Lucas took three steps in the direction the deputy and Flora had gone and then stopped short. As much as he hated allowing this, at least she would be safe in jail until he could come for her. The fact that she might not forgive him was a risk he would have to take.
Kyle jogged up to interrupt his thoughts. “Where’s Miss Brimm?”
“Thanks to you, she’s in jail,” he snapped. “What did you say to the sheriff?”
“Only that we were pursuing a suspect with active warrants and requested arrest upon sight.” He paused. “Wait, are you telling me she still had a warrant? I thought you took care of that.” Kyle hit his forehead with his palm. “I should have been more specific and told them it was Lennart we wanted, not her.”
“You can explain that to Flora when she’s released. Right now we have a man to capture.”
They briefly discussed strategy and then parted, Kyle going aboard each of the vessels with one party of deputies and Lucas combing the waterfront with another. A third group went on to Brimmfield to search and then stand guard. Lucas personally alerted the authorities in Memphis.
By daybreak Lennart still had not been found. The likelihood he had remained in Natchez, however, dimmed with each moment that passed. It was time to go and fetch Flora from her prison cell.
“Keep at it,” Lucas told Kyle as he turned away from the docks and headed toward the jail.
“Don’t you want me to come with you to spring Miss Brimm? I figure you might need backup once she’s set loose.”
“Very funny,” he said, though Lucas knew it wasn’t far from the truth. Flora would be furious. And though Kyle’s wording of the message hadn’t helped matters, the reason she’d been arrested rested on Lucas.
He was the one who had sworn out the warrant.
“Get some sleep,” he told his friend. “Lennart will show eventually, likely somewhere upriver, and when he does I’ll need you rested so you can go get him.”
By the time Lucas reached the jail, the sun was beginning to rise in earnest. After taking a side trip around the corner to rent a horse and buggy for the trip to Brimmfield, he returned to find an unfamiliar fellow asking questions of the deputy. It only took a moment for Lucas to realize the man was asking about Flora. Thankfully, the deputy didn’t appear interested in answering.
“Who are you?” Lucas said as he stepped between the two. “And what business is it of yours to be asking around about my fiancée, especially here?”
The man’s pale brows rose. “So you’re the mystery fiancé. We had a tip that there was to be a wedding at Brimmfield, but due to an unfortunate mistake in addressing invitations, mine did not arrive.”
“I see.” He leaned closer to the man and put on the expression he generally saved for the more hardened criminals he dealt with. “I will repeat the question. Who are you?”
“Carlton,” he said as he stuck out his hand in an attempt to shake. “Asa Carlton of the local paper.”
Lucas ignored the gesture to narrow his eyes. “Reporter,” he said with all the derision appropriate to this man and his ilk.
Carlton withdrew his hand and reached into his pocket to produce a pencil and pad of paper. “My sources say Fatal Flora was arrested upon her return from New Orleans yesterday afternoon. Any chance you two were returning from your honeymoon? And what’s your name by the way? Oh, what where those charges against Miss Brimm?” He shook his head. “If she’s married to you, then she wouldn’t be Miss Brimm anymore, would she? But if she’s married, she also wouldn’t be Fatal Flora anymore, would she?”
The barrage of questions died a quiet death when the reporter finally raised his eyes to meet Lucas’s glare. At that point, he fumbled the pencil and then scrambled to retrieve it.
“Well, Mr. Carlton,” he finally said. “Your sources were only partially correct. There is a major investigation underway regarding a suspect in a substantial threat to certain parties in this city. What your sources likely saw was Miss Brimm being taken to a place of safety so as to be removed from the imminent danger.” He nodded toward the deputy. “Can you think of a safer place than right under the nose of the Natchez law?”
The reporter laughed. “I suppose you’re correct. However, I’m told she was carried away in handcuffs and was quite uncooperative.”
“Have you not considered that is exactly what law enforcement wished the suspect to see?”
Carlton was practically giddy with excitement at this idea. “Then do allow me to interview Miss Brimm. Or, rather, Mrs…what was your name, sir?”
“I didn’t say.”
He peered up at Lucas. “Yes, well, you’ll have to say if you want to be named in the write-up.”
“There will be no write-up. Security reasons. I’m sure you understand.”
“No, actually I don’t.”
Lucas swiveled to turn his attention to the deputy. “Deputy, would you tell this man what happens to someone who interferes in an active investigation?”
The young man grinned. “That would be a charge of aiding and abetting a criminal, for one. Then there’s the—”
“No need to continue,” Carlton said quickly. “Just give me my scoop about the wedding, and I’ll leave you to your investigation without a single mention of any part of it.” He gave Lucas a pleading look. “I need my job, sir. If you’re marrying Flora Brimm, just give me some sort of scoop about the when and where of it. Something, please?”
Lucas thought only for a moment. “All right. If you agree to say nothing about any of this, I will do what I can to see that you alone will have an exclusive interview with my bride and me. And, more importantly, you and your paper will never, ever refer to my fiancée as Fatal Flora again, or you will risk my wrath and legal action. Will that do?”
He nodded far too quickly. “It will indeed.”
“And if you breathe a word of any of this, Carlton,” the deputy said, “you’ll be back here and on the wrong side of a cell door before you can blink twice. Do you understand?”
The reporter scribbled something on the paper and handed it to Lucas. “Here’s how to reach me. Now I will bid you a good day.” With that, he was gone.
“Seems like there’s always a reporter or a lawyer sniffing around here.” The deputy gestured to his desk. “Speaking of lawyers, Miss Brimm’s man was here yesterday and is in fact down at the judge’s house right now getting a signature on the release papers. The judge is going to call when he—”
The telephone rang just then, and the deputy nodded toward it. “Likely him now.” He picked the receiver up and listened a moment. “Yes, sir. Might I save him the trouble by releasing her to Mr. McMinn? He’s standing right here.” The deputy looked at Lucas. “You willing to take Miss Brimm home?”
“I am.”
The deputy relayed the information to the judge and hung up. “All settled. I’ll just go get the prisoner.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “You sure you want her? Her lawyer said he’d come fetch her home. Might be safer.”
“No,” Lucas said on an exhale of breath. “I started this. I might as well finish it.”
To his surprise, Flora stepped out to greet him looking only slightly worse for wear. Someone had styled her hair, and she’d changed her clothes to wear a frilly dress that matched her eyes. Eyes that, upon close inspection, spared him little sympathy as he began his hastily prepared speech.
“Flora, I had no idea Kyle worded the telegram that way. Then I decided you’d be safer here than anywhere else, so I—”
“Lucas, can we just leave now before that awful reporter finds me?”
“I handled him.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “How? Did you have him thrown in jail too?”
“No. I promised him the exclusive story of our wedding.”
Flora groaned. “You’re not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” He escorted her out into the morning sunshine. By habit, he searched the windows of the buildings around them for the suspect, and then he scanned the horizon. Once he was sure all was well, Lucas released his grip on Flora’s arm. “Your carriage, Miss Brimm,” he said with a nod toward the buggy.
His hands spanned her tiny waist as he lifted her up onto the seat. Had he allowed himself, Lucas might have taken a long look into those impossibly blue eyes. Even now he couldn’t believe the pretty girl with the sky-colored eyes was his Flora.
His Flora.
Lucas let out a long breath. No, he couldn’t think of her as anything of the sort.
A few kisses and a declaration of some feelings of attraction did not a relationship make. Not exactly a statement worthy of Shakespeare, but it certainly fit the bill.
Now, if she loved him…well, that would be something altogether different.
But she was too busy solving the problems of the world—or at least the problems of her world—to consider marriage to a man who would well and truly love her.
Marriage. Where had that come from? Other than the obvious fact everyone outside of the people who truly knew them believed he was about to make Flora Brimm his wife.
He looked down and saw his knuckles had turned white from gripping the reins so hard.
“You look awful, Lucas. Didn’t you get any sleep?”
“No,” he said as he gave the reins a gentle slap and set the buggy in motion. “We were hoping we’d get Lennart. No one wanted to go home.”
Her expression softened. “I appreciate that.”
“Part of the service, ma’am,” he responded with an exaggerated drawl that he hoped would continue her light mood. “How did you spend the night in a jail cell and end up looking so pretty?”
“According to Grandmama, a lady never goes out in public unprepared. So she made sure I was prepared.” Flora paused. “Or rather the half dozen members of the Brimm staff who were sent over for the purpose made sure of it.”
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, though that was preferable to any distractions a conversation might bring.
Flora leaned back against the buggy seat and closed her eyes.
“Tired?” he asked as he returned his attention to the road. With Lennart still on the run, he could be anywhere. One good shot and…no, he would not let that happen.
“Yes, actually. I’m completely tired of men.”
“Of men?” He lifted a brow as his gaze continued to scan the perimeter. “All men or just a few in particular?”
“I suppose I could blame a few in particular. Such as my grandfather for putting me in this mess, or my cousin Winny for being such a poor handler of his money. Then there are Lennart and Tucker, two men I don’t ever want to see again. Add in the reporter, the entire jail staff, and…” She let out a long breath before swiping at an errant strand of hair that had come loose from her elegant updo. “Or maybe I could rest the responsibility on you.”
“Me?” He spared her a quick but direct look. “Why me? I’m the one trying to keep you safe.”
“No, you’re the one doing your job, which just happens at the moment to be keeping me safe.”
Oh, that did it. “That is enough, Flora Brimm.”
He gave the area a thorough scan and then veered off in a sharp right onto a dirt road that bisected a stand of cottonwoods. When he was fairly certain of the safety of their location, he pulled the carriage to a quick stop and then swiveled in the seat.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to decide whether to kiss you or take you back to jail and swear out another warrant.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She looked ready to bolt. “Would you?”
“What is it about you, Flora? You’re the most irritating, agitating, beautiful…” He reached to haul her against him. “Do you really believe you’re just a job to me? After all we’ve admitted in regard to our feelings?”
She looked deeply into his eyes, and something she saw there made her heart melt. “Oh, Lucas. Let me show you what I believe.” Before he could respond she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.
A shot rang out. Cursing himself for a fool, Lucas pushed her onto the floor of the carriage and covered her with his body.
“Do not move!”
“Lennart,” she whispered.
“Probably.” He leaned up on one elbow, his weapon at the ready. Another shot rang out, this one ricocheting off the back of the carriage and causing the horses to spook.
The carriage lurched forward as the terrified animals ran for cover. Somehow Lucas managed to capture the reins and halt their progress. When the next shot zinged past, he lifted his gun and fired twice.
Someone in the copse of trees cried out. Flora cowered on the carriage floor, all too aware of their near miss with death. Even more aware that her selfish tirade had landed them in this mess.
Silence reigned. Overhead a hawk circled and then called out.
“Give it up, Lennart,” Lucas shouted. “You’re already good as caught.”
Nothing.
“Is he dead?” Flora whispered.
“Might be. Or he could just be reloading.”
“But you hit him. I heard it.”
A nod, and Lucas returned his attention to the direction where he’d last shot. “I’ll believe he’s dead when—”
Lucas fell backward, blood staining his shirt. Another bullet zinged by, this one ricocheting off a tree somewhere nearby.
Flora reached to grab the reins. “Lucas!” she cried, but he didn’t answer. For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
“Thank You, Lord.” Brimmfield was too far away yet, so Flora turned the carriage around and urged the horses back toward town as fast as they could go. “Lucas, don’t you dare die before I get you to the doctor. Do you hear me?”
But the color was already fading from his face, and those long black lashes refused to move from the spot where they dusted his pale cheekbones. She reached over to place her hand atop his, but only for a moment.
Save him, Lord, please. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
She slapped the reins and the carriage lurched forward.
Once they were back in the midst of the traffic that made up Natchez’s main street, her prayers became more fervent, more immediate.
Let him live. I love him, Lord. Please let him live.
Finally, the doctor’s office was just up ahead. “Thank You,” she said as she drew the carriage to a halt. She jumped from the wagon and practically dragged the protesting doctor out of an examination and into the street to tend to Lucas.
Returning to the buggy, she pressed past the few bystanders who had already begun to gather. “Let the doctor through,” she demanded as she kept a tight grip on the man’s coat.
Lucas’s shirt was soaked now, blood staining his chest bright crimson. If he breathed, she couldn’t see it. And then he gasped.
“You’re alive,” she said as she pressed her palms to his face. “I’ve brought help.” His eyes fluttered open but his attention did not immediately fix on her.
“You there,” the doctor said to a pair of men standing close by. “Help me get this man inside.”
They complied, making short work of moving Lucas from the carriage to the operating table.
“Flora?” she thought she heard him say as the doctor used a pair of scissors to cut away his shirt.
“Yes, darling,” she answered as she swiped at tears now freely falling. “It’s me.”
“Excuse me, Miss Flora,” the doctor said. “Or, forgive me. Are you his wife?”
“No, but I am his fiancée.”
“Close enough. What I’m about to do is going to hurt something fierce, so I’d advise that you hold his hand.”
What the man did Flora couldn’t say, for she turned her head. Lucas’s screams, however, told her that the doctor hadn’t lied in his warning.
“The next three hours will be critical,” he said when he was finished. “And should he survive those, the next few weeks it will be essential that he remain as inactive as possible.”
She pulled the watch from his vest pocket and wiped the bloody splotches off with his handkerchief. The time was straight up ten o’clock. Three hours would be one in the afternoon. Easy for God but an impossibly long time to wait.
Save him, Lord, this man of mine.