Letting out her breath, her heartbeat slowed as she turned over and resettled herself. It had been hard enough falling asleep knowing Nate was out there, somewhere, hunting down a gang of outlaws. Something she knew deep inside that he had no business doing at all, especially after what had happened with the man at the edge of town the other day.
Ruthann closed her eyes again and said another prayer for her husband. She only needed him to come back safely. Then they could talk more. What could she say that would convince him to let her hear the worries that seemed to consume him whole at times? He’d been so closed off when—
A crash sounded from downstairs.
Ruthann sat up in bed, her hands flat on either side of her. Her heart had seemed to stop altogether this time.
It could be Nate. Of course, that was the most logical answer. She didn’t know what time it was, but perhaps their search had been fruitless and they’d returned quickly back to Cañon City.
But Nate knew his way around the studio better than anyone. Even in the dark.
Another crash sounded, this one accompanied by the sound of glass breaking.
It wasn’t Nate.
Ruthann’s stomach seemed to heave up somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. Whoever was downstairs was someone who shouldn’t be there.
She ought to lock the apartment door. And then shove a piece of furniture against it, the settee perhaps. That’s what Nate would want her to do. That’s what would keep her the safest. Then whoever was making that noise downstairs could steal what they wished from the studio and be gone.
But what could they possibly want to steal? Nate didn’t keep money down there. The only items of value were his photography equipment, and that was useless to anyone except a fellow photographer. There were two other photographers in town, and both had been perfectly friendly to Nate. In fact, they’d all met up for lunch a time or two to discuss the profession and the latest advances in it. If it was a thief downstairs, he was going to find himself sorely disappointed.
There was only one other possibility, and Ruthann felt sick just thinking about it.
She had a choice to make: lock and bar the door or confront the intruder.
Hands trembling, Ruthann wrapped a shawl around herself. It would take too long to put her shoes on. Besides, she’d be quieter barefoot. As another crash sounded from downstairs, she crossed the room to her trunk, where she’d stowed the gun Nate had taken from the blond man with the scar. Originally, she’d put it in the parlor, but he’d kept looking at it as if its very presence bothered him, so she’d tucked it away in the bedroom.
Now, it felt cold and weighty in her hand—and she didn’t have the first inkling about how to use it. But hopefully that wouldn’t matter. All she needed to do was scare away whoever it was downstairs.
She crossed silently across the parlor to the door. She paused for a moment and pressed her ear to the wood. The sound of footsteps floated up, as did some words. Ruthann couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was clear there were two distinct voices. At least it wasn’t more.
When the sound of something shattering made her jump, she placed her hand on the doorknob. It was now or never.
She turned the knob and prayed. Nate would want her to stay safe. But she couldn’t, not when she knew someone was down there destroying everything he’d worked for. She would never forgive herself if she stayed up here and hid in the dark when she could have defended his business.
Letting out one deep, shuddering breath, she pressed the door open. With the gun held out in front of her in what she hoped was a convincing manner, Ruthann slowly stepped down the stairs.
Every noise was clearer out here. The items they tossed against the walls, the heavy fall of their boots, and—
“Oughtta take this,” one of them said. “It’s a shame to leave it.”
“We ain’t here for stealing,” the other one replied just as the sound of something tumbling to the ground echoed across the room.
Ruthann swallowed, trying to suppress the very strong desire to turn around and run right back up the stairs. She pressed herself against the wall instead, as flat as possible.
“Suppose she’s heard us?” The first man chuckled after he spoke, and Ruthann realized he was talking abouther.
“Had to have by now. Come on, let’s finish and get out of here. Maybe we’ll finally get paid.” The second man spoke brusquely, as if this were all about business for him.
Ruthann’s insides twisted. They knew she was here. They’d come here on purpose, during a time when she was alone. For what? To scare her?
Instead of frightening her, the thought made her stiffen her shoulders and frown. Well, one thing was for certain. They didn’t know she was right there. And they didn’t know she was holding a gun.
Fire raged up from somewhere inside. These men were here to scare her and, she suspected since she couldn’t see around the wall, destroy Nate’s studio.
They didn’t think she’d come downstairs, much less fight back. She only wished whoever it was that was paying them was here too.
Armed with the knowledge that her presence downstairs would surprise them—and the pistol in her hand—Ruthann stepped down the last two stairs and emerged into the studio.
