by Cat Cahill
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she whispered. “We cannot be—”
“I doubt your superior would question you aiding the law. Even Gilbert Girls must be good citizens, correct?” He held her gaze with those green eyes, and Edie found herself nodding in spite of her better judgment.
She’d steer him toward a corner in the lobby. That would afford privacy and yet not be scandalous. Taking the lead and praying no one would gossip about her to Mrs. Ruby, Edie slid through the dining-room doors, Deputy Wright on her heels. She stopped by a large window that overlooked a cozy seating area and one of the massive stone fireplaces that flanked each end of the wide lobby. It was early yet, and so the chairs were empty. But they were in full view of the few people in the lobby so as not to cause scandal.
The deputy glanced about the room, seemingly taking in every person present. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”
Edie went to cross her arms, only to find she still held the dirty plates. “No one will overhear you, if that’s what you fear.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze retracing the entire room before landing back on her. Edie had the strangest sensation that he could see every little thing she was hiding. Perhaps that was what he wanted to speak to her about. Maybe he’d somehow discovered her true identity. The thought made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.” She straightened her shoulders and held his gaze. “Please, do tell me why you need so desperately to speak with me.”
“I’ve received a telegram.” He reached into a pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper.
Edie stared at the ivory rectangle. What could be in that message? Was it Mr. Adkins, throwing caution to the wind? Or was it someone else—someone who knew who her family was? Someone who knew her real name. She wanted to drop the dishes and crumple into the nearest chair. Everything she’d built here for herself would be whisked away in a moment. What would she do then?
“There’s been word that some men wanted in Kansas have moved into the Territory,” he began. “We don’t know if it’s the Beaumont gang or the Fletchers or someone else.”
Edie thought she might be sick. She pressed the plates into her stomach. He knew. He had to. Why else would he be telling her this information? She doubted any of the other girls at the hotel were familiar with those names.
“The sightings have been far east of here, so there is no need to worry.” His eyes crinkled as he looked her up and down. “Please, sit. You look about to faint.”
Edie couldn’t move. It was as if the soles of her shoes had grown into the polished wooden floor. She leaned against the back of the nearest wing chair, hoping that might help keep her upright.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I forgot to mention that Miss Barnett at the lunch counter informed me you were from Kansas. I also grew up there. Being from the area, I knew you would be familiar with those names and that you might have connections back home who may have apprised you of the comings and goings of these outlaws. I know they’ve terrorized all corners of the state for years. It seems they choose one area to work for a time before moving on.”
“I . . .” Edie couldn’t think of what to say. It was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d need to speak on without having to defend herself. “I’m aware of them.”
“Yes . . .” Deputy Wright trailed off, apparently waiting for more.
Of course, everyone who lived in Kansas knew of the Fletchers and the Beaumonts. Never working together, the state had seemed plenty big enough for both gangs to continue stealing what they chose and evading capture since before Edie could remember. They remained on the fringes of the cities, preferring instead the desolate plains and lawless towns—close enough to be a menace, but far enough away that the city folk couldn’t be bothered to round up Pinkertons or federal marshals or anyone else for very long to put an end to both gangs. And so they’d continued, year after year, doing as they pleased and staying out of each other’s territory. The few times they’d clashed had been violent, but quick.
Everyone knew of the Fletchers and the Beaumonts.
Especially Edie.
But the deputy didn’t know that. At least, it appeared he didn’t know that.
“Deputy Wright,” she finally said. “I have no family left in Kansas, and very few friends. I don’t correspond with anyone I knew there. I doubt I can be much help.”
He turned his hat in his hands, those sharp green eyes still on her. “I’m sorry. That must be hard. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s quite all right. I’m well past any grief over my family.” That was certainly the truth, whether or not her previous statement about her family was also.
“May I ask that you keep this news to yourself? As I said, this area is in no danger, and I hate for folks to think it might be.”
“You have my word.”
“Thank you, Miss Dutton. I don’t suppose you know of any other hotel employees who might also be from Kansas?”
Edie shook her head. “I don’t.” She paused for a moment, her gaze drawn to the sunlight streaming in the east-facing window. It lit up the valley, making every bit of sage, each railroad tie, and each partially built business look as if it had been touched by heaven itself. It was a marvelous sight, and Edie would never grow tired of it. It was a small miracle that she was even here, safe from her uncertain life back in Kansas. “Please, Deputy Wright, do you think they’ll come here?” She turned back in time to see his face go soft, concern darkening his eyes.
“I can’t say for certain, but I doubt they will. They’ve never left Kansas before, and I doubt they’ll remain over the state line very long.”
Edie bit down on her lip and said the shortest, most fervent silent prayer she ever had. If God would only keep her safe here, she’d do anything.
The deputy pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and grimaced.
“Are you quite all right?” Edie asked.
“Fine. Thank you.” He dropped his hand, although his face had paled considerably. “It’s only a pain in my head. I’ve gotten them since I was young.”
“Headaches,” Edie said thoughtfully. “But you get them frequently?”
“Sometimes.” He furrowed his brow. “I must get back to my room.” And with that, he turned on his heel and was gone toward the stairs, leaving Edie clutching two dirty dishes, a fear that had lodged in the pit of her stomach, and an idea sprung from the book on local herbs and plants she’d just finished.
Chapter Seven
When James awoke hours later, he opened his door to find a small canvas bag tied with a string. A folded note sat under the bag. Curious, he took both bag and note back into the room.
Steep a spoonful in boiling water to make a tea when you feel the pains coming on. The tea should soothe the ache.
The note was unsigned, but James suspected he knew who it was from. He ignored the heat that seemed to crawl through him at that thought, and opened the small bag to peer inside. Thick silvery green leaves, torn into tiny pieces and mixed with darker green dried leaves, looked back at him. The scent was pleasant, almost minty. Having little knowledge of plants, he had no idea what the herbs might be, but he was willing to try anything. He set the bag and note aside and let himself out, trying in vain not to think of a certain lovely woman combing the lush area near the creek for the right plants to help him.
James spent the remainder of the day wandering the various building sites and meeting more people. The sky had just begun to darken when he met up with Mr. Johnson and the crew working on the bank. The men came from all over—Denver, mining towns, places back East, Texas. James tried to remember each name. It would get easier with time, but for now he’d just have to stumble past remembering the best he could.
He was bidding the men good night when someone shouted his name from a distance.
“Deputy Wright!”
James squinted into the shadowy evening to see two young
women racing toward him. One was taller with curls escaping from under her white cap, while the other was smaller, her hair neatly pinned up and her spectacles perched on her nose. Both Miss Barnett and Miss Dutton wore their gray and white work dresses and aprons and no coats, despite the cold.
They stopped just short of him, completely out of breath. Miss Dutton placed a hand to her chest, and her pretty face was flushed with exertion.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said for lack of anything else to say.
“Deputy Wright, you must come quickly,” Miss Barnett finally said. “There is a disruption at the hotel.”
“A disruption?” He began walking along the tracks, the ladies at his side.
“Two men were arguing at the lunch counter, and it erupted into a fight. It spilled out into the lobby and now there are at least four men involved. Mr. McFarland and some of the desk clerks and bellboys were trying to pull them apart, but I fear you may need to become involved.” Miss Dutton lifted her skirts to walk even faster.
James wasted no time. He ran across the tracks and up the hill to the hotel, the women on his heels. When he threw open the hotel door, the excitement still continued. Stunned guests, railroadmen and builders, waitresses, and maids circled the melee in the middle of the room. James forced his way through the crowd, only to find himself in the middle of a fight worthy of Murray’s Saloon in Cañon City. McFarland, in a suit and tie, had pinned one of the fighters to the floor, while various other hotel employees worked to separate the other men. He tried to count the number involved, but they moved too quickly.
He needed a distraction. Something to make them pause just long enough for the other men to grab hold of them. He wasn’t about to fire a revolver inside the hotel, although the clatter from that would certainly have stopped the fight. He’d have to settle for something much simpler.
“Hey!” he shouted in a booming voice. It tore through the room, and every man paused. It was just long enough for the hotel employees to pin a few of the men. Two of the others recovered more quickly and began throwing punches again. He strode toward them, and before either could react to his presence, he hit one square in the jaw and the other in the stomach.
“This hotel is no place for a brawl.” He ground the words through his teeth as pain shot through his knuckles. “Hold on to them.” He directed the last words to the two employees who’d been trying to pull the men apart.
Clenching and unclenching his right hand, he moved around the mess to McFarland, who was still kneeling on the floor, holding his prisoner. “Have you got a place where these men can cool off?” he asked McFarland.
“We’ve a few spare rooms. Or I suppose we could put them in the outbuildings.” McFarland’s words came in puffs of breath as he worked to keep the other man down.
“Either will do.” James pulled a revolver and held it at the man on the floor to allow McFarland to stand. The scruffy-looking fellow remained in place. A quick appraisal of each of the men involved in the brawl showed none of them to be armed. “All of you,” he said, turning to address the men being held. “Follow McFarland. You step out of line, I won’t hesitate to make you regret it.”
One by one, the men stood, the employees backing off slowly. A few of the brawlers looked the worse for their poor decisions. As he waited, the crowd murmured around him, reminding him he had an audience. James quickly scanned the onlookers to ensure there would be no more trouble.
His eyes immediately landed on one of the waitresses standing near the front of the crowd. While her friends chattered, she observed the scene silently, her gaze finally finding James. She gave him a timid smile, and that one little look somehow brightened his entire mood. He stood straighter, and his voice boomed even louder when he told the men to hurry along.
Even as he followed the group down the north wing hallway, he felt her gaze on his back. And when he returned from seeing the men locked into various rooms and outbuildings, she was still standing in the lobby, even as an older woman shooed the waitresses back into the dining room. He paused in the middle of the floor, half wanting to speak with her—about what, though, he hadn’t the faintest idea—and half wanting to turn and run.
He didn’t have to make a decision, however, because she found her way toward him, gliding across the floor as if at a fancy ball somewhere back East. When she stood in front of him, she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose just slightly. It was an adorable gesture, a tiny thing she likely wasn’t even aware she did, and James fought to keep from smiling like a lunatic.
“That was very brave of you,” she finally said, her voice soft as a breeze across the prairie grasses back home.
“It’s what I’m here for. But thank you,” he said. He glanced behind him toward the hallway where some of the men had been taken. “Do you know what they were fighting over?”
She shook her head. “I was serving dinner. We all heard a racket and came to see what was happening out here. I’d seen you leave earlier, and so Genia and I ran to find you.” She grinned and chewed her lip. “I’ll likely hear about how dangerous it was to run outside in the twilight hours from Mrs. Ruby later.”
The stern-faced woman who had bustled most of the other girls back into the dining room still stood near the doors, her eagle eyes sweeping the lobby and gesturing at waitresses as she saw them. “Would that be the terrifying Mrs. Ruby?” James asked, nodding at the woman.
Miss Dutton turned, and then quickly looked back at him, sheepish. “It is. And I should go before I find myself in even more trouble.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you again, Deputy Wright. We are all grateful you’re here.” Then she dropped his hand and made her way quickly toward Mrs. Ruby.
He stood absolutely dumbfounded in the middle of the room. She’d taken his hand. He held it up for a moment. It looked no different, yet it felt . . . empty.
He shook his head and dropped his hand to his side. He must look quite the fool standing here in the lobby, staring at his hand as if it were a foreign thing.
“Deputy Wright?” McFarland called his name from near the front desk. “Some of those fellows seem to have cooled off enough if you wish to speak with them.” The man’s light Irish brogue spurred James into motion.
He was here to work, not to moon after pretty, brown-eyed girls who took his hand for approximately three seconds. And with his mind finally straight—or as straight as it could get—he set off to find out the reason for the brawl in the hotel.
Chapter Eight
The lunch service the next day was so busy, Edie barely had time to think in between tables. As soon as she took one table’s order, she had to pour water and coffee for the next and bring out food for another and remove the setting for yet another. Despite how quickly she had to move, she actually preferred services like this one. They went by quickly, and they didn’t leave much time for conversation. As adept as Edie was at crafting clever conversation, even with the roughest of men, she much preferred not to since it inevitably found her needing to lie about her past.
The service had just begun slowing down long after the southbound train left the depot. Edie finished pouring hot coffee for a gentleman at a corner table and turned to greet a new guest at a table by one of the large windows.
“Deputy Wright,” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you eat in the dining room before.” She wanted to grip the edge of the table for support, since she suddenly felt as if she weren’t quite herself. But that wouldn’t do, and so she placed both hands on the handle of the coffeepot.
“I’m usually in more of a hurry, but today I thought I might take it easier.”
“Did the tea I left not work for your headaches?” She’d read about the use of sagebrush leaves among the Indians to ease head pains. And she’d found the peppermint she’d read about in the kitchen pantry. Chef had been none too thrilled to allow her to search through his goods, but when she told him who they were for, he relented. It seemed everyone was grateful for Deputy Wright�
�s presence in Crest Stone. And after what had happened yesterday, Edie was too. At least she was when she didn’t think too much about how interested he might be in her family.
Her family. They couldn’t be the ones who’d come into the Territory. Her father had once said he’d never leave Kansas. Unless he had a reason to leave . . . A ripple of panic raced through her. It wasn’t the first time she’d had that thought since Deputy Wright had told her about what he’d heard. The fear had been ever-present in the back of her mind since then, causing her to be even more mindful of her surroundings.
“I have yet to try them as I haven’t experienced one since yesterday morning I only meant that I thought I might take my time over lunch rather than rushing about.” He paused, picked up the cutlery in front of him as if he would use it, and then put it back down. “I want to thank you for the herbs. It was very kind.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.” Edie’s cheeks went warm. She stood there, thoughts of her family forced away, and feeling as if she’d forgotten every bit of waitressing training she’d received. She looked down at her hands, and her brain chugged along like the train leaving the depot. She finally realized she should offer the man something to drink. “Would you care for some coffee?”
He nodded and slid the cup and saucer across the table. Her fingers grazed his as she gripped the mug. It brought to mind the impulsive way she’d grabbed his hand yesterday. She bit down hard on her lip as she poured, hoping to dispel the memory—and the blush that was surely creeping back up into her cheeks. The man was going to begin to think she had a medical condition if she kept flushing at every word and thought.
“Were you in much trouble for coming to get me yesterday?” he asked, taking the cup in his hands.
“No, thankfully.” Although Beatrice had warned her that Mrs. Ruby had spotted her speaking with the deputy after the commotion in the lobby, Mrs. Ruby hadn’t said anything. Edie hoped that meant she only thought Edie was thanking the man for coming. And indeed, Mrs. Ruby had been grateful to Edie and Genia for acting quickly. But Edie knew she needed to be more careful in the future—and now. She glanced about the room, even though she remembered Mrs. Ruby had gone to her office not too long ago. “We were all very impressed with how you stepped into the middle of the melee. The girls and I, that is.”