In Danger's Shadow: Cassandra Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 2)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  It was not long until smoke was coming in from the back wall, between the boards. There were also flames rising along the outside wall near the window. She turned in a circle to check the room one more time. She ignored the wall she knew adjoined the store room where St. John had been murdered and looked at the wall that she knew separated the office from the dressing room and she remembered the loose board. On the other side of the wall. Cassandra stepped back and hurriedly began to try and calculate where the loose board would be on the other side of the wall.

  She wished she had Honor Elizabeth with her at her side. Her dusky sister had a razor-sharp mind when it came to mental challenges like this, seemingly at odds with her personality as a breezy debutante. Honor, however, was back at Cedar Ledge, and she would have to do this herself. She took her best guess on where it would be before yanking a poker that hung by the fireplace out of its holder and beginning to work on the board she had chosen. To her relief and delight the poker managed to pull the board free enough for her to peer behind it and see she had guessed correctly, the loose board in her dressing room was on the other side and she could even see through the slit and make out her clothes hanging where she had left them. Wasting no time, she pried the board free and began beating on the loose board to the dressing room until it too cracked. Using all her strength she seized it and began to work it loose. Finally, it gave away and she started on the next one.

  “If I can just pry enough of these loose, I’ll live to see tomorrow…and Chris,” she muttered as she worked the boards. To her relief, she had finally broken or pried loose enough boards to make a small opening between the rooms and just in time. The room was getting hot, and more and more smoke was pouring in. Before climbing through she quickly returned to the still open safe and grabbed Driscoll’s record book. With relief beyond measure, and more than a few scratches, she emerged through the hole into the dressing room with her guns shoved once more into the small of her back, thankful for shoddy construction.

  With dread, she looked back through the hole to see Driscoll’s office fully involved. For a second she glanced at the book under her arm. Cleary, he had a lucrative operation going on if he was willing to let his men destroy the dance hall just to ensure her silence.

  She took a last look at the inferno on the other side of the wall thinking their skills extend from rustling to arson as well. Putting those thoughts aside, she went to the window of the dressing room that opened out onto the alley on the other side of the dance hall.

  “Now you get what’s coming to you!” She said with a fierce smile as she slipped out her dressing room window making her way around the building to the street. She saw Driscoll approaching a sheriff and behind him, on a horse, was Chris! She felt relief as well as a longing for the man, but she pushed that aside, deciding that she still had work to do. Romance came later.

  “Sheriff McCaffrey you’ve arrived in Leland Gulch just in time! My dance hall caught fire, but I’m afraid you are too late to help save my new singer! She’s burning up in there right now!” Driscoll said to the sheriff. A furious Chris leaped off his horse, balling his fists. That was the time to show herself, she knew, before he endured any further grief at the thought of her “death.”

  Cassandra strolled casually past Driscoll and right up to the sheriff, handing him the documents she had managed to escape with.

  “Don’t call the undertaker just yet. Read these documents, Sheriff. I saved them and myself. It’s in Driscoll’s handwriting, a record of his long-distance cattle rustling operations!” She told the man as he took the documents in surprise.

  Driscoll’s wide bulging eyes were soon joined by a trembling chin and lips as well as he processed that “Kelly” had not been consumed by the flames but had just handed over the keys to his destruction.

  “Give me that!” Driscoll shouted, checking his fear and giving into his impulse for self-preservation as he savagely tried to shove Cassandra aside to get to the papers.

  “I won’t let him ever touch you again, Cassandra!” She heard Chris cry out. As furious as he was, even his anger couldn’t match hers for the attempt on her life and the murder of the marshal. Cassandra gently placed her palm on her chest holding him back and turned to a surprised Driscoll with a condescending smile.

  “Thanks, but I think I can handle this wannabe cattle rustling king myself!” she told him, “This is for Marshal St. John. You knew him as Samuels!” She shouted as she punched Driscoll in the nose. He cried out as his nose broke, and she hit him again, causing him to stagger back onto his rear. By then, the sheriff had stepped forward and held his gun pointed at Driscoll. Letting out a sigh Driscoll knew when to fold a losing hand.

  “Alright, alright, I’ll confess. I was the leader of the rustlers and I killed Samuels!” he said weakly.

  “You’re wise to confess, Driscoll. That way you may get only a life sentence,” the sheriff said and Driscoll was astounded.

  “What?” He cried as the sheriff hauled him up and away.

  Everything happened so fast; it was almost impossible to believe it was happening. Cassandra walked to the other side of the street after the sheriff disappeared with Driscoll, smiling as Chris came up to her. They stood there each with a warm grin on their face until Chris ended the silence.

  “So, what happens next, Cassie?” He asked, standing close to her. She liked him standing there, but reminded herself of her work. She had other priorities to take care of though her heart cried to be with him at that very moment.

  “Well, Chris, I have to go to my hotel room and write up a report and then get it off by telegram to the governor. I’ll probably be pretty late into the night writing it. He has to know what happened to Marshal St. John. Then I should leave in the morning. Before I left on my mission I made a promise to spend time with my sisters. We’re taking a trip to Santa Fe to buy some stuff for our ranch. It’ a promise I have to keep. I’m sorry,” she said and really meant it.

  “We all have things we must do, my lovely lady. Let me buy you breakfast before you go. We can use that an opportunity to make plans for when you can come back once your promise is fulfilled,” he said, and she felt her heart swell. He wanted to see her again as much as she wished to see him. Some days, life was just too good, she thought, hugging him happily before heading back to work.

  PART TWO

  * * *

  Heartbreak

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  The following morning, Cassandra found herself still basking in amazement about just how much she had become smitten with Christopher Thorpe. With few exceptions, she and her sisters had always taken a very casual approach when it came to men…or women, as usually was the case with Catalina. They always had their fun, but then there was always the time to move on once things had run their course as her recent experience with the silver miner from Colorado flitted through her mind. With Chris though, there was something different that made her want that tether the Wildes always avoided.

  It was unfortunate that she had to leave town so soon, but he had bought her breakfast and she was planning on coming back to see him again as soon as she was able. They promised to keep in touch as he walked her to the stable to get her horse. He was a complete gentleman and she appreciated that. She had wished there had been time to make love once again before she left.

  As they stepped off the front porch of the hotel, where they had taken their meal, the pair walked into the street and she turned to tell him about all the admiration she felt for him. It was while she parted her lips to tell it all that a shot rang out and the man next to her fell forward to the ground as a gasp escaped his throat.

  “Chris!” She shouted and spun, both guns coming out at the speed of thought. She turned fast enough to see a cowboy waving and pointing up at a second-floor window of the hotel.

  “The shot came from there!” the man shouted her, while at her feet Chris’s body writhed in the dirt and to her horror he began coughing from his mouth.
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  Looking up with her head spinning, Cassandra saw smoke from a gun barrel at the same time that she heard more shots. Nothing hit her, but the rapid gunshots also prevented her from checking up on Chris. She began shooting towards the shadow in the window as Chris’s body jerked from a second bullet, the others burying themselves in the ground around them.

  “Damn you to hell!” she yelled. “I can’t see the coward, but I hope some of this lead takes his murdering head off!” She cried out as she nearly emptied both guns. She heard a cry come from the window and finally felt a surge of accomplishment.

  Some hotel workers including the young clerk and the burly baggage handler had heard the gunshots and had hurried into the street. As soon as the shots halted, they rushed towards Chris’ body and began to tend to his gunshots, pressing a rag over his wounds in a futile attempt to keep him from bleeding out.

  “I think I hit him!” She hollered to them. “I’m going upstairs to get him!” she said just as she ran across the street shoving more bullets from her gun belt into the empty chambers while in motion leaving her ready to go again.

  She was at least glad that her undercover work was over. It allowed her to wear her hat, trousers, and holsters. Not to mention she didn’t care to be running about in dresses, which was difficult at best, though Honor somehow made it look easy.

  Cassandra got to the room and it was empty. She examined the window area and nodded to herself as the hotel proprietor came in with his wife and several men.

  “I hit him alright. There is blood on the floor, but no body!” She told the owner, frustrated. “Who would have it in for Chris? He’s a good man?”

  “Maybe Chris can tell you, Miss Wilde. He was still alive when we came up after you,” the hotelman told her.

  Cassandra nodded, racing down the stairwell taking to skipping over steps as she flew with the hotelier and his wife trailing behind her. As they left the hotel and into the street, she saw Doctor Nels Fitzroy bending over Chris’ body.

  “How is he, Doc?” The owner’s wife called out as they dashed towards the crowd that was beginning to gather. A lump was forming in Cassie’s throat because this time it wasn’t a vile, despicable man like the Daylight Dandy lying there. It was Christopher Thorpe, soldier, POW, piano player, a gentleman that she had grown to care for so much in such a short amount of time.

  “He is gone. There was nothing I could do after that second shot. Must have severed an artery. Poor lad! Did you discover anything?” the doctor said with a shake of his head, his eye rheumy as he looked up at them grimly.

  Cassandra didn’t even hear the question. She ran the last few feet and knelt next to her man. She felt a welling up of grief and an even stronger rage as her neck corded and her lips drew back, baring her teeth as she fought to contain a guttural cry of despair.

  She shook his body several times, but he was unmoving, the silence of death having settled over him. He was gone. Her Chris had been killed. She seethed silently, and shook off Molly’s attempt to soothe her by touching her shoulder before finally reaching over to close his eyes. The crowd around her fell silent as she subsequently closed her own eyes, taking a few deep breaths. She was going to get the bastard that did this, she told herself as she finally stood and stared at the doctor.

  “I must have hit the shooter before he got away. Anybody at all comes your way for treatment I want to know about it! You understand that? Now you’ve been the family physician a long time, Doc. Did anybody hate Chris?” She questioned the doctor in a low voice. She still wanted to scream, but knew she had to keep her control.

  “Well, there was some folks who were envious when Pop Thorpe made his gold strike. Jealous folks…could have been jealous of both father and son, I suppose, but coming to hate though, well, I don’t know,” he said trailing off. Cassandra could see he did know someone.

  “Talk to me, Doc. Chris was murdered. If you know anything, out with it now!” She said a little louder than she intended, but she could be forgiven. The baggage handler and the others turned to look at the doctor too. The crowd was continuing to grow larger with each passing minute.

  “Well, it’s that kid Pops adopted, Cruz.” The doctor finally muttered. “There is bad blood in him, and a twisted mind! The kid comes from a long line of outlaws.”

  “That’s right. I have seen the kid in action! He’s a bad one. He fought the Rollins lad over a dice game!” one man at the back of the crowd shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard.

  “Come to think of it, I heard Pete Yarnell, the blacksmith, claims he set fire to his stable!” another man said. Cassandra was shocked by the information compared to the young man she had met.

  “That’s right. Someone told me he thought he heard Cruz poisoned the Garretson dog. He wiped out the whole litter!” yet another man said.

  “Those tales sound awful to be sure, but you don’t think a kid barely eighteen killed his foster brother. Do you?” Cassandra asked the group at large. She was looking at the doctor, though. Coming from a mixed-race family, Cassandra had heard wild tales about people who were different before. People had made judgments based on her siblings’ different races that were far from fair. Anyone foolish enough to say them within earshot of Lijuan, however, could count on getting a blow to their stomach from her hammer to set them straight.

  “Cassandra, if you knew this kid, you’d believe anything. I know, I have seen the trouble he sows. I have taken care of Pops for ten years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cruz turned on Pops next,” the doctor told her. “Speaking of Pops, I better hurry over to look after him. When he hears of Chris’s death, anything could happen. Pop’s heart is very weak!” The doctor began walking quickly back up the street, sticking one hand in his pocket as he went.

  “I’ll look in later, Doc. I, I still can’t believe it. Cruz, a murderer!” She finished as the Doctor vanished into the crowd that had parted ways for him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  Cassandra went with the undertaker back to Johnsons Funeral Home to say goodbye to the lover she had found and lost so quickly. At the door of the small cottage that was the funeral parlor, she had felt reluctant, sadness eating rapidly into her heart. She waited outside as the two gravediggers she had met when she had first arrived in town carried Chris’s body towards a waiting coffin. She could only stand there shaking, wishing to be in Whip’s embrace. He would know what to say to try and ease her pain.

  A while later when the Coroner opened the door to urge her in towards Chris’s lifeless body, her eyes filled with tears immediately. Chris’s body had become pale in the short amount of time, making his death more realistic for her. She had to wipe her eyes and hold back a sob as she bent over him and gently kissed his forehead for a final time.

  Life was so uncertain. She had thought that she had found love and then, it was gone, just like that. She never really got to tell him how good he made her feel. Cassie made a mental note to tell her family how happy they made her, when she got home. That certainly would be after she meted out justice to the son of a bitch who did this. She left the funeral home some minutes later, slowly and silently finding her way to the stable to get Lily. It was as if everyone could see the sadness that clutched around her body like a shawl. Her horse was handed to her without so much as a word, and she rode out to the Thorpe’s’ house quickly, tying her filly up before stepping towards the slightly opened door.

  She slowly stepped inside, tracing the mutters in the house to the father’s room. The door was slightly ajar and the voices in the room had become audible. Cassandra paused at the doorway, listening to the conversation that was about Chris’ death.

  “Cruz kill Christopher?” Chris’s father was saying, “That’s crazy. Cruz is a wild one, but he’s good inside. Why would he dry gulch Christopher? Those two got along fine. As fine as any real brothers ever would!” He said firmly. He seemed much stronger than Cassandra would have expected, given his condition and the circumstances. The older gentl
eman saw her and managed to smile in her direction.

  “Welcome to my home, Miss Wilde. My son told me of you last night. It is nice to meet you,” he said and Cassandra nodded at him.

  “Thank you, sir. Your son was a good man. I knew him long enough to know that,” she told him and he nodded sadly.

  “I just can’t believe that Cruz killed him,” the older man said showing his palms.

  “Stop exciting yourself, Pops! Remember your heart. You can’t stand much strain,” the doctor told him. Pops raised a small bottle nevertheless, seeming as if he hadn’t listened to anything the doctor said.

  “Look at this snake oil! Cruz got it from a cure-doctor. Cruz brought it back because he thought it would help me. Don’t that prove the kid’s a good one who loves his family?” He asked in frustration. Cassandra could understand his grief and vexation, but snake oil? She wondered.

  “Snake oil? Great guns, Pops, that stuff is poison!” The doctor told the ailing man.

  “Give him a good lecture, Doc. I’m going to find Cruz.” Cassandra told the Doctor and left the room promptly. She was too wound up to just stand there in casual conversation. She had to do something.

  She went out the front of the house and circled around, checking the ground in case there were any interesting tracks. She got around back and passed the woodpile, an axe still buried in a stump, finally seeing Cruz heading up a steep, rocky hill. Damn, there he is, she thought. Even more, he had a bandage on his arm!

  “Cruz, come back, I want to talk to you!” she called up as she started after him.

  “No, go away! I don’t want to see anyone!” He cried, his voice reeking of grief and startling her.

  “Go away, just go away!” He yelled as he turned and threw a rock at her. It bounced off her shoulder before she could swerve left, getting her to lose track of him.