figuring.”
“Figuring?” Daniel laughed. “Is that what they call it now? Looked to me like you were figuring how to get Hank and Edwin out of the picture so you could move in.”
“I’m going to ignore that.” The crowd swirled thick around them. No place to converse without being heard. “How do you think that gal will take to knowing her pa’s plan?”
“Anna?” Daniel paused to acknowledge a guest, then returned his attention to Jeb. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Just figuring.”
“So you said.” Daniel turned and looked him square in the eye. “Anna’s practically family, Jeb. Anything I need to know?”
If she was family, maybe Daniel knew more than he was saying. “Can I speak with you privately?” Jeb asked, eying the surrounding crowd.
“Now?”
“Now.”
The entrance to Daniel’s library was well hidden behind the palms and columns brought in to turn the ballroom into a Roman ruin. With the door shut, the sounds of people and chamber music disappeared.
The room smelled of cigars and leather, and the spot Jeb chose in the cowhide chair by the narrow window was as familiar to him as the kitchen table. Daniel joined him and reached for the humidor. Jeb waved away the offer.
“All right, Jeb,” Daniel said. “What’s wrong? And don’t give me the cleaned-up version. You know I’m trustworthy.”
“Yeah, I reckon you are.” He spent a moment deciding what to say. “Doc Holliday’s back in town. Saw him at the Windsor.” He paused. “With Wyatt Earp.”
“That’s interesting but hardly news,” Daniel said. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Jeb considered how much to tell him, then decided to keep it simple. “They were with Anna Finch. And there was money exchanged.”
“I see.”
“That’s it?” Jeb stood. “No reaction to the fact that this woman you supposedly know so well is cavorting with two known outlaws?”
“Did it appear she was having a social visit?”
He had to think a minute. “She did a lot of writing, which was odd. And talking. Earp, he talked more than Holliday. His wife didn’t say much.”
“Interesting.” Daniel leaned back in his chair. “So it’s possible Anna was taking notes. Possibly doing research. Both of those gentlemen have inspired more than one book.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Daniel slowly stood so that he matched Jeb in height. “I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Maybe you already know.”
“I only know what Hank’s told me, and that’s precious little. Her pa wants her married off. Thinks she’s a danger to herself. Well,” Jeb said as he let out a long breath, “I say Barnaby Finch is right. I just want to know if he realizes who she’s been spending time with.”
“She’s a good girl, Jeb, but there’s a lot Barnaby doesn’t know. At least, I assume he’s not informed on her literary career.”
“Literary career?”
Daniel shrugged. “Our Anna has a history of penning dime novels.”
“C’mon, Daniel. I’ve no patience for jokes.”
“It’s no joke, I assure you. I found out accidentally when I arranged a meeting with the publisher with the intention of luring Mae Winslow’s creator back for one last book as a gift to my wife.”
“Yes, I recall that series was a favorite of hers.”
Daniel smiled. “The publisher was astonished that I didn’t just walk over and knock on the author’s door.” The clock chimed the half hour, and Daniel moved to the desk. He reached for his pen and dipped it into the ink. “Sorry, but I can’t linger. Just let me tell you two things about Anna Finch. First, there is absolutely no reason for her to need anyone’s money. None. What she hasn’t earned herself from her novels, Barnaby has provided. She’s very well set.” The expression on the Englishman’s face left no doubt at his sincerity.
“All right.”
“And second, Anna Finch was like a mother to Charlotte during those years when
“Figuring?” Daniel laughed. “Is that what they call it now? Looked to me like you were figuring how to get Hank and Edwin out of the picture so you could move in.”
“I’m going to ignore that.” The crowd swirled thick around them. No place to converse without being heard. “How do you think that gal will take to knowing her pa’s plan?”
“Anna?” Daniel paused to acknowledge a guest, then returned his attention to Jeb. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Just figuring.”
“So you said.” Daniel turned and looked him square in the eye. “Anna’s practically family, Jeb. Anything I need to know?”
If she was family, maybe Daniel knew more than he was saying. “Can I speak with you privately?” Jeb asked, eying the surrounding crowd.
“Now?”
“Now.”
The entrance to Daniel’s library was well hidden behind the palms and columns brought in to turn the ballroom into a Roman ruin. With the door shut, the sounds of people and chamber music disappeared.
The room smelled of cigars and leather, and the spot Jeb chose in the cowhide chair by the narrow window was as familiar to him as the kitchen table. Daniel joined him and reached for the humidor. Jeb waved away the offer.
“All right, Jeb,” Daniel said. “What’s wrong? And don’t give me the cleaned-up version. You know I’m trustworthy.”
“Yeah, I reckon you are.” He spent a moment deciding what to say. “Doc Holliday’s back in town. Saw him at the Windsor.” He paused. “With Wyatt Earp.”
“That’s interesting but hardly news,” Daniel said. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Jeb considered how much to tell him, then decided to keep it simple. “They were with Anna Finch. And there was money exchanged.”
“I see.”
“That’s it?” Jeb stood. “No reaction to the fact that this woman you supposedly know so well is cavorting with two known outlaws?”
“Did it appear she was having a social visit?”
He had to think a minute. “She did a lot of writing, which was odd. And talking. Earp, he talked more than Holliday. His wife didn’t say much.”
“Interesting.” Daniel leaned back in his chair. “So it’s possible Anna was taking notes. Possibly doing research. Both of those gentlemen have inspired more than one book.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Daniel slowly stood so that he matched Jeb in height. “I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Maybe you already know.”
“I only know what Hank’s told me, and that’s precious little. Her pa wants her married off. Thinks she’s a danger to herself. Well,” Jeb said as he let out a long breath, “I say Barnaby Finch is right. I just want to know if he realizes who she’s been spending time with.”
“She’s a good girl, Jeb, but there’s a lot Barnaby doesn’t know. At least, I assume he’s not informed on her literary career.”
“Literary career?”
Daniel shrugged. “Our Anna has a history of penning dime novels.”
“C’mon, Daniel. I’ve no patience for jokes.”
“It’s no joke, I assure you. I found out accidentally when I arranged a meeting with the publisher with the intention of luring Mae Winslow’s creator back for one last book as a gift to my wife.”
“Yes, I recall that series was a favorite of hers.”
Daniel smiled. “The publisher was astonished that I didn’t just walk over and knock on the author’s door.” The clock chimed the half hour, and Daniel moved to the desk. He reached for his pen and dipped it into the ink. “Sorry, but I can’t linger. Just let me tell you two things about Anna Finch. First, there is absolutely no reason for her to need anyone’s money. None. What she hasn’t earned herself from her novels, Barnaby has provided. She’s very well set.” The expression on the Englishman’s face left no doubt at his sincerity.
“All right.”
“And second, Anna Finch was like a mother to Charlotte during those years when
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