Velma’s eyes grew wide and blood seeped out her mouth.
* * *
Burke hoped Lexie would stay down—it was the safest place for her. He and his brother hadn’t done the riverboat hustle for ten years, but it came naturally to them both. At this point, they each had two pistols, taken from the fallen scoundrels.
At Burke’s signal, they each fired their right pistol while tossing the left to each other. With the mirrors reflecting the other mirrors, it looked as if pistols were flying all over the place.
Burke signaled his brother again, this time for another of their routines. Patrick saw it and promptly threw his voice, “Psst! Over here!” then Burke threw his voice, “No, over here!” confusing Wardell’s people, who looked around, confused by the mirrors and the jumping voices.
Their panic rising, the henchmen shot at mirrors randomly and soon only a few of the mirrors remained, but Burke and Patrick would use whatever deception and misdirection they could think of.
Burke had to extract Lexie from the line of fire. Patrick had to rescue her sister.
Wardell had disappeared into one of the rooms along the hallway with Helen. Burke knew there was no other way out than through the hall, so to escape, Wardell would have to go through them, using Helen as a shield.
What worried Burke was whether or not Wardell would kill Helen to eliminate baggage, making for a speedier getaway. He’d be just as dead. Neither O’Shaughnessy brother was about to let Wardell off without paying the ultimate price.
Four men and Velma lay dead or wounded in the hallway, Lexie sitting on the floor, staring at her former housekeeper’s body. Just as Burke suspected, Wardell barged into the hall holding Helen in front of him with his left arm wrapped around her neck.
Toulson picked that moment to raise his own derringer and point it directly at Lexie. His hand shook, covered with the blood spreading on his pants.
The building vibrated from the roll of the kettle drums as the orchestra struck up the prelude to the death aria.
Burke saw Toulson look into one of the final intact mirrors and point a second derringer. He must have thought he saw Burke and fired, but it was a mirror—and it shattered. Burke strode down the hall, glowering into Toulson’s eyes.
“Don’t shoot,” the slimy rat begged as he crabwalked backward on two legs and one elbow. “I never meant to hurt your whore!”
Burke stood directly over Toulson, and without remorse, fired four shots into his gut.
* * *
At the same time, Gil and Charity knew better than to get in the way, but they also knew enough to be available should the O’Shaughnessy brothers need assistance. The best way to do that was to visit the saloon at the opera house.
Charity had sneaked into the wardrobe room and donned the costume of a Valkyrie. She returned to the bar still wearing the costume. A little slimmer than the usual lady performer, she clanked some as she moved around. “I saw at least half a dozen men, and then we know there’s Wardell and Velma, so that makes eight.”
Gil slid a drink her way. “Do you think Burke and Patrick can best seven men?”
“Have you seen the opera Die Walküre?” Charity asked Gil.
“Yes, it’s pretty spectacular.”
A shotgun blast shattered the bar mirror from the back. All the saloon patrons hit the floor. Gil shielded Charity but a shard of glass of slashed his scalp.
The last thing Gil heard was the thunder of the Valkyries.
* * *
Dayton Wardell, with Helen in a tight chokehold, blasted the wall with his shotgun as he backed toward the door. He had one shell left by Burke’s count. Burke worried that his brother, Lexie, or Helen might get in the way of that last shell. At this proximity, the shot would be fatal.
He could shoot with the best of them, but Wardell held Helen’s head directly in front of his. Lexie, a woman of exceedingly good sense, had escaped into a dressing room when Burke had distracted all the shooters by his ruthless march on Toulson. Patrick was down the hall somewhere, Burke wasn’t sure where, but hoped he had a better shot at Wardell.
Wardell walked backward, one step at a time, aiming his shotgun at anything that moved. Helen’s red face and bug eyes worried Burke—she couldn’t go long without air. Apparently, Patrick didn’t have a clean shot, either, because Wardell made good progress—now only ten feet from the outside door.
Then in an instant, everything changed. Wardell tumbled and fell, Lexie dashed out of the nearest room and snatched the shotgun, and Patrick leapt from the room on the other side of the hall and grabbed Helen, so Burke charged down the hall at full speed and tackled Wardell.
Wardell hollered and kicked and spat, and tried to gouge Burke’s eyes out—but Wardell wasn’t the only one who knew how to fight dirty. When Wardell started to get up, Burke tripped him and on the way down, kicked his leg under to the side so Wardell’s knee went the opposite direction with an audible crack.
Wardell screeched in agony.
* * *
The town marshal frowned at Burke, then studied Lexie, Patrick, Helen, Gil, and Charity in turn, all in various stages of disorder. “Now let me get this straight. Miss Alexandra Campbell found a theater hook, the ones used to drag performers off the stage, and hooked Wardell with it, then Mr. Patrick O’Shaughnessy rescued Miss Helen Campbell, giving Mr. Burke O’Shaughnessy the opportunity to beat the crap out of Wardell.”
Lexie nodded. “Yes, sir.” She straightened her jacket. “That’s how it was.”
The marshal studied the shambles of the hallway and scratched his head.
“Plus, two other men and a woman killed, and four men wounded, one who’ll be dead in a matter of days if not hours.”
Burke sat back in his chair. “My preference is he suffers a couple of days. And that would be nothing compared to the pain he’s inflicted upon others.”
“We’ll clean out the pockets of the dead men, Toulson, and Wardell to pay for the damages to the opera house and saloon, but you’ll have to come up with the rest.”
“A small price to pay for the safety of our women,” Burke said, lighting a cigar.
“I wonder if Mr. Piper would be interested in a fundraiser,” Helen suggested. “I’d be willing to play the piano for them, and if Mr. Piper would like me to audition, I’d be happy to do so.”
“Great idea!” Lexie said. “You play the piano, Burke and Patrick could do magic, and I could, um, keep the books.”
“Charity could sing,” Burke said. “She has quite a wonderful voice.”
“And Gil can do magic as well.”
“Maybe Mr. Piper would let us do some matinees. We could let the kids in free as long as an adult brings them, then once we hook the adults, we could do a show for them.”
The marshal stood. “You’re all free to go. Piper lives next door to the opera house. I suggest you make your arrangements right away.” As they were filing out, he said, “By the way, there’s a preacher taking his ease over in the Bucket of Blood if you’d like to make honest women of these fine ladies.”
* * *
Burke and Lexie, Patrick and Helen, and Gil and Charity commandeered one of the poker tables while the good reverend finished his latest round of bull shots.
Burke slapped his brother on the shoulder. “I guess this is none too soon, considering you’re about to make me an uncle.”
Patrick wrinkled his brow, frowned, then stared at Helen. “What?”
Helen’s face flushed. “ I’m not... um, actually, we haven’t... um...”
Lexie didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. “You mean to tell me you’re not in a family way? Why did you tell me that?”
“So you wouldn’t shoot Patrick when he came back to get me.”
Burke left and squeezed Lexie’s shoulder. “Instead, she shot a hole in my three-dollar hat. Luckiest thing ever happened to me.”
The preacher staggered up to the table. “I understand you folks is wanting to get hitched.”
> “That would be us,” Burke said. “Three couples—me and my fiancée Lexie, my brother and his fiancée Helen, and our sister and her fiancé, Gil.”
“Never you mind all those details. I’ll sit here.” The preacher collapsed in a chair beside Gil. “You put your names on these papers.” He dealt the marriage certificates with the skill of a thoroughbred. “Take ‘em down to the Storey County Courthouse in the morning. I now pronounce you man and wife.” He looked around with his bloodshot eyes. “Ain’t anyone gonna buy me a drink?”
Burke ordered a round for the table, Patrick ordered a round for the house, and Gil ordered a powwow—for the three couples only. They congregated in the corner of the Bucket of Blood.
“I’ll call it good because I’m not waiting one more day to make Charity my wife. My guess is you two fellows are thinking along the same lines.”
Burke squeezed Lexie’s hand. In less than two weeks, he’d changed her world. Instead of trudging through life, each day held promise for adventure and love.
“But this isn’t good enough for our ladies,” Gil continued. “I suggest we plan a trip to Washington, DC, where our new wives can have a real wedding, and where my brother and his wife can see how lucky they are to have daughters as wonderful as Alexandra and Helen. I also want to show off my beautiful Charity.”
Epilogue
Burke rented a private rail car to take his bride back East, and recommended Patrick do the same. For once, Lexie didn’t worry about the money—he hoped she was thinking about other things, such as what they’d be doing in that private car for four or five days. Gil also rented one, since his own private car was narrow-gauge.
In St. Louis, Burke helped Lexie out of the car—it was time for her to meet his mother, and for he and Patrick to claim their inheritance.
“Relax, Lexie-girl. You’re squeezing my arm off.” He chuckled and patted her hand.
“Think she’s going to like me?”
“She’ll love you. Helen, too.”
Burke followed the directions his mother had written in the letter, to a row of red brick houses built just a few feet from each other. Each house resembled its neighbors to the degree that Burke wondered if the residents ever got confused as to which one was theirs.
“We should’ve visited more often,” Patrick murmured.
Burke felt the same, but their mother had her reasons for keeping them away. She’d retired to a “normal” life with her second husband after their father had died, complete with church socials and quilting bees. When they came to the house he was pretty sure was hers, he knocked.
A servant girl answered. “You must be Mrs. Eason’s son.” She peered around him. “And her other son.”
“Yes, I’m Burke, here with my brother, Patrick. May we come in?”
“Oh, yes.” She left the door open and Burke held Lexie’s hand as he led the way through a narrow corridor behind the maid, who stopped at a doorway. “Mrs. Eason, your sons are here. Want I should cook extra supper?”
“Yes, dear.” Her voice sounded weak, and Burke worried she was in worse shape than he’d thought. “Show them in.”
She sat in a chair with her feet on a hassock, and even though it was stifling hot, had a quilt over her lap and a shawl around her shoulders.
“Good to see you, boys.” She smiled and held her arms out for her hugs. Burke was half afraid he’d break her so was careful not to squeeze hard, but he was happy to see her.
“You’re beautiful as ever, Ma.”
“You’re as full of it as ever, Burke.” She grinned and held her arms out to Patrick. After he bent over and kissed her on the forehead, she said, “Charity Ann, your turn.”
“Mrs. Eason, I’ve missed you!” Charity practically ran to her, a tear in her eye. Burke had no idea she’d missed their mother so much.
“And I, you, my girl.” She straightened her shoulders. “We have business, but first I want to know who your friends are.”
Burke put his arm around Lexie. “Ma, meet my wife, Alexandra Campbell O’Shaughnessy. We call her Lexie.”
“A beautiful woman, indeed. Your capper?”
Lexie smiled. “I’ll do in a pinch, but I’m no competition to Charity. Actually, I don’t do much of anything, although I was hired by Cedar Crest College as an assistant professor.”
“Ah, a smart one. That’s good, because Burke could never put up with most women for long, but I see you have him hooked and netted.”
Lexie stepped back and Patrick brought Helen forward. “And this is my wife, Helen Campbell O’Shaughnessy.”
“Do you call her Hell?” His mother laughed at her own joke.
Patrick laughed, too, dodging Helen’s elbow. “I suppose that would be about right.” He pointed to the piano. “Want her to play for you? She’s a wonderful pianist.”
“I’d love it, just as soon as we get our business done and can relax.” To Helen she said, “Are you and Lexie sisters?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His mother nodded at Charity. “And your guest?”
“Mr. Gillespie Campbell, my husband.”
“You, too?”
“Yes, we all got married around a poker table in Virginia City last week.”
Burke told his mother the whole story. Well, not quite all of it, but all she needed to know.
“What a grand adventure!” She clapped her hands and grinned. “This turned out much better than I expected. Now, not to spoil your dinner, but I have news for you—there’s no money. When I cash in, my husband will retain the house, but of course any baubles I have that you want, you can have.”
“None?” Patrick asked.
“None,” their mother repeated.
Burke couldn’t believe it. Skinned by his own mother! He started laughing, then Patrick joined in, as did Charity and Gil. Only the Campbell sisters were not amused, and they gaped, which made Burke laugh all the more.
“You don’t know how the O’Shaughnessy humor warms my heart,” she said. “Yep, I played the biggest game of all and won, because I tricked the three people dearest to my heart to come home for one last visit before my ticker gives out.”
They had a nice dinner, then Helen played the piano for an hour, but by then, his mother showed signs of tiring.
“Go on and enjoy your wedded bliss. I’m assuming you have a place to spend the night—there’s no use staying here, and my husband will take good care of me,” she said. “But there’s one thing I want you to know before I sit in on the Big Game. Charity really is your sister.”
At first the three siblings were stunned, then they all laughed and hugged. Charity was the first to sober up. “But why the deception?”
“A very rich man attacked me and you were the result. He paid big money to keep my husband and me quiet, and would’ve paid even bigger money if I’d have given you up, which of course I’d never do, but know this—Roarke O’Shaughnessy loved you as his own daughter. Anyway, as long as Roland Templeton was alive, I couldn’t claim my daughter as my own. He died the first part of June, and I wasn’t in good enough health to find all of you, so I hatched a plan guaranteed to get all of you here.”
Despite their mother’s protestations, they stayed a couple days in St. Louis, visiting her for what they all knew could be the last time. Finally, she kicked them down the road. “It’s time to start new lives—all of you—and it’s not going to happen if you’re hovering over my sick bed. Now scram.”
* * *
Lexie and Burke spent most of the trip from St. Louis to Washington, DC in bed, the best trip she’d ever had.
Burke tweaked her nose. “Do you still want me to marry your sister?”
“Nope.” Lexie pushed the covers down and ran her hands over Burke’s naked chest. “I decided to keep you for myself—field research, you see.”
“Speaking of field research, you should send the college a wire telling them you’ll be late.”
“I’m sending them a wire telling them to hire someone e
lse. My dream was misdirected—I found a new dream—a magic man.”
“In that case, I have something to give you.” He reached for his hat on the nightstand, pulled out the liner, and handed her his lucky hundred-dollar bill.
The End
Author’s Note
I’ve always loved Heart’s wonderful song, Magic Man—you know, the man with the magic hands. It’s a great song and what a hero! Combine that song with James Garner’s Maverick and mash it up with Phantom of the Opera, and you’ve got Sleight of Heart.
This story is a work of fiction and I freely admit to playing fast and loose with the facts, although there was a lot of research involved. Bending facts is called literary license. Since there’s a name for it, I figure it’s a legitimate practice.
A lot of the travel information came from a book that was published in 1883, The Crest of the Continent: A Summer’s Railroad Ramble Through the Rocky Mountains, by Ernest Ingersoll. This is a wonderful book and describes the people and places along the way. It includes maps and pictures that provided invaluable insight for writing my own work of fiction.
One thing that’s genuine is the constant reference to soot and ashes while riding on a train. Another author, Judith Laik, and I rode the narrow-gauge train from Silverton to Durango a few years back. In less than two hours, we were covered with soot and when I washed my hair, the water turned black. That trip was downhill—the trip from Durango to Silverton is all uphill and takes four hours. I’m told that the soot is really heavy on that trip since it’s not only longer, but the locomotive has to work doubly hard. You can just imagine how Lexie would feel after riding twelve hours on the train.
When Lexie and Burke get to Manitou Springs and Denver, I make mention of Soapy Smith, who was a real person and controlled the bunco games in and around Denver during that year. He’s an interesting character. Named Jefferson Randolph Smith II, he had a knack for organization and created the most well-known bunco gang, called the Soap Gang, in the Old West. His activities were widespread, not just in Denver, and besides his bunco activities, he was also known as a generous donor to charities. You can learn more about him at http://www.soapysmith.net.
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