"Tabitha didn't happen to mention a name," Judah replied, as he stared closely at Lee, his gaze intense and very acute. "I assumed you knew."
"How could I," Lee demanded, "when I didn't even know Madeline existed?"
"My mistake," Judah said softly. "I thought you might be the man we were waiting for."
Though Judah's words were phrased as an apology, Lee heard the silent indictment. "Aw, hell." He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his trousers and began to pace around the room. Tabby had known him too well. She had known, when she dictated her will, that he wouldn't let her daughter grow up in the Methodist Foundling Home or any other foundling home. She had apparently remembered Lee's mentioning once, when they were together, how he had feared being sent to a foundling home when his mother died and his great relief when his army sergeant father had decided to keep Lee with him in Washington. And Lee remembered being appalled when he learned that Tabitha hadn't been so lucky—that she had, in fact, spent several terrible years in the Methodist Foundling Home in St. Louis when her parents died in a wagon train cholera epidemic.
"What have you done?" Lee railed at the ceiling as if he could see Tabby looking down at him from a cloud on high. Damn Tabby and her penchant for trying to arrange his life. "You always had to have the last word, always had to have things your way. Well, you sure as hell didn't leave me much room to maneuver this time!"
"She didn't leave any room for you to maneuver, young man," Judah informed him. "Her will is ironclad. I saw to that," he added proudly.
"I thought you were losing your faculties. I thought that was why you can't take the little girl." Lee glared at the lawyer.
"I'm seventy-seven years old, young man," Judah answered. "Some days everything is there," he tapped the side of his head with his index finger, "and some days everything is blank. The day I wrote Tabitha's will, everything was there."
"And today you're wearing your nightshirt with your suit," Lee muttered beneath his breath, finally realizing what was wrong with Judah's appearance. "Just my luck."
"Well, what are you going to do, young man?" Judah demanded. "Do you want the house and the mine or not? I need an answer."
"I told you I don't give a damn about owning a house in Utopia, Colorado, or a silver mine." Fighting a creeping sense of desperation, knowing there was nothing he could do to change the terms of Tabby's will or the demands she'd made of him, Lee glanced over at Tom McLeary. "What about you, McLeary? You're based here in Colorado. Wouldn't you like to get out of living in hotels? Wouldn't you like to own a big house and a silver mine?"
"No thanks." McLeary smiled.
"Why not?" Lee demanded.
"I've seen the house and the town. I'm not in the market."
"What about the little girl?" Lee tried again, "You wouldn't want her to be sent to an orphanage, would you? Why don't you take her?"
"I'm in the same line of work you're in," McLeary reminded him. "And I'm not ready to retire—or get married."
"Well, neither am I," Lee shot back.
"Tabitha Gray wasn't my partner," McLeary answered, "I didn't know her. Besides, I've been looking after Mr. Crane and Madeline for a week now. It's your turn. I've got my own business to see to." McLeary walked into the other bedroom to gather his hat, overcoat, and his carpetbag. Lee followed him and stood blocking the doorway.
"Yes or no, young man?" Judah asked, coming to stand behind Lee.
"It's not as simple as that," Lee hedged, searching for a way out of the situation. "How am I supposed to meet her demands?"
"I suppose you should start by finding a bride," Judah answered thoughtfully.
"In twenty-two days? You're asking the impossible!" Lee snorted in disgust.
"Tabitha didn't seem to think you would have trouble finding a suitable bride in the time required," Judah replied.
"Yeah, Kincaid," McLeary added as he bumped his heavy carpetbag against Lee's leg, forcing him to step aside. "Denver's a big town, full of beautiful women. I'll bet you could get one to the altar in three weeks."
"If I had three weeks," Lee answered sarcastically, stepping back—right into the old lawyer. "But I have to be in Cheyenne tomorrow morning on more urgent business." He turned to Judah. "Can't you stay with Madeline for a couple of days until I get back?"
"No. Not me." Judah backed away, shaking his head. "You can't leave me here alone with that precious baby. I don't actively practice law anymore because I accidentally burned down my office. I forgo
t to bank the coals in the stove. Another time I left my door wide open all night. And I'm always forgetting what I'm doing or where I put things." He turned to Lee. "What if I forgot to keep an eye on her? What if something happened to her?" He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "I'm too old to be left in charge of a two-and-a-half-year-old child. I can't be trusted. That's why Tabitha didn't leave her to me. My mind's all here right now." Judah tapped his finger against his right temple. "But what if it's gone an hour after you leave?"
Lee reached over and awkwardly patted Judah's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll think of something else." He eyed McLeary speculatively. "Be a pal, McLeary, and stay here for another couple of days and keep an eye on Judah and the little girl."
"I've been a pal," McLeary said as he passed Lee and headed for the door. "I'd never even met you, but I've been here for a week keeping an eye on your new family because you have a reputation as being a good man and a hell of a detective. I've got an investigation of my own to continue and I'm a week behind as it is. But if you're going to Cheyenne on Agency business, I might be able to go in your place."
Lee shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I've got to go report to an Agency client. And she'll have my head on a platter if I don't show up."