Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [57]
Luke walked Honey Dew behind him, moving with caution. The sun dipped to treetop level, its welcome rays peeking through a handful of branches yet to leaf out. The sound of water trickling over rocks and brushing up against banks came from the northwest.
A long double whinny answered by a distant whinny brought Luke up short. Two horses? Guiding Honey Dew to a hedge of shrubs and brush, he tied her off, muzzled her, and checked his guns.
“Sit tight, girl,” he whispered, patting her neck. “I’ll be back in just a bit.”
Keeping himself hidden, he followed the tracks, his step light, his senses alert. The sound of the creek increased in volume. Half a mile down, a riderless buckskin swished its tail.
Luke pressed against a tree, ears attuned to every nuance. He filtered out the cicadas, the twittering conversations of birds preparing to roost, the croaking frogs, the incessant crickets, and focused on the quiet rumble of two men due west.
He peeked around the trunk, spotting two faint outlines at the creek’s bank. Staying upwind, he darted from tree to tree until he dared not move any closer. Removing a spyglass from his pocket, he crouched behind some shrubs and brought the men into focus.
Necker. Necker and Swanning dividing the money from the fireman’s pouch. Their words were lost to him, but their movements were those of close friends comfortable in the presence of the other.
So Necker had lost on purpose. Had cheated in order to ensure himself a top position in the competition. Did Duane and Blesinger know? Or had Necker swindled them along with the town of Brenham?
Luke scrutinized the two men more carefully. Neither was Frank Comer. The outlaw had a bit more brawn and was of a shorter stature. The question was which one to follow.
If Swanning was in cahoots with Comer and had planned on seeing him, he’d have most likely taken the money straight to him. Which made Luke suspect Necker as being one of Comer’s more trusted members.
Sweeping his spyglass across the area, he spotted a second horse. If he was going to follow Necker, he’d need to reposition himself. Tucking the glass into his pocket, he picked his way back to Honey Dew.
“Where have you been?” Georgie stared at Luke. His clothes were clean and his hair wet from a recent washing, but his eyes held deep circles.
“I sold phone service to Bailey Quade,” he said.
“Bailey Quade? What were you doing way out there? I thought you were helping with the state tournament.”
“I was. I did. Was there something you needed?” He jerked open a drawer in his desk and rifled through the papers.
She sighed. “Are you still angry with me?”
“For what?”
She decided not to remind him of her fascination with Frank Comer.
He looked up. “You mean about Lucious Landrum?”
Sort of. “Yes.”
“Think whatever you want. I could care less.” Pulling some papers from the drawer, he plopped down and began to read through them, checking them against his ledger.
The desk always seemed so big until he sat at it, his long legs cramped inside the knee space, his hunched shoulders hovering over the desktop.
“I can’t think when you’re watching me.” He didn’t even look up.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She moved her attention to the window. The daddy bluebird flew to the starch box, bringing the nesting mama a snack. She’d laid five powder-blue eggs, all of which should hatch by the end of next week. But it would all take place behind the walls of the starch box.
Much as Georgie loved watching them come and go, her gaze returned to the man on her left. He was upset about something. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with her regard for Frank Comer.
“Did you lose money on Mr. Necker?” she asked.
Placing one finger on a column in his ledger, he glanced