“I’m sorry, Trace. What about your sister? I know you mentioned she has two children. Does she go on adventures now?”
“Heavens, no! Teresa loves her home and life there. I can’t picture her ever leaving on some wild adventure unless under duress.”
“What about you?” Victoria gave him a studying glance. One that made him want to squirm a little. “Do you miss that life? How did you become an employee of the telephone company?”
Gray and Claire’s home came into view, saving him from answering her questions. “Looks like Maddie is waiting for you,” he said as the child stood on the porch steps, bouncing up and down and waving a hand over her head in greeting.
“She is such a sweet child.” Victoria glanced at him. “Don’t get me wrong, she hardly holds still for more than a minute or two, but she is a loving, intelligent, kindhearted girl.”
“I picked up on that, and the fact she is quite fond of her auntie.” Trace pulled the wagon to a stop, hopped down, and hurried around to help Victoria. Ignoring propriety, he placed his hands on her waist and swung her down. She landed so close her skirts covered the toes of his boots. He wondered how she’d respond if he kissed her right there with Maddie racing toward them and Claire watching from the front window.
He pecked her cheek, offered her a rakish wink, then turned to greet the child as she barreled into his legs.
“Hi, Mr. Travers! Did you know it’s almost Christmas?”
“I did know that, Miss Maddie,” he said, bending down and tweaking her nose, making her giggle. “Have you been a good girl? Do you think Santa Claus will visit you?”
“Oh, yes! I’ve been extra good and I have a song to play for Santa. I don’t know if I can stay awake long enough to play for him, but I hope I can.”
“I bet that will be the best gift he receives if he can hear you play,” Trace said, wishing he could be there to hear Maddie’s song. The few times he’d heard her play had left him awed by her talent. The child could perform anywhere, yet she didn’t seem to be aware that her abilities on the violin were something remarkable and extraordinary. Trace thought it commendable Gray treated her as a normal little girl instead of a prodigy.
“Come inside, Aunt Victoria! Mama and I made cookies!”
Victoria smiled at Maddie, taking the hand the child held out to her. “Did Aunt Elsa send home cookie dough?”
Maddie nodded. “Yep! And we baked it all up. It’s yummy!”
“I’m sure it is delicious.” Victoria took a step toward the house as Maddie continued to tug on her hand. “Thank you for the ride, Trace. Would you like to come in and warm up?”
“I best be going, but thank you. Eat a cookie or two for me.”
“I will.” Victoria took a few more steps toward the house, stopped, and glanced back at him. She looked like she had something to say to him but couldn’t quite find a way to express herself. Rather than wait while she worked through it, he tipped his hat, climbed back onto the wagon, and left. He only had a few days to prepare for the Brunson gang’s next and hopefully last job and needed every moment he had to get ready.
Chapter Fifteen
Ice threatened to form in his nose as Trace rode through the early morning darkness toward the rendezvous point on Gooseberry Road. Between the snow that had fallen the past few days and plummeting temperatures, he’d almost hoped Brunson would call off this job and wait until the weather cooperated.
Since no one had said anything about waiting, Trace had gotten the telephone wagon supplies in order, packed up his belongings from the boardinghouse, and tucked them into the saddlebags he’d left with his horse at the livery in town. The moment he could get away, Trace planned to hightail it for Heppner, board the train for Portland, and never look back.
Only his heart and head agreed that he’d never forget Victoria. That woman… She was proving to be unforgettable. Despite his best efforts to keep it from happening, she’d somehow worked her way into his heart, and he had a notion she’d always have a spot there.
One day, perhaps she’d forgive him for his deception and understand the reasons why he didn’t tell her the complete truth.
He still didn’t like the fact that she seemed every bit as besotted with an outlaw named Bub as she was with him. Nevertheless, since she’d taken over at the telephone office and he’d been speaking with her several times a day, he thought perhaps he was pulling ahead past the stage robber for the top spot in her affections.
Jealousy pounded through him again, even if he acknowledged how stupid it was to be jealous of himself, of a persona that didn’t exist.
He wondered what upright and proper Miss Victoria Carter would do if Bub showed up at her door and stole a few kisses. Would she slap his face or pull him closer?
With Bub’s character disappearing after the job today, he supposed it didn’t matter.
Attuned to his surroundings, Trace rode through the darkness, grateful for the scant bit of light shed by the sliver of moon overhead. He pulled up the horse near the corral behind the cabin where they’d all meet and left it tied to the fence. He’d ridden out to the cabin late the previous evening to get the horse he usually rode when he was robbing something along with the clothes he wore when he was pretending to be part of the Brunson gang. He didn’t want to have to leave a horse at the cabin, knowing he would never return to the location.
He walked into the cabin, wondering who else might already be there, but it appeared he was the first to arrive. Quickly lighting a lamp, he built a fire in the old stove to chase away the chill. It wasn’t long until he stood with his hands warming at the stove.
The snap of a twig outside made him spin around, pistol in hand, as he watched a shadow move past the window. Cautious, he tugged the handkerchief over his face as a board squawked on the step outside the door.
Trace moved back, out of the circle of light, into a darkened corner of the room as the door slowly swung open and a figure swathed in black crept inside.
Unless one of the members of the Brunson gang had shrunk considerably, the intruder was either a child or a woman, or a runt of a man. He waited, gun ready, as a glove-covered hand pushed the door shut. The interloper crept closer to the light spilling from the lamp. A few more steps and the figure stopped, looked all around, then turned toward the corner where Trace waited.
Involuntarily, he sucked in a startled gasp at the sight of Victoria standing there, dressed in black from her head to her feet. The crazy woman even had on trousers!
She jumped at the noise he made and glared into the corner. “Come out where I can see you,” she hissed in a whisper.
Trace stepped into the light, still holding the pistol pointed at her. Was the woman completely daft? Why in the world had she come to the cabin, and what did she hope to accomplish by it?
“What in blazes are you doing here, miss?” he asked, making a show of putting his pistol in the holster he wore buckled around his hips. “I could have shot you between the eyes with you sneaking around like a thief in the night.”
“That is rich, coming from you, you lying, thieving degenerate.”
Trace took two more steps toward her. “You might hurt my feelings, talking like that.”