hadn’t done in years. Not since Ravena. Tate pushed thoughts of the dark-haired girl back to the deepest recesses of his mind, a place where they’d stayed put for the last eight years. Right beside the regret and guilt he still harbored for Tex, his twin brother.
“I mean coming with us, Miss Vanderfair.” He didn’t bother disguising the irritation in his voice.
“As I said earlier, I want to interview you.” She shifted her weight, poking him with her valise again. He ground his teeth over a growl.
“Why?” he countered, eager to riddle out her true motives. After all, that was his job as a detective.
“Because I’m an authoress of dime novels. I pen stories of romance and adventure.” Her tone held a touch of pride.
“A fine occupation but—”
An amused sniff sounded at his back and interrupted his interrogation. “I’m perfectly aware of what others, especially men, think of my profession, Mr. Tex. You don’t have to feign interest. I can assure you I’ve heard every ill sentiment there is regarding dime novels and their creators. Nothing you can say would surprise me.”
A bit of a smile worked at his mouth at her challenge. He was never one to back down from a challenge. “I’m not feigning anything, Miss Vanderfair. I think writing novels would be hard, whether you’re a man or a woman.” He cleared his throat before adding, though he wasn’t sure why, “My mother wrote poetry up until she died, and I would’ve been honored to see her work published.”
The ensuing silence proved that he’d been right about surprising her. Tate’s smile rose to a grin.
“Still,” he continued, “what does writing dime novels have to do with you accompanying us?”
Her answer came swiftly. “I’d like to write a novel about train robbers, and naturally the best research is firsthand.” He could easily imagine her chin tipped high as she spoke, her pert little nose in the air. “I saw an opportunity and I took it. I suspect that’s something you and I have in common.”
He couldn’t argue with that. But who courted trouble in the name of “research”? If nothing else, his job of the last eight years had shown him what happened when seemingly good people went looking for trouble. They always found it.
Removing his hat, he wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. Though it was mid-September, temperatures the last few days had been overly warm. That, or it was his irritation toward the woman seated behind him.
“There’s a scar behind your ear.” A featherlight touch skated his marred skin. “How come the Wanted posters don’t mention it?”
Icy panic drove any thoughts of heat from Tate’s mind. Clapping his hat back on, he gripped the reins tighter as he answered matter-of-factly, “Don’t know. Maybe whoever made up the poster didn’t know about it—I don’t usually have someone right behind me when my hat’s off.”
Inside, though, he was reeling. Essie Vanderfair, with her doe-eyed determination, had just identified the most prominent visible difference between him and his identical twin brother.
Thankfully, Essie didn’t seem to notice his now-rigid posture or tense shoulders. She began prattling about some of the more famous crimes of his brother’s. Tate tried to ignore her, concentrating instead on the hilly landscape. But with each tale she shared, her voice full of near admiration, his alarm grew. She wasn’t just overly curious; she apparently knew a great deal about Tex’s life of crime.
What if she caught on to more discrepancies between him and his brother? That could ruin everything.
At that moment, Silas called from up ahead, “We gotta keep this pace for another thirty minutes. Then we’ll be to the spot where we stowed those horses this morning.”
“That’s ingenious,” Essie murmured. “I’ll have to write that down in my notebook tonight.”
Tate swallowed a groan. If only Fletcher hadn’t agreed to let her come along. This assignment could not go wrong. Fletcher was merciless—if he caught on to Tate’s true identity too soon, Tate doubted he’d be able to get out of it alive.
It would be much easier, for him and his job, if Essie Vanderfair could wait to interview these men until he had them behind bars.
Now, there’s an idea.
A new plan began to take root inside him and he clung to it with all his might. If he could somehow give Essie the slip when they changed horses, both of them would be better off for it. She wouldn’t get hurt riding across the country with a notorious outlaw gang and he wouldn’t have to watch his carefully orchestrated mission fail.
It wasn’t like he’d be leaving her stranded, either. With one of three tired but workable mounts to choose from, she’d eventually encounter a train or a town on her ride back to civilization. Of course, with her keen perceptiveness, he’d have to be smart in how he managed to leave her behind. But it shouldn’t be too hard a task. After all, he was one of the best Pinkerton agents out there. And no one was going to take away his chance to see justice served.
Essie slid from the horse to the ground with help from the Texan. Three fresh mounts clustered in the shade of the narrow canyon formed between two hills. Gripping her valise, she walked a few paces away from the men to stretch her legs.
It had been some time since she’d ridden a horse. Her own two feet could get her everywhere in Evanston, which meant she didn’t require an animal or a carriage. But she did miss the thrill of riding, something she’d done nearly every day back on the ranch.
Thoughts of home, and her family, pinched at her excitement until she pushed them away. She’d just been handed the greatest opportunity of her writing career and that was what mattered today. She was really and truly here, with an outlaw gang. Wherever here was.
She moved toward the group. They were swapping the saddles to the fresh horses.
“Thirsty?” the Texan asked.
Before she could answer, he tossed her a canteen. Essie dropped her valise and easily caught the water container between her hands. A flicker of surprise passed through his blue eyes—he clearly hadn’t expected her to catch the canteen—but he shuttered his expression once again.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile. She took a long drink and then stepped forward to hand him the canteen.
“Keep it. There’s still plenty of riding ahead.”
Essie cocked her head to study him as he saddled his new horse. He was different in person than he sounded in the newspapers. More serious, less charismatic. A gentleman, though. The reports had been correct there. Unlike him, the other two outlaws were doing their best to ignore her. Not that she minded. She was grateful the Texan had insisted she ride with him, so she wasn’t off somewhere with Fletcher and his companion, by herself, at this precise moment. She wanted to interview the gang’s leader...but she didn’t want to be alone with him.
“We’ll be a few more minutes.” The Texan threw the words over his shoulder at her. “Might want to wait in the shade.”
Turning,
