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

by Rice, Patricia

  As the young man moved forward, Morgan stepped out from the shadows, laid the barrel of his gun across Artemis's shoulder, and trained the sights on Tubbs. Pushing his "shield" through the open doorway, he glanced toward the far corner, confirming that Mariah was indeed in the room, and then said, "Evening, Mr. Tubbs. I decided to keep an eye on him instead. Now put your hands up slow and easy, because just like your little friend Artemis, you're under arrest."

  Tubbs did as he was told, but something wasn't right. Morgan could see it in his eyes, and in the slight grin at the corner of his mouth. He didn't seem the least bit concerned over his arrest. It was almost as if—Something cold and hard slammed against the back of Morgan's head then, dousing all the light. He fell to the floor with a terrible thud.

  "Get over here, kid," Tubbs said. "Help me drag him past the door."

  Cletus stepped out from his hiding spot behind the door, brandishing the pistol he'd used to waylay the marshal. "You heard him, dummy—get moving."

  Artemis, who wasn't quite sure what happened, or why the marshal had fallen, nearly jumped out of his skin as the other gang member came into view. God in heaven, how could he have forgotten about Cletus? His job was to warn the marshal about anything and everything. How could he have been so stupid as to forget an outlaw as mean as this? Would there ever be an end to his messing up?

  Tubbs, who'd managed to drag the lawman inside the room by himself, said, "Come on, kid. Get your ass moving. At least close the damn door."

  Cletus brushed past Artemis and went to stand over the marshal's prone body. After the kid had secured the room, Cletus pointed his gun at Slater's head, and said to Tubbs, "Say a few words over the 'preacher man.' He's about to meet his maker."

  Behind him, the chair rattled in the corner, followed by a muffled scream. Cletus grinned at Mariah. "I almost forgot that you and the fine marshal had a little something going. Don't worry, honey pie—you won't miss him a'tall once I get my hands on you."

  Artemis, who was struggling against his terror and trying desperately to think things through before acting, went over the marshal's warning—"Don't tell them you're a deputy unless I say so." He repeated it several times over in his head just to make sure he wouldn't mess up again, and then rushed up beside Cletus. "Please don't shoot him. I—I'm afraid."

  "Oh, hell, Artie boy. You're afraid of your own socks." He cocked the hammer.

  Tubbs reached over and lifted the barrel of the gun with his index finger, pointing it toward the ceiling. "Hang on a minute. For once the kid might be right."

  "Come on, Tubbs. Dead's how we want him. I'd just love to do the honors."

  "He's mine when the time comes, and the time ain't here yet. We've made enough mistakes on this job as it is. I'm not going to stand here and let you shoot off that gun." Tubbs paused, calming himself before he went on. "Don't you think maybe Slater checked in with Silverton's sheriff? We can't take the chance of killing him or the girl here. Hell, even if we broke their necks, their bodies could be found before we even get out of town."

  Cletus slammed his gun into the holster. "Then what the hell are we going to do with them?"

  Tubbs thought on that a moment as he squatted down next to the marshal's body. Chuckling over his own ingenuity, he rolled the lawman over onto his back. "We'll drag them along with us to the train in the morning, and do what I planned on doing in the first place—toss them over the side just past Elk Park."

  Artemis didn't know what he should do next, but he did know that Tubbs's plan bought the marshal and Mariah a little more time. He grinned. "That sounds like a right fine idea to me."

  "You see there?" Cletus pointed at the kid. "That's how brilliant your plan is—the dummy likes it. Hell—we won't get two blocks down the street with these two, much less smuggle them aboard the train. What in hell's the matter with you?"

  "Oh, I think they'll come along nicely, Cletus, and we won't have to be doing any 'smuggling.'" Tubbs lifted the gold star off the frock coat, and then pinned it to his new sheepskin coat. "Especially since I'm a United States marshal, and they're a pair of murdering bank robbers I'm taking down to Durango to stand trial."

  Cletus whistled his appreciation. "Hell, it might just work at that."

  "Oh, it'll work." He flopped Morgan onto his belly and took the leftover twine to bind his wrists at the small of his back. "Or my name ain't Morgan Slater."

  The pair shared a laugh as Tubbs bound the marshal's ankles. As he finished, his captive began to stir. Tubbs quickly got to his feet and stood back, ready for anything from the clever lawman.

  Morgan shook his head, raised his chin as high as he could, and then glanced around the room. His gaze briefly skimmed across Mariah, touched on Artemis and Cletus, and finally landed on Tubbs.

  With another shake of his head, he blinked and said, "What's happened to me? Who are all you people?"

  Chapter 19

  The outlaws and their captives stayed in Tubbs's room until just after dawn, leaving Mariah to feel as if she'd been strapped to the wooden chair for five days, not five hours. Each step during the short, frigid walk from Blair Street to the train depot brought protest from her stiff, sore muscles. And as far as she could tell, Cain wasn't faring any better. He'd been forced to spend those hours on the floor trussed up like a pig at a barbecue.

  Cain, that is, or whoever he thought he was now. Tubbs, who'd barely been able to keep from laughing at the time over the marshal's amnesia, informed him that he was Billy Doolittle, wanted for train robbery and murder. With three pistols trained on her, Mariah had been in no position to argue the point.

  Now, as she stood near the entrance of the Silverton depot, she knew her position was even graver.

  Obviously, killing those who might bear witness against them would be in the gang's best interests.

  If only she could find some flicker of recognition from Cain, anything to let her know that yes, he knew exactly who he was, and that even now he was working on a way for them to escape. Mariah glanced up at him, hoping for just a tiny sign, but Cain stared straight ahead at the snow-dusted mountains, his profile rigid and unblinking.

  It was hopeless. As long as he wore that same lost, cloudy expression he'd had the first time he'd been hit in the head—looking like neither Morgan Slater nor Cain Law, and not at all like the man who'd once said he loved her—Mariah knew escape was all but impossible.

  Tubbs had bound Cain's hands behind his back, hers at the waist, and then added a length of rope around each of their middles, linking them together to keep better control of them. For that much, a shivering Mariah was grateful. Her thin wool dress no match for the frosty mountain air, she inched closer to Cain, seeking his warmth, and again, just a flicker of recognition. He glanced down at her as she snuggled against him, but as before, his features remained impassive.

  Back in Bucksnort this reaction wouldn't have bothered her, but now, it nearly tore her apart. Mariah wanted him to remember, even as Morgan Slater, wanted him to recall the afternoon on the train when he'd crushed her against the window and told her he loved her, and that he'd love her forever. If he never remembered another thing as long as he lived, she wanted him to remember that much. Another shiver racked her body, but this time, it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  "Cold, sugar?" asked Cletus, their lone guard. "I guess I never did get a chance to warm you up proper back at the hotel." He winked, and for a moment, Mariah thought he might actually desert his post to come dally with her, but the huge cross-beamed door of the depot opened then, and Artemis and Tubbs, who'd been speaking with the stationmaster, stepped outside.

  His breath blowing white, dragonlike plumes, Tubbs laughed and caressed the shiny gold badge pinned to his sheepskin jacket as he approached his shivering captives. "Well, well, well, folks. It looks like you're in luck. It seems the officials from the Denver and Rio Grande are in no hurry to expose their passengers to a pair of desperadoes like you two. They not only think it's a fine idea, bu
t very thoughtful of us, to board now before the decent folk show up, so none of them will be offended by the sight of you." Still laughing, he strutted up beside Mariah and pinched her cheek. "Shall we?"

  Behind the trio, Cletus jabbed the barrel of his gun against Morgan's spine. "You heard him. Get moving."

  And Artemis, still chanting "Don't tell them a thing unless I say so" in his mind, brought up the rear.

  The prisoners were settled into a private compartment, with Cletus again as the lone guard, but when the train began to fill with travelers some two hours later, he and Tubbs took turns as the sentry in the cramped room. Artemis was shown to a seat in the adjoining parlor car, and told to stay put until further notice.

  Mariah supposed she ought to be grateful that the outlaws were so preoccupied with the robbery and their clean getaway from Silverton. In all the confusion, they'd forgotten about their lewd plans for her.

  In fact, no one seemed to notice that she was on the train—not even the man she loved. She sighed and turned toward the window, the long sugar-scoop brim of her bonnet bumping against the glass as the locomotive finally chugged to life. The private car lurched forward several times, and then caught, smoothing its path on the rails. It was then that a slight movement at the corner of the window caught Mariah's attention.

  She glanced upward, noticing that the curtain had been torn from its moorings. All that remained were a few shreds of burgundy velvet, a pair of gold satin pulls and tassels, which bounced with the rhythm of the rails. Suddenly, hit full force with the intimate memory of exactly why the window dressing was in such a state of disrepair, Mariah gasped. She could almost hear the ripping of fabric, mingled with her own cries of ecstasy and, above them all, Cain's urgent words of love.

  Her gaze darted across the aisle to where he sat. Their eyes met and held for a brief moment. Then he restlessly shifted his hips and quickly looked away, and in that moment, Mariah knew: The man across from her did indeed remember exactly who he was, and how close he'd once been to her.

  Her response to it all—the memories, the knowledge that Cain was not only in his right mind, but thinking back to their wild, impassioned encounter right here in this room—was involuntary, instinctive, and impossible to harness. She turned bright red to her roots, and her gaze fell to the floor.

  Tubbs, who'd noticed part of the exchange, and all of Mariah's reactions, said, "What's all this, sugar pie? Flirting with your old sweetheart, and blushing, too? You trying to make me jealous?"

  "I doubt the lady had any such thoughts about me, Marshal Slater," said Morgan. "In fact, I can't believe I'm a bank robber or that this charming young woman is my partner. Are you absolutely certain you've detained the correct individuals?"

  Tubbs let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh, I have the 'correct individuals' all right, Billy boy. As for the 'charming young woman,' she was your little bed- warmer. Now she's mine."

  "I find it difficult to believe that I could forget a woman as beautiful as Mariah."

  Tubbs laughed harder. "Now that's a crying shame. Why, to think that you had all that fine woman-flesh to yourself at one time, and now you can't even remember a minute of it. Amnesia. What a hoot."

  Still laughing, Tubbs made sure his captives' bindings were still in place. In addition to the bonds at their wrists and ankles, Mariah and Morgan were strapped to their individual seats by a length of hemp.

  When he was satisfied that they could not aid one another in escaping, he said, "You will excuse me a minute, won't you? I need to stretch my legs. You two be sure to stay put until my replacement gets here."

  The minute the door closed behind the outlaw, Morgan whispered across the aisle. "Are you all right?"

  "Cain—I mean, Morgan—is it really you?"

  "It's me. I never had amnesia—just a hell of a knot on my head."

  "But you were so convincing, I thought for sure that—"

  "I've had recent experience with amnesia." His expression was grim. "I have firsthand knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be lost inside yourself. I also know how easily others can manipulate you into thinking you're someone else."

  Any hopes she might have entertained that Cain would be the man to emerge after the blow to his head were dashed as Mariah recognized Morgan Slater's authoritative, accusing tone. She stiffened, but said nothing.

  "You didn't answer me," he said, still demanding, not asking. "Did they touch you, any of them?"

  "I don't see what concern it is of yours if they did."

  "I'm the law, remember? It's my business to ask these questions." He paused to soften his tone. "I saw your room, your nightclothes thrown all over. It looked like... dammit, Mariah. These men are animals. I have a right to know what they've done to you."

  "You have absolutely no rights where I'm concerned." Mariah finally met his gaze, and finding at least a hint of concern in it, told him what happened. "Being dragged forcibly from my room at midnight wasn't, in any way, pleasant. Tubbs made me get dressed in front of him, and he did think about... about getting to know me a little better, but he was too afraid to do anything about it in case you came by to visit me. I guess he didn't want to take the chance of being caught in the act."

  Morgan ground his teeth. "And when he took you to the hotel with his friend Cletus?"

  She shrugged, far more concerned about her current plight. "I'm just glad you and Artemis came by when you did. They were talking about killing us. Why?"

  "Because I'm a United States marshal, and those men are part of the Doolittle Gang. You, I'm afraid, had the misfortune of getting caught in the middle."

  "The Doolittle Gang. But what about Artemis? Why is he with them, and why did you arrest him?"

  "Artemis"—Morgan leaned as far forward in the seat as the rope would allow—"is a Doolittle."

  She gasped. "But, but how is that possible? He's such a nice young man, and so, I don't know, polite."

  "Whatever else he may be, Artemis is also the fox you hired to guard the henhouse, if my splotchy memory serves me correctly. You did put him in charge of keeping me from being killed by the Doolittle Gang while I still thought my name was Cain Law, did you not?"

  "Oh, my God." Mariah recalled the day in the Durango sheriff's office, remembering particularly how nervous Artemis had been at the time, at how flustered he got when she mentioned the name Doolittle. The gang must have been tracking Cain's every move even then. "Oh, my God."

  "Shush." Morgan glanced toward the door. "Lucky for us, your instincts weren't entirely—"

  The door to the compartment opened, and Morgan quickly sat back against the bench seat, motioning for Mariah to do the same.

  "You folks okay in here?" Artemis asked as he stuck his head inside the room. "I, ah, I'm supposed to stand right outside your door, and keep an eye on you for a spell."

  Morgan canted his head, calling the fox into the henhouse as he whispered, "Are you alone?"

  His eyes huge, Artemis checked both ends of the car. "Ah, yes, sir."

  "Get in here, quick."

  Artemis slipped inside the room and closed the door. "Ah, is your, ah, esthesia all gone, sir?"

  "I never had amnesia." He slid down the bench to make room for the young man, pressing Mariah's legs against the outside wall of the car in the process. "Sit down, son."

  "Yes, sir."

  As Artemis sank down beside him, Morgan explained. "I've been pretending that I couldn't remember anything so I can get the drop on them a little easier. Understand that you've got to keep this information to yourself. Remember your oath?"

  "Right. My sworn oath as your number one deputy."

  "That's right, and now we have work to do." Morgan offered his back to Artemis. "Untie me."

  Mariah, her mouth agog, shot Cain a look suggesting he'd gone mad. "Didn't you just tell me that Artemis is, you know, one of the, ah..."

  Morgan smiled. "I deputized Artemis before we came looking for you. He wants to see these cutthroats brought to justice as much
as I do."

  "That's right, Miss Mariah," said Artemis, untying Morgan's arms. "I'm an honest-to-God deputy for the United States Marshal's Office. Cain made me one last night."

  Incredulous, Mariah rolled her eyes and sank back against the bench seat.

  Morgan, his hands now freed by Artemis, didn't notice her reaction or correct the young man on the use of his bogus name. He quickly untied his feet, and then rewrapped them, making it look as if he were still bound.

  Then he reached down and did the same for Mariah, continuing to explain as he worked. "The gang is planning to rob the train a few miles down the road. They intend to blow up the tracks near Needle Creek to stop the train, but before that, somewhere between there and Elk Park, they plan to throw you and me over the side."

  Mariah shuddered as she recalled the jagged face of the mountainside, the sheer drop to the canyon so far below. She held out her wrists, and as Cain untied them, she said, "What are we going to do? It's not like we can run away or anything."

  "I'm working on it."

  Artemis, who'd gotten up on his own to go check the aisle again, ducked back inside the room. "It's still clear out there."

  Finished with Mariah's bonds, Morgan sat back in his seat and tried to look as if he were still a helpless captive. Then he asked his deputy, "Is there any way you can talk Tubbs or Cletus out of a gun?"

  So proud of himself he thought he might burst, the youngest Doolittle flipped open his coat to reveal Morgan's huge peacemaker buried in the waistband of his trousers. "I asked Tubbs to give it to me in case of an emergency, and he did."

  Chuckling softly, Morgan held out his hand. "I'd say we definitely have us an emergency of the highest order, Deputy."

  After Artemis dropped the weapon onto his palm, Morgan checked the cylinder to make sure the Colt was still loaded. Then he slid the gun between his thigh and the wall of the train, and rewrapped his wrists. "Where's Cletus?"

  "Last time I saw him, he was stretched out in the parlor car."