my mother. Also, I would like you to conduct an audit of the shipping company’s accounts to see how much money that swindling bastard has embezzled the past four years.”
Bart didn’t reply immediately, but eventually he nodded.
Crow glared at him. “Now you believe her?” he muttered. “You’re the one who buzzed up here by stagecoach to wave that newspaper article in my face.”
Bart studied Natalie critically for a long moment. She lifted her skinned chin and met his gaze squarely. She refused to beg or plead to be believed. If Bart turned against her, too, then she would sneak off in the middle of the night and take her chances with marauding outlaws. She wasn’t waiting around for Crow to accuse her of theft so Bart could file formal charges. Crow was now a closed chapter of her life.
“I’ll check into the suspicions of murder,” Bart agreed. When Crow snorted in annoyance, he tossed him a somber glance. “I think she really is Natalie Blair, heiress to the New Orleans shipping fortune. I will, however, make a few contacts to verify her claim.”
Natalie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you.”
“I’m not completely convinced,” Crow said, and scowled. “I want more proof—”
His voice evaporated when the windowpane shattered and a rock bounced across the floor.
“Ooofff!” Natalie’s breath came out in a pained whoosh when Crow shoved her down to the carpet and sprawled on top of her. She hadn’t noticed that he’d drawn his pistol until she raised her head to see the barrel aimed at the broken window.
“It’s only a rock,” she panted as she squirmed beneath his heavy weight. “You should have let it hit me in the head. I’m sure that would have pleased you to no end.”
“Maybe not as much as you might think,” he muttered, still focused intently on the window.
“If it had killed me you would have the Robedeaux-Blair fortune all to yourself,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want your money.” He crawled onto his hands and knees, then inched cautiously toward the window.
“Why not? Everyone else does. They’re willing to kill to get it.”
He swiveled his head around to stare at her with those unnerving silver-blue eyes that once burned with passion and now sizzled with distaste. “All I want is a divorce because you lied to me.”
“So you only want half of what I own, do you?” she smarted off. “Fine, you can have it then I will sic Marsh and Kimball on you. But I don’t advise you to eat or drink anything my stepfather serves because I’m convinced the main ingredient will be poison.”
“Children, please,” Bart mocked while he crouched on the opposite side of the window, his pistol at the ready. “We’ll haggle over the devil’s details later. First, let’s figure out who pitched the rock. Anyone going to volunteer to stand up, look outside and take the sniper’s first bullet?”
“I nominate Crow,” Natalie said with a smirk. “Stub-born as he is, the bullets will bounce right off him.”
The comment earned her Crow’s frosty glare. Not to be outdone, she flashed him a smile that dripped icicles.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, that didn’t work.” Marsh sent the henchman named Fred Jenson a disapproving glower. “I found out what room Natalie was in but your bright idea of luring her husband to the broken window was a disaster. Now they will be suspicious and on guard for a possible attack. Might as well have sent them an engraved invitation!”
“Crow is smarter than I thought,” Fred Jenson said, then spit a wad of tobacco into the dirt.
Marsh made a mental note not to step in it. Scowling, he veered toward the back of the livery stable to reach the spot where his second hired gun, Taylor Green, waited.
“I’m hungry,” Green complained. “We haven’t eaten since this morning. I work better on a full stomach.”
Marsh stared pointedly at Green’s protruding belly that spilled over his belt buckle. He was sure the gunman took outside jobs, just to satisfy his gluttony. The man had talked about the best places to eat in Louisiana most of the trip.
Damn it, Marsh just couldn’t hire good help when he wanted someone murdered—and not be blackmailed for it when the deed was done.
“Might as well feed your face.” Marsh veered toward Turner Hotel, where he and his cohorts rented rooms. “We’ll launch another attack tonight.”
He strode off with Green lumbering behind him and Jenson bringing up the rear. Now he had to round up Kimball. The prancing dandy had gone to a saloon