The Rancher's Temporary Engagement. Stacy Henrie

How many men were involved in the plot against his ranch? Who were the real culprits and who weren’t? His jaw clenched with frustration at not knowing the answers, but he fought to relax it. One way or the other, he’d figure things out. Or rather, he and Maggy would figure them out. Because the alternative, where the wrongdoers won, was unthinkable.

      * * *

      Maggy tightened the twine she’d used to secure her pile of hatboxes and packages in the shallow compartment behind the buggy seat. She eyed her handiwork with satisfaction as she brushed her hands free of flecks of string and dust.

      “We might have procured some rope for you at the livery stable or the saddle shop.”

      She turned to face Edward, her hands settling on her hips. “Now why would we do that when I figured out my own ingenious solution?” She moved toward the driver’s side of the buggy. “Besides, if I have to enter one more shop this morning, I’m liable to scream.”

      “That miserable, huh?” He moved to stand next to her, his hand rising to lightly grip her elbow. Instead of helping her up as she’d expected, though, he tugged her back to the ground and steered her around the buggy.

      Maggy frowned. “What are you doing?”

      “Helping you into your side of the buggy,” he murmured before offering a polite smile to some passerby.

      “What do you mean my side—”

      He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “It wouldn’t look proper for you to be driving me around town, Maggy.”

      “No?” It came out far more yielding than she’d wanted, but Edward’s nearness had a sudden and peculiar effect on her ability to think or reason. Standing this close, she could see his eyes weren’t entirely gray in color. There was a slight blue hue to them as well. She could also smell the pleasant scent of soap and grass that clung to him.

      Summoning her fortitude to stay focused and unaffected, she pulled her arm free and scaled the buggy herself. “Fine, you can drive,” she muttered, though loud enough that he would hear.

      Edward chuckled as he circled the vehicle and climbed onto the seat beside her. Did his laughter mean he thought her amusing, or was he entertained by the affect his close proximity had on her?

      “I’ll let you drive once we’re out of town...” He held up his hand when she started to thank him. “But only if you can act with decorum until then.”

      Maggy smiled fully at him and linked her arm through his. “Why, I’m the picture of decorum!”

      His laughter came again as he guided the horse and buggy into the street. “Of course.”

      “I am,” she countered, nodding cordially to a woman and her young daughter walking along the street. “I got everything I needed for my wardrobe and some new information to boot, too.”

      He flicked his gaze to hers. “What did you find out?”

      “Well...” Maggy let the word hang there to draw out the suspense. “I learned from the dressmaker Ms. Glasen that the wives’ club is run by a woman named Dolphina Druitt. Ms. Glasen also confirmed that as your fiancée, I can join.”

      Edward gave a thoughtful nod. “I was doing a bit of investigating myself.”

      “You were?” She stared at him in surprise. Even in cases where people desperately wanted something to go their way, they typically still left everything up to Maggy—the questioning, the disguises, the clue gathering. This was the first time in her career that she’d worked with a partner, so to speak. “What did you learn?”

      “Well...” he said, letting the word hang between them as she’d done.

      She elbowed him in the side. “Very funny. What did you find out?”

      “All right.” Frustration replaced the amusement on his face. “It wasn’t so much what I learned as what I observed.”

      Maggy couldn’t help throwing him an admiring glance. “That’s something even new detectives don’t catch on to soon enough.”

      “Are you admitting I’m proficient at sleuthing, too?” A rather attractive smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

      She glanced away, her answering laugh a bit forced. “I don’t know about that. I think it all depends on what you observed.”

      “I went by the inn and one of your—our—suspects was there. Gunther Bertram.”

      “Ah-ha.” She sat up straighter. “What did he say?”

      Edward shifted the reins in his grip. “It was more his mannerisms that struck me as odd. I asked him about the book I had loaned him. When I suggested he could borrow another, he appeared uncomfortable.”

      “What do you mean?” More details might help them understand if Bertram’s behavior was truly suspicious or not.