Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One)

by Rice, Patricia

  Artemis. The Doolittles. Again he had that feeling that there was something more, a small fact which in this case could make all the difference between life or death. His own. Then it came to him. A name... Billy. Was that the reason the young man had quivered and quaked that day in the outfitter's store? Could the brother of Artemis be that Billy? It didn't seem likely, and yet there was some connection there. He was sure of it.

  Morgan headed for the door, stopping to pause by the dresser. He stared down at the silver cigar case, a deep sense of anger along with a fair amount of regret stinging him from within. He glanced at Oda and gave her a sharp nod.

  Then, toughening his voice, he said, "Don't try to leave town—any of you—until I say you can. That"—he swept an authoritative finger at the Penny family—"is a direct order from the United States Marshal's Office. I suggest you obey it."

  Then he headed for the stables.

  Chapter 17

  Artemis sat with his back against the stall door, his arms snugged up tight over his head. Another clap of thunder rolled through the little town, ending this time with a particularly sharp bang. Artemis hated storms. Not the rain, sleet, or snow so much, but the accompanying uproar from the skies and brilliant flashes of light; omens all, to his way of thinking, of the end of the world.

  It had been a very strange day all around, now that he thought of it. First, Oda racing—she who usually wobbled, racing—into the livery, then huddling with Zack, whispering privately. After that, the pair of them rummaging through the supply wagon, and then hurrying out the door, on the run as before.

  Now this. Artemis looked up to see Cain stalking down the length of the barn, coming right at him. His stride was determined, almost angry. What in tarnation was going on around here?

  "Get up, Artemis. We have to have a little talk." Morgan glanced around, spotted an empty stall, and directed the young man to follow him into it. "I have a few questions." Remembering Artemis's strange behavior at Naegelin's Livery, he decided to begin there. "Let's start back in Durango with that horse you left behind."

  Artemis gasped. He'd always known the marshal would recognize his own horse—hell, any man worth his own salt would. Why had he ever let Mariah convince him otherwise? "Th-that weren't my idea. Not a bit of it."

  "What wasn't your idea?"

  "The part about rubbing that red Colorado mud all over his pretty silver mane and tail so's you wouldn't recognize him. Mariah and her ma done that. I said, don't know why you're bothering with that mess, ladies, that fellah's gonna know it's his own horse no matter what you do. But no, they wouldn't listen to dumb ole Artemis. Nuh-uh."

  Until then, it hadn't occurred to Morgan that the horse in Durango might have been Amigo. He'd simply been wondering about something he had overheard that day—something about a man named Tubbs. His fists closed, but he managed to keep his voice on an even keel. "What did you do with my horse, Artemis? Did you sell him?"

  "Yep." Delighted that the questions continued to be so easy, he laughed and gave a carefree shrug. "Mr. Naegelin at the livery bought Big Red. Gonna rent him out, I expect, but I'm sure he'll sell him back to you if you've a mind to go fetch him."

  His fists tightened further. "He's going to use him, stone bruise and all?"

  Artemis laughed. "Mariah made that stone bruise business up so you'd leave me and Big Red behind. Ain't nothing wrong with him that a good bath won't fix."

  So Mariah and Artemis were working together. Had Billy Doolittle been involved somehow as well? Morgan tabled that thought, too confused over his feelings for Mariah to consider it just yet, and went on to the next question.

  Morgan figured Mariah and her family must have sold Amigo right out from under his nose to keep him from remembering the horse, along with his former life. His voice grew deceptively soft as he went on. "Where did you get that sorrel in the first place? Did someone sell him to you?"

  Lulled into a sense of security by the previous non- threatening questions, Artemis automatically answered without thinking it through. "No, but I never stole him, if that's what you're a-thinking. Tubbs found him wandering around in Mancos Valley and just plain give him to me. He likes me."

  That name again. "Tubbs? Just exactly who is that, son?"

  Artemis's eyes bugged out as he realized the enormity of his mistake. "Ah, Tubbs, well, he's just a friend. Nobody special."

  "Was he on the train to Silverton with us?"

  The pressure behind his eyeballs grew intense as Artemis tried to think of what to do, what to say. He opened his mouth, but only a small croak came out.

  "I'm going to assume that he was." A frown creased the bridge of Morgan's nose as he studied the nervous young man. How much information had the Pennys shared with Artemis? Everything? He decided to bluff. "Mariah told me that you know I'm a United States marshal."

  Artemis nodded rapidly, terrified of where this might lead. "Yes, sir, I do know that, but she told me you was working on a special job and that you didn't want anyone to know who you was. I ain't told a soul that you ain't really Brother Law. Honest." Pushing his luck, he tapped the marshal's frock coat. "That's a real smart disguise you got there, too. Nobody'd ever think there'd be a marshal hiding in preacher's costume."

  Until that point, Morgan had figured that when he finished with Artemis, he'd stop by the store for a new hat and coat, and then pay a visit to the barber for a shave and haircut. Now the young man had inadvertently handed him a reason to continue awhile as Brother Cain Law. "I'd appreciate it if you keep that information to yourself, Artemis. In fact, that's an order from the marshal's office."

  Artemis instinctively saluted. "Yes, sir."

  "I'm pleased to know you understand the need for secrecy. I hope you will understand this as well: I have a few more questions, and if you don't want to wind up in jail, you'll have to answer them now—with the truth."

  Again Artemis nodded, this time his bulging eyes desperately looking for an avenue of escape.

  "Why were you trying to find me on the train? I heard you knock on the door of my compartment and call my name."

  "You mean you was in there the whole time?"

  "Yes." A vivid picture of why he'd been inside that compartment suddenly loomed in Morgan's mind, and he had to struggle against the memory as he continued to interrogate the young man. "Who was outside that cabin with you? Was it this Tubbs person? I heard his voice, so don't lie to me."

  Tears sprang into Artemis's eyes, and in the next moment another clap of thunder cracked overhead, rattling the timbers on the roof of the barn. He fell to his knees, sobbing. "Please don't ask me no more questions, and please don't put me in jail. I didn't do nothing wrong. Glory be, I swear I didn't."

  Rain hurled itself against the structure, slamming into the wood with torrential force. Nervous horses nickered to one another, and mules brayed. Above the din, Morgan heard Artemis sobbing, telling him with his expression even more than he'd asked of him. The young man had been with this Tubbs, whoever in the hell that was, and he hadn't been up to any good.

  Morgan thought back to Durango and the day Artemis first joined the troupe. He'd been talking with a man when Morgan approached him with the free bottle of tonic, a man who'd insisted that Artemis was a stranger to him—a man, it now occurred to Morgan, who'd been wearing a sheepskin coat exactly like the one he'd lost along with Amigo. That man had to be Tubbs; Morgan would have staked his reputation as the best tracker west of the Mississippi on it.

  Hunkering down to the young man's level, Morgan got right to business. "Tell me about your brother Billy, Artemis. I'd love to know just everything about him."

  Artemis's bowels cramped up good and tight over that, knotting into a thousand balls the size of fists. He had to lie to Cain, he had to, or he'd be paying in hell for the rest of his life. "A-ain't nothing to tell about Billy. Nothing you'd want to know, anyways." Artemis tossed in a crumb of truth, making himself feel a little better. "Billy's a mean, ornery sort, and I don't like him one
bit. I try to stay away from him, I do."

  "I can certainly understand that." Morgan kept his tone calm, almost soothing. "Please tell me this, son—is Billy here in Silverton?"

  Thrilled to be in a position of telling the truth once again, Artemis giggled as he said, "No, sir, he sure ain't. I don't know where he is." Artemis had sure enough forgotten the name of the place Billy, Shorty, and Tate were going to be waiting tomorrow when the train came by. Then he thought of another truth, and a rather urgent one at that. "Is that about it, Cain? I got to go do a squat something awful."

  * * *

  Tubbs prowled the inside of his hotel room like a restless cougar, occasionally glancing out the window to stare down at the sodden streets below. Every time he thought he finally had things right, something else went wrong. Now this business with the marshal asking the kid questions. Too many questions. He should have shot the son of a bitch the minute he laid eyes on him in Durango, and been done with it.

  Artemis kept a furtive eye on Tubbs as he paced. He didn't know if he'd done a good thing or a bad thing by coming here, but it was turning into one hell of a strange day. First all those upsetting questions from Cain, and now Tubbs grilling him the same way.

  Why couldn't everybody just leave him the hell alone? If all that questioning wasn't bad enough, after he got away from the marshal, he'd gotten soaked clean through to the skin when he lit out of the barn. Now he was cold, shivering right down to his toenails.

  Tubbs stopped pacing. "By the way, kid—are you a hundred percent sure you had the right room number for the marshal?"

  "Yes, sir. Like I told you before—he's in room seventeen. I know it's true, I swear."

  "All right, all right. I guess he just sacked out somewhere else last night." As he considered the possibilities of where Slater might have been instead of his own room, Tubbs scratched his head. "What about the girl from the medicine show?"

  "Miss Mariah?"

  "Yeah, her. Are she and the marshal sweet on each other, by any chance?"

  Artemis considered the question, wondering if maybe this wasn't an area in which it'd be all right to tell the truth. "Maybe... could be... I don't know for sure. Why? You thinking of courting Miss Mariah yourself?"

  Tubbs stared at the kid, shaking his head. "No-o-o. If you could just keep your mind on business for a change, you might have figured out that I am trying my damnedest to... find a way to get at that damn marshal so I can take him out."

  Tubbs's angry voice reverberated throughout the room, filling Artemis's head with the echo of his rage. "Sorry," he said timidly. "I think, yes. They're sweet on each other."

  "Thank you, kid. I wish you'd have told me that last night. They're probably bunking together. What room is the girl in?"

  "I think she stays in room twenty-two. Why?"

  "Because, Artemis." His face was red, almost purple with frustration. "It's high time I caught up with that sneaky son of a bitch of a marshal. If I have do it by catching the bastard with his pants down, then I will. One way or another, before this night is through, Morgan Slater will be one dead son of a bitch, or I'll know the reason why."

  Lord almighty. If he hadn't gone and done it again. He'd messed up. Now it looked like his foolishness might just cost his new best friend his life. Should he warn Cain? Was there a way to do it without jeopardizing his own well-being?

  * * *

  After Artemis ran out of the barn, Morgan went straight to the sheriff's office to inform him that reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated. He hadn't gotten as much information as he'd hoped to out of Artemis, but Morgan knew that the young man was scared, frightened half out of his wits by something... or someone. Morgan still had a strong hunch that whatever had Artemis so skittish would eventually lead directly to the Doolittle Gang.

  Sure that he was on the right track, he sent a wire to Durango, informing the sheriff there of his whereabouts and requesting an update on the Doolittle file. Then at mid-afternoon, Morgan joined the medicine show just as the first performance was getting under way.

  The rain had let up, but the streets were muddy, dotted with puddles and small lakes whose surfaces were coated with thin layers of crinkled ice. He slipped easily into his previous role as Brother Law the Bouncer, and perused the crowd for undesirables—even though, near as he could figure, most of the undesirables in Silverton were taking part in the medicine show.

  When at last the performance ended, uneventfully but successfully, Morgan gathered the Penny family and Artemis at the back of the wagon. Directing the bulk of his remarks to Zack, the easiest person for him to deal with, Morgan quietly said, "Since you fine folks saw fit to make me a member of this medicine show, I've decided to stay on with you as Brother Law for a little longer."

  Artemis clapped his hands, drawing frowns from all three Pennys.

  "Understand," Morgan went on, "that I'm staying with the show strictly to have further use of my Brother Law disguise. I want to keep Marshal Slater laying low until I find out what's been going on in my, ah, 'absence.'" His gaze flickered to Mariah, then quickly returned to her father. "You might also want to know that I've checked out of the hotel. I have family here, and I'll be staying with them until I leave Silverton."

  "Glory be." Artemis could barely contain himself, so happy was he to hear this information. Now he didn't have to worry about whether he should or shouldn't warn the marshal about Tubbs's plans for him. Now he could sleep soundly, knowing that for one more night—the last night that mattered, since they would board the train in the morning—his hero would be safe, no matter how many hotel rooms Tubbs checked.

  Morgan noticed the young man's high color and the general glaze that had lacquered his eyes. "Is something wrong, Artemis? You look like you might be a little upset."

  "Oh, no, sir. I ain't a bit upset. I didn't know you had kin in Silverton, is all. I'd be right proud to meet 'em."

  "I'm afraid, given the circumstances, that's not possible. I do expect you to keep the information about my family to yourself, however. And by the way—that's another order."

  He saluted. "Yes, sir."

  Morgan's attention returned to the Pennys. "That goes for all of you."

  * * *

  That night, as Mariah thought back over the day, she didn't know which had been worse: listening to Cain speak to her family in such clipped, businesslike tones, or hearing him talk about his own family so casually, and learning that he'd be living with them from here on out. It had been one thing to see him hold his little girl, but to imagine him with his wife, to know that they were cuddling in bed together the way she and Cain had cuddled just last night, was too much to bear. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget.

  With that in mind, Mariah turned in early. She tossed and turned for hours, nightmares and watery images drifting in and out of her thoughts in a continuous parade. Remembered moments with Cain always ended cruelly as visions of him alongside his wife nudged them aside. She thought she heard a noise as she pictured the petite blonde in his arms—metal against metal, a rattle—and wondered briefly if she hadn't just listened in on the sound of her own heart breaking into a million pieces. A beam of light skipped across her face shortly after that—a brief warming from the sun, she illogically decided. Then she caught his scent.

  The unmistakable odor of male perspiration drifted under her nostrils. The scent of a stranger. By the time Mariah realized that someone had broken into her room, it was too late to scream, or even to blink. A meaty hand clamped over her mouth as the man fell across her breasts, crushing her to the mattress.

  Tubbs touched the cold blade of his knife to her throat as he said, "Make one little sound, and it'll be the last one you ever make, sweetheart."

  At the sound of the man's voice, Daisy rose up from her spot near the foot of the bed, arched her back, and began barking in a kind of half-yip, half-growl. All four legs stiff, she hopped forward, making several threatening lunges toward the man who'd attacked her mistre
ss. On her last lunge, Tubbs reached out, snatched her up by the scruff of the neck, and flung her toward the wall.

  Daisy's sharp yelp of pain was followed by a patter of tiny feet as she scurried under the bed, where Mariah knew she would now stay, huddled and frightened.

  "Where the hell is Marshal Slater?" Tubbs demanded, his tone deadly. As he spoke, he took the hand that had been at her mouth and wound a length of her hair up tight in his fist, controlling the movement of her head.

  Mariah's eyes grew huge, straining to get a clearer look at the man's features, but it was too dark. He'd referred to Cain as Marshal Slater. Was the man a part of the infamous Doolittle Gang? Gooseflesh broke out on her scalp.

  "You got trouble with your hearing?" He twisted the wad of hair up tight against her skull.

  "I don't know where he is." Even though she could pinpoint the precise location of the house on Thirteenth Street, she could not allow an animal like this to terrorize Cain's family or hurt the man she loved. "I guess he's in his own room."

  "Guess again, sweetheart. I just came from room seventeen—empty room seventeen." The tip of the knife pressed against her flesh, piercing it.

  Mariah stiffened as she felt a drop of blood roll down the side of her neck. "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know where he is."

  "I don't believe you, sugar." Tubbs licked his lips. "I heard that you and the marshal have gotten mighty cozy. Don't make me ask you about him again, sweetie."

  "But, honestly—I don't know." Her eyes more used to the darkness, at last she saw her attacker. His features were unfamiliar to her—he wasn't one of the men she'd seen on the Wanted poster—but his expression was not. He meant business. And would kill her if necessary. Mariah's mouth went dry, but somehow, she managed to go on. "We, ah, had a fight this morning. I don't know when he'll be back."

  "A fight." Damned if it didn't just figure with the way his luck had been running of late. With a short, angry laugh, Tubbs considered his next move. There was only one option left to him, and it really wasn't a bad one at that. After all, he'd planned to take the woman out right along with the marshal anyway.