“Did you get the sister’s name?” Cade asked.
“No, why?”
“We need to have a talk with her,” Cade said.
“What on earth for?” Erin asked.
“If she blamed Nora, it’s very possible that she had something to do with the things that happened to her . . . including her death.”
“Oh.”
“Did Eli bring the two new kids to town after that?” Erin asked.
“Soon afterward.”
“Does anyone have any idea where he finds them?” Cade asked.
“Any number of places, I imagine,” Lilly said. “Monty said that Nora thought he might have gotten them from an orphan train.”
“I’ve read that those poor children often wind up in horrible situations,” Cade said.
“When she heard about the new children, she took her protests to the streets and gave the information about the children to the newspaper. It seems the editor was happy to print the story, since he’s been campaigning to clean up the Acre for a while now.”
“There’s too much money to be made—legally and illegally—for the law to shut things down,” Cade said.
“You’re right,” Erin said with a nod. “And I know exactly where this is headed. Nora was waging a one-woman war against the system, and it resulted in her run-in with the gang of cowboys.”
“That’s my theory, too,” Cade said. “Revenge. There are any number of people who might have been behind it, including Wilkins or any of the madams who were dealing with dissatisfied women. That’s why we need to talk to the boy’s sister. She certainly had reason to want Nora to pay.”
“Good point,” Lilly said.
“Whoever came up with the idea, it was brilliant,” Cade mused. “It could have been any of a dozen different groups who come and go. They do the deed, leave town in a day or so, never to be seen or heard of again. It would be nearly impossible to place blame on anyone, since men have raped and killed women without any provocation for years.”
“Do you think Nora was aware that she was putting pressure on people who had a lot to lose and wouldn’t take kindly to what she was doing?” Erin asked. “She sounds so innocent and idealistic.”
“According to the letter Lilly received, Nora was determined to shut the place down,” Cade told his sister. “Her single-mindedness might have blinded her to the consequences of what she was doing. I’m not sure she thought things through or understood the lengths the businesses would go to, to keep the status quo.”
“She stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Lilly added. “From what Monty told me, Davies was forced to look into the claims about the children, since he was getting bombarded by Nora in the streets and Paddock in the paper. Davies made a trip to Eli’s, and the kids weren’t there, and that was the end of that.” There was no sense mentioning that Davies had done a halfhearted job. Everyone at the table knew that. “Monty found them at a warehouse, he and Nora helped them out of town, and here we are.”
“Here we are,” Cade echoed. “The barman did confirm that it was around that time that they discovered Dottie’s body. I don’t think there’s any significance beyond it’s acting as a warning.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” Lilly asked.
He told them about the fight between Dottie and Millie, how Dottie had disfigured her opponent, and the bartender’s theory that Millie was responsible for the killing.
“Until I heard that, I had the mind-set that the madams are responsible for a huge part of the violence, but a lot of these women have become hardened through the years. That’s another reason we need to talk to the boy’s sister. Millie, or any of the others, might have had reason to kill Dottie, as long as they had some help. And anyone who can kill someone and nail them to a wall would have no problem putting a bullet into someone’s head.”
Lilly cringed at his brutal assessment. Erin didn’t say a word, but she looked confused.
“He’s saying not to count anyone out,” Lilly explained. “When you think of violence and punishment, it’s natural to think of Velvet or Rosalie, or even Eli Wilkins. But there are all sorts of undercurrents in this place, all sorts of rivalries. It isn’t unreasonable to imagine one or more of the other women instigating the attack on Nora and then finishing her off when it looked as if she might survive.”
“Revenge,” Erin’s eyes grew dark.
“Most likely,” Lilly said. “Monty claims Nora knew who was behind it all, and that she told the marshal. Word has a way of getting around.”
“Indeed, it does,” Cade agreed. “The marshal could have mentioned it to someone while he was having a drink somewhere, never knowing he was signing Nora’s death warrant.”
“A harmless mention?” Erin said, meeting her brother’s gaze.
“It’s possible,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “Sometimes the most innocent comments have terrible consequences.”
Erin nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I know.”
She stood abruptly, saying that she wanted to rest until suppertime. Lilly’s troubled gaze followed her retreating figure up the stairs. “She’s behaving strangely, don’t you think?”
“She’s behaving like Erin.”
“Be serious, McShane. She was fine. She seemed to be enjoying the exchange of ideas, and then, in an instant, she turned as white as a ghost and stopped interacting with us. Something we said hit a raw spot.”
“I can’t worry about Erin’s sensitivity. We were talking about her business. Maybe something touched what little bit of conscience she has left.”
Lilly glared at him.
“Look, lass, she was ever touchy about things. She’ll be fine by suppertime. Now, where do you think we are in the investigation after getting all this new information?”
“I don’t think Dottie’s death has anything to do with Nora’s. I believe that Elijah Wilkins not only procures for most of the town’s bawdy houses, but that he’s the one who handles all of Velvet’s, and maybe Rosalie’s, problems. My dear friend became a problem. I think our man is Wilkins.”
“He’s got the temperament for it. Goldie says he asks for her once in a while, and that he likes to play rough.”
The image that rose in her mind sent a shiver of revulsion through Lilly. “One more reason to think he’s our man. Now all we have to do is find the evidence we need to put him in jail.”
CHAPTER 18
Lilly rose early. Cade was adamant that they start on her self-defense lessons, since Erin’s arrival had interrupted them the previous afternoon. Recalling the almost intolerable heat of the previous day, she’d asked that they go early in the morning. He’d agreed readily enough.
Deciding that she needed a cup of coffee to sip on while she got ready, she went downstairs in her robe. Cade was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a mug. Instead of his usual dark suit, he wore brown twill pants and a light blue chambray shirt, the clothing he’d adopted for his role as an Irish immigrant during their stint in New Orleans.
He frowned at her. “We need to get started.”
“I know. It won’t take me but a tick to get ready.”
“Fine. Dress comfortably. You’ll need something that won’t . . . bind. You wouldn’t happen to have any trousers, would you?”
She offered him a grim smile. “Indeed, I do. While I was digging up that dratted grave, I discovered that skirts and petticoats are not conducive to some tasks, so I purchased some Levi’s,” she said with a proud lift of her chin. “I also joined the Rational Dress Society.”
She waited for the masculine censure she was sure must come. To her surprise, she saw a hint of a smile lift one corner of his mustache. “Of course you did.”
* * *
Less than half an hour later, they were on their way. While Lilly dressed, Cade had gone out and rented a buggy, and they now headed north toward the Trinity River.
“How far are we going?” Lilly asked, looking at him from beneath the rim of the slouch hat she wo
re to protect her face from the sun.
“Until I think we’re far enough out of town that there won’t be any curious eyes and nosey questions.”
He finally saw a place with some shade and pulled the gelding to a stop. After jumping down and tossing the reins over a low-growing bush, he swung Lilly to the ground. Dressed as she was in men’s attire, it felt strange to help her, but the action was ingrained in his upbringing, no matter how she was clothed.
He began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt while taking in the absurd picture she made. Two of her assignments had proved she needed to learn the art of self-protection, but he was already regretting his decision to teach her. He feared spending time in such close proximity was not the wisest idea. A state of affairs both annoying and troubling.
While she drank from the canteen he’d brought, his gaze moved over her. Her vibrant red hair had been scraped back from her face and twisted into a tight knot, yet instead of detracting from her looks, the severity of the style accentuated the curve of her jaw, the delicate sweep of her cheekbones, and her small ears. Fierce independence and intelligence shone from her brown eyes as she stared out at the land surrounding them.
She had paired her new men’s breeches with a white shirt, quite possibly made for a boy, since it fit her narrow shoulders nicely. Her boots looked worn; they’d had dried mud scraped from them, probably from the grave she’d dug up on her first assignment.
Seeing her dressed in such a boyish way helped him understand why society looked down on women wearing men’s clothing. The boy’s shirt was buttoned to the throat and at the wrists. There was nothing tempting about any part of it, yet tempting it looked. The Levi’s, which were belted around her small waist, made her legs look a mile long and accentuated the slimness of her thighs. Though they were in no way close-fitting, they showed all her curves, and he had to admit that she had a nice shape.
His innate honesty wouldn’t allow him to deny her allure, and that same straightforwardness reminded him that feeling an attraction to her—or any woman—was taboo. He’d learned the hard way that caring was a weakness the enemy could use against you, and that weakness could lead one down a path far too close to hell.
But he was a man, not a saint, and he was not immune to the appeal of a beautiful woman. With his Pinkerton career already compromised by his previous behavior, to even think of Lilly beyond the boundaries of their work would be the height of folly. Thank goodness, he was a professional and knew well how to turn off his emotions and concentrate on his work.
“Didn’t your parents teach you that staring is rude?”
The sound of her voice jerked Cade from his unwelcome thoughts. “I’m sorry. Actually, I was thinking.” Without missing a beat, he said, “Ready to get started?”
“Yes.”
He led her to a more open space. “You have a gun, you say?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yes, a derringer.”
“Did ya bring it?” He turned to face her, walking backward. He couldn’t help the taunting smile on his lips as he recalled how many times she’d needed the weapon only to realize she’d left it somewhere.
She glared back at him. “It’s ungentlemanly to bring that up.”
“Never claimed to be a gent,” he said, and pivoted back around. Lilly took a few running steps to catch up with him, and he turned to look at her. “I’m sure you know they are only effective at close range.”
“Yes. Pierce was quite thorough with his lessons.”
Cade didn’t doubt that. From what he’d seen of Lilly’s father figure, Pierce would be thorough in anything he undertook. “Would you use it on someone?”
“What?” She stood stock-still, her eyes widening in disbelief.
He paused, too, and crossed his arms across his chest. “If you haven’t thought about it, you should. It’s one thing to carry a weapon, another to be of a mind to use it. What if someone laid hands on you, and, say, tried to push you down a staircase or—God forbid—rape you, could you pull the trigger to save your own hide?”
She frowned and gave a slow nod. “I might have to think about it a moment, but I think so, yes.”
“No! That is unacceptable, yet that’s what most women say they’d do. In that split second while your moral upbringing is struggling with the pros and cons of killing someone and your will to stay alive, your assailant could already have fixed your flint. That’s the one thing you’ve got to remember. No thinking. No hesitation ever, or you’re dead. Or worse.”
All the color leached from her face. “But that’s so . . . cold. We’re talking about willfully taking a life.”
“Bloody right we are,” he said, his relentless gaze boring into hers. “Your life or his. Whose do you want it to be?”
The troubled expression in her eyes deepened, and she nodded. “I see. You’re right.”
“Good,” he said. “So, what do you think your greatest disadvantage is if you come under attack by a man?”
“My size and strength of course,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “In most instances, it would be like pitting David against Goliath.”
“Good analogy. So, like David, you need a version of the slingshot—some skill that will even the odds a bit.”
“And what would that be? Boxing?”
He laughed. “Regular ring techniques would be useless. I’ll teach you how to fight like a guttersnipe. Or a woman.”
“And you have intimate knowledge of how they fight?”
“Yes, to both. And if some of the brawls I’ve heard about and seen since we’ve been here are any indication, when push comes to shove, they both fight alike—dirty.”
She blinked. “Dirty?”
“Yes. Of course, the best deterrent is to stay away from places you know are unsafe, but you and I both know that you’re unlikely to do that.”
“I just try to do my job,” she countered.
“You have a partner to help you in those situations,” he reminded her. She started to reply, but he held up a silencing hand. “Let’s theorize that an assignment takes you to a neighborhood that is less than savory. You think you hear someone behind you, and, when you look, you see he’s coming.”
He was pleased to note that she was fully engaged in what he was saying. “When a person is under attack, things happen in the body. Your first response will be fear. Your pulse will race, and the adrenaline will flow.”
Lilly nodded.
“You start thinking of what you should do, or how to get away. Sometimes, the fear gives over to fury, and that’s a good thing. Whatever you do, don’t let the fear get the best of you. It saps your determination. It’s crucial that you stay focused on the anger and the belief that you’re up to dealing with whatever he may try to do to you. What’s the first thing you do?”
“Run?”
“Yes, if you can. But before you run, there are other things you can do. You scream your lungs out for starters. With any luck, someone will hear and come to your aid, or the fellow will turn and run away.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“If he gets his hands on you or tries to strike you that hate and anger I was talking about will surface. It’s a funny thing, but it seems our mind finds a place where the need to protect the body takes over. It’s a proven fact that a person will defend himself the best way he can until one of you wins.”
He could tell she was mulling things over by the concentration in her dark eyes. Good. She was taking this lesson seriously.
“Try to keep out of his grasp. Resist however you can. Kick, hit, scream, pull hair, try to gouge out his eyes. If you simply can’t break away, you can try going as limp as a dishrag.”
“Why?” she asked in amazement. “Isn’t that like giving up?”
“No. Because you aren’t giving up. You’re changing tactics. He won’t be expecting that. Sometimes, the sudden drag of the dead weight unbalances the captor, and there’s a possibility he’ll loosen his hold on you. That’s when you t
ry to slip out of his grasp, or use your elbow to hit him in the belly, or kick him in the shins. Come here. Let me show you.”
She neared him, an uneasy expression in her eyes.
“Turn around.”
She complied. Cade moved behind her and took her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. He felt the heat of her body pressed against his. The slight breeze sent the flowery scent of her cologne swirling around him. For the space of a heartbeat, or perhaps two, she relaxed against him, and then she stiffened and tipped back her head to look up at him.
“Not fair! I can’t move.”
He gave her a grim smile. “That’s the point, colleen.”
Though he knew now why she hated the term, there were times he used it on purpose. Like when they were arguing about something, or when he was teasing her, or like now, when he wanted to get her riled up.
“Don’t call me colleen!” Before he realized what she was doing, she leaned over and clamped her teeth onto his nearest arm.
Cade swore, and his fighting reflexes kicked in. He spun her around to face him, his fists raised in a gesture as automatic to him as drawing his next breath. They stood there, glaring at each other, both breathing as if they’d run a long distance.
There was no fear in Lilly’s face, only fury. Slowly, he lowered his hands and rubbed his arm. Suddenly seeing the humor in the situation, he began to laugh. She’d done just what he’d told her to do.
She didn’t laugh, but she did smile. Impishly. “Let’s do it again.”
And they did. Again, and again. He held her, and she struggled with everything in her. Her frustration was palpable, but he refused to give her an inch she didn’t earn. Then, without warning, she went as limp as a dishrag.
He took her sudden weight with a grunt and bent slightly at the waist. She took the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and turned to face him with a triumphant smile and a saucy little curtsy.
Placing his hands on his hips, he smiled back. “Not bad, colleen. Not bad at all. If your back is to them, you can always try to kick, too. Anything. Just keep them off guard. And remember, not everyone who comes at you will be as big as I am.”
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