Elise Page 7

  Trace drew a ragged breath as he took off his spectacles and set them aside, then wearily rubbed his eyes. He would know no peace, have no rest, until justice had been done.

  The badge made him think of Eagle Pass. It had been his home for over six years. He missed the town and the friends he'd made there, but there would be no going back until he could return with the news that Harris and his men would no longer be robbing or killing anyone. Only when he could tell the townspeople that Harris and his men were dead and buried would he return.

  Trace's hand closed over the badge, his fist clenched with the fierceness of his emotion. The sharp edges of the star cut into his palm, but he barely felt it. He wondered if there would ever be a day when he would wear it again. He had no answer.

  "I didn't know you were going to be staying here at the office all day," Elise said as she came to stand in the office door. She stopped in midsentence and stared at her new boss. With his eyeglasses off and his expression so dark and serious-almost dangerous-Gabe looked like an entirely different man, and this man was a complete stranger to her. "Oh-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you." She felt suddenly awkward, as if she'd walked in on something private.

  Trace tried to hide his own shock at Elise's sudden appearance. He quickly donned his eyeglasses, then shoved the badge deep into his pocket. He faced her and gave her a weak smile, reassuming his Gabe West manner. "There's a lot I need to learn if I'm going to be running this paper. So I decided to stay late," he answered. "What brings you here? I thought you wouldn't be back in until Monday."

  The sight of him once again in his glasses, looking innocuous, left Elise disoriented and a bit confused. She wondered vaguely how he could have changed so quickly or if she'd just imagined that he'd looked so different. She'd always considered herself an astute judge of people, and the difference in him troubled her. "I had a message for you."

  "Oh?" Trace asked rather abruptly, wanting her to leave. He wasn't in the mood for company or light conversation. He was angry with himself for letting his guard down so carelessly. She'd managed to enter the outer office and approach the door without his even hearing her. The realization that he'd been so negligent infuriated him. If he planned to go after Harris, he had damned well better be more aware of his surroundings. A mistake like this one could cost him his life on the trail.

  "Ben's landlord, Charles Rodgers, came to see me this afternoon. He'd just gotten a wire from Ben letting him know that he wouldn't be coming back and instructing him to ask me to pack up and ship his personal things to him. So, while Charles was there, I asked him if he wanted to rent the home again and I told him about you. He said he'd like to meet with youif you're interested," she explained quickly, sensing his curtness and thinking he wanted to be alone.

  Her offer distracted him from his darker emotions. "Did you say earlier that the house is out of town?"

  "It's not too far. It's an easy ride."

  "Yes, I would like to take a look at it, if that's all right with you? Would you have time to show it to me?" He glanced out his window to see that it was near sundown.

  "It's too late to go tonight, but we could ride out there tomorrow, if you'd like. That would give me time to pack up Ben's things while we're there."

  "That sounds fine. Thank you."

  "It'll be good to have company while I'm working on Ben's things. And I have another offer for you."

  He gave her a quizzical look.

  "My grandmother and I are attending the church social tonight. There will be dinner and some other activities, and my grandmother thought you might want to join us. It would give you the opportunity to meet some of the townsfolk-Charles included. He did say he would be there."

  "What time does it start?"

  "It's already going on. I've got to meet my grandmother there in a few minutes. Would you like to go?"

  Trace looked down at the papers strewn on his desk. "Just let me put some of this in order."

  "I see you found Ben's gun-and his whiskey," she remarked, coming farther into the office. "He always kept the gun handy, just in case there was any trouble."

  "Did he ever have cause to use it?"

  "Several times, actually. One crazy miner came charging in here, accusing Ben of lying about him in an article in the paper. He was just about ready to smash the place up when Ben drew the gun on him. He backed down real fast once he saw that Ben was armed. Another time, two men confronted him out on the street and tried to beat him up for something he'd printed. Ben managed to break free and run in here to get the gun. They came after him, but backed down when they saw that he had a weapon. Sometimes people can't bear to see the truth about themselves in print. It can get ugly-and deadly."

  "Let's just hope we don't get anybody too excited around here any time soon," he said, deliberately acting as if he were scared to be handling the gun as he put it back in the drawer.

  "It might not hurt you to learn how to handle one just in case," she advised.

  "I suppose it couldn't," he agreed with her. "It's been a while since I've used one."

  "If you need any help, I can give you a few pointers. I learned how to shoot when I was a little girl. My father thought it was important that I know how to defend myself."

  "Smart man, your father."

  "Well, if you want to start practicing, you'll have plenty of room once you're settled in at Ben's."

  "Good. If we're going to continue to publish articles in the paper that are as rousing as your story on Farnsworth, we're going to have to be ready for all kinds of trouble." He gave her a smile.

  "Let's just hope not too much," she said. "So, are you ready to go to the social? I hate to think of you sitting here all alone just going through the papers for the rest of the evening. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

  "As a matter of fact, I haven't had anything to eat since this morning. I'd enjoy going and meeting everyone-if you're sure I won't be intruding on your plans." He really wasn't in the mood to do much socializing, but if it gave him the opportunity to set himself up in a house, he'd do it.

  "No, you won't be intruding. My grandmother will be pleased. Since I told her this morning exactly who you were, she's been looking forward to seeing you again."

  "It'll be my pleasure." He put the cap on the whiskey bottle and stowed it in the drawer with the gun, then stood up.

  Elise came to stand by his desk. "Which edition were you reading?"

  "The one about the ambush by the Harris gang."

  She suppressed a shudder. "They're a savage bunch. I still can't believe that they were able to ambush and kill Sheriff Jackson and the posse from Eagle Pass," she told him, staring down at the headline of the paper he'd just been reading. "They were such good men."

  "Did you know any of the people from Eagle Pass? The article sounded as if you were acquainted with them."

  "I'd never met Sheriff Jackson, but his reputation was well known. He was one tough lawman. It's so hard to believe that the Harris gang can rob and kill like that, and get away with it. It seems no one can stop them. Surely there must be someone out there who can bring them in. I thought Jackson was the man to do it, but-"

  "They really were ambushed that way?"

  "From what I heard," she told him sadly. "The carnage must have been unbelievable. As good as Sheriff Jackson was, I can't believe he died without putting up some kind of fight."

  "So where are Harris and his men now?" he asked, trying to sound conversational. "Have you heard any news of where they might be hiding or planning their next crime? I hope they're not planning on coming to Durango."

  "I haven't heard a word about where they are or what they might be up to. I wish I had. I'd tell Marshal Trent. I'd love to be the one who helped bring them in. The Farnsworth arrest was good, but the Harris gang-" Her eyes were aglow. "We'd sell a lot of papers with that for our lead story."

  "As bloodthirsty as that gang is, I would be careful what I wished for," he cautioned her, deliberately making himself s
ound nervous about the idea of dealing with such killers. "Men like Farnsworth are one thing, but this Harris-"

  "Don't look so worried, Gabe. You've got your gun right there in the drawer, and I've got mine in my purse," she told him, opening her drawstring purse to show him the derringer she carried. "If the Harris gang ever shows up, between the two of us, we'll be ready for them."

  "If Jackson and his posse couldn't bring them in, how do you think that we could?"

  "`The pen is mightier than the sword,' "she quoted, smiling excitedly at the thought.

  "I've never known a pen that could shoot straight," he countered, still playing timid. He wanted nothing more than to face down the gang, but when the time came, he didn't want Elise anywhere around. He didn't want to risk her getting hurt.

  "That's beside the point. Just think how it would look if we were the ones who managed to help bring them in!"

  "And just how to do you propose to do that with just a two-shot derringer and a newspaper?"

  "Don't forget-you've got a gun, too! If the time comes when we get the chance, I'm sure we'll think of something." She sounded confident.

  "`We'll' think of something," he repeated, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's think about this for a while. For all that Farnsworth was a miserable excuse for a human being and deserved to be arrested and put in jail, his worst crimes were robbery and impersonating a preacher. With Harris and his men, you'll be dealing with a whole different kind of criminal. Judging from what I just read in your accounts, they're nothing but cold-blooded killers."

  "You don't have to be afraid, Gabe," she reassured him with a smile. "1 don't even know where they are right now."

  "Good," he answered, sounding relieved, and he was. "Let's keep it that way. Dealing with them would mean nothing but trouble for us."

  "We'd increase our circulation," Elise said, taunting him with the idea.

  "We might end up dead, too, just like everyone else they've come into contact with."

  "Or we might be the ones who finally manage to trap them just like I trapped Farnsworth." She could just see the headline in her mind, and the prospect excited her even more. "Where's your sense of adventure? These men are murderers who should be behind bars! If we can help put them there, it would be wonderful-for us and for the whole state of Colorado."

  "Yes, it would be, if there were some guarantee that you wouldn't get hurt in the process."

  "Nothing happened with Farnsworth."

  "It could have. Or have you forgotten already how he was threatening you?"

  "Oh, I wasn't going to get hurt. Marshal Trent was there," she answered simply and then added, "And, of course, you helped, too."

  The fact that she gave more credit to Trent for saving her that day for some reason annoyed Trace. All the lawman did was walk up and point his gun at Farnsworth.

  "You did manage to come away from your encounter with the preacher unharmed, but from everything I've read about Harris, I doubt you'd be as lucky with him. Harris wouldn't try to talk his way out of a trap. He would shoot his way out."

  Elise saw a sudden glimmer of fierceness in Gabe's eyes and was surprised by it. It seemed so at odds with his usual personality. "All right, I won't go looking for trouble."

  "Good."

  "Now, shall we go to the social? I doubt seriously that Harris or any of his men will be there."

  "Let's hope not, anyway."

  "Have you ever been to a box dinner before?" Elise asked as they left the office and made their way to the church. "It's an auction, you know."

  "I've been to a few. Did you cook a dinner?"

  "Yes, my grandmother took it over with her when she went. Why are you so surprised?" she asked, noticing his quick sidelong glance.

  "Somehow, I never pictured you as a cook."

  "Truth be told, I never wanted to be one, but my mother insisted that I learn all the necessary elements of running a household, so I learned to cook at a very young age."

  "Ah, but are you good?" Trace asked.

  "Why? Are you planning to bid on mine?"

  "You never know," he answered with a grin. He knew that at church box dinners, the woman who made the dinner had to sit with the man who bought it.

  As they neared the church, they could see the crowd gathering.

  "It looks like the social is going to be quite a success," Trace remarked.

  "They usually are. Everyone has to eat, and if we can raise money for the church this way, why not?"

  "Whose dinners are the most popular?"

  "It's a known fact that my grandmother and Mrs. Buxton are the two best cooks in town. Their meals cause the biggest bidding contest. One year, George bid twenty-five dollars for my grandmother's dinner."

  "What was it?"

  "Stew and her famous apple pie."

  "She must be a really good cook to get the bidding up that high. I just might bid on hers."

  Elise laughed. "She'd be delighted to have you join in the bidding war. In fact, she'll be delighted that you just showed up. She wondered what happened to you after the wedding when you left without saying anything. This morning, when I told her that you were the new owner of the Star, she was most amused."

  "She was?"

  "Oh, yes. She figured you had to be one very nice man to play along with us at the stage depot and at the wedding ceremony, and then to learn that you were my new boss-well, I think her exact words were, `Your stand-in Ben is not only a good sport, he must be an excellent poker player, too.'"

  Trace laughed. "I may not be so much an excellent player, as I was just plain lucky that night."

  "So you think you were lucky to win the paper?" Elise glanced over at him.

  "From what I read today and the success of your investigation, I'd say the newspaper is a fine investment."

  "I hope so. I know Ben was concerned about the falling number of subscriptions."

  "Then we'll just have to work at making the Star better," he said with conviction, although he wondered how long he'd really be there to worry about it.

  When Elise and Trace reached the church, they were warmly welcomed by Reverend Ford, the pastor. Elise quickly introduced Trace and then they moved on.

  Claire had been with George tending to their baskets of food when she saw the two of them coming and hurried over to greet them.

  "Ben! Or should I call you Mr. West?" Claire asked with a smile. "It's so good to see you again-my almost grandson-in-law. I'm so glad Elise was able to convince you to join us tonight."

  "My pleasure, Mrs.-" Trace found himself drawn to the older woman's friendliness and genuine good nature. His paternal grandmother had helped to raise him after his mother died when he was young, and he truly enjoyed being around older people.

  "Just call me Claire," she interrupted, beaming up at him. "Claire will be just fine, and thank you so much for helping Elise yesterday. The wedding would have turned into a complete disaster without you. You were wonderful, stepping in as you did."

  "Well, it's not every day a man gets off a stage in a strange town and walks straight into the arms of a beautiful bride."

  "Elise did look lovely yesterday. Maybe someday she really will be a bride." Claire sighed. She had long thought Elise should find a good man and settle down. At twenty-two, her granddaughter was past the most marriageable age for a woman. Claire hated the prospect of the career-driven Elise becoming an old maid.

  "When the right man comes along, I'll marry him, Grandmother. Until then, I'm more than happy to concentrate all my energy on my job at the newspaper," Elise put in. She knew how her grandmother felt about her unmarried state, and she didn't even want to think about that tonight.

  "Even though it wasn't a real wedding, you two did make quite a handsome couple. Didn't you think so, George?" Claire asked as he joined them.

  "Yes, they did. They certainly had Preacher Farnsworth fooled, too. He believed it was a true marriage. It was a good thing he'd never met the real Ben Hollins before the ceremony."<
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  "Thank heaven for that. Just think what might have happened if Farnsworth had discovered the deception beforehand. It could have been even more dangerous than it was when Marshal Trent showed up, and that was frightening enough."

  "It's hard to say what the man might have done, as desperate as he was," George agreed.

  "Whatever he'd tried, I'm sure Gabe would have thought of something to help save the day." Claire looked up at him, her gaze upon him admiringly. For all that he looked more bookish than physically fit, she knew he was a most intelligent, very brave young man. "You certainly came to the marshal's aid, tackling Farnsworth when you did. God only knows how many people would have gotten hurt if you hadn't helped out."

  "I'm just glad everything turned out all right," he told her.

  Elise still found it difficult to believe that Gabe had helped Marshal Trent that much by tripping and falling into the preacher, but she wasn't going to argue the point tonight. She was there to just relax and enjoy herself for a while.

  "Everything turned out wonderfully with the wedding, but now, young man, it's time to show you what we ordinarily do for an exciting time in Durango," Claire teased. At his questioning look, she went on, "It's almost time for the box dinner auction. We're a very Wild West town, you know."

  Trace grinned at her. Durango hadn't been in existence very long, and it hadn't experienced the roughness of life that affected so many other Western towns. "From what I heard about how good a cook you are, I bet there have been more than a few standoffs over who was going to win your dinner."

  "That's right, but I've never had to shoot anybody yet," George confirmed with a laugh.

  "Elise said the bidding can get pretty expensive."

  "Claire's home-cooked meals are worth every penny you pay for them."

  "I'll remember that," Trace told her. He fully intended to bid on Claire's dinner, but as much as he would have liked to dine with her, he knew that ultimately he would stop bidding so George could win. "So this whole auction is for charity?"