Mail-Order Groom (6 page)

Her friend gave a soft sound of commiseration. “It's not your fault what they did. It was
their
decision to take that money from those theater owners. You didn't even know about it.”

“Even so… I'm still The Seductive Sensation.” Savannah raised her worried gaze to Mose. “It doesn't show anymore, does it?” She turned in a circle. “I've been trying to erase it.”

She'd traded all her spangled, satiny costume dresses for modest calico and wool. She'd restyled her hair and ditched her bosom-augmenting horsehair pads. She'd scrubbed her whole face clean and given away every ounce of powder and paint she'd ever owned. But on the inside, Savannah still felt imprinted by her life on the stage…and everything that had gone along with it.

“Well?” she pressed. “Does my stage background show?”

Wearing a smile, Mose shook his head. “All I see is a lovable lady. A lady who's trying her best to love someone.”

“Good.” Relieved, Savannah sighed. “Because that's exactly who I am these days—exactly who I'm going to be from now on.”

A clatter arose at the telegraph, alerting them to a new message coming in. Knowing it would need to be relayed down the wire, Savannah hastily reached for her notepad.

This was the part that she already loved about her new life here in the Arizona Territory—using her expertise with the telegraphy equipment to transmit messages. Not many women were telegraph operators; most of those with an interest in working the equipment were men. Deciphering messages required a keen ear and intense concentration, especially in a crowded station like the one she'd shared with her mentor, Alistair.

He'd taught her how to decode the signals and transmit them with rapid movements on the equipment's keys. Ready to do just that, Savannah listened hard…but not quite hard enough to block out Mose's parting words as he headed outside.

“I'm just saying my prayers,” he said, “that you done picked the right someone to love this time, that's all.”

Bothered by his doleful tone, Savannah shook her head. Then she turned to her telegraphic apparatus and got down to work.

 

As the station door banged open, Linus Bedell jerked in surprise. Still lurking in the shadows of the building's narrow side, he flattened himself against the wall. He couldn't risk being seen here—especially not now. Alert with one hand on his gun belt, he listened as the door swung shut. Its hinges whined.

Footsteps crunched across the gravelly ground.

But they weren't coming in his direction. That meant he hadn't been spotted. Feeling immeasurably relieved, Linus sank against the rough split-log wall behind him. From the other side of that wall, the familiar sounds of the telegraph machine could be heard. But Linus didn't care about that.
All he cared about was that big colored fella—the one who was always hanging around the station, keepin' company with Roy's new “fiancée.”

Releasing a pent-up breath, Linus shifted. He felt hot, tired and bored to tears with snooping on his brother's latest mark. He felt a mite sorry for the ladies his brother romanced and stole from. But, as Roy had explained, those women were just dumb. They went for his scams willingly. He never forced them. That's what made all the difference. At least that's what Roy said, and Roy usually knew best. That's why Linus stuck by him.

Well, that and the fact that they were brothers, of course. Brothers watched out for one another. Especially the Bedell brothers. If they'd had a motto, that surely would have been it.

Well, that, Linus considered, or else “shoot first, steal second, skedaddle third.” Feeling clever for having thought up that witticism, he chuckled. But he sobered quickly. Roy was laid up. He'd been hurt bad in his tussle with that do-gooder detective who'd been trailing them. They'd all been forced to hole up in a Morrow Creek boardinghouse until he got better.

Because of that, Roy had appointed Linus as his second-in-command on this operation. That meant Linus had to buckle down. He knew his brother was depending on him. He couldn't let Roy down. Now, thanks to what he'd just overheard, he wouldn't.

That big man's footsteps grew fainter. That was a good sign. Shuffling sideways as silently as he could in his oversize stolen boots, Linus sneaked a glance around the corner of the station. The big man was all the way across the yard now, headed for the fenced corral and makeshift barn. Linus had already searched that whole area. He'd found no sign of the station lady's nest egg. Now he smelled like cow patties,
to boot. That just went to show—it wasn't all wanted posters and high livin', being part of the Bedell gang, no matter what anybody thought.

Linus wished folks would recognize that. He and his brothers were just tryin' to get by as best they could. They didn't want to hurt nobody. But so long as chowderheaded ladies kept on fallin' for Roy's sweet-talkin' ways and signing up for his marriage schemes, those swindles were going to continue.

It was just like Roy had explained to him and the rest of his brothers: if they didn't fleece those ladies, someone else would come along and do it for them. Sure as shootin'. So why shouldn't the Bedell brothers reap the benefits themselves? Free enterprise was the American way, after all. Roy always said so.

Newly reminded of his reason for being at the station, Linus cocked his ear toward the window. He held his breath. But all he heard was the telegraph machine. That meant the woman was still busy. And with that big man of hers off at the barn, this might be Linus's best chance to get inside and look for the nest-egg money he was supposed to be getting.

Don't come back without the money,
Roy had ordered in that stern, scare-the-pants-off-a-man voice of his.
That woman's sitting on a tidy sum, and I ain't leaving without it.

Ordinarily Linus didn't like to disobey his brother's orders. The whole reason they'd done so well in their business endeavors was because of Roy's brainpower and good leadership skills. Until Roy had taken over, the Bedells had been truly down and out, with scarcely a sparerib to share between them.

Now each of them was doing right fine, with enough coin to spare for all five of the brothers. They had no need
to work, 'cept for a bit of thievin' here and there—usually whenever something caught their fancy, like the horses and tents and bits and pieces they'd lifted off them soldiers a while back.

Roy had been plenty generous with his windfalls. It was because of him that the Bedell brothers had prospered and made a name for themselves—even if it was an infamous one. So Linus owed Roy plenty. His brothers did, too. But this time, Linus thought he might have to make a decision all on his own—because of what he'd overheard the lady and her man talking about.

I'm still The Seductive Sensation,
she'd said.

Those words had made Linus's ears perk right up and have a listen. Because he knew all about The Seductive Sensation. He'd seen posters for her shows. In those posters, she'd looked all sparkly and pretty—just like she'd been wearing diamonds all over. She didn't look like that right now. But that didn't change anything. Linus wasn't as smart as Roy, but he knew what he'd heard. He wasn't fooled by The Seductive Sensation's new clothes and dowdy hair. Back when he'd seen those posters, Linus had wanted to go to her show (and maybe snatch some of those diamonds of hers, too) but Roy had put the kibosh on that.

He hadn't even listened when Linus had started in telling him about the special way The Seductive Sensation danced. Roy fundamentally hadn't wanted to hear it. He'd smacked Linus pretty hard to make sure he realized it. A few days later, they'd headed to Kansas City for their next marriage scam.

Things had really gone to blazes then. Roy's “fiancée” for that scheme had kicked up a big fuss, and Roy had had to put her down. But Linus had known better than to needle him about it. Roy was always in a sour mood whenever he had to kill someone. Linus guessed that showed his brother
was still a good person on the inside, no matter what circumstances forced him to do.

This time, though, Linus figured they could get through this particular scheme and clear out of Morrow Creek afore things got bad again. That was what he wanted most. Leavin' behind dead bodies always made him worried. It made him worried for his eternal soul
and
for the eternal souls of his brothers…just in case the Almighty didn't understand how tough things were, now that it wasn't biblical times with milk and honey anymore.

That's why Linus had volunteered to go look at the telegraph station himself for the nest-egg money they were after. His other brothers weren't nearly so squeamish about what happened to the ladies in Roy's schemes. They'd as soon shoot up the place, tear it up to get the money, then bolt for the Mexican border. They were within a few days' ride—close enough to Mexico to get off scot-free with whatever they did.

That nearness made the other Bedell brothers antsy. And hostile. And twice as hotheaded as usual.

But Linus considered himself a sight subtler than that. He knew if he just watched awhile, he'd learn where that money was hidden—and he wouldn't have to kill nobody for it, neither.

So far, he
had
learned a few things. The lady who ran the place—The Seductive Sensation, he remembered with a thrill—was pretty, with golden hair. She liked to sing while she milked the cow. She'd named the cow Penelope. The chickens all had names, too.

The colored man who helped her kept funny hours, too unpredictable to count on. When he was around, he scared Linus something fierce. That big man might be old, but he moved with authority. Even though he was armed—and a decent shot—Linus knew better than to tangle with a man
like that. Not if he could help it. That was the kind of man who formed posses and went after people. Linus didn't want to wind up getting gunned down by somebody's crotchety grandpa. That would be plumb embarrassing.

He'd also learned that Adam Corwin was alive. He'd been surprised by that. That surly, relentless damned detective was shot up something fierce, and he was bandaged up tighter than a schoolmarm's corset, too. He'd done a lot of groaning those first couple days. But he was alive and kicking. Under the station lady's tender, lovin' care, he appeared to be healin' fast, too.

Knowing those facts wouldn't exactly thrill Roy, Linus had kept them strictly to himself so far. He hadn't yet gone back to Morrow Creek to report in. He didn't want to get smacked again. Or hear Roy's mean-as-a-cuss voice. But
this
news—the news about The Seductive Sensation—well, this news just might be vital.

If Roy's mark was really The Seductive Sensation, that meant she was rich. Richer than they'd imagined! Likely she'd be worth as much as four or five other marks all put together.

And
he
could collect her gargantuan nest egg.
He
could bring it to Roy himself.
He
could be the hero, for once.

The idea had powerful appeal. Still lurking in the station building's shadows, Linus pictured himself showing up at the Morrow Creek boardinghouse with huge moneybags in both hands. The image made him smile like a cowboy in a whorehouse. His brothers would be damned impressed; that was for certain.

He'd have to make his move pretty quick though, afore the detective got all the way recovered. Linus
definitely
didn't want to cross Adam Corwin. That detective was one tough cuss. He was impossible to bribe (that was the first thing Roy had tried) and impossible to shake off (they'd
learned that through three states and two territories so far). If Corwin got better afore Linus found The Seductive Sensation's bonanza nest-egg money…

Well, that eventuality didn't bear thinking about. Not if a man wanted to keep his wits about him. Using those wits of his to form a new plan now, Linus raised himself up. He peeked in the window. The lady had finished at her telegraphing machine. Now she just sat there with her chin in her hand, gazing into thin air like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

Linus didn't know what she was thinking about. But whatever it was, it made her appear almost as sparkly and beautiful as she had in her show poster. For a minute, Linus almost sighed. He wished he had a reason to look all dreamy-eyed and happy.

Then he snapped himself to attention. Once he got all that nest-egg money, he
would
be happy. Hell, he'd be overjoyed!

That thought just about clinched it. He had to get that money. Unfortunately Linus couldn't risk sneaking in now. If The Seductive Sensation or her man saw him, they might run off for good—and take all their money with them, too. This time Linus had to be smart. He had to be cautious. He had to be sneaky.

Sidling through the shadows, he made his escape. He headed for his stolen horse—the horse that had once belonged to Adam Corwin, that cuss—his mind busy with formulating a new plan to steal that money and maybe make The Seductive Sensation dance for him while he was at it. That sounded mighty good.

B
y the time another two days had gone by, Savannah had established a routine for herself and her husband-to-be. She arose near dawn, washed and dressed, checked the wires, took care of her chickens and lone dairy cow, then started breakfast.

Ordinarily she viewed cooking and baking as dreary necessities—partly because she was still so inexperienced at both. Growing up on the other side of the New York City theater footlights hadn't exactly given her authoritative skills with a frying pan. She relied heavily on advice from Mrs. Beeton's receipt book. She and Mose had endured some very poor meals, too. But these days, with her fiancé to care for, Savannah found new enthusiasm for the tasks of frying eggs and baking bread.

With Adam's smile as her reward for her efforts, Savannah almost couldn't wait to start cooking every morning.

Smiling now as she finished making breakfast, she set out a covered plate for Mose, the way she usually did. Her friend would be arriving soon. His hours were still erratic,
but he'd definitely spent more time at the station of late—and not because he'd promised Dr. Finney he would serve as her (unneeded) “chaperone,” either.

The truth was, Mose still had a few doubts about Adam—and her impending marriage to him, too. Mose's continuing grumbles and sidelong looks made that plain. Savannah couldn't reason out why he felt that way. Of course, she didn't yet trust Adam herself. Not entirely. But as far as she could discern, her mail-order groom could not have appeared more commendable if he'd earned a medal from President Arthur himself.

Humming a tune, she took a hasty bite of buttered toast for herself, then put the finishing touches on a tray of food for Adam. She arranged the plate, napkin and cutlery just so, then added a sprig of mountain laurel to the tray. She couldn't help smiling as she anticipated Adam's reaction to her efforts.

He always said something nice about her cooking—and not in that polite but obligatory way Mose sometimes did, either…right before he fed his scraps to the station's cat, Esmeralda. Unlike Mose, Adam seemed to truly appreciate all the pains she went to.

It was almost as though the man had never experienced down-home cooking, cheerful company, and a fond consideration for his health and well-being, all in a snug home that would soon be his very own. But of course that couldn't be true.

Surely his family in Baltimore had cared for him.

Hadn't they?

Stuck on the troubling thought that perhaps they hadn't—which would go far to explain Adam's excessive gratitude—Savannah hesitated at the far end of the station's meager kitchen with her tray in hand. She'd always assumed Adam had been happy in Baltimore. But if that were true, why had
he agreed to come west? Had the notion of being with her been that much of a lure?

She liked to think she was attractive and kind, of course. But what woman was alluring enough to draw a man away from the life he knew and had made for himself?

In his letters, Adam hadn't confided much about his past. In fact, he'd been largely silent on the subject, it occurred to her. At the time, his omissions hadn't bothered Savannah. She hadn't wanted to bring up the subject and risk having him ask about
her
history. But now she wondered anew. What if Adam were hiding something—something dire? She ought to find out about it.

Feeling increasingly curious about him, Savannah hefted her tray. She shouldered open the kitchen door, then marched to the center of the station building. The place had been erected in haphazard fashion, with the office for the telegraphy equipment arising first, the sitting room and bedroom next, then the ramshackle kitchen tacked on last, after a need had developed for a full-time telegraph operator to live there.

The crowded arrangement had caused some awkward moments early on. She'd been forced to maneuver past a slumbering Adam to brew a cup of tea or put on a pot to boil in the kitchen—or simply to take herself to bed at the end of a long day. But Mose had solved that problem handily by stringing up fabric partitions between Adam's bed and Savannah's makeshift cot on the other side of the room. Now, as close as their quarters were, they had some necessary privacy—and some propriety, too.

Above all, preserving that sense of decorum mattered to Savannah. She couldn't become the woman she wanted to be without making sure her behavior was as near to perfect as it could be.

Striving for that same propriety now, she directed her
gaze away from the nearest of those partitions as she entered the room. She didn't want to seem too forward—or to catch Adam in an unguarded, potentially awkward moment. All the same, she truly savored this part of her day. Her heart picked up pace as she stepped forward, ready to deliver another breakfast to Adam.

She took a modest peek at the partition. To her surprise, Savannah saw that the fabric had already been drawn back. Beyond it, the bed was empty of everything except rumpled sheets, an indented feather pillow and a tossed-away quilt.

Had her mail-order groom run away…again?

Heart pounding, she set her breakfast tray on the bureau. Where could she go? What could she do? Mose wasn't even here yet. They shared ownership of a horse and wagon, but Mose used both to travel between his cabin and the station. On foot, she'd be unlikely to catch up with Adam before he got away. Or got lost. Or got into town and revealed their plans to be wed. She hadn't exactly stressed the need for circumspection with him. She'd feared any such warning would arouse undue suspicion.

And bring up questions she didn't want to answer yet.

Cursing her own lack of foresight now, Savannah hesitated. If Adam let slip her unmarried name too freely, Morrow Creek could become her next Ledgerville. Her past could follow her here, too, bringing scandal and whispers and accusations that she was a “Ruthless Reed”—someone to be wary and suspicious of.

She liked Morrow Creek. She didn't want to leave the cozy little town! She didn't want to be forced to start over someplace new. She didn't know if she could stand that. Breaking the news to Mose, packing up their belongings, striking out…

Just when she'd reached the verge of panic, Savannah
heard footsteps on the floorboards behind her. Then Adam's voice.

“Good morning,” he said.

Surprised, she swiveled to see Adam crossing the room. His movements seemed surer than they had been for days. Scarcely noticing the muted clunk of the station's door shutting, she stared as Adam dropped his rucksack near the bureau.

Magnificently bare-chested, he gave her a cheerful nod. He used one of her embroidered towels to dab at his face, making that simple amalgamation of cotton and needlework appear far more interesting than it ever had when she'd used it to towel off after one of her own baths. In Adam's hearty grasp, her ordinary towel seemed absurdly delicate. Set against his sun-browned skin, its snowy-whiteness seemed blinding.

She glanced down at her own hand, then at her forearm. Her bare skin was only partly visible below her lacy sleeve, but even that tiny sample was enough to inform Savannah that she and Adam were very different when it came to skin color. She was fashionably pale. He was nearly the color of toffee. Against all reason, she found the difference between them arresting. What would it look like, she wondered, if their hands came together?

“Sorry if I startled you.” Adam stopped at the ladder-back chair. He gave his face a final rubdown, then seemed at a loss as to what to do with his towel. He settled on holding it as he lifted his gaze to hers. “I woke up feeling like a grizzly bear after a long winter. It was high time for a shave, I decided.”

He grinned. The effect that good humor had on his face was striking. His smile eased all the angles there, from his hard jawline to his jutting cheekbones to his strong brows. Now, without several days' worth of beard growth
to obscure his features, he appeared even more attractive than he had before.

As though demonstrating his former need for a shave to her, Adam rubbed his palm over his jawline. Savannah gawked at him, instantly struck by a wild desire to do the same. She wanted to feel his bare skin under her fingertips. She wanted to know the flex and play of the muscles that formed his singular smile. She wanted to know
him
, pure and simple.

Of course she'd touched him already, she reminded herself staunchly. She'd cared for him, nursed him, watched over him. During the course of his recuperation, Savannah had become quite comfortable with the new man in her home. She'd grown accustomed to the sight of Adam's naked, hair-sprinkled chest as she'd changed his bandages. She'd gotten familiar with the feel of his strong arm muscles and taut abdomen as she'd helped him take slow, painful walks around the station as a necessary part of building up his strength. But those things…

Well. Those things, quite simply, didn't compare with
this.

This
Adam Corwin was a different man altogether.
This
Adam Corwin appeared alert and vital.
This
Adam Corwin gazed at her with directness and sharp wit, his striking blue eyes not the least bit clouded by Doc Finney's tincture. He'd been strong and considerate and grateful while he'd been injured. But now that he was on the mend, Adam was…downright fascinating.

His new vigor was a bit intimidating. Whereas before Savannah had felt fairly comfortable with fussing over him, now she felt embarrassed at the thought of the liberties she'd taken with his privacy and his person. Truly she'd manhandled him almost as much as Mose had accused her of doing, cavalierly grabbing Adam's trouser legs or his
arms to maneuver him more comfortably in bed. Flushed at the memory, she averted her gaze.

Then she swerved it straight back to Adam again. Frankly the sight of him was too wonderful not to linger over.

“I'm happy to see all you were doing was getting cleaned up,” she confessed. “I was worried you'd run away again.”

“Never.” With a grave expression, Adam came near enough to touch. “I won't leave you, Savannah. Not unless you ask me to.”

“Well.
That's
unlikely to happen, isn't it? Especially now that you're so…”
Lively. Handsome. Downright captivating.

No. She could hardly say any of those things. “So much improved,” she settled for. Discomfited all over again—and likely still blushing—she dropped her gaze to the towel in his hands. “Here. Let me take care of that for you.”

Savannah reached for it. At the same time, Adam murmured a word of thanks, then tried to hand the towel to her.

Their fingers brushed. Jolted by the contact, Savannah inhaled. Mesmerized, she stared at their almost-joined hands.

Together, they appeared every bit as enthralling as she'd imagined they might. Where their fingers touched, warmth surged between them. A funny tingle traveled all the way up her arm. Somehow it managed to make itself felt clear down to her toes.

Feeling unsettled, she lifted her gaze to Adam's. Like her, he stared at their hands. Then he shifted his gaze to her face. The moment he did so, something…
powerful
moved between them.

Savannah caught her breath. She would have sworn that Adam was staring at her mouth. But that was crazy, wasn't it?

She wasn't saying anything, wasn't smiling just then, wasn't doing a single, solitary thing with her mouth that would have warranted such intense interest.

And yet… She felt an equally intense interest in him. And his mouth. Which appeared full. And masculine. But soft. With her mind awhirl, Savannah tried to decide what to do about that. This situation had
not
been discussed in her etiquette book.

She settled on her failsafe maneuver as described in the
Guide to Correct Etiquette and Proper Behavior
: a curtsy. Using Adam's hand for balance, Savannah arranged herself in her most ladylike pose. To her relief, she scarcely even wobbled.

Adam fell silent. She hoped that meant he was impressed. She could not look up at him without a lapse in deportment.

Then he said, “Savannah, stand up. You needn't curtsy to me. Not ever again. Please.” Sounding aggrieved, Adam raised her up with a gentle tug. “Believe me, I'm anything but your superior. I don't deserve that kind of treatment from you.”

“Of course you do!” Relieved of the need to be formal, Savannah took Adam's towel from him. She tossed it on the chair. In all honesty, curtsying made her knees ache. She would not be sorry if the need for it arose less frequently. “You're a fine, upstanding man. You deserve all the best from me.”

“I doubt you could give anything less than the best, just by being you.” His mouth quirked on a charming smile. “But the plain fact is, I'm a ‘fine, upstanding man' who's been thinking about kissing you ever since you came close enough for me to count your freckles this morning. So I'd guess that pretty much wrecks your theory about what I deserve and don't deserve.”

“I don't have freckles!” Perish the thought. She'd tried every possible remedy for those blasted spots, including fresh buttermilk compresses and lumpy concoctions of dandelion greens mixed with lemon and— Abruptly Savannah stopped. “Kissing me?”

The notion bloomed in her head, bright and potent and impossible to stop thinking about. She'd been kissed before, of course. But only a few times. Sloppily and without finesse. But given the way all the other stage girls went on about kissing, Savannah knew there must be something more to the process. Something she'd never experienced…but would very much like to.

With his gaze still fixed on her, Adam nodded. “Yes.”

He wanted to kiss her!
He wanted, wanted, wanted….

Savannah wanted his kiss, too. Sadly she could not allow herself that.

“I'd planned,” she confessed demurely, “to save our first kiss for our wedding day. So that it would feel truly special.”