Chapter Three
WHOwasthis woman?
Mark clenched his fists as she flounced into a chair, clearly showing no intentions of leaving this place. With a quick glare back at the weaselly man at the bar—who shrank back and held up his hands in surrender—Mark paced across the room to the table Miss Montgomery had chosen.
There was an empty chair across from her, but he didn’t sit. “This isn’t a place for a lady.” He kept his words measured, his tone even. She couldn’t suspect his interest in her was anything other than a gentleman’s concern for a woman facing danger.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, sir.” She paused. “And how would you know I’m a lady?”
“Your clothing,” he said. “And it didn’t appear as if you were looking after yourself very well at all.”
“I’ll have you know that I was just about to slap that man across the face before you so rudely stepped in front of me. And if that hadn’t stopped him, my brother showed me how to make a fist and punch a man if I ever needed to do so.” She was entirely serious.
Mark actually found himself lost for words. The image of the well-dressed lady in front of him slamming a fist into that man’s face played across his mind. He had absolutely no doubt she would have done it, too. Miss Charlotte Montgomery continued to be the exact opposite of everything he’d expected her to be.
Still, even if she hadn’t needed his rescue, he had to convince her to leave this place. He couldn’t fathom trying to explain to Chester Montgomery that his eldest daughter had gotten herself into a fight in a saloon.
“I don’t suppose you’re familiar with any other drinking establishments that I might visit?” she asked, making no move whatsoever to stand.
Mark blinked at her. For the love of all that was good,whatwas she thinking? Did she have some sort of predilection toward whiskey? He never would have thought—
“I donotimbibe.” She stood now, giving him a withering look.
“I didn’t think—” He paused. His goal here was twofold: first, to keep her safe, and second, to do so without her knowing who he was. “Forgive me. It’s only that as a gentleman, I couldn’t possibly live with myself if I thought you to be in any sort of trouble.”
That seemed to soften her a bit. At least, she looked less likely to spew another set of barbed words at him.
Instead, she watched him a moment, as if she were assessing his worth. “I was told that the most likely place to find information about someone is a saloon.”
Thatwas intriguing. Chester Montgomery had indicated his daughter had run away for no reason whatsoever. “What sort of information are you trying to discover?” He paused, realizing that might seem too inquisitive for a man who was supposed to be a stranger. “I might be able to help.”
She stood then, hope clearly blooming in her chocolate-colored eyes. “Are you from Cañon City, Mr. . . .?”
“Becker,” he supplied. “Mark Becker. And yes, I’ve lived here.” There was no need to detail that it was only for a few months here and there. His line of work tended to keep him moving from place to place.
“I’m Miss Montgomery.” She kept her gaze pinned to him, and found himself growing somewhat uncomfortable with her perusal. Miss Charlotte Montgomery was bolder than half the men Mark knew. “I’m looking for a woman I knew back in Maryland. A Miss Ruby Lee, and her fiancé—or potentially her husband—a Mr. Bertram McNab.”
The names were unfamiliar to Mark, and he resolved to inquire about them to Mr. Montgomery’s man as soon as he had a free moment to make his way to the telegraph office. But right now he had to figure out how to keep Miss Montgomery from striding off to the next saloon.
