“That’s good,” she said, breathing hard.
He grinned wider. “They may be bigger.”
Instead of taking the bait, she muttered, “Job’s comforter.” Then, “Let’s do something else. Something different.”
“Fine. Remember that since you’re at a disadvantage because of your size, it’s good to go for their eyes. No matter how big you are, all eyes are equal. Biting”—he rubbed his arm and grimaced—“scratching and hair pulling and eye gouging are all acceptable in a street fight. Always be looking for an opening, for some way to inflict pain, and find yourself a chance to get away.”
She nodded, soaking up every word.
“The nose is good, too. Make a fist and whack them as hard as you can.” He rubbed his nose that had been broken a time or two. “I can tell you from personal experience that it hurts like the devil. And it doesn’t take long for it to interfere with yer breathing.”
“What if they get me down on the ground?”
“Like this?” he asked, and before she knew it, she was lying flat on her back and he was sitting astride her, her arms pinned above her head. Once again, he was aware of her, not as a partner, but as a woman. A striking, contrary, desirable woman. The look in her eyes told him that she was aware of him, too....
Suddenly, she began to buck and kick and growl out her rage.
“Whoa, there, lass! What’s the matter with you?”
She stilled at once. “I can’t get you off.”
“Well, don’t panic. Just remember that the same rules apply. Go for the weak places, the unprotected areas. And whatever you do, don’t give up.”
* * *
An hour later, neither of them was smiling, and the canteen was empty. “That’s enough for today. Let’s get back to town and get a bath. We’ll come another morning,” Cade said.
He grabbed the tail of his shirt, which had come untucked during one of their scuffles. He pulled it up to wipe his face, revealing a taut portion of his abdomen.
Heat that had nothing to do with exertion swept through Lilly. She pushed back a lock of sweat-soaked hair and wiped her dirty face on the arm of her once white shirt. “I’m ready for a break.”
The training was physical, even intimate in many ways. Not since their time in New Orleans, when they’d been forced to share a room, had she felt so vulnerable, so aware of him. She’d hoped that resorting to a more businesslike approach to their partnership would ease the tension between them. Until today, she’d thought it was working.
Be honest with yourself, Lilly. Even though you know it can go nowhere, you are attracted to the man. Accept it, guard against it, and carry on. She could almost hear Pierce’s voice echoing through her brain, telling her that the “show must go on” no matter what.
She understood the concept. She only hoped she could do it.
* * *
Late that night, Lilly lay in bed, listening to the revelers in the street and wishing sleep would find her, halfway wishing she’d gone with Cade and Erin. It wasn’t that she was afraid . . . exactly. Uneasy was a better description. After their lessons earlier in the day, she’d declined going with them to the bars and bawdy houses, which left her alone in this big, empty saloon with its creaks and groans.
With everything they’d encountered since arriving in Ft. Worth, she knew Cade was right in insisting that she learn to take care of herself. Not since digging up the grave at Heaven’s Gate had she felt so empty and exhausted. A long, hot soak when they’d come back from the river hadn’t done much to revive her. She still felt as if she’d been dragged through the streets behind a wild mustang. Even a dinner of Texas steak had failed to boost her energy.
She flopped to her back and released a huge sigh, remembering all the falls she’d taken. It would take much more training before she mastered that one. When he’d finally called an end to the physical battering and given her a hand up, she had seen the glimmer of approval in his eyes.
Somehow, it had been enough. Or was it? Recalling how he’d shackled her wrists above her head and held her still beneath him caused her heart to pick up speed. When she’d begun fighting him, he’d been surprised. He’d had no way of knowing that a memory, fleeting and bittersweet, had flashed into her mind. Tim, holding her down just that way on the soft feather bed and then leaning forward and taking her mouth in a gentle kiss meant to cajole her into a good mood and a loosening of her purse strings. As usual, thinking of Tim had made her see red, and she’d begun to struggle.
No! No! She didn’t want to ever feel that way again. If she ever trusted her heart to another man, it would not be the likes of Cadence McShane. No, the next time, she would choose wisely. She would look for someone steady and dependable. Not someone who would go jaunting around the country getting himself into scrapes of one kind or another.
Someone, perhaps, like Simon.
She rolled over and slammed her fist into the softness of her pillow. Good grief! She didn’t want Simon or Cade or anyone. Not at the moment, anyway. So why does it matter what Cade thinks of you? Why do you want him nearby?
A rationalization came swiftly, though perhaps it was not as truthful as she pretended. She wanted to make him proud of her. She hadn’t wanted this partnership and had fought it for months, but the fact was, she was a better agent with him guiding her. Though she knew that the militant women in the world would no doubt despise her for it, she wanted his approval. Wanted him to think of her as an equal, to feel she was pulling her own weight. To be happy that they were working together. Her laughter sounded loud in the darkness. Perhaps happy was too strong a word. Accepting might be better.
Somewhere in the night a gun was discharged, and, despite herself, she gave a startled jerk. This was not a good place, and she would be glad when they got enough information to put Elijah Wilkins behind bars and could go back home.
And then what, Lilly? You’ll just be given another case as bad or worse than this one. What did you expect when you got on your high horse and decided to pursue criminals? That it would be roses and dewdrops?
What had she expected? Had she been so determined to prove that she was smarter, more noble than the average woman after being duped by Timothy Warner? Or had she really believed she could make a difference? Pierce had told her that she couldn’t save all the misused women, but she’d insisted that she could save a few, and she had done that. Unfortunately, not Nora.
You saved them, but at what cost? No matter how much she thought about the good she did putting men behind prison bars, she could not rid herself of the notion that she was losing her humanity along the way.
Now Cade wanted her to look deep inside herself and be willing to pull a trigger to shoot someone. Shooting at empty peach cans and rocks was far different from aiming at a body that breathed and moved. The very thought made her cringe, yet she knew she did not carry the little gun for decoration. Cade was right. If she didn’t intend to use it, she shouldn’t have it.
Which brought her back to the question that had been plaguing her for a while now: Was she cut out for this work? She couldn’t deny that she loved the freedom of being a detective. She’d already been to three parts of the country that she might never have seen if not for William Pinkerton.
She liked the challenge, the pitting of her instincts, skills, and intelligence against unknown criminals. She liked getting a new piece of information and trying to figure out how it fit in with all the other pieces she’d collected to create a picture of what had occurred. And she loved the thrill when she knew she had it figured out and went to get the villain. She loved hearing William sing her praises, seeing the gratitude in the victims’ eyes, and hearing their litany of thanks.
She did not like seeing the evil purpose behind the crimes she exposed. Hated knowing that people could sink to such depths of sinfulness and depravity. But it was there. Had been since the creation of Adam and Eve, and would be until time came to an end. So then, the question became: Was she willing to deal with one to h
ave the other?
Could she look upon the ugly things she saw in her work as just part of her assignment, something to be written up at the mission’s end, turned in and forgotten? Most important, could she be surrounded by so many bad things and still live a good and meaningful life? In the end, it boiled down to one simple question: Did the good she accomplished outweigh the bad?
CHAPTER 19
The next few days meandered by, each in the same fashion as the previous one. The wind that seemed to blow most of the time and provided at least a modicum of cooling stopped. The sun beat down without mercy, scorching the already dry Texas earth. Two or three horses galloping down the street created a small dust storm. Temperatures and tempers rose. It didn’t matter what place they chose to patronize, at least one fight a night broke out among the regulars or the girls.
Bouncers cracked jaws and smashed heads, and once Lilly saw a madam reach down and grab one of the girls rolling around on the floor by the hair and jerk her upright. Then the madam marched her out the door and plunged her head in the watering trough, yelling at her to cool off. There was a shootout in the street. Fortunately, both parties were so drunk that neither had a chance of hitting the other. A window was shattered during the fracas, and Marshal Davies arrested both offenders and hauled them off to the jail. Just another night in “Paris.”
Neither of Lilly’s associates had learned anything of importance, but Bonnie had told Lilly that Velvet was starting to comment on the length of their stay, grumbling that Erin ought to know by now if she wanted to open a business or not.
Hoping to ease any growing speculation about why they were staying so long, Cade started the rumor that Miss O’Toole had decided to reopen the dance hall. Hoping to add credibility to the lie, Erin dragged Lilly all over Ft. Worth as she pretended to look for fabric and furniture, feigned interest in paintings and knickknacks, and even consulted a pseudo-French designer about redoing her bedroom. Lilly was amazed at how believable Erin’s performance was.
While they “shopped” for furnishings, Cade continued to cultivate his relationships with the bartenders, gamblers, and bouncers. He’d tried to make contact with the sister of the boy who’d been struck by the train, but no matter how often, through whom, or how many ways he tried to approach her, she remained close-mouthed about the incident, which begged the question, why? Was she afraid of accidentally incriminating herself, or had she been warned or threatened by someone else?
Lilly persisted in trying to chat up the girls wherever they went, but many of them refused to talk for fear of making their bosses angry.
Monty made no more visits and left no more notes. It was as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth.
After eleven days in the district, they were no closer to pinning Nora’s murder on Elijah Wilkins than they had been when they first arrived. This was the hardest part of an investigation. When it seemed that there were no more ideas to check out, and everything came to an abrupt halt.
Desperate for some new avenue to investigate, and against Cade’s wishes, Lilly and Erin visited the office of Mr. B. B. Paddock with the Fort Worth Democrat on the pretext of finding the town’s most gifted sign painter. What they were really looking for was information about Nora’s marches against the evils of the town, and, if Mr. Paddock were in an expansive mood, to see whether or not he had any thoughts about who might have killed her.
They found the newspaperman setting type in preparation for the upcoming weekly edition. Erin lost no time introducing herself, sauntering up to him with a gloved hand extended. “Mr. Paddock, I presume.”
“I’m B. B. Paddock. How may I help you?”
“I’m Erin O’Toole, and this is my assistant, Miss Long. I’ll be opening Dusty Knowles’s old place soon, and I’d like an eye-catching sign for the front. I thought you might know someone who specializes in fancy script.” She flashed her most seductive smile. “And, of course, I’ll be wanting some advertising nearer opening day.”
The disapproval in the journalist’s eyes was evident. Considering his feelings about the Acre, Lilly imagined that the last thing he wanted to hear was that another bawdy house would be opening. To his credit, he remained professional. If he refused to deal with all the rascals in town, he’d have no business. It was his job to advertise for those who wanted it and print the newsworthy happenings, not to cut off his nose to spite his face by refusing their patronage.
“If you’re looking for someone to paint a sign, Lionel Stevens would be your man, but he’s been under the weather with his arthritis for a while now.” The newsman thought for a moment. “Your next best man for the job is Monty Newton.”
Lilly and Erin exchanged stunned looks. “Isn’t he the man who hangs out in the bars? The one who isn’t quite . . . right?” Erin asked.
“The one they say killed that woman who tried to shut down all the houses?” Lilly added. “What was her name?”
“Nora Nash,” Paddock said. “She worked her heart out, but it’s not going to happen. Not until we get someone in office who isn’t in bed with the crooks in town. Literally.”
So much for not sullying a lady’s ears, Lilly thought. But then, to him, she and Erin were not exactly ladies.
More intent on a potential customer than gossip, Paddock walked over to a large drawer that held sketches and, riffling through them, pulled out two. “This one is Lionel’s,” he said, proffering a rendering of a woman’s hat done all in flowers and ribbons. Flowing script proclaimed the newest ladies’ attire could be bought at Le Petite Boutique. Lilly thought it was quite nicely done.
“Monty’s.” The newsman showed them another advertisement. This one with fancy lettering and a drawing of a ladies’ walking dress. Lilly thought it was well-done, too, and as impossible as it was, there was something about the simple drawing that seemed familiar. In truth, most of the newspaper advertisements were much the same. As a novice, she didn’t see a nickel’s difference between Lionel Stevens’s work and Monty’s. She shrugged aside the thought. It wasn’t as if Erin was really going to order a sign or buy any advertising.
Forcing her mind back to the case, she asked, “What do you mean about the law being literally ‘in bed’ with the crooks?”
Paddock shrugged. “It’s no secret. The marshal has been close to Velvet for years. In fact, I heard they planned to marry about ten years or so ago. No one knows what happened, and they’re still close, but that doesn’t keep him from cozying up to Rosalie.”
“It sounds as if he has a good thing going,” Erin said.
“Oh, he does. And so do they. That’s why it’s so hard to clean things up. They have an ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ mentality. Add Wilkins to the mix, and you’ve got a real mess.”
“I’ve met Mr. Wilkins,” Erin said.
“Well, watch him. There isn’t an ounce of loyalty in him. He’d cut his own mother’s throat if she got in his way.”
Lilly saw the flash of uneasiness in Erin’s eyes before she said, “Thank you for the warning.”
The newspaperman seemed to realize that he’d said far too much about the town’s shady business dealings and changed the subject. “You don’t worry about Monty. He’s peculiar, and a little slow, but he’s harmless, and he can copy about any fancy lettering you might have in mind. The problem is finding him. No one’s seen him in a week or more.”
* * *
Back outside in the heat of the day, Lilly tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Had something happened to Monty? He’d said he intended to lay low, but knowing that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his absence around town was unnerving.
“Well, what did you think?” Erin asked. “We’d heard Davies and Velvet were close, but planning to get married? That’s interesting. I wonder what happened?”
Something about their conversation with Mr. Paddock needed further consideration, but Lilly couldn’t put her finger on what tidbit was bothering her. There was the news that Velvet and t
he marshal had once planned to marry, which was fascinating in an unsettling sort of way, but whether or not it had any bearing on the investigation remained to be seen. She’d have to get Cade’s take on it.
Now, she turned to her friend and said as much. “I’d like to know more about that, too, but I’m not sure it’s important to the case. I still think Wilkins and Davies hold the key to what goes on here.”
She stopped and reached out to take Erin’s hand. “Be careful, Erin. I know you’re capable and smart, but this man sounds like a fiend from hell.”
For once, Erin had no glib comeback. Instead, she nodded and gave Lilly’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you. Cade is lucky to have you.”
Erin turned and began to walk briskly down the street, leaving Lilly to wonder what she’d meant by the unexpected comment.
* * *
“Paddock as much as said it’s the quid pro quo between the marshal and the madams that contributes to the inability to clean things up.”
She and Cade had eaten their supper and more or less caught each other up on what they’d learned. Much to Lilly’s dismay, Erin had gone to eat with Wilkins, reassuring Lilly that it was just a meal in a public place and that she would see them later.
Lilly had suggested Cade and she go to Velvet’s, because she wanted to ask Bonnie if she’d seen or heard anything from Monty. Cade was drinking his usual sarsaparilla, and Lilly had forgone her dessert in favor of a glass of port.
They were discussing the relevance of Monty’s disappearance and the news of Velvet and Marshal Davies’s previous plans to marry when Bonnie approached.
“Good evening,” Lilly said. “Can you sit a minute?”
“No,” she said, leaning toward Cade so that it would look as if she were engaging him in a conversation. “Velvet’s been on a tear all day.”
“What about?” Cade asked, smiling up at her as if she were the most fascinating thing in the world.
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