Cowboy Cavalry. Alice SharpeЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Two

      Frankie was almost positive there was more to Kate West than met the eye, although there was nothing at all wrong with what met the eye. Midtwenties, long spun-gold hair, forget-me-not blue eyes, skin like polished seashells.

      But there was something else, too. How many times had she looked at her watch for instance? Gary hadn’t said a word about her being distracted when he met her. Did that mean she normally wasn’t or had Gary been too engrossed in preproduction dilemmas to notice?

      She’d contacted Gary first. He’d immediately called their historian, Patrick Lowell, to make sure she was legitimate. Pat was a fuddy-duddy of a man, a former junior college teacher turned freelance researcher, hired by Gary for several projects through the years and thorough with dates and facts. He’d confirmed Kate’s claims. Gary called Frankie who left the ranch in Falls Bluff and drove all night to meet with Gary and Pat.

      Pat had admitted he didn’t know much about Kate’s current situation, just that she’d once been a grammar schoolteacher in Arizona. He’d suggested Frankie invite her to the ranch so she could meet the family. Gary had seconded that idea. Obviously, they both thought Frankie’s family would be more successful at winning her over than Frankie would.

      But Frankie had settled on lunch instead and he’d gone to the restaurant dead set against inviting her anywhere. Once she’d met everyone, then what? What in the world would he do with a stranger intent on causing him problems? It was a busy time of year and taking care of her would fall on his shoulders. He really didn’t like babysitting people. Left to his own devices, he would have invited her to do her best to convince the world the documentary didn’t deserve to be made and he’d do his best to prove her wrong by making sure it turned out so damn good, there could be no doubt.

      But he wasn’t in this by himself; Gary was involved, too, and so when Kate unconsciously laid the groundwork for an invitation, he went ahead and made it. The truth was that getting to know her was not an unpleasant idea. Who didn’t like a little mystery in a woman? He was even a bit disappointed that she wanted to drive separately.

      But first he wanted to know what she was hiding and that’s why he’d paid for lunch and left the restaurant before her, which wasn’t easy as she was obviously champing at the bit to be gone herself.

      Why? Had she privately arranged to talk to the backers earlier than she’d claimed? Had she agreed to the ranch trip just to mislead him? He intended to find out, even if it meant he had to sneak around a little.

      From the restaurant exit, he glanced back at their table to see the waiter boxing his untouched lunch. Waste not, want not, huh? Maybe she had a dog. He hurried to his car and had just ducked inside when she stepped onto the sidewalk. She turned a fair number of heads as she walked down the block, blond hair floating out behind her in the gentle breeze, skirt swirling around excellent legs, small white paper bag dangling from one hand.

      Babysitting her wasn’t going to be that difficult, he admitted to himself. He just had to remember to treat her like a loaded keg of dynamite and not the living, breathing, sexy beauty that she was.

      As she came to a halt at a nearby bus stop, her gaze darted between her wristwatch and the street until a bus passed Frankie’s parked car and pulled to a stop in front of her. She boarded. He wasn’t sure where it was bound because he’d been too busy admiring Kate’s willowy form to notice the destination. He followed along behind as it made its way through traffic, expecting a downtown route. Instead it slowly made its way toward the suburbs and one of the many small communities surrounding Seattle proper. He continued following its stop-and-go route, watching as Kate made a couple of transfers, curious now despite the increasingly remote possibility her destination had anything to do with him. She finally got off the bus and began walking.

      At first, the streets and sidewalks were crowded and all he had to do was drive slow and stay behind her. She kept making turns that led her away from the artsy-craftsy streets toward a row of ordinary houses, circa 1950. He stayed as far back as he could, her gold hair a beacon up ahead until she turned another corner and he sped up to find her again.

      Many of the houses on this street were in the process of renovation but a few looked as though they hadn’t been tinkered with for decades. He stopped as she opened the gate to one such house and walked across the barren yard. It appeared to him she knocked before unlocking the door with a key she took from her shoulder bag.

      So, what had he learned? Not much. She apparently lived on a street showing signs of promise in a house whose property value undoubtedly superseded the worth of the structure.

      As he sat there undecided about what to do next, the door opened again and a small older woman emerged wearing nothing but a baggy sleeveless dress. The door swung closed behind her as she walked across the yard and out through the gate, right into the middle of the street. She stopped suddenly and stared down at her bare feet, clutching her thin arms with her hands, her gaze traveling the block as though trying to place herself.

      Frankie looked toward the door. No sign of Kate.

      He pulled the car forward and got out. He stood there a second, kind of lurking behind a bush, willing Kate to come out and take care of this woman before he had to blow his cover and do it himself. The door stayed closed. A car came around the corner and started down the street and he knew it was time to act. He took off his jacket as he crossed to the woman and draped it over her shoulders. The car sped by them and Frankie suppressed a wave of anger lest the old woman thought it was directed at her.

      “Can I help you?” he asked gently.

      She didn’t respond. He applied soft pressure to her arm to urge her to come with him back to the curb. She looked up at him as though just aware of his presence. “Do you know where Dennis is?”

      “No, ma’am, I’m sorry, I don’t,” he said.

      She looked down the street but didn’t move.

      Another car had pulled to a stop a few feet away and the impatient driver tapped the horn. The old lady jumped.

      Frankie cast the driver a look that would have sent a pack of coyotes off at a run. “Ma’am, please,” he said. “Come with me.”

      She peered at his face and blinked. “Do you know where Dennis is?”

      “Gram!” Kate yelled from the yard. She tore open the gate and ran out into the street, glancing up at Frankie as she ground to a halt in front of him. To say she looked surprised to see him was an understatement. Shocked was more like it. The old woman gazed at Kate without changing expression. Kate’s arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. “Your dinner is almost ready, Gram,” she said softly. “Let’s go back inside. It’s chilly out here.”

      “I can’t find Dennis,” the old lady mumbled.

      “We’ll look for him in the house,” Kate promised as she led her grandmother back to the yard where Frankie now saw another woman waiting on the porch. Kate took Frankie’s jacket from around her grandmother’s shoulders, hooked it on the gate and glanced back at him, anger blazing in her eyes.

      “Kate,” he said but she shook her head and held up a hand as if to silence him. Without another word, she took her grandmother’s arm and ushered her quickly inside the house, the other woman following behind. The door closed with a resounding thud.

      Frankie, still in the middle of the street walked toward the car that had honked. The driver’s window rolled open.

      “You proud of yourself?” he asked the driver.

      A narrow-faced man