"I'd be a butterfly born in a bower,
Where roses and lilies and violets meet."
Until today, I never appreciated Boyd's having made me memorize it.
Be strong, Rachel.
Lane
She read the lines over again and her doubt fled. Carefully, she folded the note, determined to carry it near her heart. The flowers she gathered up and took with her as she left the room. Stronger than it appeared, the rose held on to its petals.
"Delphie?" Rachel called down, pausing at the top of the landing. She heard the maid's door open in the hall below, and soon Delphie appeared in the stairwell.
"You'll wake the dead," Delphie warned. "I thought you were in hiding."
"Lane must have left sometime this morning. His room is empty," Rachel said, trying to sound as if she had not seen him since Delphie had last seen them together, as if a gunslinger spending the night beneath her roof was an everyday occurrence. Suddenly, she remembered the flowers clutched in her hand and realized it was too late to hide them from Delphie's knowing stare.
Rachel shoved her hair back off her face and tried to gather the bulk of it together in one hand. "I'm going to dress and go to the sheriff's before I ride out to get Ty."
One of Delphie's glossy brows arched speculatively. "I'm coming with you."
"I'll be fine."
"I'm sure you will, but I'm coming along anyway."
Rachel took in her maid's nightclothes and then her own with a sweeping glance. "Then you'd better hurry, because I'll be ready in twenty minutes—oh, and Delphie, let's both go in black. It might be good to remind everyone I'm Stuart McKenna's widow."
Forty minutes later, dressed in widow's weeds again, Rachel was standing in Wernermeyer's office trying not to think of the countless times she had carried Stuart's meals to this same room. Arnie sat behind the desk, watching her closely. His arms were crossed, resting on his belly.
"How'd you say you got away again?"
She cleared her throat and tried not to fidget. "I hit Lane Cassidy over the head with a stick."
"A stick?"
"Well, it was more of a branch."
"A branch."
"Exactly." She nodded emphatically.
"Then you stole his horse."
"Well, he was unconscious, so I didn't actually have to steal it from him. I took it. I made it almost to the edge of town—"
"Then the horse threw you and you walked the rest of the way," he finished for her.
"Yes."
"And other than scaring the daylights out of you, Cassidy didn't hurt you a bit?" He couldn't disguise the skepticism in his tone.
"That's right. We've been over this at least four times now, Sheriff. Do you think it would be possible for me to leave? I need to let the McKennas know I'm all right and to collect my son. He's probably beginning to wonder why I haven't been out there to get him yet."
Wernermeyer eyed her and then Delphie, pursed his thick lips and scratched beneath his chin. "Robert McKenna will be along any minute. Why don't you wait right here so I don't have to be the one to explain this to him. I'd rather he hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."
She couldn't bear the thought of explaining to Robert. He knew her far better than Wernermeyer did—what if he could tell she was lying? Besides, the suspicion Lane had planted in her mind was bound to show in her demeanor. She needed time to think, time to prepare how she would explain to Robert and the others about the abduction and escape. She had to be convincing or Lane's case, not to mention his life, would be in jeopardy.
"Sheriff, I'd really like to be on my way."
"I'm sure you would, but there's just one thing I don't have straight in my mind yet," Arnie told her.
She was sure there were quite a few things Arnie would never get straight in his mind. But as patiently as possible she asked, "What might that be, Sheriff?"
"I'd like to know why young Cassidy rode off with you in the first place."
"So would I, Rachel."
She spun around and found herself face-to-face with Robert, who looked perfectly collected and relaxed as he casually stripped off his riding gloves. Rachel felt Delphie move closer to her side and was tempted to reach out for her maid's hand, but this was certainly no time to show her fear. It had been a revelation to discover how easy it had been to lie to Sheriff Wernermeyer, but lying to Robert was another thing altogether. He knew her too well.
"Robert!" she said, quickly recovering from the shock of his unexpected appearance. Rachel hurried over to her brother-in-law, her hands extended in greeting. He came away from the door and took both her hands in his. Their gazes met and locked until she was tempted to look away, but she didn't dare. Finally, Robert's gaze swept her from head to toe.
"Thank God you're safe," he told her, pulling her up close so that he could wrap one arm protectively across her shoulders.
"Yes. I'm fine." Then she added as an afterthought, "Thank goodness."
Arnie stood up and started around the desk. The four of them seemed like a crowd in the small room. The morning sun was well up and the July heat spell had held; there wasn't a thread of breeze in the room.
"Robert," Rachel began before Arnie could launch into any further questioning, "can you take me out to Mountain Shadows? I have to see Ty." She paused, as if collecting her jumbled thoughts. "After what I've been through, I have to know he's safe."
"Of course he is, but I'll drive you out there right away." Robert turned to the sheriff. "Looks like you can go back to whatever it is you do here, Wernermeyer, unless you think there's any hope of your tracking down Cassidy and seeing him brought to task for what he's put Rachel through."
"I planned on pulling the posse together again to see if I can pick up any sort of trail. According to Mrs. McKenna here, Cassidy's without a horse."
"That should make your job somewhat easier." Robert looked down at Rachel. "I have your mare, by the way. I brought her back from the Cassidy place."
"Thank you," she managed.
"Would you like to bring Delphie along?" Robert asked her.
Rachel shot a glance at Delphie. "No, she should probably stay home in case… well, just in case."
"Fine." Robert tipped his hat to Delphie, barely acknowledged Arnie, then ushered Rachel out the door. "You can tell me everything on the way to the ranch."
Lane purposely put all thought of Rachel out of his mind so that he could concentrate on the task at hand. He had found Shield where he had left him, hidden in a gully outside Last Chance, then took off straight for the Trail's End. Halfway to the ranch he'd met Ramon, and the foreman had insisted on accompanying him back to the house.
"Your uncle and his wife are home," the usually taciturn Ramon volunteered.
"I saw him briefly yesterday," Lane said.
Ramon eyed him closely from beneath the wide brim of his sombrero. "A posse came by looking for you yesterday. I see your life has not changed."
"You might be surprised," Lane said. After a time he asked, "No words of wisdom, Ramon? As I recall you used to have a proverb for every occasion."
"Not this time, my friend."
They rode in silent companionship, just as they used to when Lane had worked cattle on the same range. The horses galloped up a rise and the house and outbuildings came into view. Lane doubted whether he would ever get used to the sight of the grand house Chase and Eva now occupied.
Painted in muted shades of blue and gray with frivolous touches of pink that reminded him of Eva, the place was big enough to be called a mansion. Four chimneys were visible in various sections of the roofline and bay windows protruded all around.
They tied their mounts at the hitching post near the back veranda. Lane glanced back at the long, low ranch house that stood a few yards from the new structure. It was the place where he was born, but he felt no sense of homecoming. He'd known no happiness here. If he had, those years were so far behind him that he could not recall it. The old house had been
repaired and painted since he had seen it last.
Ramon entered the kitchen of the new structure without knocking, and Lane followed him over the threshold. Lucy, the foreman's fair-haired wife, was busy dishing up golden scrambled eggs and tortillas at the stove. In a sunny, window-lined alcove off the kitchen, miniature versions of Chase and Eva—a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy and a little girl with a head full of bright red ringlets—sat at a round oak table staring curiously at Lane.
Lane nodded in greeting to Ramon's wife and then walked into the breakfast room. As he watched the children, he tried to recall how old Rachel had said they were.
"Who are you?" the little girl asked, her green eyes round and bright, exactly like her mother's.
"I'm Lane Cassidy. Who are you?"
"You're Uncle Lane?" the boy shouted. "I'm Lane Cassidy, too. Ma and Pa named me for you." He jumped up from his chair and hurried around the table to stand next to Lane. "You're the one everybody was looking for yesterday. You should have seen them." There was so much awe in his tone that Lane felt uncomfortable. "A whole dang posse was lookin' for you. Lordy, was it somethin'."
The girl rose to her knees in the chair and faced down her older brother. "I'm tellin' on you, Lane Cassidy. I'm tellin' Ma you cussed again." She turned to face her uncle and proudly announced, "I'm Ellie and I'm five."
Lane held out his hand to the petite beauty. "I'm pleased to meet you."
"Boy, are you in trouble," the boy told Lane. "My pa was madder than I ever saw him yesterday. Ma told him to calm down and wait to hear what you had to say, but Pa didn't think you'd come around here again, but now you have." He rubbed his hands together with glee. "Boy, I can't wait to see this!"
Lucy bustled into the room with the children's plates. She sidestepped Lane and set them on the table. Lane's stomach growled so loudly that Lucy quickly looked over at him and smiled.
"Ramon went to tell Mr. Cassidy you're here. Can I get you some breakfast?"
"Sure." Lane nodded. "If it's no trouble."
He watched the shapely blonde walk back to the stove and again wondered where Ramon had found her. The Trail's End wasn't exactly on any stage route, and as far as he knew, the foreman rarely went into town, or anywhere else for that matter. Still, it had been ten years since Lane had seen Alvarado, and he knew better than anyone how much things could change if a person put his mind to it.
While the children continued to watch him closely, Lane glanced toward the hallway and tapped his hat against his thigh. He waited until Lucy had dished up his breakfast, and then when she walked across the room and handed a plate to him, he thanked her and asked, "How did you wind up here?"
The woman blushed crimson and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I… I worked with Eva once. In Cheyenne."
"You a dancer?"
"I was. Her cousin told me Eva married a rancher with a spread outside of Last Chance, so I stopped by to look her up one day. I'd gotten into a situation I'd rather not go into, but anyway, she welcomed me with open arms, said I could stay here as long as need be." She shrugged. "Turned out to be the best move I ever made, 'cause I met Ramon and he asked me to marry him."
Lane handed Lucy his hat before he walked over to the table, plate in hand. Ellie said, "Sit by me, Uncle Lane."
"He's sittin' by me. I'm his namesake, not you." Little Lane stuck his tongue out at his sister.
"Don't be doing that," Lane told him as he chose a chair between both of them.
"Yeah. Do that again and I'll tell," Ellie warned with a shake of her head that set her fiery curls bouncing.
Lane warned his niece, "Nobody likes a tattletale."
He felt like a brute when alligator tears immediately filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
"Hey. I'm sorry." Lane leaned toward Ellie and, not sure what else to do, awkwardly patted the crown of her head.
Unconcerned, little Lane shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth and mumbled around them, "Don't fall for that, Uncle Lane. She can cry at the drop of a hat and it doesn't mean a dang thing. Ma says she gets it from the Eberhart side—they're all actors and actresses. We just got back from seein' Grandpa and Grandma in California, where—"
"Lane!"
Eva Eberhart Cassidy swept into the room with every ounce of drama she had inherited from her theatrical family. Her red-gold hair was piled high in a disheveled but fanciful style. She appeared to have thrown a belted bed jacket on over a skirt. The lacy bodice of a crimson yellow chemise peeked from between the lapels of the purple satin jacket.
Lane got to his feet, relieved to see that Eva, at least, was willing to give him a warm welcome. What Chase would do remained to be seen.
Eva threw her arms around him and they hugged each other close before she pulled back and studied him carefully.
"You look wonderful, Lane. After everything I've heard about you all these years I wasn't sure what to expect, but you look fit as a fiddle."
Lane laughed and looked her over from head to toe. "And you are just as beautiful as I remember."
Blushing, she reached up to pull the edges of her bed jacket together, but the bright purple satin slipped apart almost immediately. She turned to her children, who had been watching the exchange with undisguised curiosity.
"Did you meet your uncle?" she asked them, reaching out to steal a half-eaten tortilla from Ellie's plate.
"He likes me best," Ellie piped up, drawing an immediate response.
"Liar!" yelled little Lane.
Chase Cassidy strode into the room, followed by Ramon, and the commotion immediately subsided. Both children fell silent and waited expectantly to see what their father would say to his wayward nephew.
"Where's Rachel McKenna?" Chase asked without preamble.
Eva turned to Lane. Her smile immediately dimmed as she said, "Sheriff Wernermeyer and Rachel's brother-in-law were out here with a posse looking for you yesterday. They said you had run off with Rachel and I told them that they had to be mistaken, that there was no way you would ever—"
"Eva!" Chase said with an unmistakable hint of warning in his tone.
She fell silent, waiting for Lane to explain.
Lane glanced over at Ramon and Lucy, then at the children. He didn't intend to explain the situation, or to question Chase, with an audience.
"Can I talk to you alone?" he asked his uncle.
He thought he read slight hesitation in Chase's nod, but his uncle immediately started out of the room, and Lane followed close on his heels.
"I'm coming along, whether you two like it or not," Eva warned, snagging one last piece of tortilla off her daughter's plate and heading down the wide hallway after them.
As Lane following Chase, he couldn't help but notice the oak parquet floors, the graciously appointed side tables and the plush carpet runner. The hallway opened onto a reception area in the front of the house, and to the right stood two double doors. Chase pushed them open. Lane and Eva followed him into the parlor, and then he closed the doors behind them.
Lane walked over to a group of furnishings near the unlit fireplace, his eyes immediately drawn to the hand-painted, rose and turquoise floral display on the ceiling. The fireplace mantel boasted hand carving and was edged by decorative tiles fired in the same colors as those used in the overhead painting. Propped up by the fireplace hearth stood what appeared to be a miniature Egyptian mummy case.
"That's interesting," Lane said to Eva.
"A family heirloom," she said with a laugh.
Lane took a chair near another expansive bay window. Ever since his term in prison, Chase had not been able to stand small, windowless spaces, and the new house reflected his preference for light, airy rooms. Eva started to sit down opposite Lane, then jumped to her feet again.
"Would you like more coffee, Lane? How about you, dear?"
Both men said no.
Eva sat and watched her husband closely. Lane half expected him to send Eva out of the room, but
Chase let her stay and so Lane did not object, knowing how Eva might calm Chase down if need be.
"First of all, Rachel's perfectly safe. In fact, when I last saw her, she was in her own home, sleeping peacefully."
There was a stillness in the room for a second, and then Eva whispered, "Oh, my!"
Realizing what he had intimated, Lane quickly amended, "At least, that's what her housekeeper told me."
Chase visibly relaxed and eased himself down onto the edge of an overstuffed sofa. "Did you clear everything up, or should we expect the sheriff at our door again any minute?"
"I don't know. I hope not."
Chase's dark eyes flashed and his lips curled. "That's a hell of an answer. My children are in the kitchen and you don't know if you've brought trouble to the door?"
Eva crossed over to sit beside him and reached out to pat his hand. "Now, Chase—"
"Don't 'Now, Chase' me," her husband warned.
"What I'm going to tell the two of you has to remain in strictest confidence." Lane looked pointedly at Eva. "Understand?"
She nodded vigorously and edged closer. "Understood."
Chase waited in silence for Lane to continue.
"The only person who knows exactly what is going on is Rachel. To make a long story short, I'm a Pinkerton detective, and have been for about six years now."
"And tomorrow pigs will fly," Chase mumbled as he jabbed his fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry I never lived up to your predictions, Uncle Chase, but even you have to admit this tale's a little too wild for me to have made it up. I was recruited because of my reputation, and I've been using it as a cover all these years. I'm here on a case. Yesterday I made a quick decision that involved Rachel."
"But, if you're a Pinkerton, why is the sheriff after you?" Eva wanted to know.
"I'm doing this undercover work on my own. Right now I'm unsanctioned by the Agency because I was suspended for six weeks—but that's another story."
"What kind of work? Can you tell us?" Eva scooted to the edge of her chair.
Lane took a deep breath and then let it out on a long sigh. He looked Chase square in the eye. "I'm here to track down the Gentleman Bandit—you've all heard of him, the one who has been robbing trains in the area for the last couple of years. I hate to have to tell you this, but Chase, you're one of Pinkerton's prime suspects."
Last Chance Page 19