her temper flying hot. “My brother lost his life.”
She followed his glance to the coin she held in her hand. “No honor among thieves,” he murmured.
She glared at him with renewed vengeance. “Excuse me,” she hissed.
Rand stepped aside. She stared at Trace, who refused to move. With a toss of her head, Mary Rose turned sideways. Careful not to let her skirts touch his boots, she hurried past. Stepping off the edge of the boardwalk, she risked a glance back at the marshal who turned her world upside down.
Chapter Ten
Captain Augustus Wallace flexed his fingers inside the pristine white gloves he wore and marched off at a smart step across the open area known as the parade grounds. Dodging the ranks of men marching to the bellow of the sergeant in charge, he kept his eyes focused on the low flat building labeled as the general’s office. He didn’t need this. That little popinjay would be sitting behind that big desk, waiting for him like a vulture. General John Cabot had ridden his ass since the day he arrived. It was no secret they despised one another. In fact, the enlisted men had given him better odds of surviving his tour of duty, which boosted his confidence even more.
Stepping onto the shaded porch of the company headquarters, he paused to remove his gloves and bent down to whisk the tips over his shiny black boots to scatter the dust. A sly smile curled the edges of his mouth. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. He had a little surprise of his own. Standing up straight, he inhaled as he pressed his gloves over his service belt, tucking the edges beneath for safekeeping. His hands free, he brushed one sleeve, then the other, and adjusted the edges of his deep blue jacket. Impeccable. Yes, one must be impeccable.
Beside the door, the sentry stood at attention, staring straight ahead, his weapon at his side. Without speaking, the captain stepped forward, and the sentry reached out, twisted the doorknob, and allowed him to enter. The smell of lemon-scented pine and saddle soap rolled over him like a cool breath from the heat and the dust that lay behind him. The young junior officer seated behind the field desk rose quickly and stood at attention. “Sir.”
“Captain Wallace to see General Cabot.”
“Yes, sir, if the captain will wait?”
“Of course.” Augustus gave a nod of his head and watched the clerk disappear down the hallway. Hands behind his back, he stared at the neat pile of correspondence sitting on the desk. One address leaped out at him: Cobb’s Crossing. How very curious, he mused. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach down and pluck it from its perch. Dampening his lips, he looked around. The hall appeared empty.
Should he?
The thunderous beat of his heart drowned out all the sounds around him. Nervously, he glanced around once more, but there was no sign of the officer. It would be just one quick peek. A moment later, the letter stood in his hand. He flipped the end up and eased the crisp, white folded paper out. His glance cut sideways, and he was still alone.
The paper crackled as he opened it and scanned the first few lines. Two phrases caught his attention, darkening his scowl. Sheriff Randall Weston…in regard to the missing shipment... The scrape of a boot sounded. His lungs tightened and his breathing grew harsh. Using his knee, he nudged the desk, and the stack of letters fluttered to the floor as the young officer returned.
“Oh, pardon me,” Augustus bent to pick up the scattered letters.
“Captain?”
He glanced over the insignia on his shoulders. “I must have stepped too close, studying the map.” He stood, shuffling the letters in his hand and placing the partially read note at the bottom. “Your mail.”
The young enlisted man held out a stiff hand to take them as the general stepped into view.
“Trouble, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir, General, sir.” The lieutenant leveled a cold eye in the captain’s direction. “The general will see you now, sir.”
Augustus brought his heels together with fine West Point precision and gave a slight bend at the waist.
“Do step in, Captain. We have much to discuss.”
Ignoring the lieutenant’s accusing stare, Augustus stepped inside the general’s office.
“Close the door, will you? We wouldn’t want our conversation to fall on others’ ears.”
Augustus closed the door and turned. “What can I do for you, General?” He watched his commanding officer take his seat at the desk. Yes, put something between us, you