Thirty minutes later, Trace shrugged into his coat and stood at the door for a minute, staring at her. “I sure appreciate you helping out like this, Tori. If it starts to snow hard, please just lock the office with the key I gave you and head on home. Or if you want me to take you home, call me or send one of the messenger boys to find me. I’ll be installing a telephone over at Arlen and Alex Guthry’s home, and then I’ll head over to install one at the lumberyard.”
“I’ll be fine, Trace.” She smiled at him and settled the headset over her head. The hairstyle she’d fashioned that morning made it a little challenging to keep the headset in place, but she’d make do for a few hours. Trace told her to close the office at four if she hadn’t already left before then.
“And remember, anything you say gets repeated to everyone since they are party lines,” he cautioned as he opened the door. “Have fun, Tori.”
“I will, and thank you.”
She waited all of five minutes before the telephone started ringing, and she hurried to answer call after call, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter Fourteen
“Afternoon, Miss Carter,” Trace said as Victoria answered his call.
“Greetings, Mr. Travers,” she replied, sounding courteous yet distant. He leaned one shoulder against the wall in Alex Guthry’s kitchen as he tested the telephone.
Alex was in the bedroom putting her son down for a nap and Arlan was at the bank which left Trace alone in the kitchen.
Intentionally, he dropped his voice a notch. “Did you get the lunch I sent over?”
“I did. It was very kind of you to have Fred bring it to me. The soup and bread were warm and filling, and Elsa’s raspberry roll was so delicious. Thank you.”
“Well, I figured you wouldn’t have a chance to get something to eat.” Trace knew she’d been trailing him around town all morning. What he hadn’t been able to figure out was the reason for it. If she wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he had no doubt she’d just walk right up to him and tell him.
But the fact she’d been hiding in alleys and around corners, freezing her little feet in the cold mounds of snow, made him question her motives.
Victoria was intelligent, far too intelligent for her own good sometimes. A part of him wondered if she’d put the pieces together and realized he and the outlaw who’d rescued her were the same person. He certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. If it was, would she confront him with it? Would she tell the sheriff? Or would she try to gather information to prove he was or wasn’t what she imagined?
He assumed she’d be one who’d want to prove his guilt before she said anything and that could be exactly what she’d been doing that morning.
When he saw her scurry into Abby Dodd’s dress shop, he’d nearly chuckled aloud. He’d been immensely amused to listen to Filly and Abby tease her about her interest in him, even if the women thought he couldn’t hear what they said.
Victoria’s interest in him, attraction to him, wasn’t a secret. It was plainly written on her face for any and all to see. He wasn’t sure the woman was capable of hiding her emotions.
He’d known for a while she liked him, cared for him, but he’d sensed the same thing when she was with the outlaw named Bub. It still irked him that she was attracted to a thief when she was obviously interested in him, too.
If it was any other woman, he would have labeled her as fickle and flighty, but Victoria was neither of those things.
Words that came to mind to describe her were wonderful, sweet, beautiful, smart, funny, and exasperating. She was definitely a challenge to him. Under other circumstances, one he would have liked to explore.
“It sounds like we have a good connection,” Victoria said when he remained silent, lost in his thoughts.
“That we do, beautiful.” He meant a connection that went far deeper than a telephone call.
“Oh, well, I…” she stammered, making him smile. Perhaps she had understood his veiled reference.
The sound of crunching, as though someone ate hardtack or tried to bite through glass crackled across the line, letting him know at least one person listened in. Before he said anything he shouldn’t, he pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ll call you when I get the telephone working at the lumberyard.”
“That will be fine, Mr. Travers. Thank you, again, for lunch.”
“You’re welcome. Bye.”
He disconnected the call, took a load of supplies out to his wagon, and was just collecting the last of his tools when Alex Guthry returned to the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re finished already,” she said, smiling at the sight of the telephone on her wall.
“Do you need any instruction in using it?” Trace asked as he picked up his toolbox.
“No. Luke Granger made sure we knew how to use one. He’s like a child with a new toy,” Alex said with a grin. “I haven’t heard him say ‘prestidigitation’ for at least a week. But he can’t stop talking about the wonders of modern communication.”
Trace chuckled. “The telephone definitely is distracting him, then.”
Alex walked with him to the door and handed him a small paper sack. “Arlan always asks me to bake these for Christmas. I hope you enjoy them.”
He held up the bag, noting a sweet, buttery aroma, and nodded his thanks. “I sure appreciate it, Mrs. Guthry. Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas!” she called as he stepped outside and hurried over to the wagon.
On the way to the lumberyard, he opened the sack and devoured the delicious jam-filled cookies dusted with sugar. It was no wonder Arlan asked her to make them. They nearly melted in his mouth.
The notion of something delicious turned his thoughts back around to Victoria. He didn’t even have any idea if she could cook. There was so much he didn’t know about her, but the important things, like her character and moral values, he knew as well as his own.
Which was why he really should leave the woman alone before they got any more entangled with one another. Nothing good could come of it. Not when she planned to return back east and he had a job to do that kept him one step ahead of the members of the local law enforcement.
Trace had managed to figure out what Emmett Brunson intended to steal Christmas Eve. Unless he was completely mistaken, the man was going to rob the gold coming from the area’s biggest mine and the payroll heading up to it on December twenty-fourth. The perfect time to strike would be when the wagons would pass one another. If Trace guessed correctly, that moment ought to be about nine in the morning. The place where the wagons would meet was a few hours from Hardman to the southeast.
At the precise moment they were in the same location, Trace figured there would be thousands of dollars in gold and payroll. He admitted Emmett’s idea was rather brilliant, if they could pull it off.
Eager to wrap up this job, Trace sent Billy’s assistant a coded message. Hopefully the insipid little man would quickly get it to Billy. If all went well, Trace might even make it home to see his sister before Christmas Day was over. That would be a wonderful surprise for her and the children. Trace had already purchased gifts and mailed them, but he didn’t think they’d object in the least if he happened to show up in person. Preferably without any bullet holes in his hide.