come. Instead, she sat motionless beside him, her eyes searching his face.
“A saloon girl,” she echoed. “Do I look like a saloon girl to you?”
“Definitely not,” he said quickly.
“A saloon girl who would wear a low-necked gown and fishnet stockings?”
“Yeah, I reckon so. I know it’s a real far-fetched idea. Pinkerton came up with it as a last-ditch—”
“I’ll do it,” she said calmly.
He almost choked. “What? Alice, are you serious?”
She bit her lip. “Believe me, I have never been more serious in my life.”
“Miss Montgomery... Alice, I have to warn you it could be dangerous. It’s a long, hard trip just getting to Silver City, and a mining camp is a really rough place for a...” He swallowed. “For a librarian.” Unbelievably, he heard himself trying to talk her out of it.
She said nothing, just looked at him with a tired smile.
“Alice, I...”
She pushed the swing into motion. “When do we leave?”
Rand could scarcely believe his ears. Never in a hundred years did he think a woman like Alice would agree to such a scheme. He guessed he had a lot to learn about librarians. “Tomorrow.”
“I have one question for you,” she said. “I won’t go alone. Will you be with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll be with you.”
“Do you promise?”
He blinked. “Well, sure, Alice. You can count on that.”
She nodded and pushed the swing again. “Then it’s settled. I will be ready in the morning.”
He managed not to let his mouth fall open. After a long minute he risked his final question. “Now I have something else to ask you.”
She sent him an expectant look and waited.
Rand watched her face and crossed his fingers.
“Can you sing?”
Rand spent a sleepless night at the Smoke River hotel, and after a breakfast of steak and eggs he made his way to the livery stable. He chose a gentle mare for Alice, certain that no librarian would be an experienced rider, and at eight o’clock he walked over to Alice’s boardinghouse and got an unexpected shock.
Alice was seated in the porch swing, waiting for him. “Good morning, Marshal,” she called.
He climbed the steps and stood before her. Once more he found himself surprised by Alice Montgomery. Not only was she obviously wide-awake, she was dressed in traveling clothes and a small tapestry bag sat at her feet.
“Before we leave, I must visit the dressmaker.”
“The dressmaker? Alice, I don’t think—”
She sent him a smile that dried up his words. Yesterday Sheriff Rivera said he thought highly of Miss Alice. Rand had figured it was a man’s admiration for a pretty girl, but now he was beginning to wonder.
“If I understand your need of me, Marshal, I will need a...how shall I put it...a ‘saloon girl’ outfit. Something sinfully silky with an extremely revealing neckline. And fishnet stockings.”
Rand bit back a laugh. This girl was no ordinary librarian. In fact, he was beginning to realize that Alice Montgomery was not ordinary in any way.
Sarah Rose stepped out onto the porch. “Marshal, have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rose.”
Alice stood up. “Mark has a dozen more questions for you, Marshal. While he keeps you busy with the answers, I am going to the dressmaker’s.”
“Come on in, Marshal Logan,” Sarah invited. “Mark can entertain you while he eats his breakfast.” She disappeared into the house.
At the doorway, Rand turned to watch Alice make her way down the porch steps and start up the shady, tree-lined street. She was wearing something he’d never seen before, a sort of cutoff skirt that was split up the middle. Blue denim, if he wasn’t mistaken, with what looked like one of young Mark’s red plaid shirts. And polished leather riding boots.
Inside the boardinghouse, he joined the residents in the dining room, and while they ate flapjacks and bacon he consumed two cups of Sarah’s excellent coffee. Mark peppered him with more questions about his life as a US Marshal, and that helped to keep his mind off Alice and what was coming. She’d looked calm and determined this morning. He wondered if she was feeling a bit apprehensive on the inside, but if she was, it sure didn’t show.
At the end of the meal, Rooney invited him out to the front porch and sat him down in the swing. “Marshal Logan, I want you to know something. Alice is real special to Sarah and me, and I don’t think her sashayin’ off with you is a good idea. I told her I don’t want her settin’ off on this harebrained scheme of yours, and she—you know what she said?”
Rand shook his head.
“It’s the first time she’s ever talked back to me in all the years I’ve knowed her,” Rooney continued. “She said to mind my own business! That it was her sister and her life. Kinda hurt my feelin’s.”
“Mr. Cloudman, there’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to take Alice to a scruffy mining camp in Idaho. But I’m a United States Marshal, and those are my orders.”
“Yeah, I get that, Rand. Shore am glad it ain’t me walkin’ into a mess like you told me about. I’m gettin’ too old.”
“Sometimes I get to feeling too old, too,” Rand admitted. “I get tired of folks misbehaving and wish I could find some pretty little place and forget all about the law and justice and all that other stuff I swore to uphold.”
“Our Alice,” Rooney said with a catch in his voice, “she’s a whole lot more’n just a librarian, Rand. And you better not forget it, you hear?”
Rand nodded.
“Keep her safe if you can,” the older man said.
“You can count on that, Mr. Cloudman. If anything happens to Alice, you’ll know that I’m already dead.”
Rooney snorted. “Well, hell, mister, that’s what I’m afraid of!”
Dressmaker Verena Forester gasped, and the bolt of blue gingham in her arms tumbled onto the floor. “You want a what? Say that again, Alice?”
“I
