The Heart's Pursuit (5 page)

Silver was the exact opposite—especially when it came to men.

She covered her eyes with the crook of her arm, remembering a steady progression of mistakes she’d made in the company of the stronger sex, especially when it came to voicing her opinions without any invitation to do so. It hadn’t been until Bob Cassidy came to Twin Springs, six months prior, that Silver even cared she wasn’t beautiful or accomplished like her stepsister. But Bob had been a determined suitor. He hadn’t seemed to mind she would rather ride her horse astride than sit in the parlor doing needlepoint. With unbelievable ease, he’d swept Silver off her feet.

But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Silver he’d wanted. She’d merely been the way to her father’s safe. She shouldn’t be surprised. It shouldn’t hurt so much. But she was and it did.

With a sigh, she shoved aside her blankets. She performed her morning ablutions with haste. As for her unruly hair, she captured it with a ribbon at the nape. That would have to do.

When she entered the kitchen a short while later, she found her stepmother seated at the table, sipping coffee from a china cup. Her father stood near the stove, scrambling eggs in a skillet.

“Good morning, Mother. Father.”

“Good morning, Silver.” Her father tossed a smile over his shoulder.

Her stepmother was silent, and her expression said she was still angry.

Silver stopped next to her father and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove.

“One or two eggs, honey?”

She met her father’s gaze. “Nothing for me. Thanks, Papa.” She turned to lean her backside against the worktable. “I’m going over to the store right away to put together the supplies for Mr. Newman. I want him to begin his search as soon as possible.”

Her stepmother set down her cup with a clatter. “Gerald, Silver should have nothing further to do with that . . . that man. It isn’t proper for her to do so. If he must search for Mr. Cassidy, then let him deal directly with you or the sheriff.”

“Mother, Sheriff Cooper wouldn’t have recommended Mr. Newman if he wasn’t a reputable man.” Silver wasn’t certain she spoke the truth, but her parents needn’t know that.

Her stepmother stood. “I don’t know why I waste my breath trying to protect and guide you. You always do as you wish anyway. I’ve done my best for you. I truly have. Why must you be so foolish and headstrong? There’s nothing we can do about your being jilted, but your behavior after the fact? It’s unacceptable! Why can’t you be more like Rose?” With a disappointed huff, she swept out of the kitchen.

Her father patted her shoulder. “She doesn’t mean to hurt you.”

She may not mean to, but she does, all the time.
Silver gave him a brief smile before pressing her cheek against his chest, words unnecessary between them.

She’d always been her papa’s girl, and she adored him in return. She didn’t disappoint him the way she did her stepmother. He didn’t expect her to conform. He’d never pressured her to find a husband or to dress a certain way or to speak differently. He simply loved her.

Silver drew back and kissed her father on the cheek. “I’d better get over to the store.”

“Go ahead. Your mother and I will be there soon.”

The morning air was cool, causing Silver to draw her shawl closer around her shoulders as she hurried to the mercantile. She let herself in the back door and from the pocket of her dress pulled the slip of paper on which Jared Newman had scrawled a list of supplies. Flour. Salted beef. Dried fruit. Cornmeal. Coffee. Sugar. Soda. Salt. Lard. Beans. Oats. Barley. Rice. And more. Foodstuffs meant to keep a body alive rather than to satisfy a discriminating palate. Two weeks’ worth, he’d told her.

Could the bounty hunter find Bob in that amount of time? He had to. He must. Her erstwhile fiancé had left Twin Springs eleven days earlier. Would he still have the money and jewels he’d stolen? It might already be too late. Bob could have spent it or lost it in less time than that.

Panic washed over her. Jared Newman had to find Bob, and Bob had to have their money. There was so little time to rescue her family.

I should go with Mr. Newman.

The idea quickened her pulse. It would be so much better than sitting here waiting, doing nothing, feeling helpless, listening to her stepmother’s complaints. She knew Bob. Maybe not as well as she’d thought she did, but certainly better than Jared Newman. All the bounty hunter would have was a crinkled photograph and whatever Silver told him. But if she went with Mr. Newman, she could increase the chances Bob would be found.

No, she couldn’t do it. An unmarried woman of twenty-one years traveling unescorted with a man would set every gossip’s tongue wagging from Twin Springs all the way to Denver. It didn’t matter that she could ride as well as any man or that she could fire a pistol and hit a target with some accuracy. It didn’t matter that she’d often slept under the stars as a child when she and her father had gone fishing. None of it mattered. It would still be considered scandalous. Whatever good reputation she had left would be destroyed. She couldn’t go. Her father would never allow it. Her stepmother already thought her unredeemable.

Papa and Mother don’t have to know. I don’t have to tell them.

But she couldn’t. She really couldn’t do it. No matter how much she wished she could.

Unlike the last time Jared was through Twin Springs, the town didn’t look deserted this morning. Three men stood deep in conversation outside the bank. Up ahead two women carrying baskets entered the mercantile. A wagon pulled by a team of horses stood outside the feed store, where several customers were visible through the large front window. Piano music drifted through the swinging doors of the Mountain Rose Saloon.

Jared reined in at the Matlock Mercantile. The store had the same false-front facade as the other buildings on the town’s main street, but this one was freshly whitewashed, the store’s name painted in wide black letters above the awning. He dismounted, spurs jingling. With a quick flip of his wrist, he wrapped the reins around the hitching rail, then stepped onto the boardwalk. Pausing, he perused his surroundings one more time before entering the store.

The interior of Matlock Mercantile was similar to stores in every town Jared had been in from Kentucky to Texas to Wyoming. Every spare inch was designed to hold merchandise. Display tables held fabric, cooking utensils, lamps, and other sundry items. Glass cases revealed sharp knives and a few pieces of jewelry. Dry goods and foodstuffs filled the shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

The two women who’d entered the mercantile a few minutes before Jared were looking at bolts of cloth on a
table nearest the door. They glanced in his direction, then dropped their gazes. One leaned closer to the other and whispered, “That must be him. The bounty hunter.”

It appeared the local gossips had heard he was coming. Not that he was surprised by it or cared what they said. He’d learned that a man who spent his life chasing down criminals for the rewards offered wasn’t highly esteemed. Not even by most of the people he served. But he hadn’t chosen this profession, if it could be called that. It had been thrust upon him by circumstances. Still, the work served its purpose. Delivering fugitives from the law to jail gave Jared the ability to continue the search that mattered most to him. Who was he to argue with fate? Certainly he wouldn’t be dissuaded by those who gossiped about him.

A voice from long ago whispered in his memory. His mother’s, speaking to his sister.
“Tattlers and busybodies speak things which they ought not. Never become one of them, Katrina. Guard your lips and mind.”

Katrina. Precious Katrina. His sister had had the purest of hearts, along with the strongest of wills. And his beloved mother and father had been the finest people he’d known. Six years hadn’t lessened how much he missed the family that had been taken from him.

He gave his head a quick shake, throwing off painful memories as he strode down the aisle toward the counter. Just before he arrived, Silver Matlock appeared in the doorway to a back room. An expression of relief crossed her face
the instant she saw him. Had she doubted he would show up? Probably. But she had good reason to doubt a man’s word after what had happened to her.

“Miss Matlock.” He tugged the brim of his hat.

“Mr. Newman.”

“Have you got the supplies ready?”

She nodded. “Yes. Everything is over there.” She pointed to the far end of the counter.

From the looks of it, she hadn’t held back anything he’d requested. “How about the information I asked for?”

“I wrote it all down for you. Everything I know.” She glanced toward the fabric table—and the two whispering customers—at the front of the store. “Why don’t you come into the back room where we can talk privately?”

So he was right about those young women. Gossips. And they hadn’t whispered only about the bounty hunter who’d ridden into town. He had the feeling—judging by Silver’s expression—that they’d been gossiping about her too.

Without a word he followed Silver through the back storage room and into a cluttered office.

She moved to the opposite side of the desk before facing him again. “Everything’s here. There’s a photograph. It’s the only one I have. And a description of Bob, his habits, his work . . .” A blush rose in her cheeks. “Some of the information isn’t as detailed as I would like. I . . . I’m afraid I didn’t know him as well as I thought. It was a whirlwind romance,
and at the time I thought him utterly charming. But perhaps everything he told me about himself was a lie.”

Jared took the slip of paper and photograph from atop the desk. She’d told the truth about what she’d written down. It wasn’t a detailed accounting. “This isn’t much to go on, Miss Matlock. Your description could fit a dozen men in this town alone.”

“There wasn’t much more to say,” she answered softly.

He touched the paper with his index finger. “You mention here something about a man in Central City. A Mr. Carlton.”

“Yes. Bob knew someone named Carlton who was a dealer in one of the gaming halls there, but Carlton could be his first name or his last. I’m not sure. Bob mentioned him in passing when we were planning the ceremony. I thought he meant to invite him to the wedding.”

“No family anywhere?”

She shook her head. “He told me he had a half brother, but I think the brother must be dead. Bob didn’t seem to want to talk about him. I know his parents are deceased. They died during the war.”

“He wasn’t from Twin Springs?”

“No. He arrived here about six months ago. He lived in Missouri before he came to Colorado.”

“Then I guess I’ll start my search in Central City for his friend.” He folded the paper in half, then again. “You said this was your only photograph of Mr. Cassidy. It’s not very good.”

“I know. Bob didn’t like to have his picture taken.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “We were supposed to have one taken on our wedding day. Together.”

He caught the glitter of tears in her eyes before she looked away, and he felt an unexpected wish to comfort her. But in the next instant she lifted her chin, holding herself erect, her stance proud and determined.

Whatever else Cassidy is, he’s an idiot for leaving her.
The thought was even more unexpected—not to mention unwelcome—than the wish to comfort her.

Jared cleared his throat as he shoved the paper and photograph into the pocket of his shirt. “I’d best get those supplies loaded on my packhorse. I’d like to make Central City by tomorrow night.”

“Please wait a moment. My father wants to speak with you.”

“Fair enough.”

Half an hour later, Silver stood at the window in the front of the store, watching Jared Newman ride down Main Street astride his black-and-white pinto. Following behind was a sorrel packhorse, laden with supplies.

Please, God. Let him find Bob before it’s too late.

She turned around. Hazel Rathdrum and her sister, Celeste, were still in the store, only now they were at the
counter, paying Silver’s stepmother for their purchases. They were talking, but their voices were too low for Silver to make out what was said. From the pained expression on her stepmother’s face, she suspected it was about her. How could they not talk about her? Being jilted in such a public fashion wasn’t something that happened every day in their small town. Being jilted by a suspected thief was an even worse offense. And now she’d hired a bounty hunter. Scandalous! This could keep them talking for weeks.