Mary McBride – Quicksilver's Catch (страница 11)

“Oh, is there something about Angus in there?” Amanda grabbed for the paper, but Marcus held it out of reach.

He was boiling, and he wasn’t sure just why, except he hated to see people making stupid mistakes. And of all the mistakes a rich girl could make, this one was probably the stupidest and the worst. “You’re figuring to marry that no-account, lilylivered, freeloading snake?”

“Yes,” she said with a little toss of her head. “Not that it’s any of your business, Quicksilver.” Then her gaze played over the assorted passengers in the waiting room. “And I shouldn’t have to remind someone in your line of work to be a little more circumspect when discussing certain subjects. Not to mention quieter. If you know what I mean.”

She was right, of course. Marcus looked over at the weasel, to find the man’s beady little eyes trained on them once more, and an expression of renewed curiosity puckering his narrow face. Several other men were regarding them now, including the stationmaster, who stood within easy reach of his telegraph key, the one that could put him in touch with Granny Grenville and her minions in about ten seconds, leaving Marcus to kiss that five thousand dollars goodbye. That, he vowed, was not going to happen. By God, he already felt as if he’d earned at least half of that five thousand just in irritation and aggravation.

“Come on.” He folded the paper, stuck it under his arm, and tugged Amanda to her feet. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace,” he growled.

“A restaurant?” she asked hopefully.

Amanda tried to ignore the rumblings in her stomach as she sat perched on a wooden crate in an alley across from the train depot, watching Marcus Quicksilver pace back and forth and listening to the soft jingling sound his spurs made. Or was that the sound of his teeth grinding? she wondered. The bounty hunter appeared to be mad at the world in general, and at her in particular.

If anyone should be throwing a fit, she thought, it was she. Her hair was filthy. Her clothes were wrinkled, and she still smelled vaguely like cake. Day-old-cake, at that. Her luggage had vanished, and if she had ten dollars left in her handbag she’d consider herself quite lucky. She loosened the braided silk drawstring now and dumped the contents out onto her lap.

For lack of a streetlamp in the alleyway, there was only moonlight with which to inspect the coins that had clattered out. And then even the pale moonlight was blocked by a pair of wide shoulders as Marcus halted in front of her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, looming above her.

“Just what it looks like, Quicksilver. I’m counting my money.” She plucked an errant silver dollar from a fold in her skirt. “Which I wouldn’t have to do at all if someone had sent a proper wire concerning my suitcase.”

“Forget about the suitcase. It’s gone. Anyway, you’re better off not having anything with those initials on it.” He swiped off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And while I’m giving advice, Miss Grenville, I want to request that you stop taking up with every man who gives you a sidelong glance. Do you think you can do that?”

“Hush. You’re making me lose count. Fourteen. Fifteen.” Amanda added two silver dollars to the stack of coins in her hand, then sighed forlornly. “Well, I’m afraid that’s the sum of it. Oh, no. Wait.” She practically dived headfirst into her handbag then and unbuttoned a small compartment in the silk lining. “I’d completely forgotten about these,” she said, coming up with two bright twenty-dollar gold pieces.

But no sooner had she discovered them than Marcus snatched them out of her hand.

“Give those back!” she cried.

“You can have whatever’s left in Denver. If you want me to help you, then you’re just going to have to do this my way. Understand?”

His words were comparable to a bucket of cold water tossed on a fire, and Amanda’s anger sputtered out immediately. He’d just said he was going to help her, hadn’t he? Despite the fact that his face was dark and menacing as he stood looking down at her, and despite the fact that he looked as if he’d just as soon strangle her as look at her, Marcus Quicksilver had actually offered his aid.

“You’ve agreed, then? To help me get to my fiancé in Denver, I mean, instead of dragging me back to my grandmother?”

“I’ll get you to Denver. That’s all I can promise. But it’s not going to happen if you keep striking up conversations with every male between here and the Rockies. Can you get that through that hard-as-adiamond skull of yours?”

She bit down on a smile, not wanting to let him see how thrilled she was or how relieved she was that she was no longer his captive. “Yes, I believe I can.”

“Good. Now give me all the rest of that silver and we’ll see just where we stand.”

Reluctantly Amanda scooped the fifteen silver dollars from her lap and handed them over.

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