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

by Rice, Patricia

  Tubbs released her hair. "You want to live to see another day, you'll do exactly what I tell you, and you'll do it quietly, so not even the cockroaches will hear you. Understand?"

  She gulped. "Yes."

  "Get up." He rose, lit the lamp, and stood back just far enough for her to climb out of bed. "Now get dressed."

  "Dressed? But—"

  "You're disturbing the cockroaches, sweetheart." He turned the knife over in his palm, catching her eye with the glint of steel. "Just shut your mouth and get dressed. We're going for a little walk."

  She had no choice. Her legs wobbly, Mariah got up, crossed over to the freestanding closet, and took out a dress. Without turning to look at him, she whispered, "Would you mind stepping outside while I change?"

  "I would mind one hell of a lot, sweetie. Now get a move on."

  Keeping an eye on the door, Tubbs watched Mariah struggle into her petticoats without removing her nightgown or robe. When she finally had to slip out of the garments long enough to don her chemise and dress, he caught a glimpse of her naked back through her curtain of long black hair.

  After she'd buttoned the bodice to the throat, Mariah turned back to the man. His eyes were luminous, filled with a particularly chilling kind of lewdness—a look that left no doubt as to his thoughts, or his intentions. Her fists automatically curled and her spine went rigid.

  Tubbs laughed at her reaction. "Don't worry, sweetie. Not with Slater unaccounted for." He winked. "Maybe later. Just the two of us." He brandished the knife. "Fix your hair, and put on some shoes and a hat. We have to be on our way."

  Mariah wound her hair into a sloppy knot at the top of her head and pinned it there. She slipped on her low-topped boots and reached for the only hat she had left: the deep, black bonnet which hid most of her features.

  Then she bent over, automatically reaching for her nighty and robe, but straightened, instead. Always tidy to a fault, she figured if she were to leave her garments strewn about the room, when her mother and father eventually came to check on her, they would be more likely to figure out that she hadn't left of her own accord.

  "Listen up, and listen good," Tubbs said as he moved closer. "Don't look at anybody and don't talk to anybody once we leave this room. Not so much as a peep from you, or"—he slipped the knife, handle first, up inside the sleeve of his sheepskin coat, palming the blade—"I'll whip this out and stick it in your gut so fast, you won't know what hit you. Understand?"

  Mariah nodded, her heart in her throat.

  "Good. I'd hate to have to carve up a fine specimen like you." Then he opened the door, took her by the arm, and dragged her out into the hallway.

  As he reached back to pull the door closed, Daisy shot through the opening and dashed down the hall. Before Tubbs could react, she disappeared around the corner, her tail raised high like a flag. He laughed and clucked his tongue. "Sorry about that, sweetie. I hope a coyote don't get your little dog. She'd make a mighty fine snack. Just like you."

  He wrapped his arm around her waist. "We're just gonna walk out of here like a pair of old married folks, understand?"

  She nodded, and he hauled her down the hall and out into the frigid night air.

  Chapter 18

  The rest of the family had been in bed for hours, but Morgan was too restless for sleep, his mind far too busy trying to put his life back in order to give him the slumber he needed. And he was brooding, nursing his wounds.

  Why not? The Penny family hadn't merely stolen his former life away, but the new one as well. Mariah had created a life for him which included her and all they had shared, only to cruelly snatch that away, too. His loss, near as Morgan could figure, was not only painful, but twofold.

  During the many weeks of his recuperation from the accident, bits and pieces of the past had sprinkled down from his memory, filtered through his brain, and settled back into place. Yet even now that he'd returned to himself, there were still a lot of missing pieces, chunks of his life that he simply could not account for. Or, perhaps, would not.

  Maybe, Morgan thought with a heavy sigh, he couldn't remember certain details because they were no longer important. In fact, many things had become less significant to him of late. Things like the burning need to bring justice to a disorderly world; the "hunt" when he was on the trail of a desperado; the anger he once felt inside, and the way he'd practically nurtured those feelings of anger in order to keep them alive.

  Suddenly Morgan realized that the rage of long ago was gone, that the ugly serpent which had stoked his gut with a fiery and unrelenting anger roamed no more.

  He suspected he had Mariah to thank for that. In fact, he had many things to thank her for, but the number fell short of the list of crimes she'd committed against him. Way short. Morgan stared at the roaring fire, hoping it might somehow burn the image of Mariah from his mind, her taste from his lips, the feel of her satiny skin from his fingertips.

  If he could just do that—lose the memory of Mariah as easily as he had lost his days and nights with Virginia—he might experience a little peace of mind for the first time in his life, perhaps even gain a sense of well-being. Oh, but it all seemed so futile, so impossible, so... very, very painful.

  More restless now than before, Morgan stared intently at the blue-tipped flames, still trying to scorch a clean path in his mind, but he continued to see Mariah's beautiful face. He listened to the crackles and pops hissing out from the stone hearth, but instead heard Mariah's dulcet voice—along with Daisy's mournful howl.

  Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Morgan cocked his head toward the window. Had he merely imagined he heard the tiny dog? As if in answer, the sound came again. Daisy? Maybe it was a skulking coyote, a lone wolf, or even another dog. It certainly couldn't be Daisy, now that he thought of it. Mariah was much too solicitous where her little pet was concerned to let her run wild at night, particularly at such a late hour.

  Again his gaze fell on the fire, and again, he tried to burn the memory of Mariah from his mind. The barking suddenly became louder and closer. More alarmed this time, Morgan turned back toward the window and listened intently. Along with the dog's yowls, he could hear one of the neighbors shouting at the animal to shut up. Then the dog yelped, a high-pitched squeal suggesting that someone had thrown an object, and hit the mark. After a few moments of relative quiet, the howling resumed, louder still.

  Morgan pushed himself out of the rocking chair, tugged on his coat and hat, and went outside to investigate. At the end of Thirteenth Street, toward Greene, he saw a little blob no bigger than a jackrabbit sitting in the middle of the road.

  "Daisy?"

  Morgan whistled and called her name again, louder this time. The little dog jumped straight up in the air, and then came running, her tiny paws slipping and sliding out from under her as she hit several small patches of ice along the way. Just before she reached Morgan, she planted her feet and then bounced into the air, hurling herself into his arms. Her tiny nails dug into his chest as she burrowed beneath his jacket, and when her head emerged near his throat, she started to whine and lick his chin.

  "Take it easy, Daisy," Morgan said, comforting her as best he could. "How come you're out running loose at this hour?" He glanced toward Greene Street, half expecting to see Mariah dashing around the corner, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Obviously the little dog had escaped from her mistress somehow, and come looking for him.

  Knowing that Mariah would be frantic over her missing pet, Morgan decided to take her back to the hotel immediately. Even though it was after midnight, he rationalized that he was honor-bound to do that much for the animal. No matter that he would be confronting Mariah in the middle of the night, or that she would most surely be in her nightclothes, her hair hanging loose and mussed, her body warm from sleep...

  No matter. He would simply toughen himself against her charms during his walk to the hotel. Get a firm grip on himself and remember that in spite of his mutinous body, he still wanted more than anything el
se to throttle her.

  By the time he reached Mariah's room and softly tapped on the door, Morgan was feeling tough, impregnable, and even a little magnanimous. When she didn't answer after a few minutes, he rapped a little harder, and then tested the knob. It turned, so he let himself in.

  The lamp was lit, showing him in an instant that she was gone. He'd just covered a good bit of the town and most surely would have seen at least a glimpse of her if she were out looking for Daisy. Where could she be?

  Morgan was considering the inconvenience he might cause the Pennys should he disturb them at this hour, when he noticed Mariah's nightclothes strewn across the rug. That, plus her rumpled bed, raised his natural curiosity as a lawman. Mariah had been nothing less than neat around him, so she'd obviously been in a hurry when she left.

  Deciding her absence warranted a further investigation, he set Daisy on the bed and then hurried out to the hallway. He wavered at Zack and Oda's door a moment, and then impulsively crossed the hall to room 15 instead. Morgan tapped lightly so as not to awaken the Pennys, and then tapped again.

  He heard Artemis stirring, and as he waited to be let inside the room, he recognized the irony in Daisy's midnight sojourn. If Mariah hadn't conspired for him to take her love potion, and if he hadn't parried that conspiracy by feeding the elixir to the little dog, Daisy never would have become fond of him or come looking for him tonight. And Mariah would be—where the hell could she be? And who, if anyone, was she with?

  By the time the door finally opened, Morgan's thoughts had turned dark. Without a word, he shoved the young man out of the way and pushed the door shut behind them. Then he yanked Artemis to the center of the room with him, where there would be less chance of them being overheard. Speaking in a quiet hiss, he said, "I want some answers, son, and I want them now. Exactly what is Mariah up to, and who is she with?"

  "Huh?" Artemis blinked up at the lawman, his mind a muddled blur.

  "I was just in her room, and she's not there. You know what?" Morgan jabbed his index finger against Artemis's shoulder. "I think you might know where she went."

  "Me? But I don't know what she—" Artemis gasped, chopping his own sentence in half. Holy shit. He'd been so worried about Tubbs taking out the marshal, he forgot that his partner had been fixing to take both the marshal and his little female deputy out when they were all on the train. How could he not have remembered such an important fact.

  "Out with it, son! Is she working with you and this Tubbs person? What's going on?"

  Artemis had been walking the fence which lay between right and wrong for too long, struggling with the harrowing trail much too often of late. He should have known that one day soon he would be falling to one side or another, even if it meant hurting himself in the process. Refusing for once to consider the consequences to himself, Artemis took a blind step. "I think she's probably with Tubbs."

  Morgan went white with rage. Tubbs, the man who'd stolen his horse? The man who wore his jacket? Now this Tubbs had taken possession of his woman as well? Half out of his mind with both jealousy and fury, Morgan bunched the collar of Artemis's long flannel underwear into one strong fist, and lifted him to his toes. "What the hell is she doing with him?"

  "I think—" He began to cry. "Lord almighty. I don't know for sure."

  "Can you guess? Make a guess."

  "I—I can't with you a-squeezing the life outta me."

  Morgan released his hold and Artemis crumpled to the floor. "Go ahead, son. I'm listening."

  Big fat tears fell down his cheeks now, but Artemis didn't bother to wipe them away. He kept his gaze trained on the marshal and the huge Colt "peacemaker" strapped to his thigh. "I—I don't know why Tubbs wanted Miss Mariah for sure, but I think he mighta forced her to go with him."

  "You mean he kidnapped her?"

  "Could be. I think... yes."

  "Oh, my God." Morgan spun in a slow circle, trying to make some kind of sense of Artemis's explanation, but he couldn't. "Why would this Tubbs be so interested in Mariah?"

  He'd survived the fall, and it felt really good to be off that fence at last. Artemis decided to tell the marshal everything he knew. Everything. "I expect 'cause o' her working for you and all, and Tubbs getting so danged mad. He's been trying to take you out since we got to Durango!"

  "Take me out? As in kill me?"

  "Yes, sir. I thought he was gonna bust a gut when we couldn't find you on the train, 'cause he meant to fling you down into the gorge between Durango and Silverton. He tried to get you again last night, but you never come to your room, and he waited and waited, getting madder and madder—"

  Morgan grabbed Artemis's collar again, this time pulling him up to his feet. "Slow down, son. Go back to the part about Mariah. Did I hear you say that she's working for me?"

  "Ain't she?"

  Morgan shook his head. "If anything, I've been working for her."

  "But, Tubbs said she was one o' them female deputies. Said you and her was locked in that train compartment with someone from the railroad company, and that you was all planning ways to bust up the gang."

  "The 'gang,' Artemis?"

  His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and a sharp pain stabbed at his gut.

  Morgan slapped Artemis on both cheeks. "Don't pass out on me now, son. Talk to me. Tell me about this gang."

  "It—it's the Doolittle Gang." His voice was a squeaky wheel. "We're the Doolittles."

  Lecturing himself for not following his instincts a little sooner, Morgan said, "Your brother Billy, he's...?"

  "A Doolittle. That's right, Marshal." Strange. The confession hadn't felt near as bad as he thought it would. And the marshal hadn't tried to shoot him yet either. "I'm Artemis Doolittle, but I ain't never gone on a job before. I swear I ain't done much wrong."

  Morgan wasn't listening. He was too busy trying to determine exactly what kind of danger Mariah might be in—especially now that he knew Billy Doolittle was involved. "This morning in the barn, you told me that your brother was not in Silverton. The truth, Artemis: Is he here now?"

  Relief kept growing in him, filling him with a mad kind of elation. "No, sir. I told you the truth in the barn, and I'm a-telling it to you now. Billy ain't nowheres near here."

  "All right, I believe you. Now what about Mariah? You say this Tubbs thinks she's my deputy?"

  "Yes, sir, a deputy in disguise when she wears her Princess Tanacoa costume, just like you are when you're dressed up as Brother Law. She is a deputy, ain't she?"

  "Hell, no. What does Tubbs plan to do with her? Use her to get to me?"

  His relief vanished, and Artemis began to cry again. "Maybe, but mostly, I—I think, oh, God in heaven. I think Tubbs means to take her out, same as you."

  "Take her out?" Morgan grabbed Artemis's collar with both hands, yanking him up tight till they were nose-to-nose. "You mean to tell me he's planning to kill her?"

  His eyes crossed, and his teeth chattered like never before, but Artemis managed to say, "Y-yes, sir. That's exactly what I mean."

  * * *

  Inside his room at Ma Cherry's Hotel, Tubbs argued with Cletus. "It don't make a damn bit of sense to go wringing her neck already."

  Cletus turned a startling blue eye on their captive, and winked at her. "I didn't mean right this minute. I thought we could have a little fun with her first." He blew Mariah a kiss, and then turned back to the piece of mirror he'd propped up on the dresser.

  With a heavy sigh, Tubbs went over to where his partner stood preening. "If you could get your mind off your dick for a minute, you'd realize the girl's worth more to us alive than dead for the time being. That marshal is slippery. We might have to use her as a little 'persuader.'"

  Cletus's gaze was intense, electric, as he forced himself to look away from his reflection long enough to study the woman. She was sitting on a wooden chair in a corner of the room, her hands and feet bound with twine, her lovely mouth silenced with wads of his very own blue cotton handkerchief. "You might have a
point, Tubbs. So we keep her alive, but I still don't see why we can't have a little fun with her until it's time to board the train."

  Tubbs turned a cold gray eye on Mariah, and slowly broke into a wide grin. "Neither do I." Then he reached for his belt buckle.

  * * *

  As Morgan and Artemis crept down the narrow, murky hallway at Ma Cherry's Hotel, Morgan pulled the young man to a halt. His voice barely more than a whisper, he said, "Let's make sure you have it straight before we go knocking on that door, son." Artemis nodded. "Just in case Mariah is not in that room, or if something else goes wrong, you're to pretend that I've captured you and forced you to take me here, right?"

  "That's right," he said, remembering to speak so only the marshal could hear. "Tubbs is supposed to think I'm still a member of the gang until you tell me I can show him different."

  "That's right, son." And just to make sure that nothing had changed there, he said, "Things are different with you now, aren't they? You've sworn an oath to uphold the law."

  And didn't Artemis know it. As of ten minutes ago, he was a sworn-in deputy on Marshal Slater's special posse. Artemis Doolittle, an honest-to-God deputy. Glory be. If that didn't beat all. Barely able to contain the squeal of delight which had built up inside him at the thought, he said, "Yes, sir." And then saluted his hero.

  "Let's go then, and remember—don't say a word about being my deputy unless I say you can. Make sure you speak to Tubbs the way you always do." Then he poked him in the back, encouraging him to go ahead.

  When Artemis found the correct room, he beat on the door at one of the few spots where the paint hadn't peeled off. "Open up, Tubbs. It's me, Artemis."

  A few moments later, a sliver of light appeared, and then the door swung wide open. Tubbs backed into the room, clearing a path for Artemis to enter. "What in hell are you doing here, kid? Ain't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the marshal over at the hotel?"