Cade's Justice. Pat Tracy

      “Yes.”

      “No doubt you were looking for excitement and adventure.”

      If tonight was any indication, she’d certainly found it. “Everything I’d read about Denver suggested there would be more excitement here than in Philadelphia.”

      “The thought of cattle rustlers, claim jumpers and train robbers didn’t alarm you?”

      “Denver has its own band of protectors looking out for its citizenry.” One of the lures that made the western town so fascinating had been the legendary group of men who’d banded together to combat the area’s lawless element. The eastern newspapers had made much of their noble exploits.

      He regarded her in open amusement. “You’re referring to the ‘Guardsmen,’ I assume.”

      She bristled at his disparaging tone. “I am.”

      “I’m surprised you put so much stock in what newspapers print. There’s no proof the Guardsmen actually exist.”

      “Of course there is. Almost every time someone tries to rob a stagecoach, they’re caught and turned over to the authorities.”

      “That’s not proof there’s an underground group of vigilantes at work.”

      At his mention of the word vigilante, Emma realized they had strayed to a dangerous subject. She abhorred vigilante justice. No man or group of men had the right to take the law into their own hands and administer their justice, especially at the end of a rope. Rumors were rife that Gideon Cade was such a man, that he ran his freighting empire with an iron fist and anyone who challenged him wound up dead.

      During their extraordinary encounter, she’d forgotten with whom she was dealing. Emma shivered. “The Guardsmen are different.”

      “Not that I’m admitting the group exists, but why?”

      “Because, they don’t perform their own…er…executions.” Uttering the last word was a bit like reminding the devil of his agenda for wreaking havoc.

      “And, of course, that’s what the newspapers imply I’m guilty of.”

      She hadn’t expected him to openly refer to the charges that had been made against him.

      “Getting back to the Guardsmen,” she said, wanting to avoid an argument that was bound to put them on opposing sides. “You have to admit their methods are ingenious.”

      “Some might say farcical.”

      “They would be wrong,” Emma replied, warming to her defense of the anonymous group. “Remember last week, when they left those trussed-up cattle rustlers at the church in the middle of the night?”

      “Who can forget?”

      She didn’t appreciate his levity. “Along with a list of their misdeeds, the names of two wranglers who’d witnessed the crime were provided. Had the Guardsmen not appeared on the scene to save those witnesses, they would have been killed. Now they can testify.”

      “And that wouldn’t have happened without your masked band of do-gooders?”

      “Of course not.” Really, the man could be quite dense. “Even if the wranglers hadn’t been killed, they would have been too intimidated to testify in court. Part of the Guardsmen’s success is based on the protection they offer people. I’m sure Sheriff Beckman and his deputies are extremely grateful for the extra help they’ve been receiving.”

      “You think so?”

      She nodded. “Of course. After all, it must be extremely disheartening for an officer of the law to have so much crime going on under his nose. I imagine he wishes he knew their identities so he could thank them personally.”

      “Interesting idea.”

      “Well, there’s one thing for certain.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Whomever they are, I’ll wager they’re some of the brayest and most intelligent men our country boasts. They deserve to be recognized for their courage and selfless devotion.”

      Instead of commenting, Mr. Cade stretched. Somehow, in the process, his arm lowered, and the back of her head became cradled against him. She was about to extricate herself when he spoke again.

      “I suppose you agree with the editorials that condemn me for operating a toll road to the mines.”

      “Now that you mention it, it does seem a tad…er…excessive to charge men to travel to and from their own gold claims.”

      Even though it was her custom to employ tact when dealing with others, Emma resented being wishy-washy with this man.

      “Are you aware there wasn’t a passable road until I had one surveyed, dynamited and laid through the mountains?”

      “Well, no, but—”

      “And that I happen to own the land through which the road passes?”

      “No, but—”

      “And prior to my freighting teams, complete with drivers and men riding shotgun, miners were unable to get their gold to Denver?”

      “But—”

      “And without the rail spurs that took two years to build, it would take more than a century to transport the ore from the mountains?”

      “Still—”

      “Unlike your Miss Loutitia, I know how to run a business.”

      His rigid tone discouraged rebuttal.

      “She isn’t my Loutitia,” Emma pointed out. “But she’s successfully run the school for the past few years, and has a reputation for kindness.”

      “Being known for one’s kindness hardly qualifies someone to run a business,” came his scoffing rejoinder.

      “That’s just what one would expect from a coldhearted businessman.”

      The words slipped out despite Emma’s best intentions to avoid a quarrel. The disagreeably arrogant man had a knack for provoking her. If there had been a way to call back the barb, she would have done it.

      “I assure you my heart is no colder than any other part of me.”

       What exactly did that mean?

      “I spoke out of turn.” She was amazed she didn’t choke on the apology. “I merely meant that as a…businessman, you’re inclined to look at the facts as they’re written on sheets of paper. The rest of the world tends to look at things differently.”

      “As you’ve separated me from the rest of the human race, explain how so-called normal people will view Loutitia Hempshire’s business failure.”

      The command was brusquely issued. Had her observation wounded him? Immediately she chastised herself for being so foolish as to think she could hurt Gideon Cade’s feelings.

      “Instead of condemning her, most people will sympathize.”

      “An utterly pointless exercise.”

      The man specialized in cold pronouncements.

      “What do you plan on doing when the academy closes, Miss Step?”

      The last thing she wanted to discuss was her uncertain future.

      “I’m looking into several possibilities,” she said vaguely.

      If only the academy could have kept its doors open for another year. By then, she would have saved enough money to invest in the new institution Jayne Stoneworthy was beginning. Both Jayne and she had been recruited by Miss Loutitia to come to Denver. Jayne, however, had decided she had enough funds to establish the fledgling school.

      “That’s what people say when they don’t know what