That was interesting. Perhaps Papa thought she’d grow tired of Colorado and return on her own to beg forgiveness and marry Mr. Lindstrom. Well, that would certainly never happen. She’d stay here until she was old and gray before she married that man.
Mr. Becker was watching her with a curious expression, as if he wished to know her thoughts. And suddenly, she wanted him to know she was more than some disobedient, wealthy girl.
“It was an arranged marriage,” she said quickly, looking out across the road as she spoke. “My father wishes me to marry a man more than twice my age for money and for the connections it will bring him. I doubt he told you. But that’s why I’m here.”
She drew her gaze back to Mr. Becker. Those green eyes held hers, and his expression was unreadable. Finally, he nodded, although he said nothing.
Perhaps she ought not have told him. Feeling a bit silly, Charlotte looked down and occupied herself with rearranging the package of ribbon under her arm. He either didn’t care one way or the other, or he agreed with her father.
“I plan to return home once he agrees to let me choose who I marry,” she added quietly, more to remind herself than give Mr. Becker the information.
Mr. Becker didn’t react to those words either. Instead, he extended an arm. “May I escort you back to your boarding house? If you say no, I regret to inform you that I’ll be following from a distance anyhow.”
The hint of a smile twitched his lips on an otherwise serious expression, and Charlotte found herself laughing. “All right. I suppose you may.”
When she crooked her arm around his, he tucked her elbow securely against him. It was a protective gesture, one more suited for a courting pair than for two people who were essentially strangers to each other. Part of Charlotte wanted to yank her arm away and decree her independence. Yet the other part reveled in his nearness.
Her face went warm at the last thought. What was wrong with her? Mr. Becker was a man hired by her father to do exactly this. As much as she might admire the way his hair fell from under his hat or how broad his shoulders were or the low growl of his voice when he spoke with any man he thought was a threat, she’d be a fool to give in to those sorts of feelings.
“Tell me,” she said in a tone she hoped was light and didn’t convey anything that was truly running through her mind. “How did my father find you?”
“Gold,” he replied.
“I’m sorry?” Charlotte glanced up at him, but his eyes were on everything that was around them.
“I worked a while for the Granger Stage Line Company on their runs out of gold country,” he said. “They paid well for any man brave enough—or foolish enough—to ride shotgun messenger out of those towns. Mr. Montgomery found one of my associates, who recommended me.”
“That sounds like dangerous work.” Charlotte tried and failed to imagine what it must have been like.
“It was that.” His eyes, darkened like the color of moss in the shade, found hers.
She swallowed, suddenly thankful he’d survived it to be here now. “Why did you leave it?”
“I’d had enough of being shot. Men get desperate when wealth is at stake.”
“You were shot?” Her eyes widened at the thought. No wonder he’d left that job.
“Twice,” he said with a wince. “You’d think once would be enough, but I was hard-headed enough to go back for a second one.”
She smiled at the self-deprecation. “Well, I’m glad the bullets were not life-threatening.”
“Or else I wouldn’t be here now, following you about town?”
Charlotte laughed. “Precisely.” She paused outside a photography studio as an idea blossomed. “Would you be opposed to helping me? Considering I imagine you must continue tracing my every step?”
His mouth lifted in a half-smile, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. Why, of all things, did Mr. Becker have to be so handsome? Couldn’t her father have hired a gargoyle of a man instead?
He considered her for a moment, and just as Charlotte thought she might explode from the waiting, he nodded. “I don’t see why not. After all, the sooner you locate your friend, the sooner you’ll stop gallivanting around town.”
“Hmm. Well, thank you.” She began to move forward again, a smile playing upon her lips.
Mr. Becker took a large stride so as not to lose hold of her elbow. “You will, right? Quit visiting saloons and shadowy boarding houses?” He asked the questions as if he expected her to ride half-dressed down Main Street next.
Charlotte gave him a mischievous grin. It was far too much to let him relax just yet. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” he repeated, his voice on the edge of exasperated. He shook his head. “Ought to have taken that position guarding the prison instead.”
And Charlotte laughed. Somehow, with Mr. Becker at her side, her worries felt less troublesome. He’d help her find Ruby, she’d while away her time in Cañon City in a pleasant manner, and then, she’d return home when her father relented.
