course, sir.”
Frank had asked his driver to send Miss Clarke a message, so Horace had thrown a rock through her bedroom window. Miss Clarke had replaced the glass and said nothing, not even to the sheriff.
“It didn’t accomplish what I’d hoped,” Frank said.
“Another plan, sir?”
He thought of the garden he’d seen on the side of the house. A smirk curled his lips. “I believe Miss Clarke’s vegetables need attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
Horace stopped the carriage in front of the Denver Gentlemen’s Club. Frank exited the rig, then pressed a shiny silver dollar into his driver’s hand.
Horace’s eyes gleamed. “Thank you, sir.”
With his walking stick in hand, Frank entered the club where he’d find fine food and drink. Tonight he had everything he needed…except Pearl. Only Adie Clarke stood in his way.
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