He looked exhausted. The weariness was evident around his eyes. And in his voice.
She wanted to tell him he mustn't lose heart or give up but caught herself before she voiced what he would surely take as an insult.
"You need to get some sleep, Mr. Ross," she said. "Rest will clear your head. Are you hungry? There's a biscuit on the table over there."
She realized how inadequate the offer was as soon as she made the suggestion. "I'll be happy to go and get both of you some proper food."
She turned to Hunter. He was leaning against one of the wardrobes watching her. "What about you, Hunter?"
"I'll get something later," he replied. Taylor nodded. Her expression was filled with anxiety. She was gripping her hands together and looking close to breaking down. Hunter looked at Lucas to see what he was going to do about comforting his wife. No help there, he realized. Lucas looked bone tired. Hunter shook his head at his friend. "You never could keep up with me, could you?"
"The hell I couldn't," Lucas replied. Hunter snorted. He turned back to Taylor. "We have one lead that could prove helpful. We're waiting to hear."
"Might prove helpful," Lucas stressed before Taylor could get her hopes up. He didn't want to see her disappointed again.
"We should know in a little while," Hunter interjected.
"Where were you going?" Lucas asked. He seemed to have only just noticed she had her coat half on.
His question reminded her of her errand. "To the station to see if Victoria is on the four o'clock train," she explained while she struggled to get her arm in the sleeve of her coat.
Hunter started across the room. He stopped suddenly and turned back to Lucas. "She's got a gun in her pocket," he told his friend. "She always carry one?"
Because she was standing directly in front of him, she decided to answer his question. "Cincinnati is far more dangerous than I thought it would be," she explained. "I had a near miss yesterday. How did you know I had a gun in my pocket?"
"The bulge," he answered.
She told him how astute she thought he was because he'd noticed, then pulled the gun out of her pocket to show him. "It was a gift," she explained.
Lucas was still leaning against the door. He was so tired he barely paid any attention to the conversation. He wanted a hot bath and hotter food. He needed a good eight hours sleep, but he knew he couldn't waste the time on such a luxury. Time was critical now. The leads were still warm, and if they were ever going to find Taylor's nieces, they would have to move fast.
His instinct told him the little girls were still in the city. Hunter felt the same way. He'd questioned a man, more drunk than sober, but still reasonably coherent, who swore he'd seen the little ones with the Border brothers just two days before.
The Border brothers. Lucas's skin tightened at the mere mention of the name. The two men were as evil as Satan, as sneaky as a jackal, and as mean dispositioned as a rattler. Lucas couldn't wait to get his hands on the bastards. They used to be in the business of selling for a couple of prostitutes. The younger of the brothers took a fancy to cutting up the women, and it wasn't long before his butchering put an end to the enterprise. They moved on to another profitable business. They still bartered anything and everything, but their specialty was children now. Orphans, the man told Hunter, were their preference. No complications, he'd explained. The more fortunate ones were sold to couples out in the wilderness who needed help running their farms. The prettier children weren't as fortunate, for there were men with… What had the man said? Unusual cravings.
Oh, yes, the Border brothers. They deserved to die a slow, agonizing death, and Lucas felt he was just the man to deal out the punishment. Hunter would probably get in his way though. He'd already made the claim that he was going to skin the pair alive.
No doubt about it. One way or another, by Hunter's knife or his own hand, the brothers were going to die. Justice would be served.
Lucas pushed himself away from the door, rolled his shoulders to take the stiffness out, then turned his attention to his wife. For the last few days and nights, he'd been forced to move in the shadows of the dark, foul sewer of the city, and he desperately needed to cleanse his mind now. He needed Taylor. She represented warmth and brightness and beauty. He would confront the beast later. For now he wanted only to surround himself in her scent and her magical touch. She was as welcoming as the sun to a man who'd been hiding in the darkness for too damned long.
Hunter was drawn to her as well. Lucas had never seen him spend this much time talking to any woman. He was sure talking up a storm now. Lucas wasn't jealous or even irritated by his friend's behavior. His trust in Hunter was absolute. He understood his need as well, for the two of them were very alike.
Taylor didn't realize how she'd affected his friend. She accepted his smile as an ordinary occurrence. She didn't have a clue how amazing it was for Hunter to ever smile at all.
Hunter looked like he wanted to laugh. Taylor was leaning against his side while she pointed out all the clever little changes in the gun Hunter held.
His friend kept giving him glances. Lucas walked forward. He decided to find out what his friend found so amusing.
"The gun is registered with its own special number," Taylor was explaining. "But did you know that each piece, before it's fitted, is also etched with the same number? If only a part of the gun is found, the number could still be read."
Hunter nodded. "How many times did you say you fired?"
"Three times," she answered. "There wasn't a kick, Hunter. I didn't have to adjust my aim at all. It's a vast improvement over the older models. You must try it sometime."
Hunter handed the weapon to Lucas. "It's lighter," he remarked.
"Is it loaded?" Lucas asked.
Hunter grinned. "After yesterday's adventure, I would imagine it is."
"I cleaned it last night and reloaded this morning," she told her husband. She wanted him to know she took good care of her possessions.
Then she tried to take her gun back. Lucas wouldn't give it to her. "You don't need this," he remarked.
Hunter was smiling again. Something was up all right, but Lucas was too weary to figure it out. Only one fact was registering in his mind. His friend hadn't smiled this much in all the time he'd known him.
"Weren't you listening?" Hunter asked.
"Guess not," Lucas replied.
"She needs the gun."
"This isn't the gun you had in Boston," Lucas remarked, for he'd only just realized the subtle differences in the weapons. "This is brand-new. Where'd you get it?"
"Weren't you paying attention to what I was telling Hunter?"
"No."
She let out a sigh. Her poor husband was so tired, he was having trouble concentrating. "You need to get some sleep, Mr. Ross. Give me my gun back. I got it at a gun shop, of course. Heavens, I'm going to be late for the train's arrival if I don't hurry."
"You still have plenty of time," Lucas told her. It suddenly occurred to him that she was back to calling him Mr. Ross again. He scowled and turned his attention back to the shiny Colt he held in his hand.
"It's nice," he remarked. "Why'd you buy it?"
"It was a gift."
"Why?" Lucas asked.
"Why what?" Taylor replied.
He held onto his patience. "Why was it a gift?"
She didn't care for his tone of voice. It was snappish. She didn't care for the way he was scrutinizing her either. He reminded her of a barrister trying to prove a hidden motive. Taylor's spine stiffened in reaction. She was his wife, not a defendant. The flash of irritation was short-lived however. Then she felt guilty because she was certain she was overreacting. Lucas looked dead on his feet. She should be giving him her sympathy.