“Pa!”
“Shh.” She pulled Toby away from the window.
“You gotta do something,” Toby whimpered, “or he’ll hurt Pa.” He sounded close to tears.
“Okay, now listen to me.” She pulled her hands away from his shoulders. “If we’re going to save your pa, we have to stay calm.” She glimpsed outside again before ducking away from the window.
Confound it, where was Rikker? Think. If she could just get close enough to Cotton, perhaps she could disarm or distract him in some way. A dozen different options ran through her mind, but none of them seemed adequate for the task.
If only there was a way of reaching the first floor without using the ladder outside.
She knocked on the wood partition with her fist. It sounded as solid as it looked, but it might be possible to pull a panel away. She just needed a crowbar.
Toby’s tool cache revealed a saw and hammer but no crowbar. She stepped on something: Toby’s slingshot.
She rushed to the window again, careful not to expose herself. Cotton had a gun all right; no question. But what was Garrett doing with a shovel?
As if reading her mind, Toby said, “Uncle Charlie is making Pa dig a grave.”
It was a chilling thought.
She considered the area below, estimating distances and possible covers. Sneaking up on Cotton wouldn’t be easy, but neither would it be impossible.
She reached for the slingshot on the floor and shoved it into Toby’s hands.
“Don’t let your uncle come up that ladder. Do you understand what I’m saying? If he tries, use your slingshot.”
Dear God, she was asking a boy to bring down a giant with a slingshot. Not that it hadn’t been done before, but still… Toby stared down at the slingshot in his hands.
She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m counting on you, pumpkin.”
If Rikker knew what she was planning, he would have a fit. He never liked a plan with less than a fifty percent chance of success. She preferred closer to seventy-five. She gave this one a ten.
The hardest part would be climbing down the ladder. Even if she reached the ground safely, she would be exposed for a good fifteen or twenty feet before reaching the privy.
Five. She gave her plan a five.
She upgraded her plan to an eight upon reaching the ground unseen. Cotton’s back was still turned and Garrett was still digging. Cotton shouted something, but she couldn’t hear what he said.
On the count of three, she raced a straight line and dived behind the privy. Peering around the stone facade, she took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. So far, so good.
Had Garrett spotted her? It was hard to know. He was half turned away from her, so it was possible. She glanced back at the barn window. Fortunately the sun slanted off the roof, making it difficult to see the loft window clearly. If she couldn’t see Toby, then neither could Cotton.
Was that a bird call? She strained her ears but couldn’t be sure. If it was Rikker, where was he? Behind the barn? The house? Where?
She pulled out her gun but decided to give Rikker another minute or two to make his move.
Garrett said something, and Cotton inched closer. Garrett swung his shovel, hitting Cotton on the chest. Cotton’s gun flew out of his hands and landed in the newly dug hole.
Surprised by the sudden turn of events, Maggie left her hiding place and ran toward the battling men.
Garrett swung the shovel again, but this time Cotton was ready. He dodged, and the spade hit the ground. Before Garrett could recover, Cotton barreled into him headfirst, and the two fell.
“Stop!” she yelled, gun aimed.
Cotton glanced up, his mouth twisted, and she advanced forward. He rolled away from Garrett, jumped to his feet, and ran. She fired and missed.
Hoping Rikker would take care of Cotton, she advanced toward Garrett, dropping by his side, knees first. “Are you all right?”
He squinted at her. “What are you doing here?”
She grinned. “Looks like I’m the one saving you this time. Can you get up?”
“I think so.” He was winded but not seriously injured. Hand on his jaw, he groaned then struggled to sit upright.
“Take it easy.” She holstered her gun and pulled a clean handkerchief from her sleeve. “How did you get out of jail?” she asked, dabbing his forehead.
“Cotton. He has some crazy idea that I know where some money is hidden.”
A surge of guilt rushed through her. The plan she and Rikker had cooked up put Garrett’s and Toby’s lives in danger. She had underestimated Cotton, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Thank God you’re all right. Can you stand?”
“Hold it right there.” It was Cotton again, and this time he had a shotgun. “Drop your gun.”
When she didn’t move, he repeated the order, this time louder. “I said drop it!”
She laid her weapon on the ground. “You’re not going to get away with this, Cotton.” She spoke louder than necessary for her partner’s benefit. If Rikker was anywhere in the vicinity, now was the time for him to show his face.
“I’ve done all right so far,” Cotton said. “Just tell me where the money is, and we can all get along.”
“There isn’t any money. We found all of it.”
“You said—” His eyes glittered. “You tricked me.” He leveled his gun. “I don’t like to be tricked.”
She had to keep him talking. “It’s over, Cotton. We know you and your partner robbed the train.”
“My partner?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, the one Detective Greenwood is interviewing as we speak.”
His smirk turned into an ugly grin. “Greenwood’s dead.”
Air rushed from her lungs. Rikker’s dead? God, no. Please don’t let it be true. But it would certainly explain Rikker’s absence. Only from years of training and experience was she able to put her emotions aside and focus. Garrett’s and Toby’s lives—and her own—depended on keeping her wits and thinking clearly.
“You killed him,” she said, her steady voice belying the devastation she felt. “Just like you killed your sister.”
She felt Garrett stiffen by her side, but it was Cotton who commanded her attention.
Surprise crossed his face. “You think I killed my sister? Why would I do a thing like that?”
“Maybe because she’d hidden the money from you.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know that until after her accident. The town was swarming with US marshals, and I didn’t want to keep the money at the boardinghouse. I told my sister someone kept going through my room. She agreed to let me store my things at her house until I made other arrangements.”
“Other arrangements meaning to leave town,” she said.
“Yeah, but I thought it would look suspicious if I left right away.”
“What was Katherine doing outside that night?” Garrett demanded, his face marked with loathing.
“How am I supposed to know? All I knew was that she was dead and the money was gone. I thought—”
“What did you think?” Maggie asked. He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. “You thought Garrett had killed her and hidden the money.”
“It doesn’t matter what I thought.”
“It matters to me!” Garrett snapped, his voice as hard as his face.
She could feel his tension build, and she didn’t want him doing anything foolish. “No one killed Katherine,” she said, gently. “It was an accident.”
Garrett’s head spun toward her. “How do you know that?”
“Yes, how do you know that?” Cotton repeated.
“You’re the only one who knew she had the money. So unless you came back that night—”
“I didn’t.”
Somehow Maggie believed him. “I think Katherine discovered what was in the satchel and didn’t want it in the house with the children. Or maybe she was afraid you’d come back for it before she had a chance to turn it over to the sheriff.�
�
“She wouldn’t do that. I was family. She loved me.” His face turned red, and his eyes took on a strange, wild look.
With her peripheral vision, Maggie checked the position of the gun at her feet. She would have preferred Cotton’s Colt, but that was at the bottom of the hole. Her derringer would have to do. If only she could find a way to distract him.
“Enough talk,” Cotton said. He held the shotgun straight out with his finger on the trigger.
Something whizzed by Maggie’s head and hit Cotton square on the chest—a rock. He jerked back and his arm shot upward, followed by a blast.
Maggie dived for the gun, but Garrett’s hand got there first. Before either of them could pick it up, they were staring down the muzzle of Cotton’s shotgun.
Chapter 39
The rope cut into Maggie’s wrists and ankles. Seated on a chair back-to-back with Garrett, she glanced around the parlor looking for something—anything—that could be used to escape.
Wiggling her body in an effort to loosen the cords brought an immediate protest from Garrett.
“Ow! That hurts,” he grated over his shoulder. “Can’t you keep still? It’s like being tied to a bronco. What are you doing?”
Maggie clenched her teeth. “I’m exercising my God-given right to escape.”
“You think you’re going to break through these ropes?” Garrett asked.
“Did last time.”
“Last…? How many times have you been tied up?”
“This is only my third time,” she admitted.
“Third!”
“I know it seems like a lot.”
“Drat, Maggie! For the average person, once would be a lot.”
Cotton made her tie up Garrett first, and that was a blessing. It allowed her to plant her metal Pinkerton badge between her palms before Cotton got around to her. It was just a matter of twisting her hands until she was able to cut through the rope with the badge’s sharp edge. Unfortunately, Cotton had tied her in such a way that this was easier said than done.
“Escaping isn’t usually so hard.” She spoke through gritted teeth. Talking helped her stay focused. “Providing you remember to expand your muscles while being tied up. It also helps if the rope is old. Even Samson said he would be weakened by a new rope.”
“Samson?”
“Yeah, you know, the hairy man in the Bible.” In an effort to work her badge in position, she twisted her wrists until tears sprang into her eyes.
“Yeah, well, ole hairy didn’t have to contend with a former Andersonville prisoner.”
Holding the badge between two fingers she sawed back and forth. She could hardly move her hands, so she didn’t expect to see much progress. At least not for a while.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“We learned a trick or two from our rebel guards about tying people up.”
“Rikker was the real expert. I just wish he was here.” Just thinking of her partner filled her with such pain she could hardly breathe. “He always knew how to escape.”
She felt Garrett jerk and heard his intake of breath. “Maggie, I’m sorry about Greenwood.”
She blinked away the tears, and anger ripped through her. This was supposed to be a simple, routine job. Now she’d lost the best partner and friend she’d ever had and ever hoped to have.
She shook her head. Mustn’t think about that. There would be time enough later to grieve. Right now she had to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Of all the women I could have chosen as a bride,” Garrett said, as if talking to himself.
Her hand stilled. “How many women answered your ad?”
“I don’t know. A few dozen.”
She moistened her lips. “Why did you pick me?”
“I liked your handwriting,” he said, his voice hoarse.
For some reason his answer affected her deeply. The principal had dictated each carefully chosen word, but it was her own hand that caught Garrett’s attention.
Gripping the shield until her fingers ached, she continued sawing. “How’d Cotton spring you from jail?”
“With a gun. He kept muttering something about money. I didn’t know what he was talking about. But then he saw where the earth had been turned over and was convinced that I had buried it. Where do you suppose he got a cockamamie idea like that?”
She blew out her breath. “I’m afraid he got it from Rikker and me. We were trying to force his hand.”
“You forced his hand all right.”
“Why don’t you just come out and say it? You blame me for everything that happened.” She certainly blamed herself.
“I’m just as much to blame,” he said quietly.
She stilled. “Why do you say that?”
“When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And you—”
Her vision blurred with tears, but still she resumed sawing. She’d played her part well—too well. And they both fell into the trap she’d set. Oh, God, where are You? Why do You feel so far away? Do You blame me, too?
She paused to rest her sore fingers. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” she whispered.
“Yeah, you did. You wanted to prove that I did the things they say. Prove me guilty.”
“You’re wrong.” She tightened her grip on her shield. “From the moment I set eyes on you, I wanted to prove you innocent.”
“Why?”
“Because…” There were so many reasons why, it was impossible to choose just one. Never had she met a man quite like him. Not only was he the kindest man she’d ever known, her body fairly tingled whenever he walked into the room, and he was the reason she smiled in her dreams.
“Because of the children,” she said aloud. Admitting the real reason would only result in more rejection. Forcing herself to breathe beneath the confines of the rope, she suddenly remembered something. Toby!
Panicky now, she frantically sawed, but with little progress. At this rate it could take all night.
She felt something snap and, looking over her shoulder, saw Garrett rise out of his chair.
Her mouth fell open. “How’d you do that? How did you get free?”
“You’d be amazed what you can learn in prison if you put your mind to it.” He lifted a stocking foot. “Fortunately, Cotton forgot to remove my shoes before he tied me up.” Garrett wore the easy slip-off type, an advantage over her high-button boots, and had slipped his feet right out of his shoes and then the ropes.
“Speaking of shoes, would you mind reaching into my boot for my knife?”
He dropped on one knee in front of her and reached into the shaft of her boot. The heat of his fingers reached all the way down to her toes. Knife in hand, his eyes held hers for a moment before cutting her free.
“Now what?” he asked.
She rubbed her sore wrists, but before she could answer, she heard something. Someone was coming. Garrett heard it, too, and he held a finger to his mouth.
Ever so quietly she rose from the chair and grabbed the poker from the fireplace. Thus armed, she flung herself against the wall separating the parlor from the kitchen and held her breath.
Chapter 40
Toby burst out of the kitchen. “Pa!” He cleared the distance in an instant and threw himself in his father’s arms.
More footsteps and a voice entered the room first. “You can put the weapon down, Duffy.”
She dropped the poker. “Rikker?”
He stepped through the doorway and grinned. “The one and only.”
Without thinking, she flung her arms around his grizzly neck.
“Whoa,” Rikker said, looking embarrassed. She pulled away, blubbering like a kid whose candy had been stolen.
Rikker handed her a handkerchief. “Sorry to be late for the party,” he said. “I would have gotten here sooner, but I was detained.”
She wiped her tears away. “Cotton said you were dead.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “You didn’t fall for th
at old trick, did you?”
“Of course not,” she said with a sniffle. She should have known. Telling a hostage a loved one was dead was one way to ensure compliance. “So where were you?”
“Visiting the stars,” he said. “Someone hit me over the head, but fortunately your friend Linc found me. I’d have gotten here sooner, but I met Cotton coming the other way.”
“You met Cotton?” Garrett asked.
“I did, and I gave him two choices. Either turn himself in like a gentleman or die like a coward. Unfortunately, the man had no sense of pride.”
“This generation of criminals never does,” she said.
According to Pinkerton files, no crime was more hazardous than holdup robberies; two-thirds of those engaging in such crimes died with their boots on. Too bad Cotton failed to beat the odds. Now they might never learn the name of his partner.
“Looks like he took a bit of you with him,” she said. Rikker had a nasty-looking lump on his forehead.
He touched his wound and then wiped the blood off his fingertips with a handkerchief. “I owe this to a certain young man who decided to give David from the Bible a bit of competition.”
Garrett stared over his son’s head. “Toby did that?”
Toby pulled out of his father’s arms. “I heard him coming up the ladder, and I thought he was Uncle Charlie.”
“You did good, Toby,” Maggie said. “Especially when you tried to save us from your uncle.” The rock had barely missed Maggie’s head, but it hit Cotton dead center on the chest.
Hand on his son’s shoulder, Garrett stared down at him. “We have you to thank for that?”
Toby nodded, and Garrett broke into a grin. “Well, now. What do you know?” He hugged his son again.
“Do you have to go back to jail, Pa?”
“I don’t know, son.” He leveled a look straight at Maggie.
“Do I?” She glanced at Rikker. “I’m afraid that’s up to the judge.”
Toby pulled out of his father’s arms and grinned at her. “Instead of going to the moon, I’m gonna be a detective just like you and Mr. Greenwood.”
Maggie smiled and ruffled his hair. “That sounds like a good plan,” she said. A hundred percent plan.
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