Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose - By Tessa Berkley Page 0,91
“Run some water on it, and I’ll get a strip of linen to bind it.”
Mary Rose pumped the handle, and as the cold water poured from the channel, she thrust her hand beneath the flow.
“So what were you thinking about?” Penny’s voice came from the pantry.
“Nothing in particular, just thinking,” she answered. Pulling her hand back, she wiped the water from her skin.
“Okay, let me have it again.”
She held the finger out to Penny and watched as she wrapped the cloth around it, then tied the ends together.
“So you weren’t thinking about anything or anyone in particular?”
She shook her head.
“Not even a certain U.S. Marshal?”
Blood rushed to Mary Rose’s cheeks, and Penny Wallace giggled.
“You never could lie. He is quite handsome, this Marshal Castillo.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Is he the one who gave you that beautiful ring?”
Glancing down, Mary Rose looked at the gold ring that graced the third finger of her left hand. “Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
Her face contorted in doubt. “I don’t know.”
Penny shook her head. “You must know, Mary Rose.” She bit her lip. “If you don’t, you’ll end up like me.”
Her heart thudded to a stop. Her fears were true. “I thought you loved the captain.”
This time her friend shook her head. “I do, but the love is a bit one-sided.” She placed a hand upon her rounding abdomen. “I’m hoping this will change how he feels. If I have a child, a son, perhaps he will see me in a different light.”
Mary Rose squeezed her hand tight. “He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”
Penny swallowed hard. “I’m sure it’s my fault. I always seem to be making things worse.”
“Penny,” she began, but her friend shook her head.
“No, enough about me. Let’s talk about something happy. Tell me about this whirlwind courtship.” Penny smiled. “And don’t leave anything out.”
****
The map covered Rand’s desk, and three heads pored over the topography pictured there.
“So you think the guns might be in Coyote Canyon?” Doubt filled the question that came from Captain Augustus Wallace. For the past hour or so, he had been tearing apart both Trace’s and Rand’s statements.
“That’s what we figure, Captain. I’ve got a few men checking the caves.” The sheriff pointed at the mark on the map.
“Why are you leading the investigation?”
“We’ve had a couple of incidents here in town, and we’d hoped to keep a watch and try to find out who the local contact is,” Trace explained.
“Yes,” the captain said, “it’s rather curious that she was the only one left alive, with the others being so savagely murdered.”
Trace stepped back. “What are you getting at?”
Captain Wallace stood up and arched a brow as if brushing off his next statement. “I’m not getting at anything, except for the fact her wound was apparently minor in contrast to the others. I can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, she was the orchestrator.”
Trace’s eyes turned murderously cold. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer.”
“I’ve been the sheriff here for the past seven years, and that little girl and her brother have been pillars of the community,” Rand added.
“There is always a first time.” The captain glared at them. "We all know the Irish are thieves and charlatans. All one must do is look to New York."
“She was not involved.” Trace’s voice crackled. “I found her hiding in the bushes along the pond. She was definitely scared, frightened.”
“It could have been an act,” Captain Wallace ventured.
Trace stepped forward. "And here I thought you were her friend."
Rand moved to block his way. Beneath his breath he mumbled, "Steady." Turning, he looked at Captain Wallace. “Look, this was an outside job. Neither Mary Rose nor her brother had anything to do with the attack or the missing rifles,” Rand stated.
“You willing to bet your badge on that? Both of you?” the captain scoffed.
“Damn right,” Trace hissed. “Mary Rose couldn’t kill her own brother. Let alone bash his brains out and then sit there for twenty-four hours hoping someone would come by.”
“You’d be surprised what people can do when they are desperate.”
Trace’s eyes narrowed. “You speaking from experience, Captain?”
The captain shot him an equally dark glance. “No, Marshal, I’m not.”
Slipping past the edge of Rand’s desk, Trace snarled back, “Who made you holier than thou, Captain? Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out.”
“As a representative of the government, it is within my authority to issue a statement of negligence. This was federal government property, and if it is not found, Thornton’s Freight will be held responsible.”