by Nerys Leigh
She followed Jonah up to the window, and they both peeked inside.
Brewer stood at his desk, shoving items into a canvas bag. He was clearly not planning on returning.
Jonah waved her back and they retreated to the end of the building.
“We’ve got to stop him,” he whispered.
“How? We have no weapons.”
“You heard Gilson. They’ll all be at the stables. Brewer is on his own. This is our best shot. All we have to do is keep him in that office and wait for the marshal.”
She just knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “What if they decide to come looking for him when he doesn’t show up to meet him?”
“We’ll lock the doors until the marshal gets here. Brewer’s bound to have at least a pistol in there.”
“One pistol against all those men?”
“They won’t be able to shoot us out. It would draw too much attention. I know it isn’t perfect, but unless you can think of anything better, it’s all we’ve got.”
Sadly, she couldn’t think of anything better. “Just don’t get yourself shot.”
One corner of his mouth hitched up. “You neither.”
An overwhelming urge to hug him washed over her. Clenching her fists, she turned away, before she did something she’d regret, like throw herself at him. Maybe there was something to this irresistible Pinkerton agent idea after all.
Or more likely it was just Jonah who was irresistible, at least where she was concerned.
They moved back to the front of the building, checked none of Brewer’s thugs were nearby, and walked out into the yard as if they were out for a Sunday stroll.
They reached Brewer’s office door without anyone paying them any mind, and with one final surreptitious glance around the yard, Jonah turned the doorknob and they slipped inside.
The outer office was empty. The door to Brewer’s office was open.
“Gilson, that you?” he called from inside.
Jonah waved Phoebe to one side of the office door as he took the other.
“Gilson?”
Inside the room, the sound of footsteps approached. When they reached the door, Jonah lunged.
Phoebe followed him to see Brewer stumble backwards, the revolver clutched in his right hand pointing at the floor.
“Who…” His eyes widened as he focused on Jonah’s face. “You!”
He raised the gun.
Jonah’s fist was faster.
The revolver dropped as Brewer did, skidding across the floor. Phoebe ran to fetch it.
Hand clamped to his jaw where Jonah had punched him, Brewer gaped up at him. “Why aren’t you dead?”
His shock at their lack of deadness appeared genuine. It seemed his men hadn’t been entirely honest with him. Maybe she and Jonah could use that.
“Your men aren’t as loyal to you as you think,” she said.
Brewer squinted at her. “Mrs. Hays?”
Her disguise was evidently better than she’d thought.
Jonah grabbed Brewer’s shirt and hauled him to his feet.
He struggled in his grasp, until Jonah growled, “Keep still or I’ll punch you again. And this time you’ll stay down.”
Brewer immediately stopped wriggling. Jonah threw him into a chair.
“Go lock the door,” he said as he yanked Brewer’s belt off and used it to tie his hands.
Phoebe hurried into the outer office and made her way around the tables to the outside door.
She reached for the bolt.
Before she could touch it, the door opened, forcing her backwards.
Gilson stepped in.
There was a moment of inaction as they stared at each other, him in astonishment, her in horror.
Recovering, Phoebe whipped up Brewer’s gun.
Gilson lunged for it, grabbing her arm and twisting.
She yelped in pain as he snatched the gun from her grip. Before she could do anything, the muzzle was pressed to her cheek.
He kicked the door shut behind him.
“Phoebe?” Jonah appeared at the door to the office. He froze when he saw Gilson.
Brewer’s thug grasped her arm and spun her around so she faced away from him. Clamping his free arm around her waist, he shoved the gun against her head. “Don’t try anything.”
There was a revolver holstered at Gilson’s waist. He had her arms pinned, but if she could just edge one back far enough…
“Move that hand any farther, Mrs. Hays, and I’ll shoot it off.”
She stopped. Shoulders slumping, she looked at Jonah. “I’m sorry.”
He gave her a small smile. “Not your fault.”
“Gilson?” Brewer called from his office. “Get in here and untie me.”
He walked Phoebe to the office and nodded to Jonah. “Go untie him.”
“You could leave him,” Jonah replied. “Take that gold he’s got stashed in the explosives hut and just go.”
Brewer’s eyes flicked to him. “How do you know about that?”
“He’s paying me a lot more than that’s worth,” Gilson said. “Untie him.”
Jonah closed his eyes for a moment, then he walked back to Brewer and removed the belt binding him to the chair.
Brewer leaped to his feet, snatched the belt and glared at him. Although when Jonah took a step towards him, he scuttled back.
“Tie his hands behind him with the belt,” Gilson ordered.
Brewer frowned. “This is my belt. It’s expensive.”
“Then use his.”
Brewer took a tentative step towards him, stopping when Jonah glowered at him. “Uh, maybe there’s some rope in the other room. Give me a minute.”
He returned with a length of rope which he proceeded to tie around Jonah’s wrists.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said as he worked. “Those other Pinkerton agents could show up at any minute. We have to get rid of these two now.”
“You got a knife in here? We can just kill them quietly and leave.”
Brewer shot Gilson a horrified look. “We can’t leave their bodies in my office. Everyone will know it was me.”
“Everyone will know you’ve been embezzling anyway. You’ll still have to go.”
“Yes, but no one cares about the embezzling, except for the owner. We leave two bodies here, there’ll be a manhunt. Posses. They’ll hunt us down and hang us.”
“So what do you want to do?”
Brewer finished tying Jonah’s wrists and stepped back. “If we leave their bodies in the hut, it’ll take days for anyone to find them. Longer, if you and the men bury them. By that time, we’ll be long gone.”
Gilson was silent for a few seconds, considering his plan. “How’re we going to get them over there? It’s across the yard. Everyone out there will see us.”
Brewer walked over to him. “Give me my gun.”
Gilson released Phoebe to slide his own gun from its holster before handing Brewer’s back to him.
Except, it wasn’t Gilson’s own gun he held.
“Hey, that’s my gun!” she exclaimed.
He ignored her.
Given the situation, Gilson’s theft of her revolver was probably the last thing that should have drawn her outrage, and yet for a moment she was angrier about that than anything else.
She briefly considered trying to grab it but discarded that idea immediately. By the way Gilson had disarmed her, he wouldn’t easily be taken down. She couldn’t risk Jonah being shot.
But she was getting her gun back, one way or another.
“You take him,” Brewer said, indicating Jonah. “I’ll take her.” He looked at the two of them. “We’re going to walk across that yard, and you’re going to keep quiet. If either of you tries anything, we’ll shoot you right there and tell everyone you were trying to kill us.”
“They won’t believe you,” Jonah said.
“Maybe, maybe not, but you’ll still be dead.”
“But you’re going to kill us anyway,”
Phoebe pointed out.
“But you’re hoping there’ll be some way you can get free before that happens, so you won’t jeopardize your lives until you get that chance.” He tapped his temple with his fingertip. “See, I know how the human mind works.”
She wanted to slap the smug smile from his face.
He moved his eyes to Gilson. “Let’s get this over with.”
Phoebe and Jonah exchanged looks.
If they didn’t find a way out of this, within a few minutes both of them would be dead.
Chapter Nineteen
Standing behind Phoebe, Brewer gripped the back of her jacket. “Remember, not a sound. If you do anything, your husband gets a bullet through his heart.”
Jonah clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing down his fury at seeing Brewer’s hands on his wife. He needed to think clearly if they were going to get out of this alive.
His hands were still tied securely behind his back, although Gilson had covered them with a jacket to hide the bindings. Jonah had hoped to be able to work his hands free, but Brewer had tied them so tight his fingers were beginning to get numb.
As he looked at Phoebe, a brief moment of fear seized him. He tamped it down. Even though his hands were bound, they’d left hers free. That gave him hope. She might survive this, even if he didn’t.
With one final glance back at him and Gilson, Brewer opened the door. Light spilled into the outer office.
He guided Phoebe out ahead of him, his sleeve pulled down to hide the gun he held to her back.
Gilson pushed Jonah out after them and they started across the yard.
A few men threw curious glances in their direction as they passed, but none seemed to see anything wrong. Could Jonah indicate to one of them somehow, without their captors noticing?
Perhaps he could…
Phoebe jerked her head to one side. Her hat flipped off, falling to the ground.
Brewer came to a halt. “What are you doing?”
She shook her head and her hair tumbled around her shoulders. “Help!”
At her scream, every head turned in their direction.
Brewer grasped her jacket again, hissing, “Shut up!”
“We’re Pinkerton agents!” she shouted. “Brewer is stealing from the mine and he’s going to kill us. Help us, please!”
Jonah braced himself for the bullet Brewer had promised. It didn’t come.
Every man in the yard was watching them now. Many of them started to approach.
“What’s going on there?”
“Miss, are you all right?”
Behind Jonah, Gilson hissed to Brewer, “What do we do now?”
Growling in frustration, Brewer grabbed Phoebe, pinning her arms to her and holding his gun to her head. “Everyone back or she dies!”
The approaching miners came to a halt. It was obvious they had no idea what was going on, but the threat to Phoebe’s life was clear.
Brewer spoke to Gilson. “Hold him. We’re going to get horses and–”
Phoebe rammed her head back. Her skull collided with Brewer’s face.
He yelped, staggering backwards.
She whirled and grabbed his gun, jerking his wrist back.
With pain-filled cry, he let go.
She swung the revolver, catching him across the face. His head snapped to the side, his body taking a moment to catch up with it. With a grunt, he dropped to the ground.
She whipped the gun up to point at Gilson.
Jonah snapped his mouth shut.
Grabbing his bound wrists, Gilson jerked him back, shoving the muzzle of Phoebe’s revolver against the side of his head as he used him as a shield. “Drop it or I’ll kill him.”
She didn’t reply, and she didn’t drop the revolver. Instead, she sighted down the barrel.
The barrel of the gun pointing right at Jonah.
His gut dropped as he realized her intentions. Yes, she’d told him she was a good shot, but he hadn’t had the chance to test that. And she couldn’t possibly be that good.
He shook his head frantically.
She ignored him and continued to aim.
His own wife was going to shoot him. He hunched, trying to make himself as small as possible.
“Should’ve left us in the office,” she told Gilson.
And then she pulled the trigger.
Something whizzed by Jonah’s ear, so close he could hear the buzz of its flight.
Gilson grunted. His hold on Jonah released.
Jonah spun to see him stagger backwards, a spot of red expanding across the front of his shoulder. Phoebe’s gun fell from his now useless hand.
Jonah kicked it out of his reach and aimed another kick at his gut.
Gilson staggered backwards, gripping his bleeding shoulder with his working hand. Turning to run, he came to an abrupt halt.
Fletcher had emerged from the startled crowd and now stood behind him, his gun drawn.
“Don’t point it at me, you idiot,” Gilson snarled. “Point it at them.”
Fletcher shook his head. His pistol remained aimed at Gilson’s chest.
Gilson frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago.” Fletcher’s eyes flicked to Jonah. “I’m sorry.”
Jonah nodded his acknowledgement. He wasn’t going to say it was all right, but he had the feeling he and Phoebe would have been killed three days before if it hadn’t been for Fletcher. For that, he was grateful.
The sound of galloping horses approaching drew Jonah’s attention. The crowd of miners, who up to now had been watching the events around Phoebe and Jonah in astonishment, looked towards the road leading to Black Hawk.
A group of seven mounted men and one woman rode into the yard. Jonah smiled at the sight of James holding on behind a man Jonah knew well.
The crowd of miners parted to let the riders through, and they brought their horses to a halt and dismounted.
Marshal Sanderson strode up to Brewer who was pushing to his feet, his hand clamped over his swelling cheek where Phoebe had hit him. “Edmund Brewer, you are under arrest for the murder of Ralph Baker and the attempted murder of Mr. and Mrs. Hays. We’ll add the other charges later.”
“Actually, Mr. Baker may not be dead,” Fletcher said as one of the marshal’s deputies relieved him of his gun and another handcuffed Gilson. He looked at Jonah. “We did the same to him as we did to you and Mrs. Hays. It’s possible he survived, I guess. I can show you where we left him.”
Brewer threw his hands into the air. “Did no one obey my orders?” Then he looked at Marshal Sanderson, apparently realizing what he’d said. “I mean…” He belatedly clamped his mouth shut.
Phoebe handed Brewer’s gun to the marshal and hurried over to Jonah. He turned his back so she could untie him. When nothing happened, he glanced round to see her bending to scoop her revolver from the ground.
She dusted it off on her skirt. “Did you have to kick it?”
He had the strongest compulsion to smile. “Under the circumstances, yes. Now could you untie me?”
She slipped her revolver into her waistband and flicked a triumphant look at Gilson as the deputy led him away. “Told you I’d be getting this back.”
“My fingers are going numb,” Jonah said pointedly.
At last, she turned her attention to the rope binding his hands.
Finally free, he rubbed at his wrists to restore the circulation.
She smiled up at him and he suddenly wanted to laugh and cry and grab her and crush her to him. Instead, he said, “How did you know Gilson wouldn’t shoot me?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I assumed he wouldn’t kill you when escape wasn’t certain and there were all these witnesses. But he would have killed you for sure if they’d got us to that hut. It was a calculated risk.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or afraid.” Although he knew she’d done the right thing, and he was intensely proud of her
. “And you were going to shoot me with a Model One?”
She frowned. “A what?”
“The gun you shot Gilson with. If you’re going to shoot me, at least pick a better gun. Like your Model Three. Now that’s a gun worth being shot with.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I plan on shooting you. But I was aiming for him. I had no intention of shooting you.”
“Maybe you had no intention of shooting me, but you had, how much? Two inches of leeway there? How on earth did you make that shot anyway?”
“Actually, it was more like one. Would you like me to teach you?”
He waved her away. “I’m not saying I couldn’t have done it.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I’m an outstanding shot.”
His heart warmed when, smiling, she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his.
“If you say so.”
Chapter Twenty
Phoebe held tight onto Jonah’s arm, waiting for her knees to stop trembling. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was still shaken over what had just happened.
Even though her father had taught her to shoot as a child, and she’d trained for weeks with an expert marksman before traveling to Denver, shooting Gilson over Jonah’s shoulder, with barely an inch to spare, had been the most terrifying thing she’d ever done.
But she’d done it. And she’d also taken Brewer down. All in all, she was proud of herself. She could be a Pinkerton agent.
She looked up at Jonah beside her. But could she do it without him?
James ran up to them, grinning. “Not bad for a sixty year old.”
Jonah shook his head in exasperation. “I am not sixty!”
James frowned, pursing his lips. “Fifty?”
Phoebe burst into laughter. It helped to banish the fear of the past half hour.
Smiling, Jonah ruffled James’ hair. “Thanks for the help, kid. You’ll make a fine Pinkerton agent one day.”
James’ face lit up. “Really? I could be a Pinkerton agent?”
“No reason why not.”
The man James had ridden in with walked up to them, the only woman in their group at his side.
“So you’re who Archie sent to find us,” Jonah said. “Phoebe, this is Val and Belle Stevens.”