"If you didn't know-"
"I should have known," she whispered. "I should have gone home more often to see her, but I was so caught up in my own dreams I forgot what was the most important thing of all."
"Family."
"Yes, family."
"Would Ezekiel have let you leave?"
"No, but I could have found a way."
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "What about your father?"
"He died a year before my mother."
He let out a sigh. "I understand why you want to go to Paris. Your grandfather's the only family left, isn't he?"
"I didn't exactly tell you the truth about my grandfather. He is in Paris…"
"But?"
"He died a long time ago. I'm going there to pay my respects."
"Why did you let me think he was alive?"
She glanced over at him. "If you had thought I was all alone in the world, you would have felt sorry for me, and I didn't want that to happen."
The tenderness in his eyes made her want to curl up in his lap and cling to him. She turned away, resisting the lure, and said, "Lots of people are alone, so stop looking at me like that. Now, do you want to hear the rest of this or not?"
"Yes, I want to hear the rest of it."
He was gently rubbing her arm. She never wanted him to stop, and as soon as that thought came into her mind, she pushed his hand away.
"When I heard my mother had died, I wanted to go home, and that's when Ezekiel started locking me in my room. I heard him tell Lewis I was his meal ticket. It was a horrible time. The shock of losing my mother put everything in perspective. I knew I was chasing a fool's dream and didn't want fame or fortune. I kept thinking about my father and what he'd told me. I
could use my talent for good or bad. The choice was up to me. I made up my mind that I would only sing for money when it was absolutely necessary."
"You sang for money in the saloon."
"Yes, but I did so out of necessity, not vanity, and I only sang hymns. We needed money for food and shelter."
"You have almost five thousand dollars," he reminded her.
"But that isn't my money. It belongs to Reverend Kerriman and his families."
He nodded to let her know he understood. "Tell me how you managed to get the money away from Ezekiel."
"One afternoon when we were in New Orleans I was sitting in the garden of a lovely old church and I happened to see Thomas in the courtyard. He was talking to Ezekiel, and I could see how upset he was. Ezekiel wasn't upset though. He was laughing and mocking Thomas."
"Where was your guard?"
"Lewis was assigned to me that day. I let him lock me in my room, and then I snuck out."
"Through the window."
"Yes, I went out through the window and ran back to the courtyard. I heard Ezekiel boast that he had collected over four thousand dollars and that he wasn't going to give Thomas one cent."
"And what did Thomas do?"
"He threatened to go to the authorities, and Ezekiel went into a rage. He told him he'd kill him if he said a word to anyone. Thomas didn't believe him at first, but Ezekiel told him he'd killed before and he could kill again.
"Lewis and Herman started beating Thomas. He fell to the ground, and then Ezekiel kicked him over and over again. I was so terrified for him I couldn't even scream. I ran toward him to make them stop pounding him, but some other people got there first. Lewis and Herman ran. Ezekiel didn't run though. As arrogant as ever, he turned around and strolled back to the church."
"And that's when you decided to steal the money from him, isn't it?"
"Yes. I went to his room and found it right away under his mattress. The stupid man slept on it every night. I put it in a satchel, and then I left."
"To go to Rosehill?"
She shook her head. "Thomas was taken to the hospital, and I hid in New Orleans and waited for him to recover so I could give him the money. I didn't dare go and visit him because I was afraid of being spotted by Ezekiel's men, and when I finally got up enough courage to sneak in during the night, I found out he'd already left for Kansas."
"And that's where you're headed now, isn't it?"
"Yes," she answered. "When I left New Orleans, I was going to go directly to the settlement in Kansas, but then I started worrying about Ezekiel. He knew I had seen what he and his men had done to Thomas, and he had to have figured out why I took the money. I was afraid he would follow me, and I didn't like the idea of being ambushed along the way."
"So you came to Rosehill."
"I thought the ranch was a perfect place to hide for a little while, and I was so sure Ezekiel wouldn't follow me there."
"I wish to God you had told me all of this when we were in the library together."
"I didn't want you to get involved. It was my problem, and I had to take care of it. If I had confided in you, you would have insisted on taking the money to Thomas for me, which would have put you in danger. Isn't that so?"
"Yes," he agreed.
"I don't want anyone else to give Thomas the money. It's important to me that he know I wasn't involved in Ezekiel's scheme."
"I'm sure he already knows that."
"I also want to tell him how sorry I am, but I have to be realistic. Ezekiel isn't going to give up, is he?"
"No, he isn't," he said. "Five thousand dollars is worth his trouble."
"Will you promise me something?" She pushed his arm away and turned to face him. "If anything happens to me, or if we should get separated, will you take the money to Thomas?"
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"Adam, the money's important to those people. It will buy food and clothes and peace of mind. Promise me," she demanded.
"I promise."
She bowed her head. "I can't imagine what you must think of me. I was so naive and stupid and vain and…"
He stopped her from berating herself by tilting her chin up and kissing her. His mouth brushed over hers in a gentle, undemanding caress.
"You're good-hearted," he whispered gruffly.
She pulled back. "I can't let you think that. I'm not good-hearted. If I hadn't been so full of myself, I would have seen through Ezekiel right away. I acted like a fool, but I've learned my lesson. Now do you understand why I've become so cynical?"
Because she was being so earnest, he didn't dare laugh. He couldn't contain his smile though. "I understand you might want to be cynical, but, sweetheart, you haven't quite mastered it yet. There isn't anything cynical about you. You're one of the most trusting souls I've ever met. You have a beautiful heart, Genevieve."
"You did it again," she whispered.
He was slowly pulling her onto his lap. She didn't resist and, in fact, put her arms around his neck.
She stared into his eyes and thought that he was the most amazingly perfect man in the whole world. How would she ever have the strength to leave him?
"What did I do?" he asked.
"You called me sweetheart," she told him in a breathless whisper. "You mustn't do that anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I like it," she stammered. "And now you're going to kiss me again, aren't you? And you really shouldn't. When the time comes for us to go our separate ways, it's going to be very difficult for me, and if you keep kissing me, I'll end up miserable. I have to go to Paris, and you have to go back home. We should just be friends, shouldn't we? But, Adam, I think I really want you to kiss me now. Just one, last kiss, and then we…"
"Shake hands?" he suggested dryly.
"Yes, or you could give me a peck on the cheek, the way friends do."
She wanted friendship and nothing more? Didn't she understand they had gone way past that stage? Maybe it was his fault, he decided. He hadn't told her how he felt about her. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it, much less discuss it. He knew he cared for her, but as he did with everything else, he wanted to think about all the ramifications before h
e told her.
His voice was deceptively mild when he said, "I think you need to get something straight in your head. I don't kiss my friends, I don't peck my friends, and I sure as certain don't call my friends sweetheart."
"We can't become involved."
She really was an exasperating woman. "We are involved."
She looked miserable. "We're all wrong for each other. You do realize that, don't you? You want peace and quiet. I'm a troublemaker."
"No, you're not. You're aggravating and as stubborn as can be, but you aren't a troublemaker, and I'm definitely not your friend."
She was slowly pulling back from him. He wasn't about to let her get away. He jerked her hard against his chest, ignoring her startled cry of surprise. His hand cupped the back of her head, and as he was moving toward her, he whispered, "I never had a chance, did I?"
She didn't understand what he meant, and he was too busy kissing her to explain.
His mouth was warm and firm against hers. It wasn't a friendly kiss. He made sure of that. He coaxed her mouth open, and his tongue swept inside to mate with hers. She began to respond, timidly at first and then with growing passion. He melted away her inhibitions in a matter of heartbeats, and, Lord, she tasted as sweet and fresh as he remembered. He couldn't get enough of her. Passion flowed between them as his mouth slanted over hers again and again, and when at last he forced himself to pull back, he couldn't seem to draw a proper breath. Her own shortness of breath was music to his ears.
The hell he was her friend.
"Now do you want to shake my hand?" he asked, driving his point home.
His sarcasm was lost on her. She was blissfully content snuggled up against him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck and her eyes closed in sweet surrender to the moment.
He held her for a long while in his arms. His hands tenderly caressed her back, and all he wanted to think about was her soft body. Unfortunately, thoughts of Ezekiel Jones kept intruding.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Ezekiel Jones," he said.
"I knew it had to be something unpleasant. You're squeezing the breath out of me, and your muscles have become rigid."
He forced himself to relax and loosened his grip on her. "Is that better?"
"Yes," she answered. "I should probably get off your lap, but I don't want to move," she admitted. "I was also thinking about Ezekiel. Do you think he was telling the truth when he said he had gotten away with murder? Or was he just trying to scare us?"
"I think he was telling the truth, and I'd sure be interested in finding out the particulars. You told me Ezekiel changed his name. Do you know what his real name is?"
"Henry Stevens," she answered. "I heard Lewis call him by his full name once. Ezekiel became furious and threatened dire consequences if he ever called him by his real name again. The stupid man was yelling so loud most of the choir heard him."
Adam filed the information away. Henry Stevens. He wouldn't forget the name again. Had Ezekiel changed his name because he was a wanted man, or had the crime gone unreported? Adam decided to find out as soon as possible.
"When we get to Salt Lake City, I think I'd like to pay a visit to the marshal's office."
"I doubt anyone's there. Don't you remember Mr. Steeple told us that three U.S. marshals were in Middleton, investigating the bank robbery?"
The plan came to him all of a sudden, and he found himself smiling in anticipation. His idea was perfect, and if it worked, it would be well worth the risk. Ezekiel would get what was coming to him, and Adam wouldn't have to kill him. There were a lot of ifs involved. If he could find a safe place for Genevieve, and if he could trick Ezekiel into following him to
Middleton, and if the marshals were indeed there, then Adam would lead the bastard right into their hands.
"I think we should split up," she said.
She'd spoken his thought aloud. "Is that so?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "One of us should lead Ezekiel north, while the other takes the money to Kansas."
He shook his head. "The money should go in a bank until I've dealt with Ezekiel and his friends."
"Are you crazy? There are bank robbers roaming these hills. They'll steal it. My plan makes sense."
"I've got a better plan. We'll find a safe place for you, and I'll take care of Ezekiel."
"It's out of the question. This is my problem and I have to solve it."
"No, it's our problem, but I'm going to solve it. "You aren't going with me. I would be worried about you the entire time, and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on what I needed to do."
"Such as?"
"Putting an end to Ezekiel's terror tactics."
"It's very sweet of you to be worried about me, but, Adam, I won't be left out. Do you expect me to sit quietly in a parlor somewhere while you put yourself in such danger? I won't hear of it."
He smiled. "I wasn't thinking of putting you in a parlor. I have another place in mind where I can be absolutely certain Ezekiel won't go near you or the money."
"There isn't any such place."
He kissed her again just to get her to stop arguing with him. "Trust me, Genevieve. I've thought of the perfect place."
Chapter Eleven
He put her in jail. Even though she had to admit it was a perfect place to keep the money safe, she still wasn't happy about Adam's choice, because she knew he expected her to stay inside while he went gallivanting after Ezekiel and his men. If she had had a few minutes alone with him, she would have let him know just how unhappy she was, but the jail was crowded with lawmen, and she wasn't about to criticize Adam in front of strangers. She. did glare at him though when he suggested she might be more comfortable inside one of the empty cells.
She sat down in a chair next to Sheriff Norton's desk, put her satchel on her lap, and folded her hands on top. Adam stood behind her. After removing a stack of papers from his chair, the sheriff sat down and tilted back against the wall. He was an older man with a big belly and melancholy eyes. His face reminded Genevieve of a hound dog's. His jowls extended past his chin, and when he smiled-which seemed to be most of the time-the folds of extra skin on either side of his face wrinkled up to his ears. He was very kind to her and Adam, and she liked him immensely. His voice radiated fatherly concern when he asked how he could be of help, and he listened patiently without interrupting once while Adam explained why they were there.
Two U.S. marshals leaned against the wall and listened. The men were so similar in appearance and attitude they could have been brothers. They were about the same height, nearly six feet, and had the same worn and world-weary expressions. The more muscular one was named Davidson, and the other was called Morgan.
Their presence should have been a comfort, but they made her nervous instead. Their gazes seemed to bore right through her. There was an air of danger about them as well. She couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors they must have seen that would have turned them into such frightening men. Her mind conjured up one horrible possibility after another, and before long she was fighting the urge to jump up and leave.
She really wished they would stop staring at her. She kept expecting one of them to pounce on her, and she glanced over at them every other minute just to make sure they hadn't moved.
Adam must have sensed her unease because he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
After he had finished explaining their circumstances to the sheriff, including details she wished he hadn't mentioned, Marshal Davidson suggested that Genevieve look through the posters of wanted men to see if Ezekiel was one of them.
The sheriff pointed to a knee-high stack of papers on the floor in the corner behind him. "There they are, but I'll wager you it will take you the rest of the day to sort through them."
"Adam, are you certain Jones and his friends are following you?" Morgan asked the question but watched Genevieve all the while.
"Yes, I made sure they could easily follow my tracks to Middleton."
Davidson took a step toward her. She visibly jumped and then became angry.
"Gentlemen, what are you staring at?" she demanded.
The marshals glanced at one another before turning back to her. Davidson raised an eyebrow and looked a little sheepish, but Morgan maintained his glacial expression. She didn't think the man had blinked in the past five minutes.
"I was looking at you, ma'am," Davidson said.
"I wish you wouldn't," she said. "I swear to heaven you make me want to confess to a crime just to get you to stop."
"Did you have a particular crime in mind?" Morgan asked. A hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
The marshal became human to her. She began to relax. "No," she answered. "I would have to make one up. Do you know how intimidating you are? Yes, of course you do. That's how you interrogate criminals, isn't it?"
"Genevieve, what are you talking about?" Adam asked.
"You wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain. You do the very same thing."
Davidson burst into laughter. "Ma'am, did you really impersonate Ruby Leigh…?"
"Diamond," Morgan supplied with a grin.
"You sure don't look like the kind of woman who would go by such a name," Davidson remarked.
She frowned at the marshal. "How exactly do I look?"
"Refined," Davidson answered. "You're a lady, and I'm having trouble picturing you up on a stage in a saloon."
"I didn't impersonate anyone, at least not on purpose. Mr. Steeple tricked me. Adam, you really didn't need to tell the marshals I sang in a saloon."
He squeezed her shoulder again. Davidson came to his defense. "He was telling us how he first spotted Ezekiel, so he had to mention the saloon."
"I assure you I'm not in the habit of entertaining drunken men, and I only sang church songs."
"Did you really make all of those men cry?" Morgan asked.
"Not on purpose."
Her answer made them laugh again. Her embarrassment intensified. She waited until the noise died down before suggesting in a righteous stammer that they tell her what they were going to do about Ezekiel and his friends.
Norton reached over to pat her hand. "Don't you be worrying about it, little lady."