to clean out the pockets of hapless cowboys at the poker table.
Not for the first time, Marsh wished he’d had the good sense to poison Natalie instead of her mother. The cunning female was leading him on a frustrating chase.
Van inched his head up high enough to peer down on the street below. He was sure the flying rock had come from the corner of the livery stable—and no one had better bother Durango, or Van would lift scalps. That horse was reliable, loyal and dependable. Unlike some people he knew. Van glared pointedly at Natalie, who had pushed into a sitting position to grab the rock that had sailed through the window.
“No note attached,” she said. “A shame the person didn’t identify himself so Crow would know who to shoot.”
“Cut the sarcasm, Marquise. Or whatever you call French royalty,” he added snidely.
She rolled her eyes at him, then rose agilely to her feet. “I’ll prowl the streets, dressed as a boy to see what I can find out. You are too high-profile and a much larger target.”
Van stared her down, for all the good it did. And she called him stubborn and bullheaded? Ha! “You aren’t going anywhere, Your Highest of Highnesses.”
She elevated her skinned chin. “You can’t tell me what to do.” She shrugged on an oversize vest that concealed her feminine curves and swells. “I paid you for your completed assignment. We are officially separated—at your insistence. Bart can draw up separation papers before the divorce settlement.”
She crammed her hair beneath her cap and yanked it down until her ears stuck out from the side of her head. Then she smeared soot from the lantern on her face.
With one final burn-in-hell’s-biggest-bonfire glare, she swept from the room. A moment later, she returned to retrieve her piddly two-shot derringer, then tucked it into her waistband and left again.
“A week of married life and look what a disaster it’s become,” Bart remarked. Then grinned.
“As I mentioned earlier, you’re the one who showed up here, waving the newspaper, insisting my wife is a charlatan and criminal,” Van remarked as he bolted to his feet, careful not to stand in front of the window.
“You are my friend,” Bart defended, rising to his feet as he shoved his drooping spectacles back in place. “Naturally I wanted to verify Natalie’s story. If there is as much money at stake as she insists, then she could be in grave danger. This Marsh character sounds ruthless. He might kill anyone standing in the way of the Blair fortune. You first, I suspect.”
Van scowled as he raked the broken glass into a pile using the side of his foot. “The only reason you believe her now is because she offered you a job investigating and trying a case of possible murder.”
“No, I plan to hire you to investigate the allegations of murder,” he commented.
“Ha! No,” Van declined adamantly. “I’m not going anywhere near New Orleans.”
“You should.” A wry grin twitched Bart’s lips. “You’ll own half of Blair Shipping after the divorce settlement.”
“I don’t want her money, if in fact she actually has any beside what she stashed in her clothes and satchels.”
“May I ask you something?” Bart said while using the newspaper to scoop glass into the trashcan.
“No.”
He went on as if Van hadn’t spoken. “What put you and Natalie at each other’s throats? As I recall, you seemed agitated with her before I showed the article to you.”
“I told you, I found the jewelry and excess money,” Van prompted.
“What else?”
He knew Bart, being a lawyer, would keep firing questions until he was satisfied with the answers. He was as relentless in a courtroom as Van was trailing criminals. “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Van said with finality. “I intend to find out who pitched the rock and why.”
“Could be the Harper brothers,” Bart speculated. “I received another message from them before I boarded the stagecoach to find you. They said your days were numbered.”
“Pfftt!”
“Maybe Marsh and Kimball are here,” Bart suggested. “They could have tracked Natalie, just as she feared they would.”
“I hope it is. They can verify who Natalie is.”
“You would take the word of possible liars, swindlers and murderers over her?” Bart challenged. “I contend Marsh and Kimball will lie through their teeth if they think it will help them get their greedy hands on the Robedeaux-Blair fortune…. Where are you going?”
“Hunting.” Van breezed across the room. “It might take all night but I’ll find the rock thrower. Count