Undercover Bride (9781634094573) Read online

  “Nonsense. I promised your dear mother that I would take care of you.”

  “And no one could have done a better job than you.” His widowed mother died when he was six, and his aunt devoted herself to his upbringing at great sacrifice. That’s what made it so difficult to stand his ground now.

  “Surely you see the advantage of getting to know my bride first before we tie the knot. Let the children get to know her.”

  “Hogwash! There’ll be plenty of chances for the children to get to know her after you’ve made an honest woman of her.”

  The reverend tucked his handkerchief in his pocket. “It seems to me that the bride should have something to say about this.”

  Garrett inclined his head toward the bedroom where Miss Taylor had been closeted since they’d arrived home. “She’s resting from her journey.”

  “Did you tell her about Toby?” his aunt asked.

  Garrett inhaled. His eight-year-old son had become a sore subject between them. He wasn’t a bad kid, just curious and adventuresome and far too active for his aunt to handle.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Tell me what?”

  All eyes turned toward the young woman standing at the entranceway. Suddenly Garrett had trouble finding his voice. Miss Taylor’s good looks hadn’t escaped his notice, of course, but nothing prepared him for the way she appeared at that moment—all rested and dewy-eyed. If her big blue eyes and wide smile weren’t enough to make a man notice, her auburn hair and delicate features certainly were. He had the sudden need to protect her, not only from his aunt’s critical eye but also from all the ugliness of his past.

  Aunt Hetty gave an impatient nod. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “Yes, of course.” Surprised to catch himself staring, he motioned Maggie to his side. She barely came up to his shoulders, and her every move released a delicate fragrance that reminded him of spring. Her easy smile seemed at odds with the alert way she carried herself. She had a dainty nose, a wide, curving mouth, resolute chin, and a graceful, long neck. Her slight but shapely form hardly seemed strong enough to contain her indomitable demeanor. A woman of contradictions.

  Why would such a pretty and intelligent woman consider being a mail-order bride? His mail-order bride.

  “Aunt Hetty, Reverend Holly, it’s my pleasure to introduce Miss Maggie Taylor.”

  Chapter 3

  Maggie smiled as Thomas introduced her. She’d dealt with her share of hard-nosed criminals through the years, but it was hard not to be intimidated by the old woman’s sharp-eyed gaze. The Pinkerton file described Garrett’s aunt as a no-nonsense type and marked her as being perhaps the most difficult to fool. Maggie had hoped to settle in before coming face-to-face with her, but since that was no longer possible, she would simply have to make the best of it.

  She greeted the older woman with an extended hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  His aunt had a surprisingly firm grip. After a quick shake, the older woman withdrew her hand. “Never thought you’d marry a Southerner,” she said, surprising Maggie.

  She was born in the South, but her family moved north when she was four. That made her a Yankee through and through. No one other than Thomas’s aunt had detected anything in her manner or speech tracing back to her early roots.

  Reminding herself to dazzle, Maggie kept a smile plastered on her face. Nothing was wrong with the old lady’s hearing. And the way Thomas’s aunt stared at her, as if seeing right through her, there was nothing wrong with the woman’s eyesight, either.

  “What difference does it make, Hetty?” the reverend asked, breaking the brittle silence. “The war’s been over for a good many years.”

  Garrett nodded. “Yes, it has been.”

  “But the effects linger on,” his aunt said, her gaze boring into her nephew’s scar. He frowned. Taking the hint, she shifted her attention to Maggie. “How old are you?”

  “Aunt Hetty!”

  Maggie turned to Garrett. “It’s all right. I have nothing to hide.” Much. “I’m twenty-six.” She could have said she was younger and probably gotten away with it, but it was wiser to stick with the truth whenever possible. Less to remember that way. Less chance of getting caught in a lie or fabrication.

  Aunt Hetty slanted her head sideways. “That’s rather old for a bride, wouldn’t you say? Why have you waited so long to marry?”

  “My family needed me at home,” Maggie replied. Her real name was Maggie Cartwright, and she had no family. Not anymore.

  Assuming a new identity was never easy. One of the jobs of an undercover agent was to prepare in advance for every possible question or situation. She couldn’t just pose as a mail-order bride; she had to be a mail-order bride.

  Aunt Hetty’s eyes narrowed. “And I take it your family no longer needs you now?”

  In her letters to Thomas she’d written at length about her loving family and the Indiana farm where she grew up—fiction, all of it.

  “No, but this little family does,” Maggie replied with a quick glance at Thomas. Had she said the right thing? Or had she been too presumptuous? It was hard to tell by his stoic expression.

  “Hmm.” The older woman’s face showed reluctant acceptance. “Shall we get on with it, then? Where’s Toby?”

  Maggie’s stomach knotted. “Get on with what?”

  “Why, your wedding, of course,” his aunt replied.

  Maggie felt Garrett stiffen by her side. Obviously he was even less happy to hear this than she was. “I told you we intend to wait,” he snapped.

  Maggie glanced at Garrett’s rigid profile. Waiting was one of the stipulations made clear in her letter to him, but his vehemence worried her. Did he suspect something? Had he changed his mind? Not that she would blame him, of course. After that fiasco at the train station, she wouldn’t be surprised if he called the whole thing off.

  Aunt Hetty’s brow creased. “Have you any idea how it would look, a man and woman living together without benefit of God’s blessing?” His aunt gave a determined shake of her head. “If Miss Taylor stays here, you’ll both be the talk of the town.”

  “I don’t care what people say, and I care even less for God’s blessing.” Belatedly Thomas added, “Sorry, Reverend.”

  His aunt refused to be deterred. “If you don’t care about your reputation, then think about the children’s. Miss Taylor can stay with me. In fact, I insist upon it.”

  “Oh no!” Maggie’s outburst raised even the preacher’s eyebrows. She cleared her throat and started again, this time in a more ladylike tone of voice. “What I mean to say is, I don’t want you to go to any… bother on my account.”

  Aunt Hetty discounted her concern with a wave of her hand. “No bother at all.”

  “What about your health, Hetty?” Reverend Holly asked. “Your heart might not be able to stand the strain of having a guest.”

  Aunt Hetty sniffed. “A little strain is a small price to pay for saving my nephew’s reputation.”

  Garrett opened his mouth to say something, but Maggie laid her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. His aunt had expressed concern for the children. Maggie hoped that was the key to getting the old lady to back down.

  “We want the young ones to get to know me first before I become their stepmother. I’m sure you’ll agree that would be in their best interests. Staying here might be”—akin to sitting on a keg of lit dynamite—“a blessing in disguise.”

  A shadow of indecision flitted across the older woman’s face, and she glanced at the reverend as if seeking his counsel. “I… I don’t know.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” Reverend Holly said. “As long as you and Garrett here conduct yourselves in a”—he cleared his voice and stroked his goatee—“godly manner.”

  Since the minister was staring at her hand still on Garrett’s arm, Maggie quickly pulled it away. “Rest assured that we would never do anything to shame the family or harm the children,” she said with schoolmarm pri
mness.

  “Then it’s settled.” Reverend Holly slapped his hands on his thighs and stood.

  “Not so fast,” Aunt Hetty said, intent upon having the last word. “It’s not settled until we set a date.” She hesitated as if doing a mental check of her calendar. “June’s a lovely time for a wedding, don’t you think? And it’s such a healthy month. Doc Coldwell told me he treated fewer patients that month than any other time of year. What about… the fifteenth?”

  A quick calculation told Maggie that was little more than a month away. Five weeks at the most. She glanced at Thomas, hoping he would object, but he remained silent.

  “That doesn’t give us much time,” she said. She hoped that was all the time needed to do the job she was sent to do, but things always took longer than planned. “The children—”

  “That’s a long time in a child’s life,” Aunt Hetty said in a voice that indicated the matter settled, at least in her own mind. “And if we wait much longer, I might not be around.”

  “Are you moving away?” Maggie asked.

  The older woman gave her a fish-eyed stare. “I’m dying,” she said in a straightforward tone that one might use to express a matter of less concern.

  Maggie drew back, hand on her chest. “I—sI’m sorry,” she stammered. She glanced at Thomas, but he offered no help. If anything, he looked oddly unconcerned about his aunt’s health.

  Aunt Hetty put on her gloves and stood. “Maybe this works out for the best. Now we can plan a proper wedding.”

  Chapter 4

  When Thomas’s aunt left with the minister, Maggie let out a sigh of relief.

  With her piercing looks and pointed questions, Aunt Hetty would have made a fine detective. Never had Maggie felt more like an insect beneath a microscope. It was a good thing his aunt didn’t know her real reason for being there. That was one foe she’d rather not tackle.

  After the two children finished waving good-bye, Thomas shut the door, and she could have sworn she heard him mutter something beneath his breath.

  “I apologize for my aunt,” he said.

  It seemed like an odd thing to say about a woman whose days were numbered. “She’s just concerned about you. I only hope the wedding isn’t too much for her.”

  “Don’t worry about Aunt Hetty.” His eyes were so clear, so blue, so intense as he studied her, she feared he could see right through her disguise and know she was a fraud. “She’ll outlive us all. But she just can’t seem to leave well enough alone.”

  She frowned, not sure she’d heard right. “Are you saying your aunt isn’t dying?”

  His mouth quirked upward. “Let’s just say she suffers from an embarrassing lack of ailments to go with her pains.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her unexpectedly; she couldn’t help herself. So seldom did she get to laugh in her profession. Criminals were not known for their sense of humor.

  His eyes warmed to her laughter, but his attention was soon drawn to his young daughter tugging on his arm. Elise’s hair was more gold than blond, and her eyes a lovely pale blue. She probably took after her mother in appearance.

  In contrast, eight-year-old Toby was the spitting image of his father. His eyes were the same deep shade of blue, and brown hair fell across his forehead from a single part. He looked like a normal active boy, but Thomas’s aunt had indicated otherwise. So what had Thomas not told her?

  “Let’s go outside and give Miss Taylor some privacy,” Thomas said. He opened the door and brushed the children through with a sweep of his arm. “If you need me—”

  She smiled. “I’ll know where to find you.” The blood that rushed to her face surprised her. Either she was a better actress than she thought or the desert heat was adversely affecting her.

  With a quick smile and slight nod, he turned and followed the children outside.

  Grateful for the reprieve, she drew in her breath and wiped her damp hands on her skirt. The hardest part was over—or at least she hoped it was. Now all she had to do was find the seventy thousand dollars stolen during the Whistle-Stop train robbery and leave.

  Backing away from the door, her skirt brushed against a chessboard, and several pieces fell over. Not knowing how to play, she had no idea where the pieces belonged. She stood the ivory chessmen upright across the board and hoped for the best.

  She walked to the children’s room she now shared with Elise. Toby would bunk across the hall in his father’s room. It was a simple adobe house with two bedrooms, a parlor, and a kitchen. It also had a separate small room furnished with a cast-iron horse trough. Bars of soap and folded towels told her this was a bathing room, a luxury she hadn’t counted on.

  Surprised and overjoyed to find such a convenience, she gazed longingly at the tub. What she would give for a hot bath. Later… Closing the door, she moved away.

  It appeared that the hall, bedrooms, and bathing room had been added to the original house. Outside there was a privy, barn, well, small corral, and vegetable garden.

  Searching a house this size would take no more than a few short hours, and her spirits lifted. With a little luck, she’d find enough incriminating evidence on Garrett Thomas to quickly complete her task. If all went as planned, she could be on her way back to the States in a day or two—a week at the most.

  The house was comfortable but needed work. The gingham curtains were faded, the furniture dull, and the carpets looked like they could use a good beating. The house had once been cared for but now looked as forlorn as a child’s outgrown toy.

  She finished unpacking her few belongings and glanced around the tiny room. Laughter coaxed her to the window. Thomas and the children were playing a lively game of hide-and-seek. A frisky white dog chased after them, its yippy barks mingling with their happy whoops.

  From the window she had a clear view of the desert and the distant mountains. The sun rode low in the sky, casting purple shadows across the stark landscape. Tall, stately cacti seemed to beckon with upraised arms, and she was tempted to answer the call.

  The closest neighbor was a good mile away, and she felt completely alone and isolated. An unfamiliar bout of nerves surged through her. It was as if the hot desert air had burned away her usual confidence.

  In an effort to reassure herself, she checked the derringer holstered to her thigh. Reaching for it was just a matter of sticking her hand into the false pocket of her skirt. Tomorrow she would travel to town and meet with her colleague.

  The Pinkerton principal thought the job too dangerous to send a woman alone and had dispatched another operative to work with her. For that she was grateful.

  Most of her assignments had been in large cities like St. Louis, New Orleans, and Boston. This job was unlike any she’d ever known. If something should go wrong… If Thomas came to suspect her real identity…

  Shuddering, she said a silent prayer. Placing her worries squarely in God’s hands forced her negative thoughts away.

  Thomas ran past the window, and her eyes tracked his long, lean frame around the yard. He bore little resemblance to the stoic man who had driven her home from the station. A playful smile softened his granitelike features, and not even the red scar took away from his good looks. A slight desert breeze rippled through his hair. The strand falling across his forehead gave him a boyish look that was hard to resist.

  Elise fell, and he was by her side in an instant, checking her over for injuries and soothing her with hugs.

  He appeared to be a doting father, and that was a complication Maggie hadn’t expected. It wasn’t all that unusual for criminals to be good family men, of course. Some, like the head of the McMurphy gang, were downright neighborly and invited friends and family in for gala parties. But the Pinkerton file on Thomas pegged him as possibly psychopathic, and so far nothing about him seemed to fit that description.

  She dropped the curtain in place with a sigh and moved away from the window. However much she felt sorry for the children, she had a job to do.

  She glanced around the s
mall but tidy room. Two beds occupied opposite walls, separated by a single bureau.

  The Pinkerton principal would no doubt object to her staying at Thomas’s house rather than the hotel as planned. The mail-order-bride ruse was dangerous enough without the added risk of staying at the suspect’s house. But she was far more likely to meet with success here than in town. Especially now, for thanks to his aunt, she had only a few short weeks in which to conduct her investigation. Aunt Hetty had accepted the decision to postpone the wedding, but Maggie doubted she would again.

  A wall shelf contained a McGuffey’s Reader piled on top of books on civil government and penmanship. A metal locomotive the length of a bread box rested on a second shelf. It was a remarkably accurate model down to the last detail.

  The room smelled like peppermint candy, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Walking out into the hall, she paused outside the closed door directly opposite the children’s room. She could hardly wait to search it, but now wasn’t the time. Thomas could enter the house at any moment.

  Stomach growling she walked to the kitchen. It was well equipped with an icebox, cookstove, water pump, and coffee grinder. A butcher-block table seated four, and a large window over the sink gave a panorama view of the fast-setting sun over purple mountains.

  Thomas had indicated earlier that there was fresh chicken for supper, along with garden vegetables. She’d heard it said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. But it wasn’t Thomas’s heart she was interested in as much as his secrets, and there was nothing like a good meal to loosen the tongue.

  One by one she opened cupboards and drawers to get the lay of the land.

  Never had she seen so much tinware. Cooking utensils, metal plates, and cups crammed practically every shelf. Some even hung from hooks on the wall. Garrett Thomas was a tinker by profession, and the GT stamped on the bottom of each pot and pan confirmed it.

  It was this very stamp that had led to Thomas in the first place. A man fitting his description had emptied the safe of an eastbound train. The train had stopped at the Holbrook station for water and fuel. Passengers, engineer, and trainmen had disembarked for a thirty-minute supper break, leaving only the guard aboard.