The Engagement Bargain

He was plenty smart, Anna had no doubt of that. Studying the faces turned toward her, she had the distinct sensation they wanted something from her.

That she was the only person in the room who hadn’t been apprised of the predetermined plan. “What do you propose I do?”

Caleb held up his hand, silencing Reinhart. “Come to Cimarron Springs. Stay with Jo.”

A thread of anxiety coiled in her stomach. She wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t a victim. She wouldn’t be delivered onto someone’s doorstep like an unwanted package.

“And how will that attract any less attention?” Anna gritted her teeth against her clouding vision. “I do not mean to sound arrogant, Mr. McCoy, but my name is not unknown. I have dealt with reporters before. They are far wilier than one supposes. It won’t take long for them to discover where I am.”

Jo stepped forward. “Not if we give you a new name. You can be Anna Smith or something. Caleb and I will keep in touch with the detective. Cimarron Springs is quiet. You’ll have a chance to recuperate.”

A chilly perspiration beaded on her forehead. Anna couldn’t shake the sensation she was missing something in the exchange. “It’s very kind of you, but I am not unfamiliar with small towns either. Gossip is rampant, and curiosity is lethal to your plan. We’re bound to slip up sooner or later.”

The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears. She’d been a controversial figure since before she was born—the illegitimate daughter of heiress Victoria Bishop. Her mother had been singularly remorseless in her infamy. Senior ladies in their chapter had regaled Anna with stories of her mother’s brazen disregard for convention.

Anna had eventually grown old enough to hear the harsher opinions of her mother’s behavior, and suffer for them. For a time she’d ignored her notoriety. Then the parents with children attending Miss Spence’s Boarding and Day School for Girls had demanded her removal. They didn’t want their daughters’ reputations sullied by association.

Victoria Bishop had marched into the school, her heels click-clacking along the marble floors. Anna had waited outside the office, her buttoned leather boots swinging to and fro, while her mother told Miss Spence exactly what she thought of Anna’s expulsion.

A succession of tutors proficient in various subjects had followed. A more focused education, if a touch lonely. Training for solitude had served her well. Despite all the women she met in her travels, most of her time was spent alone. Traveling. Writing letters. Organizing the many separate chapters into a united front.

Proving herself worthy of her mother’s legacy.

“You’ll be there as my friend,” Jo said. “A friend who had an accident and needs some quiet.”

“It could work.” The detective spoke. “Remember, though, if you show up out of the blue with someone they ain’t never heard of before, people will talk. You gotta give them something to talk about or else they’ll make up the missing pieces on their own.”

Anna’s side was on fire, and she wasn’t opposed to resting. After her near-failed attempt at dressing herself this morning, she’d admitted the gravity of her wound. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Though she’d never admit her weakness, she was still grappling with the realization that someone wanted her dead.

Dead.

Jo planted one hand on her hip and drummed her fingers on the dressing table. “The last page of the Crofton County Gazette has a listing of visitors with each edition. You know the stuff, ‘Mrs. Bertrand’s two grandchildren are visiting from St. Louis. The Millers have gone to Wichita for the wedding of their niece.’ That sort of thing. How would we print Anna’s visit in the paper? That should give us some ideas.”

Caleb reached into the side pocket of his bag. “You’re brilliant, Jo. I’ve got a copy right here.”

Anna surveyed their enthusiasm with a jaded eye. A small town was simply Miss Spence’s School for Girls all over again. She’d be a pariah once the townspeople uncovered her true identity. Already, too many people knew their secret, and the McCoys didn’t strike her as proficient in subterfuge. Sooner or later someone was bound to discover the truth.

While she didn’t think the townspeople would stalk her with pitchforks and torches like the beast in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, there was bound to be awkwardness. Most small communities she’d frequented had narrower rules of propriety than larger cities.

Flipping over the paper, Caleb frowned at the last page, his eyes scanning the columns. “It’s all family visits. We’re too well known. If we dig up another McCoy cousin, they’ll figure out we’re lying soon enough. What about Garrett? Could she pretend to be a relative of his?”

“No,” Jo spoke emphatically. “Garrett’s family is quite off-limits.”

The sorrow in her voice gave Anna pause.

Caleb didn’t seem to notice. “All right then, let’s see what else.” A half grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “Here’s something interesting. ‘JoBeth Cain and her brother, Caleb McCoy, will attend the suffragist rally in Kansas City calling for an additional amendment to the constitution allowing for the women’s vote. Daughter of the renowned suffragist, Victoria Bishop, is set to give the keynote speech. Garrett Cain is escorting a prisoner to Wichita.’” Caleb shook his head. “I guess we did make the news.”

“It’s a small town.” Jo shrugged. “Everyone makes the newspaper.”

Mr. McCoy folded the paper and squinted. “Well, I’ll be, here’s something I didn’t know. ‘Mr. Frank Lancaster has brought his fiancée, Miss Vera Nelson, for an extended visit with his family. A mail-order bride advertisement was recently listed in The Kansas Post by a woman with the name of Miss Vera Nelson. Mr. Lancaster declined to comment on the happenstance.’” Caleb rubbed his chin. “I spoke with him two weeks ago when his dog had the mange. I had no idea he was considering taking a wife.”

“I suppose if you sent away for a bride like a pair of shoes from the Montgomery Ward wish book,” Jo said, “you wouldn’t want that to be common knowledge.”

Mrs. Franklin crossed her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with doing what needs to be done. I’m sure the girl had her reasons. For a woman, sometimes marriage is the only answer.”

“Wait,” Jo snapped her fingers. “That’s perfect. Marriage is our answer, as well. Anna can come to visit as your fiancée.”

“My fiancée.” Caleb’s eyes widened.

Anna started. “What?”

“You two can pretend to be engaged.”

Shocked silence filled the room. Anna recalled the scores of letters her mother had received over the years from desperate women. All of them had one thing in common—they had pinned their hopes on a man.

“No!” Anna and Caleb replied in unison.

Chapter Four (#ulink_5ced58b4-3b5e-5beb-8106-213ad97a13eb)

Anna leaned more heavily on her left arm. “Absolutely not. I mean no disrespect, Mr. McCoy, but I will not hide. I’m not going to change my name or pretend to be something I’m not. That goes against everything I stand for.”

She wasn’t relinquishing her independence. Killer or no killer. If the shooting had been caused by the opposition, then such a concession meant they’d won.

Jo’s arms flopped to her sides. “We can say you had a whirlwind romance.”

Caleb laughed harshly. “No one would believe it.”

“You’re right.” Jo appeared crestfallen. “Of course you’re right.”

“You’re missing the point,” Caleb said. “No one would ever look for anyone in Cimarron Springs. She might as well wear a banner and parade down Main Street.”

“True enough. Remember Elizabeth Elder’s first husband? The bank robber? He hid all his loot in a cave by Hackberry Creek. No one ever suspected a thing. You didn’t suspect him, did you, Caleb?”

“He didn’t treat his livestock very well.”

“Or his wife.” Jo’s voice strangled. “This may have escaped your notice, but people are just as important as animals.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “People are more important than livestock.”

“I was making a point. There were obvious signs of bad character.”

Caught up in the tale of the loot hidden by the creek, Anna made a noise of frustration at the sudden change of subject. “What happened to the bank robber and his poor wife?”

“He’s dead now, God rest his soul.” Jo’s voice was stripped of remorse. “Elizabeth remarried and she’s doing fine. She’s living in Paris now.”

“France?”

“Texas.”

“I see,” Anna said. “At least I think I understand.”