A Touch of Frost Page 15

  “For God’s sake,” Fiona said when Phoebe hesitated. “Don’t be churlish because I’m standing here. Take it.”

  Phoebe did. Her fear that Remington might allow the handclasp to linger came to nothing. He released her hand and gestured to her to proceed. Fiona was already marching ahead. They followed her to the apothecary. Remington opened the door for her but did not step inside.

  “What is she carrying?” Phoebe asked when he joined her again.

  “Your trousers, a blue chambray shirt, two neck cloths—one blue, one red—and a brown leather vest. The neck cloths will not be a problem, but the rest . . .” He shrugged. “I can’t be sure anything will fit. I bought the smallest I could find.” He added wryly, “But you might have to take things in.”

  “If you think that’s amusing, it’s not. I envy Fiona her figure, and she knows it. No matter what she believes, I did not say that to get under her skin. I didn’t know I could, and I don’t know why it worked, but when she turned those accusing eyes on me and called me a cat, I decided right then that I would let her believe what she wanted to, and that it would serve her right.”

  “I’m never accompanying the two of you to town again. I’m sending Johnny Sutton, and I’ll muck stalls.”

  Phoebe smiled a little at that. “Are we so bad together?”

  “Maybe I just don’t understand women.” He gestured ahead to the door on his left. “That’s Mrs. Fish’s shop.”

  Phoebe’s shoulders sagged and her steps slowed. “Do we have to?”

  “You have what you came to Frost Falls for, even if you haven’t seen it yet, and Fiona is right about you needing a couple of sensible day dresses.”

  “I don’t recall her mentioning sensible.”

  “My adjective. Things suitable for summer. You’ll thank her.”

  “Maybe.” She waited while he opened the door for her, but before she stepped over the threshold, she held up the large parcel she held. “What’s in here?”

  “Boots.”

  “Ah. And in your box?”

  “Your hat.”

  “Black?”

  “Pearl gray. Silver band, though.”

  Phoebe wondered if her smile was as wide as it felt. “Thank you.”

  “Wait,” he said, “until we can see if you can keep it on your head when you fall off your horse. Then we’ll know if it’s a good fit.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A week later, Phoebe was back in Frost Falls with Fiona, and this time it was Ben who accompanied them. Phoebe found the arrangement satisfactory when comparing it to the prospect of having gangly Johnny Sutton riding post. From the outset, it put Fiona in a much better mood.

  There had been a mild thaw in the past seven days, but Phoebe imagined that Remington, who had been there when the freeze set in, was likely the only one who observed it. The cold shoulder that Fiona pressed in her direction was made more noticeable because she was warmhearted to everyone else. Even Thaddeus, with whom she was piqued but had not yet confronted, and Remington, whom she had marked from the first as disagreeable, received her kind regard.

  Phoebe was delighted for Thaddeus, who reveled in the attention, although she lived in some dread of the moment Fiona would drop the hammer. As for Remington, he made being out of Fiona’s reach his priority. That meant he was also outside Phoebe’s. She had hoped for one riding lesson, but a week gone, all she had been able to do was try on the clothes he bought for her—using money she gave him—and make minor alterations.

  If Fiona was correct, and Thaddeus meant to push Remington in her direction, then Fiona was equally committed to pushing him the other way. Phoebe considered herself well out of it, except that she rather missed Remington being around.

  All the hands offered their company when they weren’t working, which meant she saw a lot of Johnny Sutton. It was Ben who most often rescued her, gently leading her away and showing an interest in what she was reading or asking her about New York. He would stay with her until someone barked at him to get moving, and he always begged her pardon before he took off, usually at a run.

  Phoebe liked all of them, but she was especially fond of Ben. She watched him around Ellie, how gentle he was, how he looked out for her. He would remove a heavy stew pot from the stove and just grin when she tapped him on the wrist with a wooden spoon. He let her fuss over him in front of the other men after he took a nasty spill from the back of a horse. He just sat there grinning, the only visible sign that he was embarrassed the scarlet tips of his ears. Phoebe thought that had less to do with his mother’s attentions and more to do with the ribbing he was getting for taking the tumble.

  Phoebe thought that Fiona would insist on coming to the dressmaker’s with her if for no other reason than to criticize her choices, so it was a pleasant surprise when she snapped open her parasol and announced she was simply going to walk and see what, if anything, struck her fancy. Phoebe’s second surprise was less pleasant.

  Fiona insisted that Ben accompany her.

  • • •

  Remington balanced himself on the top rail of the corral and watched Scooter Banks gentle one of the mares before he climbed into the saddle. “Scooter’s got a way about him. The animals respond.”

  “I’ve noticed. Puts me in mind of you.” Thaddeus climbed the rails to sit beside his son. “I thought you’d come looking for me as soon as you got back.”

  “Haven’t been back that long. Here I am. Here you are. There’s not much to tell you.”

  “Tell me first, did you run into them on your return?”

  “No. Saw them, but they didn’t see me. I stayed clear of the road, and none of them knew I was out anyway.”

  Thaddeus nodded. “Good. So what did you hear from Jackson?”

  “You’re going to be disappointed. There wasn’t much he could tell me.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Scooter. “Watch you don’t pull the reins tight. She has a tender mouth.” When Scooter acknowledged him, Remington went on. “There’s been a search, a thorough one from Sheriff Brewer’s description, and he can’t find any evidence that the robbers were local men. He’s been working with a detective hired by Northeast Rail to investigate the robbery and Phoebe’s abduction.”

  “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but Brewer is not hopeful the investigation will continue beyond a few more weeks. Not without a lead. There’s precious little evidence.”

  “Hmm. What’s the man’s name? The detective. Would it help if I had a word with him?”

  “His name is Smith. Michael Smith. I don’t know if you could influence him to stay on longer or not. He was not around when I was talking to Brewer, so I don’t have a good sense about him. The sheriff seems to think he’s competent and motivated, but he takes his marching orders from the company.”

  “I understand.”

  “All the passengers have been interviewed. Smith tracked them down and spoke to them.”

  “Really? Then why didn’t he come here? Speak to Phoebe and you?”

  “I asked the same question. Brewer said it was because he already had our statements. You can imagine he gave me a good ribbing about the fact that I was unconscious during the entire robbery.”

  “I’m sure Jackson would have been sympathetic if Mr. Shoulders had clobbered you senseless, but you—”

  “Tripped over my own feet. Yes, I know.”

  “That isn’t what I was going to say. Phoebe never once said you tripped. That is Jackson’s invention, and shame on you for letting him get away with it. Phoebe told him you were on your feet because you were trying to reach that little girl. The train lurched and you went down.”

  “That’s Phoebe’s invention. I don’t have a clear memory, but I’m fairly certain I was on my feet to reach her, not Madeleine.”

  “Well, if you were, that’s my fau
lt. I asked you to look out for her and you did.”

  “Mm.” He called out another direction to Scooter to test the mare’s agility. “I’m thinking I want to go back to Thunder Point. Have a look around.”

  “The place has been trampled. I was there that night, don’t forget. Brewer and Ben were with me. I imagine the Smith fellow asked to see it as well. What do you think you’ll find?”

  “Probably nothing, but I want to look. You have objections?”

  “None that are going to stop you.”

  “I’m taking Phoebe.”

  Thaddeus whistled softly but said nothing.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m wondering if you’re asking her or abducting her.”

  “Something in between. I’m telling her.”

  “Huh. Do you know anything about women?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately, and I’m convinced I know all the wrong things.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” he said dryly. “It’s widely accepted that telling a woman what she’s going to do is ill-advised.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Oh, we certainly will. I’m pulling up a chair to watch.”

  Remington looked over at Thaddeus to judge how real that threat was. He glimpsed a hint of humor in his father’s fading smile. “What is it?” he asked. “There’s something else.”

  “Not that I think it will matter to you, but Fiona’s not going to like it.”

  “You’re half right. It doesn’t matter and she’ll hate it.”

  Thaddeus’s sigh was inaudible. “I wish . . .” He did not finish his thought. “Never mind. We’ve been over that ground before.”

  Relieved that they would not have to walk it again, Remington said, “Appreciate that, Thaddeus. I guess if you want to pull up a chair when I talk to Phoebe, I’ll let you.”

  • • •

  Phoebe unwrapped her two new dresses and placed them in the wardrobe before she went hunting for Remington. She was careful not to draw attention to her search by rushing. She kept her steps slow of a purpose, stopping to chat with Ellie and stealing a sand tart from the cooling rack before she went out the back door.

  She found Remington in the barn rubbing down the mare everyone called Buttercup. The name suited the horse’s golden coat but not her temperament. Phoebe hung back.

  “You have an apple on your head?” asked Remington. “I think she wants a bite of you.”

  Since he hadn’t yet turned around, Phoebe asked, “How did you know I was here?”

  He shrugged. “She told me.”

  Phoebe did not ask him to explain that or even suppose it was true. She’d noticed before that Remington seemed possessed of eyes at the back of his head. His awareness of his surroundings was uncanny, and he’d caught her out more than once watching him when she meant to be unobtrusive. Her excuse on those occasions was that she was merely daydreaming, not observing him, and how like a narcissist he was to think that was where her interest lay. She didn’t think she was entirely convincing, but she liked him for pretending to be convinced.

  It was hard not to watch him now, when his every crisp move drew her eye to the muscles bunching under his shirt, but she purposefully turned her head aside and began walking the length of the barn. Aware that Buttercup was watching her, Phoebe gave the animal a wide berth as she passed.

  “What are you doing?” asked Remington. He swept a brush across Buttercup’s shoulder and back. “Not you, Miss B. I know you’re preening.” He rooted around in a sack on the bench behind him and found what he wanted. “Here, this is for you.” He held two dried apple slices in the flat of his palm. They disappeared at once.

  Phoebe warily eyed the empty hand that he was still holding out to Buttercup. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll bite you?”

  “No.” He stroked the mare’s nose. “So tell me what you’re doing.”

  “In a moment.” She looked into the last four stalls. Horses only. She pointed to the loft, a question in her eyes that she did not have to voice.

  Remington followed the direction of her finger and shook his head.

  “All right,” she said, approaching cautiously. “I need to speak with you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Alone. I was making sure we’re alone.”

  “Ah. You might have just asked.”

  She gave him the disdainful look he deserved. “And if we weren’t alone? Don’t you think the question might have raised an eyebrow?”

  “I concede to your superior logic. We can talk over there.” He cocked his head to indicate the buggy that Ben had recently brought inside and unhitched. “I know you’re skittish around Buttercup, and God knows, she’s jealous of you. I’ll just put her in the stall.”

  Phoebe waited until Remington joined her before she asked, “You were pulling my leg about Buttercup, weren’t you?”

  Straight-faced, he said, “Ask her yourself.”

  Phoebe waved his answer away and came to the purpose of her visit. “I think I saw him. Mr. Shoulders, I mean. I can’t be sure, not completely, and yet if it didn’t feel as if I were, I wouldn’t be telling you now.” She doubted that Remington was aware that his easy way of standing, loose and limber, had vanished. He was alert in a manner he had not been before; his dark eyes had sharpened and narrowed their focus, and his finely molded features were set in a fashion that made them impenetrable.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “In town.”

  “Where in town?”

  His tone was not merely impatient, but mildly belittling, as if she should have known to tell him that at the outset. Her nostrils pinched as she sucked in a breath and prepared to match his tenor, but at the last moment, an element of common sense prevailed and she answered evenly and with dignity. “He was walking out of the saloon. The Songbird, I think.”

  “That’s it. There’s only the one saloon.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize. I didn’t see his face, but I don’t think that would have helped identify him just then. He turned toward the depot end of town, which put his back to me. He paused, and I confess, I stopped as well. It just struck me suddenly, the way he stood there, and all I could do was stare.”

  “So you didn’t call attention to yourself?”

  “No, but I reached for my gun before I remembered that it’s likely still in his possession.” When his face darkened, she smirked. “You are an easy mark, Remington Frost, and that you believed me for even a single moment is not flattering.”

  “This is serious, Phoebe.”

  “I know it is, but he’s not suddenly going to appear on Twin Star land, and there’s every chance that he left town since he eventually began walking in the direction of the station. There’s nothing to be done right now.”

  He rolled right over her explanation. “Tell me what you saw that made you think he was Mr. Shoulders.”

  “I don’t know if I can describe it. He wasn’t wearing the duster, so it wasn’t that. There was something about the way he hunched his shoulders, I think. It stretched his vest across his back. This isn’t something I could have seen when I was with him, yet I was put in mind of how he sat in the saddle, his shoulders pushed forward. It was not even something of which I was aware at the time, but then I saw it and it touched a memory. He turned, only briefly, but just enough for me to glimpse a quarter profile. First, there was the angle of his hat. It was so familiar. The hand that I could see had its thumb hooked in the waistband of his trousers, but more importantly, it rested above his gun and holster. Deputy Armstrong asked me that night if I recalled the gun, but I didn’t, and there was nothing I could tell him. I still don’t know what type of gun he was carrying, but I know now it had an ivory handle. I know it.”

  She fell silent, waiting for him to challenge her. When he didn’t, she forgave him for his
earlier misstep. “It sounds fantastical, I know. I can’t explain it. I think there must be tiny seeds in my brain that began to sprout images when I saw him. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Do you believe Mr. Shoulders is sunlight and water?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then you probably don’t have seeds.”

  “I didn’t mean it quite so literal.”

  His smile was gentle. “I know.”

  She flushed. “Oh, you were having me on.”

  “A little.” He let that rest for a moment and then said, “I was in here when Ben came back with the buggy and took care of the horses. He didn’t say anything. Did you ask him not to?”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  “I don’t think I understand. Wasn’t he with you when this happened? He would have noticed something was wrong; furthermore, he would have asked you about it.”

  Phoebe had hoped she could avoid this part, but there was no point in prevaricating. “He was with Fiona, and she had it in her mind that she wanted to walk, so I can’t say precisely where they were at that time.”

  “With Fiona,” Remington said under his breath. “Of course he was. Thaddeus would have put that in his head.”

  “I thought so, too. He told me that he thinks she means to leave him.”

  “Did he? I wasn’t sure that he would.”

  “Yes. I know why I’m here.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  “You know. Incentive to keep Fiona here, or at least remove an excuse for her to leave.”

  “Really? You keep thinking that. I have to say, the two of you don’t strike me as that close.”

  “Put that in the drawer where you keep all the things you don’t understand about women.” Phoebe appreciated his rumbling laughter and the fact that it accompanied the return of his relaxed posture.