“But . . . why? Why would he want it so badly?” She tried and failed to keep the tremble from her voice.
Arlen’s eyes went soft, and his hands relaxed. “Please don’t fear.” He stepped forward and drew her into him. And Josie let him, her eyes closing as she rested her face against his chest. She was safe here. All would be well.
Until Mr. Finnegan’s words played through her head again unbidden. She turned to look up at Arlen. She had no reason to believe this Finnegan. And yet . . . could she be absolutely certain she could trust Arlen? She’d only known him a couple of weeks.
And yet he seemed utterly smitten with her. Her! Josie Cummings Gresham, who didn’t care a whit about the latest fashions and likely would have chopped her hair short if the idea hadn’t completely appalled both her father and her brother. Josie, who barely noticed dirt on her trousers and only owned a single dress. The one who preferred the company of horses and cattle to a ladies’ sewing circle.
What did he possibly see in her?
She sighed in frustration. It was so hard to trust him when she couldn’t trust that anyone would want to marryher.
Chapter Thirteen
Arlen paused outsidethe livery, trying to decide on the most likely place to start asking questions. Surely someone else had interacted with Mr. Finnegan. And perhaps they knew more, such as who the man worked for, or what his work was prior to acting as a buying agent for an unknown man.
The boardinghouse was a likely place to begin, followed perhaps by the sheriff. Mind made up, Arlen directed himself to the boardinghouse. The establishment was nearby, and was well-kept if not a bit dim inside. He only hoped he wouldn’t run into Finnegan himself while he was here asking questions about the man.
But he was in luck. Instead of Finnegan, he immediately met with the operator of the place and introduced himself. “I’m looking for information about one of your guests. A Tim Finnegan.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the comings and goings of my guests, sir. Suffice it to say that Mr. Finnegan and his friends are indeed guests.”
“Friends?”
“Yes.” The man looked over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work that must be done.”
He wouldn’t get more out of this man, but that was just fine, considering he’d already given Arlen one very important bit of information. “Thank you for your time.”
Friends. Or were they business partners? How many? And who were they? The questions echoed through Arlen’s mind as he looked up at the building once he was outside, as if he could see through the walls and identify them one by one.
He needed to visit the sheriff. If the man was any good at his job, he kept track of who came and went from his town. Arlen made his way down the Stage Coach Road until he reached the sheriff’s office. He entered, calling a greeting as he pressed the door open.
Inside, a dark-haired man stood up from behind a desk.
“Good morning,” Arlen said. “I’m Arlen Thomas, newly arrived in town.”
“Yes, former sheriff of Albany County in the Wyoming Territory, right?” The taller man gave him a friendly smile and stretched out his hand. “Always good to meet a fellow lawman. I’m Sheriff Michael Darcy.”
