The conductor nodded heavily. "All right, go back to your game if you want to." He gestured to Selmon and Glidinghawk. "Bring that boy back to the caboose. I'll have a brakeman keep an eye on him and see that he don't get into any more trouble."
Malone was hauled out, and Devlin sat down opposite Celia again. She hoped some color was coming back into her face by now. She must have looked a sight immediately after the ugly incident.
"Well," Blaine said, squaring up the small stack of bills in front of him, "perhaps it would be best if we resumed our game some other time. My luck was not running too well this evening anyway."
"That's fine with me," Devlin replied. "I'm not sure Miss Burnett is in the mood for any more cards, and I know I'm not. Getting shot at doesn't help a man's concentration."
"Indeed not," the gambler chuckled. He stood up and touched the brim of his hat. "Good evening, Miss Burnett."
Celia nodded. "Good evening, Mr. Blaine."
Blaine headed for the bar, leaving Celia and Devlin sitting alone at the table. The major leaned forward, a concerned look on his face as he regarded her. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.
Celia smiled. "I'm fine now. I certainly never expected such a thing to happen, though."
"You probably saved my life."
Celia felt herself blushing again. "Really, I didn't . . . didn't even have time to think."
"Then your instincts certainly came in handy for both of us." Devlin shook his head. "These hotheaded frontiersmen! Malone's like most of the cowboys I've seen. They shoot first and think later, if at all."
Celia lowered her voice as she said, "Major Henry, there is one thing you can do for me, if you don't mind."
"Of course not. But I think it's time you called me Devlin."
She smiled weakly. "All right . . . Devlin. I . . . I could certainly use a drink."
He started to stand up. "Some more brandy?"
Celia shook her head. "No. A drink."
A grin tugged at the corners of Devlin's mouth. "Of course. You just wait right here."
He went to the bar and came back a moment later with two glasses of whiskey. Things were returning to normal in the car now, and Celia knew as she reached for the whiskey that she shouldn't be drinking it out in the open like this. It didn't really fit in with her cover identity. But then neither did poker playing.
She swallowed the liquor quickly, ignoring any looks the other passengers might have been giving her. It burned pleasantly going down, then kindled warming embers in her belly. She already felt better as she set the empty glass on the table.
"Shall I escort you back to your seat now?" Devlin asked.
Celia nodded. "That would be fine, I think."
They stood up and linked arms. Celia kept her eyes downcast as Devlin led her back to the car where her seat was located. As they went out through the rear door of the club car, a cold wind pushed against them in the open space between cars. In this late fall of 1875, winter was not far off. Here at the foot of the Rockies, there would be plenty of snow and ice and frigid blasts before the warming breezes of spring arrived again.
Now, however, the weather was still not too bad in Colorado Territory. Although Celia shivered slightly at the chill in the air, her lightweight coat was sufficient for the moment. With any luck, perhaps Powell's Army would be finished with its mission and able to move on to warmer climes before winter really settled in.
As Celia settled into her seat, Devlin dropped onto the bench opposite her. She returned his smile, then glanced past him. Several seats ahead of her, Landrum Davis had turned enough to cast an unhappy stare in her direction. The Texan turned away quickly, not wanting to appear too obviously displeased with her.
Devlin pulled a watch from the pocket of his blue uniform and opened it. "We ought to be getting into Denver in another half hour or so," he said. "Where did you say you'd be staying?"
"The Royal Hotel," Celia replied.
Devlin shook his head. "I'm not familiar with it. The commission I've been assigned to is quartered at the Colorado House, but I've never been there either. In fact, I haven't been to Denver before. Heard plenty about it, though."
So had Celia. Amos Powell had warned her to be careful while she was there. Denver might be the territorial capital now, but not too many years before it had been little more than a mining camp, full of men with all the bark still on, as Amos had put it. He suspected that below the surface it hadn't changed too much.
Celia said none of that to Major Henry. "I'm sure it's a fine city," -she began, then broke off as the door of the car opened behind her, then shut quickly. Glidinghawk strode past her and joined Landrum, sitting down opposite the Texan and beginning to speak in a low voice.
Landrum glanced over his shoulder again, glaring in Celia's direction, and she knew that the Omaha was telling Landrum about the commotion in the club car.
She was sure Landrum would have plenty to say about it when they reached Denver.
Celia made small talk with Devlin Henry for the next few minutes, still enjoying his company but unable now to put the forthcoming mission out of her mind. She kept a sweet smile on her face and hoped he wouldn't notice how distracted she had become.
He was telling her about his childhood back in Ohio when the conductor came through the car, sonorously intoning, "Denver! Next stop, Denver! Denver in five minutes!"
By leaning closer to the window, Celia could peer forward and see the lights of the town beginning to appear up ahead. Full night had fallen now; the mountains in the distance had disappeared in shadow.
"Why don't you give me the tickets for your baggage?" Devlin asked. "I'll go claim them for you."
Celia retrieved the tickets from her bag and passed them over to Devlin. "Thank you," she said. "I've only got the two, one trunk and a smaller bag."
"I'll attend to them, don't worry. I'm sure there are probably carriages for hire around the station. I'll engage one to take us to the Royal Hotel."
Atop the train, brakemen slowed the cars as the train rolled into the Denver & Pacific station. The car in which Celia was riding gave a slight lurch as it came to a stop. There was a sound of metal clashing as the entire train shuddered to a halt.
Devlin stood up and took Celia's arm once again. She avoided the gazes of Landrum and Glidinghawk as she and the major disembarked from the train. Once they were on the platform, Devlin said, "You go into the station out of the wind. I'll get our bags and be right with you."
She nodded. "All right, Devlin."
As he moved off toward the baggage car, Celia joined the other passengers going into the station. She saw Glidinghawk heading toward the baggage car as well. Suddenly, Landrum was beside her, hissing an angry whisper at her.
"Stay in your room when you get to the hotel," he ordered her, then he let the flow of the crowd carry him away before she had a chance to answer.
Celia's lips tightened. The lean Confederate was the nominal leader of Powell's Army, based simply on age and experience, but she thought he sometimes took things too seriously. However, all the members of the team were still alive after four dangerous missions. That said something for Landrum's leadership abilities — and good luck.
Abruptly, she spotted another familiar face inside the station. Preston Kirkwood Fox, the fourth member of the group, had been traveling in another car, one in which the seats were a bit less expensive. He wore a cheap suit and a bowler hat, and he looked like what he really was — an Easterner still a little out of place in the West.
He also looked angry. The young second lieutenant had started out as the liaison officer between Powell's Army and the adjutant general's office. He had become a full member of the team following a debacle of sorts in Dodge City in which his cover identity had been compromised. Following that, he had played a major part in the just-concluded mission in Montana.
Now, in what Celia was sure Fox regarded as a demotion, he was having to keep a low profile. Landrum, Celia, and Glidinghawk
all had cover identities established for this Denver assignment. Fox's orders were for him to hold himself in reserve to be used however the rest of the team deemed necessary.
Knowing Preston Fox, Celia was certain that he hated it.
He looked none too happy as he made his way through the station, but except for an instant's glance, he paid no attention to Celia. Fox was improving at this game, Celia thought. When he had first started working as their liaison, he had been almost as much of a danger to them as the villains they were seeking to uncover.
Devlin appeared carrying Celia's bag and his own valise. A porter was behind him with Celia's trunk. He stuck Celia's bag under the arm that was carrying the valise and used his now-free hand to take her elbow.
"Come along," he said heartily. "I've got a carriage waiting outside."
The porter loaded the baggage into a boot at the rear of the carriage while Celia and Devlin settled into the seat behind the driver. Devlin leaned forward and said, "Do you know where the Royal Hotel is?"
"Sure thing, Major," the driver replied. "That where you want to go?"
"Yes, it is." Devlin moved back next to Celia. The carriage seat was not overly wide, and the two of them were forced to sit rather close together.
Celia didn't mind that at all.
For one thing, it was warmer this way. For another, she liked Devlin Henry. He struck her as a decent man, and there was no denying his attractiveness. Being this close to him made her feel slightly light-headed. Of course, that could have been from the whiskey she had drunk earlier.
But she didn't think so.
Devlin pointed out the dome of the territorial capitol as they passed within a few blocks of the impressive structure. The city was busy and well lighted, even at this hour of the evening. Most of the stores they passed were still open. Celia wouldn't have been surprised to see the saloons doing a good business, but it appeared that the entire town was booming.
The Royal Hotel, while not the most elegant hostelry in Denver, turned out to be a solid-looking building of stone and wood. When the carriage drew up in front of the place, Devlin helped Celia down and then had to unload the bags himself when no porter or doorman appeared.
"Wait here for me," he told the driver, slipping the man a bill. "I'll be going on to the Colorado House."
"You bet, mister," the driver replied.
Inside the lobby of the hotel, the air was a bit stuffy. Celia went to the desk with Devlin at her side. Behind the desk was a narrow-faced man in shirtsleeves and vest. He coughed and then nodded to them.
"What can I do for you folks?" he asked.
"I believe you have a room for the lady," Devlin spoke up before Celia could reply. "It should be in the name of Miss Celia Burnett."
"Oh, yes, Miss Burnett." The clerk nodded, shuffling through some cards on the desk and coming up with the proper one. He indicated the register and said, "If you'll just sign in, Miss Burnett."
As Celia did so, the pen scratching annoyingly, the clerk smiled at Devlin and continued, "And you, Major, will you be staying with us also?"
"I'm afraid not," Devlin told him. He didn't volunteer any more information about the commission he was joining at the Colorado House. "I assume your establishment is a nice, quiet place for a young lady of good breeding to stay?"
"Of course, Major."
Celia was glancing around the lobby. Evidently the hotel didn't have a bar. She tried to hide her disappointment.
"I'll have a boy get your baggage, Miss Burnett," the clerk said. He took a key from the pegboard behind him and extended it. "That'll be Room 12, at the top of the stairs." He held the key about halfway between Celia and Devlin, unsure which one of them was going to take it. There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.
Devlin put an end to that by taking the key and then handing it to Celia. He touched the brim of his hat and said, "I hope I shall be seeing you again, Miss Burnett. It was a pleasure traveling with you."
Celia smiled at him. "A pleasure indeed, Major. Thank you for your assistance."
He nodded, pressed her hand, then strode briskly to the door of the hotel. As he opened it and went out, another man came in. Landrum Davis spotted Celia standing at the desk and started in that direction.
Celia turned quickly to the clerk. "You'll have that boy bring up my things?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," the man assured her. "He'll be up in just a few minutes."
"Thank you." Clutching the key, Celia went to the stairs and started up them toward the second floor. Landrum couldn't very well come chasing after her, not in front of the clerk.
The showdown would come soon enough, Celia thought. No point in hurrying it along.
CHAPTER THREE
Celia had been in her room about a half hour when the soft knock came on the door. She had unpacked most of her things, hanging the clothes in the big wooden wardrobe on one wall. The rest of the furnishings were sparse — a rather tarnished brass four-poster, a dresser with a cracked mirror, and a ladder-backed wooden chair. At least there was a rug on the floor.
As the knock was repeated, Celia closed her eyes and blew a stray lock of red hair off her forehead. She knew who was out there in the hall, and she knew what was about to happen.
Postponing the meeting wouldn't do any good. She had begun to think about going out for some dinner, but that would have to wait.
Celia opened the door, and Landrum Davis slipped through into the room. Gerald Glidinghawk was right behind him. As Celia shut the door, she asked, "Where's Fox?"
"He'll be here in a few minutes," Landrum replied. "He's staying at a boardinghouse in the next block. But until he gets here and we can go over the orders from Powell —"
"I know," Celia cut in. "You've got a few things to say to me."
"Damn right!" Landrum exploded. "I swear, Celia, is it that hard to keep from drawing attention to yourself?"
She crossed her arms and tried to maintain control of her emotions. "You're a fine one to talk, Landrum Davis," she said coolly. "We're not even supposed to know each other, and yet here you are in my room, shouting at me."
"I am not shouting —” Landrum began in a loud voice.
"There is no one in either of the rooms next to this one," Glidinghawk put in quietly. "I checked before Landrum and I entered here. There is only a slight chance that anyone will overhear us."
Landrum nodded. "That's right. Now, what did you think you were doing on that train? You're supposed to be a proper, respectable young lady, and yet there you were playing poker and getting mixed up in a shooting scrape."
"The shooting was not my idea," Celia said, heat entering her voice. Landrum was starting to blame her for things over which she had no control. "Besides, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know Major Henry, since he is going to be part of the commission we've been sent here to investigate."
Landrum snorted. "Get to know him, eh? Is that what you call it?"
Celia flushed at the implication in his tone. It was the same one that had shown in the smirk of the man behind the desk downstairs. She knew that Landrum was fond of her, maybe a little too fond at times, but he had no right to be jealous.
"Major Henry was always a perfect gentleman," she said stiffly.
"You sound disappointed," Landrum snapped.
Glidinghawk chuckled grimly. "If you two don't quit sniping at each other, you'll do the enemies' job for them."
Before he could say any more, another knock sounded on the door. Celia glared at Landrum for a second, then went to the door and opened it just enough to see out. Preston Fox's angry face looked in at her.
Celia stepped back and opened the door to admit him. "Come on in, Preston," she said bitterly. "You might as well take your turn abusing me."
Fox appeared puzzled as he insinuated his lean form into the room. "Why would I want to do that?"
"I don't know," Celia told him. "But Landrum seems to be enjoying it quite a bit."
Landrum took a deep
breath as Celia closed the door behind Fox. "Listen," he said sincerely. "Lord knows I understand the lure of a drink and a good poker game, Celia. I've sat in on a lot more of them than you have. But now that we seem to have things working fairly well for the team, we don't want to ruin them by being careless."
Celia started to reply hotly, then subsided instead. She had been careless, and she knew it. But Landrum didn't have to take such a damned superior tone! Anyway, there was a good chance that her relationship with Devlin Henry might turn out to be valuable before this job was over.
"All right," she said, more to put the matter behind them than to constitute an admission of guilt, "I'll be more careful in the future. Why don't we talk about how we're going to proceed now that we're here?"
Landrum nodded. "Good idea." He reached inside his jacket and brought out a thick leather pouch filled with maps. Inside it was a concealed pocket, and he took a sheet of paper from the little hiding place. He smoothed it out, then handed it to Celia. .
"You'd better look over Amos's dispatch again," he said. "After all, the most critical part of the plan has to do with you."
Celia had read the dispatch before, but now she scanned it again. Just like the first time, a flutter of apprehension passed through her as she read what would be required of her.
To A, B, C, D
From AP
A blue-ribbon USA site-selection commission of 20 officers and attached civilians is currently stationed in Denver, C.T. Its task is to select a site for a major US Army post that will be located on the eastern flank of the Rockies, anywhere from the New Mexico to Wyoming borders. The final decision is a matter of utmost secrecy. It is also a matter of intense interest to local communities, legitimate businessmen, army suppliers, and grifters and speculators. A speculator with advance knowledge of the site chosen could buy up land adjacent to it and make a killing.
The pressure on the commission to leak its verdict is enormous. At the heart of the problem is a certain Denver parlor house called Henrietta's. The place is famed for the beauty and gentility of its inmates, rich appointments, and fine food and wine. Its prices and doormen exclude all but the elite. Commission officers report a major effort by those young ladies to worm information out of the commission. The AG wishes to know who wants that information and why.
Rocky Mountain Showdown Page 2