Mail-Order Groom. Lisa Plumley
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Mose Hawthorne. He doubted the station’s part-time helper posed a threat to him.
Together they crossed the yard, moving slowly toward the outhouse. Adam scanned the tree line as they went. If Bedell or his brothers were still out there, he needed to be aware of it.
He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for a woman. She ought to be around here someplace. Have you seen her? She’s—”
“Right in there, friend.” Mose nodded toward the station, interrupting before Adam could describe Mariana. He opened the outhouse door. “Savannah’s been waiting on you awhile now. You have no idea what kind of hopes that woman’s got pinned on you.”
Having read her letters to Bedell, Adam had a fairly thorough notion of what the confidence man’s mark might expect of her new beau. But that wasn’t what concerned him now.
“I meant another woman. Dark hair, about this high—” Adam held his hand to chest height “—foul mouth, dirty skirts most likely, probably packing a pistol or two? She might be hurt.”
“That don’t sound like any woman I ever heard of.” Mose frowned. “You hurt your head, though. I’m guessing you’re still a little confused.” He gestured. “You need help in there?”
Adam gave the outhouse a dismissive glance. “No. If you haven’t seen her, then I’ll have to go looking.” He wavered on his unsteady legs. Mose held him up. “Did you find my horse?”
“Your horse?” This time, the station’s helper cast him an even more fretful look. “You didn’t have a horse. I found your rucksack over there in the bushes, but that’s all. If you had yourself a horse back in Baltimore, it’ll be no help to you here in the Territory. Although Savannah will be relieved to know you had that much scratch. Between you and me, I think she thought you were near destitute. She’s just softhearted enough not to care.” Mose nodded at the outhouse. “Go on and do your business now. I’ll wait here and help you back inside when you’re done.”
At the man’s expectant look, Adam swore. He was too dazed to follow everything Mose had said, especially all that prattle about Baltimore and Savannah Reed’s softheartedness. He didn’t like knowing that Bedell’s mark was even more gullible than he’d thought … and so, by all accounts, was her only helper and friend. But further talking was a delay Adam couldn’t afford.
His work for the agency was important; Mariana’s safety was paramount. His partner mattered more to him than any mission.
He eyed Mose, wondering how to dodge the big man. If the station’s helper couldn’t give him answers about Mariana, he’d have to leave him behind. An upright man like Mose would expect a reason for his leaving—especially while injured. But Adam didn’t have time to explain. He couldn’t tell the station’s helper why he’d been trailing Bedell—or why he’d been lingering outside the station. That would only lead to more questions—questions he didn’t have answers for yet. He couldn’t tell Mose or Savannah the truth. Not if he wanted to nab Bedell.
He did. He wanted to nab Bedell like he wanted to breathe. That meant Adam couldn’t let Mose delay him any longer. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Mariana needed him.
Trying to reason out what to do, Adam hesitated. His mind still felt foggy. His head throbbed. His ribs ached. His back burned with a ragged pain that experience told him was a fresh gunshot wound. Even now, a telltale wetness trickled down his shoulder blade, warning him he was bleeding.
A short ways away, the station’s door banged open. Savannah Reed ran into the moonlight, a slight figure in a fancy dress.
“Mose! He’s gone!” she yelled. “He’s not in bed anymore.”
Providentially Savannah’s arrival made the decision for Adam. The station’s helper turned to look at her. Seizing his best and only opportunity to get a jump on the man, Adam shoved the outhouse door at Mose. Then he took off at a hobbling run.
Dizzily he surveyed the dark hillside, trying to get his bearings. If he remembered correctly, he’d pegged his horse a half mile away. Doubtless his gelding was still waiting there for him, unnoticed by Mose in the aftermath of the shooting.
“Mose!” Savannah cried out behind him. “Look! Stop him!”
Adam heard a grunt. He glanced back. Mose stood beside the outhouse, shaking his head as though to clear it. Savannah reached him, then pointed at Adam. “Hurry up! He’s injured!”
With grim resolve, Adam forced himself into the cover of the pine boughs and scrub oak. A few seconds later, the sounds of the station helper’s pursuit faded. So did Savannah’s voice.
He missed it, Adam realized. Stupidly and sappily, he missed Savannah Reed’s voice and her gentle touch, too. He’d scarcely gotten to know either, and yet he wanted both. Dragging in another painful breath, he put the realization behind him, then went to track down his partner—whatever it took to do it.
Struggling through the underbrush in her highbutton shoes and bustle-laden calico dress, Savannah burst into a clearing at last. Mose crouched a few feet away, his back to her. He’d gotten ahead of her as they’d chased their runaway patient, but now she’d finally caught up. Breathing heavily, she stopped.
Then she realized that Mose was hunkered down in front of a fallen-down, bare-chested, dark-haired man. His prone body was just recognizable in the lantern light. They’d found him.
With a cry, she rushed forward. “Is he all right?”
“I guess so. Looks like he plumb keeled over.” Mose glanced up at her, his face unusually pensive. In the darkened forest all around them, small creatures skittered at the edge of the circle. “He’s breathing. But he’s bleeding again, pretty hard.”
Concerned, Savannah dropped to her knees atop the fallen pine needles. She reached out to touch her mail-order groom’s heaving chest. “I’ll bet he’s fevered.” She gazed at his face. Even in sleep, his features appeared hard edged. “For a man who looks so formidable, he sure does behave foolishly. His head injury must be worse than Dr. Finney thought.” Worriedly she glanced at Mose. “Whatever would make him run like that, Mose?”
Her friend stared at the man, at first appearing not to have heard. Lost in thought, Mose frowned. Just when Savannah was on the verge of repeating her question, Mose shrugged.
“I reckon some men get antsy at the prospect of marriage.”
She gave him a chastening look. “That’s not funny. He wants to marry me, remember? He came out west specifically for me.”
“Are you sure you still want him? He’s a peculiar one.”
“You’re only saying that because he got the better of you with that outhouse door. That must have been an accident.”
“This goose egg on my head doesn’t feel like an accident.”
“I’ll fix up a poultice for you when we get back.” Savannah stood, gesturing at her fallen groom. “Come on, let’s get him back to the station and safely to bed. It’s been a long night.”
When Mose didn’t move, she glanced at him. Her longtime friend glowered at her, his arms crossed. There was definitely something he wasn’t telling her. “I say we leave him,” he said.
“Leave him? Of course we’re not leaving him.” Savannah trod around the man, trying to figure out if she could possibly drag him back to the station herself. She doubted it. He was as big as Mose and even more muscular. “If you’re planning on carrying a grudge just because he hit you with that door—accidentally, if I might remind you—then you’d better just stop it. He’s injured! He’s confused and fevered and not himself. And he’s a city man, too—a telegraph clerk. I doubt he’s clever enough to get the jump on a hard-as-nails, worldly stagehand like yourself. You’ve been around all the most dangerous people and survived.”
Of course, so had she. But