by Laura Beers
“Your plan won’t work,” Paden informed her the moment he closed the door to their hotel room.
Rosalie spun back around. “I beg your pardon?”
“There are too many variables that could go wrong.” He went and dropped down on the settee.
“What about supporting me back in the sheriff’s office?” she asked, as she removed a glove.
Paden looked up at her. “We are a partnership, and we need to appear united. I couldn’t very well tell Sheriff Walton that I didn’t support your idea.”
Dropping her gloves onto the side table, she sat down on the bed. “In about an hour, Mr. Tuttle and Mr. Holmes will have been informed about the fake gold shipment, and we will be in position to follow them.”
“That is assuming Mr. Murray doesn’t botch his assignment,” he said. “Garrett is a smart man. He may call it for what it is… a ploy. We shouldn’t get our hopes up when he doesn’t show up.”
“Do you want Tuttle or Holmes?” Rosalie asked with an exasperated look, blatantly ignoring his concerns.
Paden ran his hand through his hair, attempting to formulate a new plan of action. Rosalie’s plan was risky, and he couldn’t even count the different ways that it could go wrong. “Our first course of action should have been to break into the bank and see if there is any incriminating evidence.”
“Of course, because criminals typically leave incriminating documents laying around for people to find,” she replied sarcastically.
Leaning back, he rested the back of his head against the wall. “Need I remind you that I am the lead agent, and you are still in training?”
Rosalie visibly grew rigid. “Meaning?”
If Paden had been smart, he would have regarded her tone as a warning, and changed the subject. Instead, he pressed, “Meaning… I dictate our next move. Not you.”
Without saying a word, she rose from the bed and knelt beside her trunk. She opened the lid, pulled out a gown, and walked behind the paneled changing screen in the corner. He could hear her shifting out of her clothes, and he turned his attention toward the window.
A few moments later, Rosalie stepped out from the privacy screen wearing a calico prairie dress. The gown was simplistic in nature which seemed only to enhance her beautiful facial features. She grabbed her reticule off the side table and approached the door.
When she placed her hand on the handle, Paden jumped off the settee and demanded, “Where do you think you are going?”
“Out,” she answered, refusing to look at him.
“Out?”
“Yes. I am going to finish what we started.”
He sighed. “I am worried that you are not thinking clearly, and that is going to get you killed.”
Rosalie slowly turned to face him. “My plan will work,” she replied deliberately. “I have made it my life’s work to know everything I can about Garrett. He is a greedy, egotistical man. He is always about an easy score, and he will kill anyone that steps in his way.”
“I know this…”
She spoke over him. “No, you don’t. Even if Bill does suspect it’s a trap, he will still show.”
“Why is that?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.
Removing her hand from the door, she answered, “Garrett knows I’m in town, and he blames me for his stagecoach failure. More importantly, he has an old score to settle with me.”
“Why do you say that?”
She winced as she revealed, “I was the one that gave him his scar.”
Rearing back, Paden’s mouth dropped. “How? When?” he exclaimed.
He saw hesitation flitter across her face before she began her story. “About nine months after I left Waterglen to search for him, I found him, and a group of men holed up in a cave near Pike’s Peak. They were all sitting around the fire, drinking heavily, and swapping stories, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I waited for Bill to leave the security of the cave before I approached him.”
Rosalie shuddered, before continuing. “If I shot him, then it would have alerted the other men to my position. So, I crept closer to Bill and was about to plunge my dagger into his back when he turned around.” She walked silently over toward the window. “He recognized me, calling me ‘Sheriff Addis’s daughter’, and sneered at the dagger in my hand.”
“What happened next?” he asked.
“I flew at him and we fought. We both were fighting for our lives,” she revealed. “At some point, I slashed his face, and he took off through the woods like the coward that he is. He started shouting for help from his men, and I had to run for my life.”
Paden walked closer to her. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“About my failure?” she huffed.
“No,” he replied, reaching out and touching her sleeve. “About how you were close enough to slash Bill Garrett and live to tell about it.”
She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “No, I failed that day. If I had killed him, then I could have returned home to my previous life…” she paused, and her next words were so soft that he almost missed them, “to you.”
Paden pulled her into a tight embrace. “My dear Rosie,” he whispered against her hair. “I can’t even imagine the pain that you have had to endure these past few years, but I am here now. You are not alone anymore.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist, Rosalie surrendered to his touch and sighed. “I can’t do that to you. Garrett wants me dead, and he won’t hesitate to kill anyone I associate with.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he asserted. “We are partners, and I will keep you safe.”
For a long moment, she was silent. Then, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“I’ll take Tuttle,” Paden said, knowing that he was most likely their suspect based upon his nervous reaction when they opened an account at the bank.
“I will follow Holmes then.”
As much as Paden wanted to stay in their room embracing Rosie, he knew they needed to wrap this case up. He stepped back, creating a bit of distance between them.
“Stop trying to tempt me. We have suspects that we need to put under surveillance,” he declared in a mock-chiding tone.
Rosalie rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the smile playing on her lips.
Chapter 9
Rosalie and Paden headed down the boardwalk, arm-in-arm, in a leisurely mid-day stroll. At least, that’s what they wanted everyone to think. They were both on guard, preparing themselves for Mr. Holmes and Mr. Tuttle to exit the bank for their lunch break.
Paden smiled over at her. “Any sign of them yet?”
“Not yet,” Rosalie replied, her eyes scanning the buildings. “Sheriff Walton said they leave promptly at noon for lunch and return one hour later.”
“Perhaps they will forego their lunch break today?”
“Sheriff Walton insisted that these men always follow a precise routine,” she assured him, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles underneath his suit coat. “We can always go back into the mercantile and look through the fabric again.”
“No,” he rushed out in an adamant tone. “Absolutely not. That was the biggest waste of time.”
Rosalie attempted to hide her growing smile at his refusal. “I disagree. Besides, I bought you a bag of penny candy for your patience,” she gave him a side glance, “but I’m not sure you deserved it.”
Paden humphed. “My definition of putting a suspect under surveillance is completely different than yours.”
“Yours is wrong, as I tried to explain earlier,” she joked.
Stopping at the edge of the boardwalk, Paden turned her to face him. “I would have sat at the restaurant across from the bank and read a paper until Mr. Tuttle stepped out for his lunch.”
“Wouldn’t the restaurant staff grow suspicious? After all, you would have to be the world’s slowest reader. It doesn’t take you hours to read a newspaper.”
“I can’t give away all my secrets.�
� A cocky smile came to his lips.
“Let me guess,” she started with an arched brow, “you flirted with them and then left a large tip.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he teased. “I would be happy to show you…” His voice stopped as his eyes grew alert. “Tuttle and Holmes just left the building, and Tuttle is walking this way.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Be careful.”
When he leaned back, she asked, “Aren’t I always?”
“No,” came his short reply as he stepped off the boardwalk. “Meet you back at the hotel.”
Rosalie turned her attention toward Mr. Holmes as he walked casually down the boardwalk toward the boarding house, which was near the staging station on the opposite side of town. She crossed the street and remained a respectful distance away, pretending to admire the different shops and their goods. Mr. Holmes stopped to talk to a gentleman, and Rosalie became immensely interested in a leather saddle that was being displayed in the store front.
Mr. Holmes laughed at something the man said before he resumed his walk. As he approached the boarding house, Rosalie let out a frustrated sigh. Following him had been a waste of time. He was only going home for lunch. Just then, Holmes glanced over his shoulder just before he ducked into the small alleyway between the boarding house and the bath house.
Increasing her pace, she came to the edge of the bath house and cautiously peeked into the alleyway. Further down the alley, Mr. Holmes removed a brick, placing a small piece of paper into the cavity of the wall, and returned the brick to its original location. He stepped back, brushing his hands on the sides of his jacket, and again looked around.
Rosalie jumped back, hiding herself from Holmes’ view, and swiftly walked to the other side of the bath house. She turned the corner of the building and watched as Mr. Holmes walked out of the alleyway. He appeared anxious as he jogged up the few steps of the boarding house.
Once Mr. Holmes stepped inside, she rushed toward the alley and ran her hands around the bricks where she last saw him. A brick shifted under her fingers, and she removed it. With her other hand, she grabbed the paper and opened it, quickly scanning the scribbled words. “Another gold shipment. Not on stagecoach. Using alternate path. No more information.”
Well, she found the informant, she thought, as she placed the paper and brick back into place. Now she had to wait to see who would show up to read the note.
She didn’t have to wait long. A man’s angry voice came from the rear of the alleyway. “What do you think you are doing?”
Making a rash decision, Rosalie did the unthinkable. She approached the short man, with a hardened gaze, in a huff, despite him holding a knife in his right hand.
“What do you think I am doing?” she asked in an astonished voice. “What is my supposed fiancé doing leaving love notes to another girl?”
“Lady, I have no idea what you are talking about,” the man proclaimed with a scowl, but his eyes held uncertainty.
“No?” she asked, stopping a few feet from the man. “Thomas has been acting distant lately, and then I see him putting a note in the wall.” She glared at the man. “I know it’s for Helen. My friend, Elizabeth, warned me that Thomas would be unfaithful, but I didn’t believe him.”
The man loosened his grip on the dagger. “What in tarnation are you talking about?”
Rosalie brought tears to her eyes as she whimpered, “I’m talking about my future.” She reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out a bag of lemon drops. “I even bought him his favorite penny candy.” She held up the bag. “Would you like one?”
He frowned. It was clear that he was trying to figure her out. “Listen, you ain’t supposed to be here. You need to come with me.”
“Where?” she asked, lowering the bag of penny candy.
“The boss will need to see you. He won’t be none too pleased when I tell him that you found that note,” he declared, reaching forward to grab her arm.
Tossing the candy into the man’s face, Rosalie used the distraction to punch the man in the stomach, causing him to double over. She retrieved her pistol and pressed it against the man’s forehead. The man stilled.
“Where is Bill Garrett?” she asked.
He looked up at her with a pale face. “I can’t answer that, or I’m a dead man.”
Cocking her pistol, she rephrased her question. “Tell me where your hideout is.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know. Garrett will kill you,” came his shaky response.
Taking a step back, she ordered, “We are going to the sheriff’s office and…” Her words were interrupted as two shots rang out. Her eyes darted around the alleyway, looking for the shooter, just as the man collapsed to the ground with two bullet wounds in his back.
Rosalie stepped over him and hurried around the corner. She watched as a man kicked his horse into a run, heading straight toward the mountains. As she attempted to formulate a plan, she heard a cocking of a pistol behind her and the words, “Put your hands up.”
Paden determined that Mr. Tuttle had to be the most unremarkable person he had ever followed. The man walked to his home at an achingly slow pace, ate his lunch one morsel at a time, and napped for exactly thirty-four minutes.
He had just watched Mr. Tuttle walk back into the bank when Deputy Charlie waved him down in the street. “You need to come with me,” the deputy ordered.
“What is it?” he asked. Suddenly, a frightening thought came to him. “Is my wife all right?”
Deputy Charlie stepped closer to him and lowered his voice. “Your wife is unharmed, but she is at the sheriff’s office.”
“Why?”
“Mrs. Brooks was involved in a shooting.” The lawman stepped back, frowning. “You’ll see.”
Following closely behind the deputy, Paden was anxious to see his wife. He stepped into the office, and his eyes immediately landed on her. Rosie was sitting in the chair, appearing calm and collected, but he could see the anguish in her eyes. She was putting on an act.
He rushed over to her and knelt by the chair. “What happened?” he asked, bringing his hand up to cup her right cheek.
A loud sigh came from Sheriff Walton. “We heard gunshots near the boarding house and when we arrived, we found Agent Brooks with a gun in her hand and a dead body in the alley.”
“Who did you kill?” he asked, his eyes roaming her face with concern.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” she assured him. “I was about to walk him over to the sheriff’s office when someone shot him in the back.”
Paden shifted his body to face the sheriff. “And you don’t believe her?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sheriff Walton said. “Not only had her gun not been recently fired, but she still had all the bullets in the chamber.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked with a furrowed brow. “My wife is a victim here.”
“No. Your wife is a witness to a crime,” Deputy Charlie corrected. “She refused to talk until you arrived.”
Turning his attention back toward Rosalie, he said, “Thank you for waiting for me.”
She gave him a weak smile. “We are partners, are we not?”
“And married,” he reminded her as he went and sat in the chair next to her.
Rosalie straightened in the chair. “I followed Mr. Holmes into the alleyway, where I saw him place a note into a cavity in the wall…” She continued her story about what she read, who caught her, and how the murderer rode off.
Sheriff Walton shoved his chair back and rose. “We will go arrest Holmes and sort this all out.”
“I wouldn’t,” Rosalie warned.
“Why not?” the sheriff asked, glaring down at her.
“Most likely, Bill Garrett has already been informed that his man failed and was shot in the alleyway,” Rosalie explained. “Your deputy already removed the note from behind the brick so Garrett will need to go directly to Holmes to get the information.”
Sheriff Walton sat back down. “You want
to use Holmes as a decoy. What is it with you and decoys?” he mocked.
“What if Holmes high tails it out of town?” Deputy Charlie asked. “The whole town heard the shots. Men filed out of the boarding house to look at the dead body.”
Paden spoke up. “Didn’t Holmes have a sister? Emeline, was it?”
“He does. Emeline works as a waitress at the restaurant,” Sheriff Walton confirmed.
Paden watched as Rosalie’s eyes grew determined. “I suspect that there is more to the story. Perhaps Holmes is being forced to help Bill Garrett,” she said.
Sheriff Walton grunted as he slapped his hand on his desk. “You have got to be kiddin’ me, Mrs. Brooks. You caught Holmes red-handed.”
“I did,” she admitted, “but where is the gold?” She lifted her brow. “Where would Holmes store it? In his room at the boarding house? Or his sister’s room?”
“He could have taken his cut and buried it somewhere,” Deputy Charlie rationalized.
Turning his gaze toward him, Sheriff Walton asked, “What do you think, Agent Brooks?”
Paden stifled his groan. Their assignment was technically over. They had discovered the identity of the man who had tipped off Bill Garrett about the gold shipments, and they notified the sheriff of their findings. Once Holmes was arrested, they would wire the Denver office and request the next case file. However, if he confessed that, then he would be working his next case… alone. Without his wife.
On the other hand, Bill Garrett had an outstanding warrant for his arrest, and Archie did say capturing him was a top priority for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. The only problem is that it could take weeks to track down Garrett and his new gang in these foothills. He would have to get authorization from Archie to pursue Garrett.
He glanced over at Rosalie’s hopeful expression. By going after Garrett, it would make Rosalie happy. And he would do anything to see her smile.
“I agree with my wife,” Paden said, earning a smile from her in response. “We do have enough proof to arrest Holmes, but then Garrett and his gang will just go on to the next town. We need to pool our resources and go after Garrett together.”