“I pray you’ll be able to spare a couple of hours for Cinnamon’s sake. I’m quite lost when it comes to her willful spirit.”
Were they still talking about the horse?
Thea sat down on the piano stool and opened the music sheets. “I’ll start with….”
Morning Fawn shifted in her seat and, for once, gave Thea at least the appearance of her undivided attention.
Nicholas stretched his hand across the back of the sofa and whispered, “We’d make a race of it if?—”
Morning Fawn waved her hand to hush him and pointed to the piano. Music flowed from the instrument as Thea’s fingers alternately pounded and swept the keys. Eight o’clock and Devon wasn’t home yet. A lonesome wind rattled the windows. Was he headed back in the dark—or sitting on Frieda’s sofa? Or was he playing cards in some smoky saloon? Drinking and gambling all night long, too drunk to travel home? That didn’tsound like the man she knew. But how much did she really know?
Too many questions.
As soon as the music ended, she excused herself and headed for the stairs, but Nicholas, quick on the draw, caught her by the elbow. “A word, Miss Beth.” He motioned toward the front door. “We’ll only step out onto the porch for a moment or two. I promise not to keep you.”
Tension knotted her shoulders, but she followed him into the damp night air. Lights from the hallway flowed onto the porch through the tall, narrow windows that flanked the door.
As soon as it closed, Nicholas turned to face her. “I was right about one thing I said in the hallway. It’s that lieutenant, isn’t it?” He tugged on the lapels of his frock coat. “Your kidnapper has become your hero?”
The nerve of the man. She crossed her arms. “The lieutenant is none of your concern.”
He hooked his thumbs around his suspenders, beneath the straight bottom edge of his waistcoat. “I’ve got half a mind to investigate him.”
She gaped. “And what would you investigate? I’m sure my uncle checked his references before he hired him to look for me. And as for his character?—”
“To be frank with you, Beth, I question why he’s here. He’s in no hurry to return to his regiment, taking the long way around to do it, coming all the way back here to Texas from Mississippi where he was supposedly captured.”
“I’m sure he gave his word to the Yankees he wouldn’t return to fighting—at least, not right away. I’ve heard that’s how prisoner exchanges work. And as for the rest, he’s been waiting for his eye to heal.”
“You’re certainly ready to defend him, aren’t you?” A cool smile crept across his lips.
“I don’t like to see anyone bad-mouthed unless they deserve it.”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Does he deserve it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Investigate all you like. But something written on a piece of paper about how many days he’s been absent from his regiment won’t win you any gratitude from me, or strolls either.” She gathered her skirts and pivoted toward the heavy oak door.
“What would win your gratitude, Miss Beth?”
She turned and nailed him with a glare. “Nothing I can think of at the moment.”
“Think about that piece of empty land in Parker County. If that man is a shirker, a deserter, what does that say about his character? And the fact that he was so desperate for money that he hired out to kidnap you and tear you from your home? One might wonder if he had to kill anyone to get in and out of Comanche territory alive. What else might he do for money? And what makes you think he has the wherewithal to build you a house or a ranch on that land, or anything else, for that matter? A drifter is a drifter. No settling down.”
“You’ve given it so much thought, Mr. Moyer, why don’t you talk with Reynolds and ask him yourself? As for my part, just because I turned you down for a walk doesn’t mean I’m ready to beg another man for a proposal.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Beth. The man isn’t worthy of you.” He stuck out his chest. “I’d love to have another opportunity to deepen our acquaintance. There’s a ball coming up at Robson’s castle Christmas Eve. I’d enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t care for balls.” Not that she’d ever been to one, but if it meant hanging on his arm for the whole evening, she wanted nothing to do with it. She grabbed the door and hurried in.
Was there any truth to Nicholas’s accusations? What else had Devon done?
She wouldn’t think on it. She’d seen the man pray. She knew his character. Didn’t she?
Cold and stiff, Devon made his way through the back alleyways and side streets to the Schramms’ home. A sleepless night spent watching the shift changes of the troops guarding the quartermaster depot and the cotton warehouse had taken its toll.
