“Where are we?” she asked, scowling at him as he untied her hands and lifted her from the saddle. He carried her up the steps to the porch, opened the door, and hurried inside.
“You’ve never been here?” he asked as he set her down then tied her to a chair.
“Of course I haven’t been here. Have you lost your hearing along with your moral fortitude?”
Under other circumstances, Trace might have let her words hurt him. But he didn’t have time for it today.
“This is your brother’s cabin.”
At her surprised expression, he gave her a sympathetic glance. He hated the first time she saw the cabin to be tied to a chair, left there by him. “Gray mentioned where it was located a while back. I thought it might be handy to know how to get here. Seems that will prove true today.” He lit a lantern then built a fire in the stove along with one in the hearth. The room would warm quickly and she’d be comfortable until someone arrived to rescue her.
Although he wished it could be him, he had to leave after he relieved Emmett Brunson of his stolen goods.
Out of time for being anything but blunt, he knelt in front of Victoria, took her face between his hands, and looked her square in the face.
“You can think what you like of me, Tori, but I’m going to tell you two things I’ve never told anyone else. First, I love you. I love you so much it makes my heart hurt and I can’t stand the thought of being away from you. You’re beautiful and smart, gentle and kind, and if I could choose a woman to be my partner in life, it would be you. Even this escapade you pulled this morning makes me proud of you because no one else was clever enough to figure out I am Bub the outlaw.”
When she started to say something, he placed his fingers over her lips to silence her.
“The second thing is my name. You asked to know it and I’ll tell you. Only two other people know my real name, and that’s my sister and her husband. It’s Tressillian Agamemnon Travers. For business purposes, I go by T. A. Travers. My friends call me Trace. And before you ask, my mother named me Tressillian after an old English village she loved. My middle name is from Greek mythology. Agamemnon was the king of Mycenae, son of King Atreus and Queen Aerope. His brother married Helen, two of the main characters in the stories that led to the Trojan War. And no, I would not make up such a hideous name just to lie to you. That really is my name. If you want to verify I’m telling the truth, I’m going to put my sister’s address in your coat pocket. Write and ask her. She knows what I do for a living, Tori. If you have questions, write to her. She’ll answer them honestly. Someday, I hope to explain everything to you in person, but in case I never see you again, never question how much I love you.”
He stood and took a small notebook from his pocket with a stubby pencil, scribbled something on it, ripped off a page, and tucked it in the pocket of her coat. Once more, he knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her arms.
“I know it’s hard to imagine, but what is happening isn’t what you think. However, I can’t tell you any more than that. All I can do is ask you to believe me, to believe in me, Tori. And to believe what I say when I confess that I love you as I’ve never loved another and most likely won’t again. I truly do love you.”
Whatever she might have said in response was lost when he captured her lips with his, kissing her with all the longing, the passion, the promises he longed to give her.
Abruptly, he drew back, pressed a kiss to her forehead, rose to his feet, and strode to the door. “I’ll send someone to take you home.”
“Trace, wait!” he heard her call, but he shut the door behind him and ran over to where he’d left the horses. He loosened the cinch on Penelope and led her into a stall in the barn, grateful there was still a little feed to give her.
He mounted his horse and raced to Fred Decker’s place since it was the closest. Hurriedly leaving a note stuck to a nail on the barn door, he rode like his life depended on him reaching Brunson’s cabin as quickly as possible, which it more than likely did.
When he got there, he left Brown, the name he’d given the horse, tied to the fence next to one other horse, removed a tin from his saddlebag, and hurried inside the cabin.
Frankie John sat at the table, sipping from a flask.
“Morning, Guy,” Trace said, plastering on a big, fake, friendly smile.
“Mornin’, Bub.” The man held the flask out toward him.
“I’m not much for booze before daylight,” Trace said, setting the tin on the table and removing the lid then sliding it toward the other man. “But I don’t mind cookies with my coffee.”
“Don’t mind a little something sweet anytime, whether it’s cookies or kisses.”
Trace ignored the comment, wondering if the thief had seen him with Victoria. If he had, he was sure Frankie John would have mentioned it by now. From what he’d observed, the man was shy on brains and never hesitated to speak whatever was on his mind.
“Can’t say as I’d turn down either,” Trace said, filling a coffeepot with snow then setting it on the stove. He was already jittery enough, but making coffee would give him something to do.
“How’s that fancy lady you was with the last time I saw you? She a sweet little morsel?” The leer on Frankie John’s face made Trace want to punch his nose through the back side of his head.
“She’s a prickly sort,” Trace said, not wanting to discuss Victoria. Not when he’d do anything to keep her safe.
Before they could continue the discussion, the door swung open and two more gang members arrived. For the next twenty minutes, men trickled in until the cabin was packed.
As though he made a grand entry, Emmett Brunson was the last to swagger inside, looking quite pleased with himself as he glanced around the room.
“This is gonna be a big job, boys, and I need you all on your best behavior. Bub is riding point, so follow his lead.” Brunson nodded to Trace.
“What are we stealing, boss?” Frankie John asked.
“A payroll wagon is headed to the Rock River Mine this morning and they just so happen to be bringing a load of gold to the train in Heppner today. Seems to be a good time to snatch both the gold and the money. Bub is in charge of the details.”
Brunson looked to Trace again.
In preparation of this moment, Trace had ridden the trail to the mine three times, calculated how long the gold wagon would take to reach the depot as well as how long the payroll wagon would take to reach the mine, and knew the exact spot where they’d meet. But he wasn’t going to share all that. Not when he was supposed to just be learning what Brunson intended for them to rob.
Trace pretended to be thoughtful for several long, silent moments. “The easiest way to do this would be to catch those two wagons together.”
Brunson nodded once.
“So, I reckon if the wagons are traveling close to the same speed and are traveling the same distance…” Trace placed a finger on his nose and rubbed the side of it, like he was deep in thought. “Well, probably near Settler’s Rock would be a good place to catch them.”
Brunson studied Trace for several long moments, then finally broke into a smile. “That’s what I had planned.”
“Well, if you had it planned, why’d you make him come up with it?” Frankie John asked. “He like to hurt himself thinking that up.”