mortician's slab rose, and she quickly blinked it away. No, he couldn't have succumbed to the Fatal Flora curse already. She'd just seen him not more than an hour ago.

Flora walked to the window to get a breath of air. A flash of pink caught her attention, and she opened the window to get a better view. Easily within reach should she lean out just a bit was an object that appeared to be strangely similar to the bookmark she kept in the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians in her traveling Bible.