She collapsed in the nearest chair and tried to reason through Mr. Ross's outrageous request. Or was it a demand? She sighed then. It had certainly sounded like a demand.
Didn't he realize how complicated things would become if they became intimate? She didn't want to think about it. That man. What in thunder was wrong with him? Didn't he remember he didn't want to be married?
"He's bluffing." She whispered her conclusion. The possibility filled her with relief, for sharing a wedding night with Lucas Ross would complicate everything.
Wouldn't it?
Lord, she could barely catch her breath. The image of Mr. Ross in bed with her without his pants on made her heart skip a beat. He had to be bluffing. She repeated the thought. He didn't want any complications either. Or commitment, she added with a nod.
The man was downright rude to get her all riled up with his games. Taylor forced herself to put her husband out of her thoughts. She had more important things to think about.
Like Victoria. Since Hunter had taken over the adjacent bedroom, Taylor decided to secure yet another room for her friend. She didn't have to go down to the lobby. She rang the bellpull in her room. By an intricate set of levers built into the hotel, a peg with her room number was lifted down below. Less than ten minutes later, one of the hotel's courteous staff was at her door to offer assistance.
Lucas and Hunter returned to the hotel an hour later. The train, Hunter explained, was going to be four hours late. They grabbed something to eat and were now going to meet with a man they hoped would lead them to the twins. Lucas assured Taylor that either he or Hunter would meet Victoria. Taylor, he added with a meaningful scowl, was to stay in the room.
Her husband went into the bedroom. She followed him to ask him if she could go along to the meeting. He told her she was out of her mind. She guessed then he wasn't going to be reasonable.
Lucas had gone in search of his money belt. He knew the man they were going to meet would demand compensation for selling out his friends. Lucas was going to give him whatever he wanted. He found the money, put half the amount in his pocket, and then turned his attention to his wife. He almost smiled when he saw her expression. Lord, she looked disgruntled. He told her no again but in a kinder tone of voice and even added the explanation that the man they were going to meet might not talk as freely if a woman was along.
It was a lame excuse. He didn't care. Like it or not, she was going to have to wait for them to return. He needed to know she was safe, but he didn't tell her that.
Lucas left a few minutes later. Hunter was getting as bossy as her husband. He followed Lucas out the door, then turned around and ordered her to keep the door bolted until they returned. "Don't let anyone in, no matter what the reason. Got that?"
"Yes, of course."
He started to leave, then paused again. "He's got enough on his mind. He shouldn't have to worry about you."
"And you have enough to worry about as well, Mr. Hunter. I won't let anyone in. I promise."
Hunter pulled the door closed, waited until he heard the bolt slip into place, and then left.
Lucas was waiting for him at the steps. They planned to meet their man in the lobby. They hoped he'd have information for them.
His name was Morris Peterson. He wasn't a bad sort, for he hated the Border brothers as much as Lucas and Hunter did. He didn't hold with the practice of buying and selling of people, but he didn't have any problem taking money for the information he supplied. He was taking a risk, after all, and if the Borders found out he squealed, they'd cut his throat for sure.
Lucas paid him the cash he wanted. They stood together in the corner of the lobby. It was crowded with businessmen, and no one paid them any attention. Morris still insisted on keeping hidden behind Lucas's sizable bulk.
"I can give you a name," he whispered. "Boyd," he added with a nod. "He drinks every night at the saloon on the corner of Hickery. You know the place I'm thinking of?"
"We'll find it," Hunter said. "What can Boyd tell us?" he asked.
"He was talking last night," Peterson whispered. "Bragging, he was, about the money he was going to make. I heard him say he was going to get double the money. Then he laughed real hard… like he knew a secret. I'm thinking he was referring to the twins you've been asking about."
"When does he usually start in drinking?"
"After dark," Peterson replied.
"Anything else?"
Peterson shook his head. He pocketed the money Lucas had given him and left a few minutes later.
"Could be another false lead," Hunter cautioned.
"Could be," Lucas agreed. "But you know… I got this feeling…"
Hunter smiled. "I got the same feeling," he admitted. "My instincts are telling me Boyd's going to lead us to the Borders."
Things were looking up. "It's only a little after six. I'm going back upstairs and sleep for an hour. After I meet the train and bring Victoria back to the hotel, you and I will go find Boyd."
"I'll go get Victoria. You can sleep until I get back."
"What about you? Aren't you tired?"
"I didn't lose forty hours on a train. You did. What does Taylor's friend look like?"
"Red hair, green eyes."
Hunter filed the information. "I think I'll go find this saloon. It will save us time later."
The two took off in opposite directions. Lucas told Taylor what had happened while he stripped out of his shirt and shoes. He was sound asleep on top of the covers five minutes later.
Hunter found the saloon, then backtracked to the train station. By the time he got there, the passengers had all disembarked. He told the driver to wait, tossed him a coin to keep him patient, and then went looking for Victoria.
Red hair and green eyes. Easy enough to spot, he thought. And yet he almost missed her. She was hidden behind three gigantic trunks the size of an ordinary carriage. The trunks were stacked one on top of the other, and if he hadn't noticed a bit of skirt when he turned to leave, he would have thought she hadn't been on the train.
The station was almost deserted. One of the porters had gone in search of a wagon sturdy enough to haul her trunks. Victoria was certain the man had forgotten about her. She prayed she was wrong, for she was too weary and too ill to do more than slump against the trunks and wait.
She was feeling horribly nauseated. She shouldn't have eaten the apples. They were green and not at all ripe, but she'd been hungry and feeling queasy, and she foolishly thought the apples would calm her stomach.
Quite the opposite was the case. The apples were giving her fits. She felt like she was going to throw up any minute. She stood as still as possible, afraid any movement at all would make the illness worse, and prayed she wouldn't disgrace herself.
Ladies did not lose their suppers in public places.
"Victoria Helmit?"
She turned at the sound of her name. Then she backed up a space. The man who'd addressed her took her breath away. He gave her quite a fright as well. He was extremely dangerous looking, until he smiled. Then he turned handsome. He had dark, rugged good looks. His hair was as black as midnight. So were his eyes. His gaze was piercing, his clothes were rumpled, and he was in dire need of a shave.
Who, in heaven's name, was he?
He repeated her name again. She might have nodded, she couldn't be certain. She could feel the bile in the back of her throat. She took a long breath and tried to stay upright.
He thought she was afraid of him. She was a pretty thing, with those wide green eyes and fiery colored hair. It was a mass of curls now. Pins hung from the copper locks about her face. The ribbon holding her hair behind her neck had come untied. The blue and white checkered strip was dangling down her back.