Excerpt from COURTING MISS PERFECT

A novella by Judith Stacy in STETSONS, SPRING AND WEDDING RINGS

A strange case flew out of Brynn’s valise along with her petticoats, and landed on the bed.

“What on earth?” she mumbled.

She’d never seen the small, red velvet case before, and couldn’t imagine where it had come from. She picked it up. It felt heavy, despite its size. She pried open the lid.

Inside was a jumble of jewelry. Rings, necklaces, bracelets. Several large broaches. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, diamonds and garnets sparkled in the light.

Brynn gasped and her eyes widened. The pieces were gorgeous, absolutely breath-taking, and terribly expensive. How had they ended up among her belongings?

She looked at the valise again. It was definitely hers, as were the clothes inside, and she was certain they didn’t belong to Aunt Sadie. Somehow, there had been a mix up.

She could clear this up easily enough. Though she wasn’t excited about walking the streets alone, unescorted here in this strange town, she would report this to the station master and let him sort it out.

Brynn tucked the velvet case inside her valise – it hardly seemed a good idea to walk the streets with priceless jewelry tucked into her handbag – then pinned on her hat and headed downstairs. Just as she reached the bottom step, the hotel’s front door flew open and a man filled the space. Bright sunlight beamed in around him, shadowing his face, making him a black hulk in the doorway.

Brynn froze in her tracks. Good gracious, he was huge. A wild heat rolled off of him, frightening her, but leaving her somehow unable to move.

Then he stepped inside and squared himself in front of her. Brynn’s gaze traveled upward and locked onto his face.

It was that awful man from the train.

Irritation, annoyance – something – swept through Brynn. What was he doing here? She couldn’t imagine, and she certainly didn’t intend to stick around and find out.

Brynn moved to the right, but he stepped in front of her. She dodged left, but he blocked her again.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he demanded.

Brynn pulled herself up and looked him straight in the eye. “I hardly see where that’s any of your business,” she told him. “I’ll have to ask you to kindly step aside.”

“Like hell,” he said.

Brynn gasped. She’d never been spoken to in this fashion before and she should have dissolved into tears. Instead, hearing the challenge in his voice made her want to speak just as harshly to him, as if he’d thrown down a verbal gauntlet that she itched to pick up.

“I insist,” she told him, pushing her nose a little higher in the air.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her, “until I get exactly what I came here for.”

“If you don’t step aside, I’ll be forced to alert the authorities,” Brynn informed him.

A crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “That won’t take too long, seeing that I’m a Pinkerton detective.”

Brynn’s eyes widened. “You’re a – a what?”

“Travis Hollister,” he said, and flashed a badge in her face that he’d pulled from his shirt pocket. “I’m tracking a thief, and I’m convinced you can help me.”

Annoyed, she huffed. Why would he think she had any knowledge of a thief?

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Brynn said.

Travis drew closer and leaned down, crowding her.

“I believe you know,” he said. “I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about. In fact, I think you’re an accomplice.”

Stunned, Brynn just stared up at him, too overwhelmed to speak.

“What do you know about stolen jewelry?” he demanded.

“Jewelry?” she blurted out. Heat bloomed across her cheeks. Breath went out of her.

“Yeah, jewelry,” he said, leaning even closer.

Brynn backed up a step.

“Stolen from a nice old couple in Houston,” Travis said.

She bumped into the newel post. Her gaze darted around the hotel lobby, desperate for an escape.

“You’re involved with the theft,” he said, leaning in. His voice rose. “Admit it.”

Brynn’s heart raced. What could she tell him? Of course, she wasn’t involved, but the jewels were, in fact, upstairs hidden in her valise. Wasn’t that the exact evidence he needed to prove she was guilty? Would he for one second believe she’d stumbled upon them and was, at this very moment, on her way to alert the station master?