soon as Lena closed the door, Arabella released a ragg ed breath. She adored the older woman, but sometimes she seemed a bit too intrusive, almost like the mother she sorely missed. She flew toward the bed and withdrew the letter f rom beneath her pillow, holding it to her chest. She was certain she would read it a t least a hundred times before she coul d finally convince herself it was from him.
Luke Shelton narrowed a patient gaze, observing the woman from across the street that just turned and hurried away. From a stealthy vantage point, he had not missed the look of surprise when she opened the letter, nor the rush of alarm, which flashed before her eyes. After he stood there for a long moment with guarded pause, he finally turned away.
Already he felt his gut twisting. Worst yet, he felt his heart clench at just the thought of not seeing Arabella Gentry again.
“Mr. Hanly, can I help you find something?” A woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned away from the mercantile window, finding the lovely Genevieve Hartley smiling at him with a deadpan stare.
“I’ll take some peppermint sticks for my nephew.”
The young woman’s honey-brown eyes lit up, and her lips curled into a thoughtful smile.
He almost smiled back.
In another time, and another place, he would have thought the mercantilist’s daughter quite appealing with her disarming gaze and head of chestnut brown hair pulled back from a heart-shaped face.
Perhaps even then he might have thought of pursuing the young woman despite the desperate measures of her mother, but God help him, he just could not abide a meddlesome soul.
Luke switched his gaze toward an elder woman who stood but a few feet away, watching him with a cool stare. If Mamie Hartley had her way, she would have him trussed up on a silver platter with an apple propped in his mouth to serve to her daughter. He shook the mental image from his mind and grimaced. Forcing a smile, Luke let his gaze fall back on Genevieve who quickly circled the front counter, carefully removing the lid from a candy jar.
“The usual?”
“That’ll do.”
He watched her remove a handful of peppermint sticks and fold the hard candy in brown paper, and then tie the package off with a string. Handing his order, she offered him a reticent smile.
“Good Day.” He issued her a coarse nod and then walked away. On his way out the door, he passed Emeril Hartley, and his son Edward, who were both caught up in a heated familial dispute, the two men hardly noticed his presence.
Luke made his way down the boardwalk, passing a few establishments until he turned off toward a back alley. He soon heard the clang of metal against metal, which rang sharp and piercing. Lifting his gaze, he peered into a din of smoke and shadows where he sought the strapping figure of Matt Tinsley, the town farrier. He watched as the young man dipped a hot iron into a nearby swill. Steam hissed, rising slowly as it sizzled, while dissipating into thin air. Sensing his presence, the farrier turned his head, nodding a stern welcome.
“I’ve been waiting on you.” The farrier spoke up.
Luke chuckled. “Are you charging me by the hour?”
“Nah.” Matt smiled then jerked his head toward the entrance. “There was this man … goes by the name Rafferty, he was looking for you.”
Luke held a steady grin though secretly he seethed inside. The Pinkerton Agent was a constant thorn in his side. Hot on his trail for nigh two years, the relentless man never gave up. Twice, he came close to capture by the ruthless detective. Once near the border of Tejas in a little cantina twice the size of an outhouse, and then at a stage hold up headed for Dodge. Each time, he and his gang had narrowly escaped. Now the agent was dodging his alter ego. A feeling of dread overcame his mind. Perhaps it was time to move on to a safer location. Furrowing his brows, he
Luke Shelton narrowed a patient gaze, observing the woman from across the street that just turned and hurried away. From a stealthy vantage point, he had not missed the look of surprise when she opened the letter, nor the rush of alarm, which flashed before her eyes. After he stood there for a long moment with guarded pause, he finally turned away.
Already he felt his gut twisting. Worst yet, he felt his heart clench at just the thought of not seeing Arabella Gentry again.
“Mr. Hanly, can I help you find something?” A woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned away from the mercantile window, finding the lovely Genevieve Hartley smiling at him with a deadpan stare.
“I’ll take some peppermint sticks for my nephew.”
The young woman’s honey-brown eyes lit up, and her lips curled into a thoughtful smile.
He almost smiled back.
In another time, and another place, he would have thought the mercantilist’s daughter quite appealing with her disarming gaze and head of chestnut brown hair pulled back from a heart-shaped face.
Perhaps even then he might have thought of pursuing the young woman despite the desperate measures of her mother, but God help him, he just could not abide a meddlesome soul.
Luke switched his gaze toward an elder woman who stood but a few feet away, watching him with a cool stare. If Mamie Hartley had her way, she would have him trussed up on a silver platter with an apple propped in his mouth to serve to her daughter. He shook the mental image from his mind and grimaced. Forcing a smile, Luke let his gaze fall back on Genevieve who quickly circled the front counter, carefully removing the lid from a candy jar.
“The usual?”
“That’ll do.”
He watched her remove a handful of peppermint sticks and fold the hard candy in brown paper, and then tie the package off with a string. Handing his order, she offered him a reticent smile.
“Good Day.” He issued her a coarse nod and then walked away. On his way out the door, he passed Emeril Hartley, and his son Edward, who were both caught up in a heated familial dispute, the two men hardly noticed his presence.
Luke made his way down the boardwalk, passing a few establishments until he turned off toward a back alley. He soon heard the clang of metal against metal, which rang sharp and piercing. Lifting his gaze, he peered into a din of smoke and shadows where he sought the strapping figure of Matt Tinsley, the town farrier. He watched as the young man dipped a hot iron into a nearby swill. Steam hissed, rising slowly as it sizzled, while dissipating into thin air. Sensing his presence, the farrier turned his head, nodding a stern welcome.
“I’ve been waiting on you.” The farrier spoke up.
Luke chuckled. “Are you charging me by the hour?”
“Nah.” Matt smiled then jerked his head toward the entrance. “There was this man … goes by the name Rafferty, he was looking for you.”
Luke held a steady grin though secretly he seethed inside. The Pinkerton Agent was a constant thorn in his side. Hot on his trail for nigh two years, the relentless man never gave up. Twice, he came close to capture by the ruthless detective. Once near the border of Tejas in a little cantina twice the size of an outhouse, and then at a stage hold up headed for Dodge. Each time, he and his gang had narrowly escaped. Now the agent was dodging his alter ego. A feeling of dread overcame his mind. Perhaps it was time to move on to a safer location. Furrowing his brows, he
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