The Rancher's Temporary Engagement Page 10

  If Lola Winchester had been privy to Mr. Winchester’s nefarious behavior, she wouldn’t have held back from saying so. The woman, who was likely ten years older than Maggy, acted nervous and that meant she talked and talked and talked. Maggy wasn’t sure if Lola was anxious about making a good impression or about the report she’d need to give to madam president about how the visit had gone. Either way, the woman jabbered on about anything and everything—her children, husband, neighbors, the club, the weather and Maggy’s dress. If Lola had information that linked her husband with what was happening against the Running W, surely it would have spilled out, too.

  Maggy did her best to listen, in order to pick up any useful information from Lola’s chatter. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Edward’s apology and those tense but pleasant minutes right before the woman’s arrival.

  Not once in her life could she recall a man apologizing to her or taking responsibility for his anger as Edward had. She’d even considered brushing off his words and the shock she’d felt at hearing them with a cynical remark, but the sincere and somber look in his eyes and voice had stopped her. Instead she’d asked what he was trying to prove. To her further amazement, he’d answered her question with honesty and openness.

  Then his gaze had moved from her eyes to her lips, and Maggy had thought her heart might skip right out of her chest. She’d feared his kiss, but at the same time, she’d been disappointed and confused when it hadn’t come. Now she didn’t know what to make of those terrifying yet exhilarating seconds they’d shared, standing so close she’d felt his own heartbeat beneath her hands.

  “Miss Worthwright, are you feeling well? You look rather flushed. I hope you don’t have a fever. Summer illnesses are positively the worst...”

  Maggy blushed deeper. “It’s a little warm in here,” she managed to interject when Lola paused. “I’ll just open the window.”

  She set aside the tea that Mrs. Harvey had brought them and stood. Crossing to the window, she jiggled the frame until she was able to wrench it upward. A welcome breeze cooled her warm face. Someone walked into her periphery view. It was Edward. Her pulse tumbled at the sight of him and the memory of his muscled forearm beneath her hand.

  He saw her at the window and waved. She offered a small wave back, then turned away. Lola continued to converse with herself. Settling once again in the armchair, Maggy mulled over her conflicting emotions. It was only natural that she’d feel friendship toward Edward. He was honorable, honest and kind. And yet friendship wasn’t what she’d felt when she thought he might kiss her. That feeling had stemmed from something deeper.

  Maggy frowned as she took another sip of tea. She was likely experiencing the natural feelings that followed being his fiancée, even temporarily. There would surely be moments when the line between what was real and what was temporary became blurred as she performed that role. It wasn’t as if she and Edward were actually planning to marry.

  The thought of being married again made her shudder. She’d thought Jeb was an affable person before their marriage. Two weeks later she discovered that was only one side of him—a side she rarely saw when they were alone. She’d gone from feeling hopeful and in love to hollow and numb. It wasn’t until she’d completed her first mission for Pinkerton’s that she found herself once more and vowed she’d never go back to that half life again.

  “So you’ll come?” Lola gazed at her expectantly.

  Maggy tried to recall the last thing she’d heard the other woman say. Something about the club’s next meeting. “I’m sorry. I think the warm day is catching up to me. When is the tea?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She forced a smile. “I’ll be there. Thank you for inviting me into your club.”

  “Well, it isn’t my club,” Lola said, standing. “It’s Dolphina’s, I suppose. I’m only the secretary.”

  Did Maggy detect some envy there? “Secretary is still an important job. Look at how you drove all the way out here.”

  “Yes.” The woman looked thoughtful. “It is an important job. Thank you, Miss Worthwright.”

  Maggy walked Lola to the door and bid her good day. Tomorrow would begin her real work among the ranchers’ wives. And she very much hoped it would be productive.

  Edward’s words—In the past six days, all we’ve uncovered is who isn’t orchestrating the sabotage. Not who is—repeated through her mind, reaffirming her determination to solve this case. Not just for her possible promotion either, but for Edward, too.

  * * *

  After his evening ritual of discussing the day with McCall, Edward returned to the house. Had Maggy turned in already? he wondered. She’d been more talkative at supper than she had at lunch, but he sensed her heart wasn’t in the conversation, that she was using it as a way to avoid any quiet between them. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she’d realized he had wanted to kiss her earlier and wasn’t happy about the prospect. If that were true, he could only imagine what her reaction would have been if he really had kissed her.

  Women are complicated creatures, he reminded himself as he stepped through the front door. Maggy, most of all.

  He needed to stop trying to riddle her out. Instead he would focus on playing his role as her fiancé and do all in his power to solve the mystery of who wanted him gone.

  Resolved, he strode down the hall. A casual peek into the parlor had him slowing to a stop. Maggy had fallen asleep on the sofa while reading, her eyes closed and her expression relaxed. Any man would be blessed to be the one to see her like this every day.

  He didn’t want to disturb her, but it wouldn’t bode well for either of them if she didn’t retire to the cottage soon. It wouldn’t do if anyone caught wind of Maggy sleeping inside the main house.

  As he entered the room, the floor creaked beneath him and Maggy sat up, wide-eyed and visibly startled. The book she’d been reading tumbled to the rug. “Edward.”

  “You fell asleep.”

  She reached down to retrieve her book. “I did. It’s been a rather...eventful day.”

  “That it has.” He took a seat at the other end of the sofa, keeping a respectable distance between them. “What are you reading?”

  Maggy tucked her finger into the book and lifted it for him to see the title. To his surprise, it was one of his equestrian volumes. “I...wanted to better understand horses and what you do here.”

  The thoughtfulness behind her selection filled him with gratitude—and guilt. He’d chastised her about the maddening delay in his case, but it wasn’t due to her lack of effort or expertise.

  “You don’t have to read that...”

  She lowered her gaze and the book. “I know. I’m hoping it might help me solve your case sooner.”

  “Maggy.” He waited for her to look up before he continued. “I was wrong about what I said earlier. I understand that finding out who isn’t behind what’s happened is the only way to narrow down who is behind it. And you’ve done a phenomenal job of that in only six days.”

  Her cheeks turned an attractive shade of pink. “I believe that’s the fourth time you’ve apologized.”

  “And it likely won’t be the last.” They shared a chuckle. “Did the book put you to sleep? Or were you overly tired?”

  She made a face, which drew another laugh from him. This time their conversation didn’t feel forced; it had, thankfully, returned to its normal ease. “If I said I fell asleep just because I was tired, I’d be lying.”

  “Those aren’t the most thrilling of books, I’m afraid.” He offered her an understanding smile. “Mrs. Harvey is always trying to get me to read the dime novels she adores.”

  “You should write a horse book.”

  Edward smirked. “Me?”

  “Why not?” She sat up straighter. “Yours would be far more interesting to read than this one.”

  He’d never considered writing a book
before, though he had to admit the idea held some appeal. There might be other equestrian enthusiasts who would enjoy reading about his experience building a horse ranch. “Perhaps when this business with the sabotage is fully resolved.”

  “Thank you for saying when, not if.” Maggy shot him a smile, one that didn’t look feigned and infused him with hope. “I’ve been thinking about the snake incident.”

  He frowned. So much for feeling hopeful. “I wish I’d been able to see the man’s face. He looked about my height, though slightly heavier in build.”

  “Do you still have the gunnysack he dropped?”

  “Yes. But there weren’t any markings on it.”

  Maggy set her book on the side table and rose to her feet. “I’d still like to see it.”

  “I put it in the stable.” Edward stood as well, and followed her outside. Blue twilight smeared the sky and the nightly chorus of insects was in full swing. Before the threats to the ranch had started, this had been his favorite time of day. A time of quiet and reflection.

  Inside the stable, he lifted the gunnysack off the tack table and handed it to Maggy. She examined it, her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth.

  “Can I see your feed sacks?” she asked after a minute or two.

  Edward led her to where several sacks of grain sat. Loosely crossing his arms, he watched as she inspected the other gunnysacks.

  “The one that held the snake is new.” She pointed to one of the feed sacks. “See how this one has frayed along the opening, while the one the man dropped hasn’t.”

  He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “What does that tell us?”

  “It tells us that this bag is too new and too large to have been used already. The man had to remove a much larger portion of whatever was inside in order to use it for the snake.” Maggy flipped the gunnysack inside out, her expression focused. “But what was removed?”

  She studied the inside folds of the hem, then ran her finger along the edges. “Ah-ha!” She lifted her finger and grinned in triumph. “This sack held sugar.”

  “And that explains what exactly?”

  Maggy stepped closer to him, her excitement palpable. “Whoever used this sack had to transfer all of the sugar into some other container. And such a large sack of sugar isn’t something a bachelor would have on hand.”

  “So the culprit is likely married,” Edward concluded.

  She nodded. “Which also means there’s one rather annoyed wife out there who might be prodded into spilling her frustration about her husband at the tea tomorrow.”

  “Excellent discovery.”

  Another pretty blush filled her cheeks. “I wouldn’t have been able to figure it out if you hadn’t kept the sack.”

  “We make a good team then.”

  She regarded him with those lovely blue eyes. “Yes, we do.” He had a sudden longing to breach the narrow distance between them as he had when they’d collided in the yard earlier. But instead of lingering, Maggy handed back the gunnysack and took a step backward. “I think we’re much closer to figuring out who our snake-wielding culprit is now.”

  “Agreed,” he said, returning the sack to the tack table. They exited the stable and moved in silence toward the house.

  Near the porch, Maggy stopped. “I think I’ll head to bed now.”

  “That really was brilliant.” He motioned toward the stable. “I never would have deduced all that from one ordinary sack.”

  “I wouldn’t have either, before becoming a Pinkerton agent,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Now those are the moments I live for—when things click and a piece of the muddied picture becomes suddenly clear.”

  He wanted to ask if there were other moments she lived for as well, but he didn’t want to disturb the open, happy quality of her expression. “I’m glad you’re here, Maggy.” And he meant it. He hadn’t anticipated how skilled she’d be at her job or the friendship he’d come to appreciate between them.

  “Me, too.” The words were hardly more than a whisper, and she walked away the second they escaped her lips. But he’d heard them.

  “Good night,” he called after her.

  She turned back to throw him another genuine smile. “Good night, Edward.”

  * * *

  After picking up the rest of her dresses from Ms. Glasen, Maggy strolled into the ladies’ parlor at the Sheridan Inn a few minutes before the tea meeting would officially start. The hum of conversation matched the hum inside her stomach, though she was far less nervous today than she’d been before her first dinner. A quick sweep of the room revealed there were eleven women present, ranging in age from early twenties to mid-sixties.

  She couldn’t recall a time when she’d been in a room with so many women. The realization nibbled at her confidence, until she reminded herself that she wasn’t here as just another participant. She was also a detective. And today her light green-and-lavender-striped dress, perfectly pinned chignon, and approachable smile were her disguise as she used her honed skills to further crack Edward’s case.

  His words from the night before, about being glad she was at the ranch, filled her with fresh happiness and restored her self-assurance. Somewhere over the past seven days, this mission had become more than a means to furthering her career; it was about helping someone who’d become a friend. And that meant a stellar performance was needed at her first club meeting.

  She greeted Lola Winchester and Dolphina Druitt, thanking the older woman for allowing her admittance into the club. Mrs. Druitt nodded regally, then offered to introduce Maggy to anyone she didn’t yet know. All but two of the women she’d met at the dinner on Saturday night or at church yesterday. One of the strangers was Gunther Bertram’s sister Josephine Preston. She appeared to be about Maggy’s age, but a constantly furrowed brow made her look older.

  The other woman Maggy hadn’t met was Vienna Howe, who looked to be the youngest member of the group. Vienna’s hair was light blond and she seemed incredibly shy. Her green eyes darted to Maggy’s for only a moment before she lowered them.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Worthwright,” she said softly.

  Maggy felt a surprising wave of compassion for the girl who reminded her of herself as a young bride. “You, too, Mrs. Howe. Have you been married long?”

  “Two years.”

  “And she’ll be a mother in another six months,” Mrs. Druitt interjected with an approving smile. “Isn’t that right, Vienna?”

  The young woman’s cheeks went scarlet. “Yes.”

  “Congratulations.” Maggy could tell Vienna felt uncomfortable, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of Mrs. Druitt’s nosiness or for another reason.

  Mrs. Druitt called the meeting to order and asked everyone to take their seats. Uneasiness still radiated from Vienna as she sat at the far end of the table. Her discomfort prompted Maggy to sit beside her. Relating to other women had never been her strong suit, but she could recognize another human being in need. There was no reason she couldn’t be friendly as well as smart in using the meeting to investigate.

  A waiter poured the tea for each guest. Maggy tried not to grimace as she brought the porcelain cup to her lips. Why did tea—especially warm tea—have to signify refinement?

  “Do tell us how you and Mr. Kent met,” a woman named Matilda Kitt said in a dreamy tone. Choruses of “yes” echoed around the table.

  Maggy dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and affected a wistful air to her voice as she conveyed the same details she’d already shared with Mrs. Druitt and Lola. Most of the women sighed happily when she finished.

  Matilda leaned forward in eagerness. “You’ve snagged yourself quite a catch, Miss Worthwright. A handsome man with a prosperous ranch.” Her expression reflected longing. “Oh, to return to those early days of marriage.”

  “Young love is all well and good,” Bertram’s sister Josephine
said sourly, “but those early days require a great deal of work, too. Don’t be forgetting that, Matilda. You’ll fill Miss Worthwright’s head with fanciful, unrealistic dreams.”

  Lola frowned and set down her cup. “Now, Josephine, you’re only going to depress her with all your pessimistic talk.”

  “No, no,” Maggy interjected. “I would very much appreciate any advice you can give me.”

  The women needed no further urging. All of them, except for Vienna, threw out their tidbits of counsel. Maggy paid less attention to the actual words and more to what subjects they felt strongly about.

  “Any advice on housekeeping?” she asked when the hubbub wound down. It was time to see who had a bee in their bonnet over a certain sack of sugar. “Mrs. Harvey will still be in charge of the cooking, but I may want to try my hand at things in the kitchen now and then.”

  There were plenty of comments about cooking Edward’s favorite meals and letting him know the kitchen was her territory. But to Maggy’s disappointment, no one made any mention of a husband emptying out a perfectly good sack of sugar. The only remark that came close to touching on the topic was Josephine’s.

  “Don’t let him rattle around in there alone,” the cross woman stated. “He’s likely to upend your organization that way.”

  Was it Josephine’s husband who’d emptied the sack? Or her brother? No, Bertram wasn’t married. So was it someone else entirely? Maggy swallowed some tea to hide her frown. Movement to her left caused her to look at Vienna. The younger woman hadn’t said a word since sitting down. And Maggy wasn’t the only one to notice.

  “Vienna,” Mrs. Druitt said, clearly attempting to bring the girl into the conversation. “You’ve been married the shortest amount of time—those first days of marriage are still fresh in your memory. What advice do you have for Miss Worthwright?”

  The girl’s face turned pink as she cleared her throat. “I don’t believe I could add anything to the excellent advice that’s already been given.”