In Close Pursuit

by Colleen French

  Adam's dark gaze rested on hers. "Don't you think it would be better if you waited until morning? Why not get some rest. He's in good hands."

  "I—"

  "Jessica!" The sound of a familiar voice made Jessica turn.

  "Kat!" she cried. Before Jessica knew what was happening she was in the older woman's arms. She didn't know if she had run to Kat or Kat to her. All she knew was her new friend's warm, comforting embrace.

  "Jessica, you scared the wits out of me ridin' off like that! You're lucky them bandits didn't string you up!" Billy stood just behind his wife, his hands deep in his pockets. "My Billy, fool!" she flung over her shoulder. "He thought you was one of them, but I knew better."

  Jessica laughed. "Mr. Sern, here—" To her surprise Adam was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped out undetected in the midst of the reunion. "Mr. Sern, the train detective," Jessica went on, "he thought so too. He brought me back to Loco."

  Billy shuffled forward. "We got your stuff if you'd like to come up and get it."

  "What stuff? The bandits took my carpetbag. It was all I had."

  "There was a hat and your brother's coat. Then them saplings. You want them, don't you?"

  Jessica smiled. Her trees! She'd forgotten her trees! "Oh, yes! Thank you for taking them off the train. I do want them."

  "Come on up." He wiggled a finger. "We just tucked the young'uns in."

  Upstairs, the Wiedenhoeft's room was only a tad larger than Jessica's. All three children lay asleep in one of the two beds, illuminated by an oil lamp.

  "Here you go." Kat offered the bundle of apple tree saplings that had been carefully dampened.

  Tears came to Jessica's eyes as she fingered the thin saplings through the wet newsprint. "This wasn't supposed to happen this way. Mark and I, we had so many plans . . ."

  "There, there, don't fret, sweetheart." Kat wrapped her arm around Jessica's shoulder. "We'll give that brother of yours a Christian funeral and then you can go to Seattle with us. Billy's brother Elsmere's got us a fine house, big enough for all of us."

  The thought was tempting . . . It would be so much easier for Jessica just to say her good-byes to Mark and get on that train. But what was easy, wasn't always what was right. As long as that Black Bandit roamed the West, there would be more train robberies, more deaths. Besides, the taste of revenge was what she craved.

  Jessica looked at Kat. "Thank you for the offer, but, I can't."

  "Are you sure, Jessica?" Billy asked. "We'd be willin' to help you in anyway we could."

  Jessica wiped her tears with her dusty sleeve. "There is something you can do."

  "Name it."

  Jessica pushed her saplings into Kat's hand. "I want you to take my trees."

  "I couldn't!" Kat protested.

  "No." Jessica folded her arms over her chest in determination. "I just want you to take care of them for me until I reach Seattle."

  "But you're taking the train with us, aren't you?"

  "I'll be along after a while. But there's something I have to do first."

  "You're not serious about catching those bandits, are you?" Kat whispered.

  Jessica backed her way to the door. "Someone's got to."

  "That's a lawman's job," Billy piped in excitedly. "Adam Sern's job."

  "I don't want to talk about this anymore tonight. My mind's made up." She rested her hand on the door frame, watching the shadows the oil lamp cast. "Could you go with me to make the funeral arrangements tomorrow, Kat? Mr. Sern has bought my stallion, so I'll have money to do it up right." She laughed. "Brass band if we can find one."

  Kat passed the bundle of trees on to Billy and came to the door. She patted Jessica. "Listen to you, you're talking half-crazed. Chasing after the Black Bandit, indeed! What you need is some sleep. Tomorrow the world'll make more sense."

  Jessica offered a smile to the only friends she had. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow." Slowly she walked down the dark hallway to her room. Kat was wrong. She was thinking clearly, more clearly than she ever had in her life. She knew what she was going to do and how she was going to do it. She had a plan. The only thing that could possibly upset her plan . . . was Adam Sern.

  Jacob Dorchester slammed his fist on the train depot counter. "What do you mean, sir, that you cannot tell me if she's passed through Ogden? You're employed here, are you not?"

  The clerk who worked the night desk rolled his eyes heavenward and then returned his gaze to the newspaper in his lap. He was too busy reading an editorial on the Black Bandit to argue with this silver-haired puss-in-boots. The man was obviously out of his element in his fancy black suit and round bowler hat. "I'm teilin' you, buster. We ain't supposed to give that information out. Besides, it might take days to track down one Miss Jessica whatever-her-name-is."

  "She's going by the name of Jessica Landon. Young girl." Jacob brushed his immaculate suit at the shoulder. "Beautiful brown hair to here. An angel. You couldn't miss her."

  The clerk chuckled. "Your wife, you say? Sounds more like your daughter!"

  Jacob's cheeks colored. Slowly he leaned over the counter, his anger barely in check. "I will pay you," he said, tight-lipped.

  The clerk looked up with interest. "I could lose my job."

  "I can pay you well."

  The clerk sighed, folding his newspaper. "Might take me a day or two. Can't do it when anyone else is in the office."

  Jacob slid a bill across the wooden counter. "I'll be at the Peachtree Hotel. My name is Mr. Dorchester. Jacob Dorchester, and it is vital that I find my wife."

  Chapter Four

  "Sern, we've been expecting you. Come in." Miles Gordon, a representative from the Union Pacific Railroad, waved a manicured hand.

  Adam stepped into the small office. The pinewood walls were bare, the floor sanded smooth and white. Gordon sat behind a polished mahogany desk smoking a cigar, its foul smell masking the sweet aroma of fresh sawdust. His assistant, a string bean of a man, stood directly behind him, lost in Miles's immense shadow.

  "Miles." Adam gave a stiff nod. He'd dealt with this plump partridge before. The man was far more concerned with how well he appeared to do his job, than how well he actually did it. Adam didn't trust him as far as he could toss him, which wasn't far. He was a good inch taller than Adam and twice his weight.

  "So good to see you, Sern. I miss our poker games."

  Liar, Adam thought, eyeing his superior. Miles was a poor poker player and a worse loser. By Adam's calculations, Miles still owed him a hundred dollars in back debts. "Let's skip the pleasantries and get on with it," Adam said.

  "Well, come, come. Come in and shut the door." Miles flapped his hand. "No need to put on that savage face of yours. I'm not here to fire you."

  Adam lifted a dark eyebrow. "Or have me arrested?"

  "Surely you don't think I think you're part of that Black Bandit's gang?"

  No, you probably don't think I'm part of the gang, Adam mused, but you're the one who suggested it as a possibility. You'll do anything to cover your own tail. Adam glanced across the room at Miles, taking his time in responding. He smiled, his sarcasm palatable. "Of course not, Miles. I know I can always count on you."

  "True, true enough."

  "So why are you here? What brought you out of that whore house in Ogden?"

  Miles crushed out his cigar on the top of the desk and his assistant swept the butt, ashes and all, into his own hand. "I'm here, Adam," Miles explained, "not of my own accord but because I was ordered to come and speak with you."

  "Yes, yes, get on with it." Adam shifted his weight from one snakeskin boot to the other.

  "I was asked to tell you that this is your final chance, Sern. Although you profess your innocence, all indications lead the board to consider the definite possibility that you are part of this gang of outlaws."

  "My last chance." Adam's dark eyes met the railroad executive's. "Exactly what does that mean?"

  "It means—now mind you, these are their words, not mine.
It means that if you do not successfully capture this outlaw and bring him to justice, you will be charged as an accomplice."

  Adam shook his head. "This is ridiculous, Miles. My record is unblemished. I've been working for you bastards for two years now! I'm the best detective you've got!"

  "Sern, you have to look at this from their point of view. You have to agree that someone on the inside has been passing on information concerning our payroll shipments."

  "I told you in my telegraph. Your courier, Stevenson, was one of them."

  Miles shook his head sympathetically. "I know, Sern. But they say all they have is your word and what's the word of a—"

  "A what?" In two long strides Adam was at the mahogany desk. He slammed his fist down on the smooth oiled top. "What's the word of a what?" he demanded. "A redskin! A half-breed!" He leaned across the desk bringing his face only inches from Miles'. "A red nigger?"

  The railroad executive's jowls shook. "It's not me that's saying it, Sern. You know that. I have a great deal of respect for you native Americans. We're both on the same side, you and I."

  "I was hired as a detective for this railroad because I was capable of the job. White, red, chartreuse! What difference does the color of my skin make?"

  "You can't blame folks for being wary. John Marks, on the board, just had a brother killed down in Texas. Kiowa massacred his whole family."

  "I am not Kiowa! My mother was Ojibwa. I wouldn't know a Kiowa if I fell over one!" Adam straightened up, his black gaze still fixed on Miles's pale face.

  "I—I'm just the messenger. They sent me because they knew we were friends. I stuck my neck out for you, Sern. They're ready to string you up in Salt Lake City!"

  Adam took a deep breath, tightening and relaxing his fists that hung at his sides. He hated losing control of his emotions. This red man, white man issue was an endless battle. "All right. So this is my last chance. Does the board want the Black Bandit alive?"

  "If possible. It would be good publicity for our customers to see that the Union Pacific keeps their trains safe for their passengers."

  "I want this legal. I don't want to be accused of murder."

  Miles pulled at his starched white collar. There was a thin sheen of perspiration across his forehead. "We can take care of that. And there'll be funds to hire a tracker to aid you."

  "I don't need a tracker." Adam relaxed his hands. "All right, Miles, I'll catch the bastard and I'll bring him to you." He shook a finger. "Maybe bring him right into one of those board meetings of yours!"

  Miles's assistant gave a squeak.

  "I hardly think that's necessary." Miles pushed himself out of his chair. "But we will expect a weekly report on your progress."

  Adam gave a wave of disgust as he spun around and headed out of the room. Just as he reached the door he turned back. "I'll catch this Black Bandit, but then that's it, Miles. You'll have my resignation the following day."

  "Then what are you going to do? No other railroad would have a—"

  Adam stepped into the afternoon sun and slammed the door before he heard Miles's final words.

  Outside, Adam headed down the street. He was half tempted to just ride off and let the Union Pacific deal with the Black Bandit themselves. But there would be nothing to stop his employers from signing a warrant against him. What jury would believe a red man's word against twelve railroad executives?

  Adam was trapped. The only way to save face, to save his neck, was to bring the outlaw to justice.

  "Mr. Sern." A husky feminine voice invaded Adam's thoughts. "Mr. Sern!"

  Adam spun around angrily. "What!"

  Jessica Landon stepped back. Her clothes were dusted clean today, her shiny brown hair pulled back beneath a sensible hat. He watched her as she took a deep breath, straightening her spine.

  "I—I need the money. Zeus is over at the livery stable."

  "I said I'd pay you when I got to the bank, didn't I?" He hadn't meant to holler at her, it just came out. He was so sick to death of the prejudice against him. These days he saw enemies at every turn.

  Jessica's jaw jutted out as her green eyes narrowed. "I'll have it today or the deal is off, Mr. Sern!"

  Before Adam could speak, before he could bring himself to apologize for his harshness, she had passed him and was hurrying down the street, her leather riding skirt flapping in the hot breeze.

  Adam gave a sigh and pivoted, heading in the opposite direction. The Loco Federal Loan and Savings Bank building was just ahead.

  In silence, Jessica, Billy, and Kat walked side by side to the lonely cemetery behind the Baptist church. The Wiedenhoeft children followed, with Emily balancing her little brother on her hip. A light mist of rain fell, cooling the late afternoon air. The smell of wet alkaline dirt rose up from the ground filling their nostrils. They gave no mind to the mud that splattered their pants and stockings.

  When they arrived, the old Reverend Gaines was already standing amid the neat rows of wooden crosses. Two men stood aside, their hats crushed in their hands in reverence. Grave diggers.

  Jessica walked up to the new pine coffin and ran her fingertips along the planed wood. The rain fell on the lid making dark round circles of different sizes. The coffin seemed so small; Mark had seemed so much bigger when he was alive. She looked up at the minister and gave a nod. The sooner this was over with, the better.

  Reverend Gaines began his short eulogy. The words meant little to Jessica, but the sound of the old man's voice was comforting. She had loved Mark, just as she had loved her parents and now he was gone. They were all gone.

  Jessica felt Kat walk up beside her and take her hand, giving it a squeeze. Jessica squeezed back. Kat and her husband had been good friends, but now they were leaving too. A whistle sounded in the distance as a train huffed its way into Loco. The Wiedenhoefts would be on that train when it pulled out of the station.

  The minister finished his final prayer with a solemn "Amen" and then the grave diggers came forward. They used twisted old ropes to lower Mark's coffin into the freshly dug hole.

  Jessica scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the hole. The dirt hit the pine boards in silence. "Good-bye, Mark," she whispered. "I hope you get that Winchester." When she raised her head she caught a glimpse of another mourner. It was a man wearing a black, wide-brimmed hat pulled down to shield his face from the rain. Her gaze went to the pistols holstered on his hips. The handles were black.

  It was Adam Sern.

  Jessica turned and started back up the slope to town. The Wiedenhoefts joined her. They walked to the train depot in silence. There was nothing to say. When they reached the cover of the depot roof, Kat reached out and took Jessica's hand. "Are you all right, honey?"

  Jessica nodded. "I'm all right. I'll see you in Seattle in a few months."

  "I hate to leave you like this. We could stay a few more days."

  Jessica watched Billy loading his two small daughters onto the train. He held the baby in his arms. "You can't stay. You've got the children to think of."

  "Then come with us." Kat's blue eyes settled on her friend's. "You can't really mean to chase down those outlaws yourself. It's crazy talk."

  Jessica laughed. "If it was Billy who'd gotten shot on that train, what would you do?"

  "I'd let the law do their job."

  Jessica looked away. She could feel her throat constricting. "If the law had done its job, Mark wouldn't be dead, would he?"

  Kat studied Jessica's face for a moment. "There's no changin' your mind?"

  "Nope. So go on with you." Jessica wrapped her arms around Kat, giving her a hug.

  "All aboard!" cried the conductor.

  "Kat! Come on with you!" Billy called from the window.

  Kat wiped at her tears with an embroidered handkerchief. "I just hate to leave you like this, with your brother just buried."

  "Look at me." Jessica spread her arms. "I'm fine. You're the one crying." Her voice sounded calm, but inside Jessica could feel her heart
pounding. If she could just get Kat on that train!

  Billy came down the steps and caught his wife by the arm. "We're gonna miss the train with your blubbering." He offered his hand to Jessica, but she pushed it away and hugged him.

  Embarrassed by his own emotion, Billy stepped back onto the train with Kat in tow.

  "You take care of my saplings," Jessica warned. "Keep them wet."

  Billy waved, then leaned out the window. "You promise you'll come to get them?"

  She lifted a hand in oath. "With the Black Bandit's scalp on my belt. I swear it."

  The train gave a lurch and began to roll, first backward, then finally forward. The Wiedenhoefts waved vigorously and Jessica waved back until they were finally out of sight.

  Then suddenly the train depot was empty. The rain hit the tin roof overhead in a rhythmic patter. Jessica shivered. She was damp and cold . . . and alone. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She hadn't cried all day, not when she saw Mark's body, not even at the funeral, but now, there seemed nothing left to do but cry. Against her will, sobs wracked her tired body. She felt so foolish standing here in the middle of the platform, crying like a baby, but she couldn't help herself. Her strength was sapped.

  Then out of nowhere came a low comforting voice, a warm touch. "It's all right, sweetheart," he murmured.

  Jessica felt herself being drawn into his arms. He was tall and solid.

  "Go ahead, Jess, cry. Get it out. All of that pain has to come out or it will tear you up inside."

  Jessica clung to him, to Adam. She knew it was him without having to look up into his face. She could feel his heart beating against hers. She could smell him. He didn't smell like dust and sweat like the rest of the men in Loco. His scent was clean and fresh with a strange hint of pine. Jessica had always loved the smell of a pine forest.

  "Let's get you to your room," Adam said when Jessica's sobs had subsided. "You're exhausted."

  She allowed him to lead her off the platform and down the street to the Red Moon Saloon. She gave no notice to the curious stares of townspeople or to the rain that still fell in a steady downpour. Nothing existed but the comfort of Adam's embrace.