Chapter Nine

The First Reports Are In

Comstock Marshal's Office

Wednesday Afternoon

Key set the first batch of papers aside and began reviewing the second. Mixed among the listing of suspected crimes, and previous aliases, was a sketch of the man known in Utah as Sirus Bleeker, supposed solicitor, and land speculator.

He'd seen his fair share of hand-drawn images before and Key was certain Sirus Bleeker and Peter Wentworth were one in the same. Bleeker was a half-dozen years younger, but if the person drawing the sketch knew what he was doing, there was no mistaking the bend in the nose, or the slant of the eyes.

"I'll be glad to see Jack back to work tomorrow," McGibbon grumbled. "These long shifts have got my woman even crankier than usual."

"Something tells me it's not the length of the work shift, but the three hours at the saloon afterward that's upsetting her," Key joked.

"Maybe you're right," McGibbon admitted. "I'm getting a mite too old to stay out late."

"On your way home can you go by Missus Peters dress shop and, if Miss McIntyre is there, ask her to stop in to see me when she's done work."

Terrance pulled a face. "You and the fancy lady? Not sure I saw that coming."

"There's nothing to see. At least not yet. I've got some information to share with her on Wentworth, and a sketch I want to show her. I also want some information on the Dutton family that she may be able to give me."

"Do you want me to track her down if she's not at the dressmaker?"

"No, don't go out of your way. It can wait until tomorrow, if necessary."

"See you tomorrow," McGibbon said, his meaty, weathered hand already on the knob.

"Night, Terrance."

He'd barely finished the second pouch of information when the door opened, and Adela came inside.

"You asked to see me?"

"Hello to you too, Adela."

"Sorry. Hello Key." She smiled, adding, "I guess I was so anxious to see what you'd found on Mister Wentworth, that was all I could think about on my walk over."

"I've received two envelopes of information. You mentioned that you'd met him a few years earlier at a party."

"Four years, I believe. He was attending the Dutton's annual Christmas party for their upper management employees. As one of their newer branch managers, Mister Wentworth was asked to make the trip to Boston so Miles Dutton could meet him in person."

"If the Dutton family didn't hire him in the first place, who did?"

"The previous manager, I believe. Although," she admitted, "I'm not positive on that."

"If I show you a sketch from about six years ago, can you tell me if it's Wentworth based on what he looked like when you first met him?"

"I can try."

Key slid the pencil drawing across the desk and Adela took it up in her hand.

"Take your time, Adela. If you can't—"

"It's definitely him," she interrupted quickly. "I can tell by the scraggily looking mustache. Missus Dutton and I once joked about how he was failing at growing one."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive. His hair is longer here, but between the mustache and the crooked nose, I'm sure it's him."

"Well then, it looks as if we may have a wanted man on our hands. I'll have to confirm that the warrant for his arrest is still open, and nail down all the charges, but we may have this all wrapped up within the week."

"Wanted where?"

"Out of the territory," he told her. "I don't want to say any more until I've confirmed my findings."

"I understand."

"I did have a few more questions about the Dutton's businesses."

"I only know what I overheard between Missus Hermonie Dutton and her sons, or the few things she shared with me, but I'd be happy to share."

"Is it their policy to hire employees in such important positions without meeting them face-to-face?" Key wondered.

"Not usually, but their branches here in Colorado and Utah grew fast. New towns were being built every time an ore mine was uncovered. The first few, like my brother-in-law, were sent west after having put in years at one of the east coast locations. Hiring tellers and other staff was part of their job. If Mister Wentworth was hired by the previous manager, it was because he came with recommendations."

"I'm still a bit confused… okay make that curious… as to how you ended up promised to Wentworth." His admission drew her laugh, and he realized he liked the soft breath sound.

"It's a long, and boring story, but the gist of it is, the board of directors deemed all upper management men had to be married. Something about instilling confidence in the bank and its management staff. Those who were single were given until the end of the year to wed. I was being put out of a job because Missus Dutton was returning to England to be close to her older family and leaving her sons to run everything here."

"And that became a betrothal how?"

"Apparently there were only two managers still unwed. Miles and Warren Dutton knew my sister was already here in Denver, so they assumed marrying me off to Wentworth would solve his problem and get me close to my sister. Missus Dutton was the one to write to him and referred to me as ‘our dear Adela.'"

"And that's how Wentworth mistook you for the Dutton heiress?"

"Seems like it. When he realized his error, he dropped me like a hot potato."

"There's no chance the Dutton family is aware of Wentworth's falsified background?"

Adela shook her head, the action dislodging one long strand of silky brown hair. "They may be rude and full of themselves, but they are good businessmen. They'd never do anything to tarnish the Dutton name."

"That's what I hoped to hear," he admitted. "As I said, it'll take me a few days to gather everything together, but I'll keep you up to date on what I find. In the meantime, you'd probably do best to limit your visits to the bank, or interactions with Wentworth."

"Happily."

"May I walk you home?"

"Don't you have a jail to guard?"

"At the moment, our cells are empty. I can lock up long enough for the short walk." He paused, then added, "Besides, there's something I want to show you along the way."

"Really? Now I'm intrigued."

Sharing the Marshal's Dream

"Where are we?" she asked, when Key steered them off the main street and down a short pathway.

Waving his arm to encompass a large open field, he told her, "This is my newly purchased land. I signed the papers yesterday at the land office."

"It's beautiful. So many trees."

"Some will have to be cleared before I can build a house and put up a small barn, but it should go fairly smoothly once I get started."

"You're going to do the building yourself?"

"Partially. I've hired Deputy McGibbon's brother and son-in-law to help. Both are far better carpenters than me."

"You really are planning to put down roots."

"Yes, and possibly even start that family everyone expects."

The flutter in her stomach was back, just like the other night when she thought they were going to kiss. Was he hinting that he'd like to make her part of his family?

"Families are wonderful."

He turned to face her completely. As he'd done on Sunday evening, he raised her chin with her fingertips. "With the right partner."

"Yes, I suppose that's important."

"Adela McIntyre, unless you have an objection, I think I'd like to kiss you."

She swallowed and took a step closer. "I've no objection whatsoever."

The first touch of his lips against hers was as soft as a butterfly landing on a delicate flower. The glide of his mouth of hers stole any hope of coherent thought, any desire to get away.

Key raised his head only long enough to change the angle of the kiss before he pressed his lips to her again, this time a bit bolder than before.

Adela's heart pounded and she pressed her open palms to his chest to set her boundaries. His heartbeat as rapidly as hers, the steady rhythm tickling her hands. Thankfully, Key took the hint, raised his head, and backed away, putting a proper distance between them.

"That was delightful," he teased.

"I… um…"

"Come on," he coaxed, enclosing her elbow in his grasp. "I'd better get you home so you can find your words again."

"Overwhelming," she said suddenly. "That was overwhelming."

"In a good way, I hope."

"Oh yes. A very good way."

"Perhaps, when we're properly courting, we could do that again."

"Yes. Again."

The echo of Key's gentle laughter lasted all the way to the Bailey's doorway.

"Good evening, Adela," Key said, pressing a chaste kiss to her fingertips.

"Good evening, Key."

She closed the door behind her and then fell back against the heavy oak. Her lips still tingled. Her body still felt flushed all over. It was the most exhilarating feeling she'd ever experienced in all her twenty-four years.