It was a very fine mouth, she thought, pressing her own lips together. Intriguing because of the secret it might be holding back. Maddening because of the amusement it took no pains to hide.
If Thaddeus Frost was a handsome man—and Fiona’s presence on his arm was evidence that this was the case—thenRemington Frost was, well, he was just about as beautiful as a man could be and still have his feet firmly in his boots.
Phoebe listened for the sounds of those boots now. Nothing. It never occurred to her that he would not return, only that he might not return before the strength of her shivering shattered her bones. Shifting and resettling the blanket across her shoulders did not help. She stamped the ground, walked around the tree in ever-widening circles before she spiraled toward it again, and briskly rubbed her hands together. When nothing she did helped any longer, she dropped to the ground and huddled against the trunk.
• • •
Remington pulled Bullet up hard when he heard the approach of men and horses. The horses were quieter than the men, which he supposed was good in this case because he recognized one of the voices right off. He waited until they passed some fifty yards away and then he followed. If they didn’t recognize him immediately, at least his position at their backs would make it more difficult for them to shoot him.
There were three of them. That number alone would have made them suspicious if Remington had not been the cautious sort, but he could not think of a single reason that Sheriff Brewer’s deputy would have been involved in the robbery of No. 486, and it was surely Blue Armstrong’s Georgia drawl that he’d heard. Neither of the men riding abreast of Blue had the shoulder breadth that Phoebe had described, and certainly the deputy did not.
Even as he thought it, Remington saw Blue raise his hand and halt the three-man search party. The horses shifted, but the men did not. They fell quiet, and it was into that quiet that Remington called out and identified himself.
“Easy,” he said as they began to turn. “Don’t draw your guns or I might think I’m mistaken.”
“Jumpin’ Jesus on a griddle! Like to scare us to death, Remington.”
Grinning, Remington holstered his Colt and urgedBullet forward. He spoke quietly when he reached them. “Jumpin’ Jesus on a griddle? That’s one I haven’t heard you use before.”
Blue Armstrong, as much a fixture in Frost Falls as the canted sign above the Songbird Saloon, removed his hand from the butt of his weapon and lowered his voice to a whisper as well, or what passed for a whisper if one’s throat was full of gravel. “Been saving it for the right occasion. Seemed like it should be now.”
Remington nodded at Bob Washburn and Hank Greely. Washburn managed the bank and Greely owned the livery. Neither of them were candidates to carry out a robbery and abduction. “Where are the others?”
Blue used a thickly knuckled forefinger to tip his hat back a notch. “’Course you’d know there’d be others. Stands to reason, don’t it? Your pa, the sheriff, and Ben left the ransom for the little gal at Cooper’s Rock and then headed northwest. We’re the right flank, but except for you, we ain’t heard or seen nothin’. Sutherland, Hopewell, and Jeremiah Ripley are the left flank. I expect it’s the same for them, else there’d have been a dust up.”
“Northwest from Cooper’s Rock?”
The deputy nodded. “Saw them go but we’re charged with scouting for the robbers, same as the others. Brewer told us there’d be a message waiting for them at the rock telling them where to go next. I figure it’s the cabin up on Thunder Point. Our instructions are to stay around here. Keep a look out. Sooner or later, someone’s comin’ for the money.”
“Hmm.” Probably later, Remington thought. If he’d heard the deputy talking, then there was good reason to believe the robbers had also. Maybe they would try to make their approach from the left, in which case there was a fair to middling chance that the other search party might spot them, provided, of course, that Sutherland, Hopewell, and Ripley were not also given to noisy speculation.
Remington directed the party to the tree line where there was better cover. “She’s not at Thunder Point,” Remington told them when they’d settled their horses.
“Of course she ain’t,” said Armstrong. “Because you ain’t. Your pa, once he knew for sure that you were on the train and headin’ out to find her, figured you for being her best hope.”
Bob Washburn pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “It seems Thad did not misplace his faith. Where is she? Close by?”
“Not as close as I’d like.”
“But she’s safe,” Greely said, seeking confirmation.
“Yes. When I left her, she was safe.”
Blue raised his knobby chin a few degrees so he could scratch the underside. His mouth quirked and he moved it back and forth several times as though swishing a mouthful of water. “Now, see? That’s what I’m not understanding. Why ain’t she with you? Why did you leave her?”
Trust Blue to get right to the point, Remington thought. He avoided the explanation by asking, “How did anyone know to leave the ransom at Cooper’s Rock?”
“Damndest thing, that. Some lady from the train saw Miss Apple’s reticule on the lobby desk at the Butterworth and made sure it got handed over to the sheriff. There was a notepad inside that had a message about the money and where to put it. Bob here took it right out of the bank’s safe.”
Mr. Washburn modestly waved his contribution aside. “Brewer couldn’t find anyone who saw it being placed on the front desk, but a number of passengers saw it lying there.”
Remington considered the possibilities. “The woman who returned it. Was it Mrs. Jacob C. Tyler?”
“That doesn’t sound right,” said Washburn. He looked to Blue for help, but the deputy shook his head, helpless to recall the name.
Greely said, “Bancroft. Her name was Bancroft. I heard Ben tell someone.”
“My second guess,” said Remington. “Miss Apple’s reticule was on that lobby desk because one of Miss Apple’s abductors put it there.”
