Flora's Wish (38 page)

“No. There's nothing typical about this one.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Kyle glanced around and pulled an envelope from his coat and pressed it across the table to Lucas. “From the department. For expenses.”

Lucas shook his head. “I can't take this. You keep it.”

“But it's yours, Lucas. You're getting paid for this now.”

“Actually, I will keep it, but I'm going to use it to hire you.”

“Hire me?” Kyle's brows gathered. “What for?”

“I need to know what you can dig up on Winthrop Brimm. He lives in New Orleans, but he's a few years younger than us. It's likely you've never heard of him.”

Kyle thought a minute. “No, I don't think I know him, but my brother might. What's the connection?”

“He's first cousin to Flora—”

“The pretty redhead you have in custody?”

“How did you know she's a redhead?”

Kyle grinned as he slid the envelope discreetly back into his pocket. “Don't look now, but there's a woman who doesn't belong in this bar trying real hard to look as though she does. And she's a redhead.”

Lucas's temper flared. “What's she doing?”

His friend casually leaned slightly to the left, apparently to get a better look. “It appears she's in conversation with an older fellow. From the looks of him, I believe he's the head telegraph operator from next door.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, she is,” Kyle said before swinging his attention back to Lucas. “Give me a quick rundown on Winthrop Brimm before you have to leave to fetch your prisoner.”

Lucas shook his head as irritation rose. It was bad enough that he had to deal with Flora tonight, but for his best friend to see how little control he had over a prisoner irked him even more. He gave Kyle the story in as brief a form as he could manage, given his Flora-induced current issue with concentration.

“Get what you can on old man Brimm's will. The grandfather, that is. Apparently, he's somehow managed to pit the two cousins against each other, and the stakes are high enough that Winthrop may have killed for them. They're certainly high enough that Flora—that is, Miss Brimm—is willing to marry Will Tucker to come out the winner in the matter.”

He briefly filled Kyle in on the tale of Flora's four fiancés as best as he could recall and then eased a glance toward the door. Sure enough, she was dressed in an odd combination of workingman's cloak and working-woman's dress. Keeping to some version of modesty, however, Flora had filled in her risqué décolletage with, of all things, what looked like a doily off of somebody's tabletop.

“Tell me the names of any Brimm relatives you can think of,” his friend said, drawing Lucas's attention back in his direction.

“Grandmother is Millicent Meriwether Brimm, and trust me when I warn you to steer clear of her.” He leaned forward. “Runs the family, that one, and does exactly what she pleases. She even claims to have sent General Grant packing when he came calling to borrow Brimmfield for his headquarters during the war. Though there was nothing she could do to circumvent her husband's will. I'm guessing that irks her something awful.”

“Well, that sounds like a matter worth investigating.” Kyle retrieved a pencil and paper from his jacket and jotted down a few notes. “Any contacts in New Orleans?”

Lucas told him about the Lennart ladies and their tale of the head of the household hunting with the subject in India. All the while he was itching to turn around and openly watch Flora to be sure she wasn't about to get her pretty little neck in trouble again.

Or rather in more trouble than she was going to find with him once he got her alone.

“This Lennart fellow. Did you catch the man's name?”

Lucas dragged his errant thoughts back to the conversation in the dining room of the
Americus
. What was wrong with him? He was usually so good at recalling the details. Unfortunately, what he most recalled was a kiss and a spin around the dance floor while he sang “Beau Soir” to the woman in his arms in his mother's native French.

“Lucas? Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just thinking. I don't think it was mentioned.”

“Not a problem. I can find that out.” He wrote a few more lines and then looked up at Lucas. “Anything else?”

“Just keep your ear to the ground and let me know if any of your contacts get eyes on our fellow Tucker. I'd be much obliged for any help in that area.”

“Glad to do it.” His brows rose. “You might want to go save that girl from herself. Now she's arguing with the fellow.”

Lucas glanced around to see that Flora was indeed attempting to use her powers of persuasion on the man. Thankfully, he was more interested in watching her than in listening to her. Or at least that's how it appeared from where Lucas sat.

Still she was drawing a lot of attention, something no one in Natchez Under-the-Hill did on purpose. Especially not after dark.

He bit back a few choice words he longed to say and shook hands with Kyle. “All right. I'm going to see if I can keep her alive a little longer. Are you heading out tonight?”

“Yeah. The steamboat leaves in an hour. I figured I'd check in and maybe wash the smell of this place off me before I get some sleep. Lucky for you I was headed to New Orleans anyway. You know how my mother gets when I miss her birthday.”

“I wish I were going with you,” Lucas said and found he meant it. “Once I get this case behind me, how about we get together and work on some of the plans you've been sending me? I've had occasion to use several of our devices, and they've worked out well.”

“I've been meaning to tell you. I'm revising the calculations on the weight load on the wire we used in those special bullets. I'm concerned it's going to snap if you get anything close to two hundred pounds on it.”

Lucas chuckled. “Then I'd best watch my weight.”

“Speaking of watching things.” He nodded toward the door. “She's gone. Good luck catching her.”

“Believe me, buddy, luck has nothing to do with it. I could use your prayers.”

“You always have those, friend. Always.” Kyle rose to clap Lucas on the shoulder. “Keep in touch, and I'll do the same. And watch your back.”

“I always do,” Lucas called as he slipped through the crowd and followed Flora's path out onto the street.

It took only a few moments to find her. Red curls bobbed beneath a hat that was far too fancy to fit in anywhere but up on the bluff. Two toughs had fallen in behind her and appeared to be arguing silently about which one would get the privilege of getting to know her a little better.

Lucas snagged the bigger of the men by the neck and held his revolver to his temple. He said softly, “I'm going to count to three, and then you and your buddy, you're going to run.” He gestured in the opposite direction. “That way. Understand?”

He released the man on three and both disappeared into the crowd. Now Flora had a lead on him, though Lucas could still see her up ahead. He'd learned early on in his career as a Pinkerton that he could either make fast tracks or he could make silent ones.

With Flora's lead gaining every moment he dawdled, Lucas decided for fast. Pressing past anyone who got in his way, he managed to catch her just about the time she turned the corner and left Spring Street behind.

Hauling her against him, Lucas clamped a hand over her mouth as he tucked her into the nearest alley. Though she tried to scream and clawed to be released, he held on tight.

“Enough,” Lucas snapped. “The party's over, Flora. You will come quietly, or I will throw you over my shoulder and take you back to the rig that way.” She stilled when she recognized his voice, and he risked removing his hand, though he still kept one arm around her. A moment later he turned her around and stared directly into her wide blue eyes. He continued in a low tone. “Right this minute I do not care which option you choose.”

“Lucas?” She shook her head and the ridiculous hat flopped to one side. “How did you know it was me?”

“You're joking, right?” He reached to straighten her headgear. “My question is how did you know where I would be? I know you didn't follow me. I'm certain of it.”

“Well, you're right. I did not. In fact, I had my own reason for being in Natchez tonight.”

“Natchez is up there on the bluff. You're in Natchez Under-the-Hill, and no self-respecting lady would be here on purpose.” His gaze scorched the length of her. “And they certainly wouldn't be dressed like this.” A pause. “Wait, let me guess. The Chamberlains were holding a costume party, and you and Grandmama came dressed as…” Another slow glance before meeting her eyes once more. “Honey, I can't figure out what you're dressed as. I'm guessing the Ellicotts are down here with you and your grandmother. Was that old man you were keeping company with back in the bar Mr. Ellicott?”

“Sarcasm,” she said as she straightened her spine and turned to walk away.

“Oh, no you don't. You're in my custody and an escaped prisoner at that.”

“I'm right here, Lucas. How could I be considered escaped? And don't you even think of pulling out those handcuffs again,” she called over her shoulder as she picked up her pace. “We're in Natchez now, and I promise you it won't go well if word got out that you were bullying me.”

“Bullying? That does it.”

He closed the distance between them to snatch her off her feet. Once again she screamed, but this time she directed her ire at his intention to haul her home. “I am not ready to leave yet, so put me down!”

“And why's that?” Lucas turned the corner and almost banged her feet into a stack of barrels outside some sort of seedy establishment. “Meeting with our friend Mr. Tucker? My guess is the old guy who runs the telegraph office is your contact.” He turned another corner and then gave thanks that the horse and buggy were still parked where he left them. “You're not answering me, Flora.”

“Lucas, if you don't put me down, you're going to regret it.”

“I already do.” Spying a group of less than stellar citizens eyeing the buggy, he picked up his pace. “Now, for once since we met, just do what I say. These men are not going to think you're nearly as adorable as I do.”

She pressed her palm against his chest. “But you're going the wrong way. I need to—”

“Stop talking, Flora,” he said as he saw one of the men breaking from the pack to move toward them.

“But I—”

“Stop. Talking. Now. I'm busy.” He set her on her feet and wrapped one arm around her, his other palm resting on the revolver at his waist. “Evening, gents,” he said, purposefully choosing the most imposing of the group to greet.

“Isn't she a pretty one?” one of the fellows called as Lucas strolled past. “Got some spunk in her, she does.”

He moved Flora from his side and into his arms again in one swift motion and practically tossed her into the buggy. By the time he climbed in and grabbed the reins, the men were upon them.

To his surprise, Flora kicked the biggest in the eye and sent him howling to the ground. At their champion's quick demise, the rest of them skittered away like the wharf rats they were, leaving Lucas free to turn the buggy around and head back toward Spring Street and the bluff.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded and then he immediately shook his head. “No, you weren't thinking. You were playing spy. Do you have any idea how close you came to something terrible happening?”

“I am the one who bested that mob, Lucas McMinn, not you. Don't I get any credit for that?”

“Credit? For almost getting both of us killed? No.”

She sat in stony silence, both hands gripping the buggy seat. Even in the moonlight he could see that the incident had affected her. He could also see the stubbornness he'd come to know of her in the slant of her mouth and the stiffness of her posture.

Speaking to this woman and actually having her listen had never worked well. And yet he would play the eternal optimist and try again.

“You know, Flora,” he said as firmly as he could manage without shouting, “you and I had an agreement. You broke it. I have every right to keep on driving until I get to the jail.”

“You won't,” she said with far too much confidence.

“You're wrong. I cannot work an investigation and try to keep you safe at the same time.” He paused to slide a look in her direction. “If throwing you in jail is the only way I have to keep you safe while I bring a guilty man to justice, you'd better believe I'll do it.”

Her ridiculous hat flopped into her eyes, and she reached up to shove it back into position. “I don't believe you.”

Lucas pulled back on the reins and brought the buggy to a stop. To his left the Mississippi River ran muddy and wide down below the bluff, vessels bobbing at anchor in the moonlight. Above, the sky was clear and bright. A million stars exploded with tiny points of light, the edges of the moon ringed by the mist that always preceded a rainstorm.