by C. A. Asbrey
She stood rooted to the ground, her eyes darting between both men as she seemed to rally her courage. “Who are you? You don’t work for a charity.”
“It doesn’t matter who we work for. What do you want with that boy?” Nat demanded.
“I’m his aunt.”
“The boy has no family,” Nat reiterated.
“He does. I’m his father’s sister. I’m not going to let that boy end up in an orphanage just because his parents were too pig-headed to ask for help.”
Nat and Jake shared a look of uncertainty. This woman was determined and stood up to them as though very sure of her ground.
“What’s your name?” asked Nat.
“My name is Helena Hislop. Philip Benson was my brother. We’ve been looking on Dora from afar for many years, since Philip died. She would take nothing from us. She hated us since my father disinherited Philip for marrying a scullery maid; for running off with her.”
Nat sighed. “You can’t just take him, ma’am.”
“Why not? We tried to adopt, but they want to go through official channels and he’s in that place all the while. Have you seen it? Do you know what the inside of an orphanage is like? It’s terrible.”
“Why did they refuse?” asked Nat.
“Because he’s already been claimed by someone else and is going to him next week. They offered me the pick of the rest, but it’s not the same as blood, is it? Let the other man take his pick.”
Nat threw her a sympathetic smile. “Ma’am, we can’t let you take him. I’ll make sure he’s well cared for. Convince them you want him and do it right.”
She glared at the lump in Jake’s jacket. “I won’t be intimidated by a thug with a gun.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’d take my colleague’s advice if I were you. This ain’t the way. Do it the proper way. Go to court.”
She sniffed and took out a fluttering lace edged handkerchief and dabbed at her red rimmed eyes. “I loved my brother so much. I miss him every day. I would love to have given Dora and David a home, but she was stubborn. All I want now is to look after the boy. Is that so terrible?”
Nat released her arm. “Go to court to force it through if you want him now, but we can’t let you steal a child.”
“Thank you,” she sniffed. Mr.—”
“Smith,” Jake replied with a knowing twinkle at his nephew. “Smith and Black.”
They watched the woman’s receding back as Nat turned to his uncle. “You believe that?”
Jake’s eyes hardened. “Not one word. I knew Dora, and she’d have said something if anyone had tried to give her and her boy a home. Do you think pride in makin’ it up with a relative would have stopped her when she was driven to sellin’ herself?”
“Then why’d you let her go?” Nat demanded.
“What were we supposed to do? Shoot her down in the street?”
“Should we follow her?” Nat paused deciding against it. “Nah. She’s seen us both and might get the law involved. The boy needs to be safe, that’s the main thing.” He glared after the thwarted woman. “I’ll see her again without taking stupid risks. Let’s get the boy.”
♦◊♦
Abigail slipped into the room without a sound. Sash windows without a jamming mechanism were stupidly easy to open, and she would never have them in her home when she had one. Her existence was even more nomadic than The Innocents at the moment, and they didn’t have any consistent base the law knew of.
She moved like a cat, creeping on her toes, carrying a bull’s eye lantern with shutters so she could focus the light where needed or shut it out if required. These were called dark lights and were an essential tool for the average night-time thief, but they were just as useful to the law.
She stopped at the large mahogany desk and placed the dark light on the top before she rummaged through the desk, the top drawer catching against the brass lock. She held her breath. The information she wanted was most likely to be in the desk. She stood upright to remove her picklock from her hair and froze as a hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm snaked around her body.
“Abi,” Nat’s voice hissed in her ear. “I’m disappointed in you. You’re supposed to be an example to us criminal types.” He released her mouth but continued to hold her against him as he whispered; his rich, dark-brown voice drifting through her senses as her stomach did a little flip. “You’ve got criminal tendencies. Someone should take you in hand. Want me to do it? I’d be real gentle this time.”
She stiffened and shrugged him off swirling round to face the wide smile caught the low beams from the dark light. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for the paperwork for David. What are you doing here?”
“The same.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have come together, made an evening of it. I’d have brought flowers and maybe some wine—”
“Can we get on with the job at hand?” Her brows knitted together. “Do you think it’s in the safe?”
“Could be. I haven’t had time to look. This is what I meant about sharing information. There’s no need for both of us to be here. We’re duplicating work.”
“You didn’t tell me either, Mr. Quinn.”
“Because you were supposed to be checking into the hotel to talk to townspeople,” his eyes glinted in the darkness. “You never said a word about coming here.”
“Can we discuss this later? There are more pressing matters to deal with, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes. We’ll discuss this. You and I need another talk.”
“Is that how you intimidate your gang members, Mr. Quinn? It may not have occurred to you, throwing me out of your gang is no punishment.”
“You have so little imagination. Imagine more.” He folded his arms and leaned closer. His breath hit her face as he murmured in a rich velvet baritone. “I dare you.”
Her breathing quickened before she shook herself back to business. “You smell of apples. Don’t leave the cores lying about. We can get evidence from them.”
He sighed. “Do you ever let yourself just be a woman?”
“Not when I’m breaking and entering.” She cast out a hand toward the desk. “You do the safe and I’ll do the drawers.”
The lights in his eyes switched from devilment to intrigue. “Three of them are locked.”
She crooked an eyebrow at him. “I’ll manage.”
A huge grin spread over his face. “Oh, Abi. I knew you were something special when I met you. How about you do the safe and I’ll do the drawers?”
Uncertainty flickered over her face. “I’ll do the drawers.”
He nodded, a secret smile playing around his lips. Another limit had been established, to be stored away in his encyclopedic mind. This could be useful in the future.
He turned as she pulled open the top drawer and dragged out a ledger. “That was quick.”
“Was it?” She replied with a lick of innocence in her voice. She flicked through the thick vellum pages. “This is it.” She hissed. “Mr. and Mrs. Mellor, Boston.”
“Mellor? She told me the name was Hislop.”
“And Mr. Andrew Burton. He made a donation of a hundred and fifty dollars.” Abigail pursed her lips. “That’s one expensive orphan. I can’t read the address.”
“No problem,” he ripped the page from the book and it into his shirt. “We got all the time in the world now.”
“You can’t do that. It’s theft.”
“Yeah? You stand here after breaking in and try to lecture me?” he grasped her hand and pulled her towards the window. “Out you go. We’ll discuss this back at the cabin.”
♦◊♦
“Where is he?” Abigail stared around the cabin. “I asked you to bring the boy here.”
Jake stared at her. “I might be helpin’ you, but I ain’t about to leap into action because you issue an order, Abi. We ain’t got time to babysit. He’s bein’ well-taken care of.”
“Who by?”
; “Friends. A real nice family. They got two girls who are spoilin’ him to death. I think the youngest has a crush on him. It’s so sweet it’s sickening.”
“He’d better not be in a foul hideout with a bunch of criminals.”
“He’d be safer there than anywhere in this town,” Nat dropped into a seat. “But he’s not.”
“And no one can find him?” Abigail appeared mollified.
“Can you?” Nat demanded in an open challenge. “Feel free to start right now.”
She smiled. “Good. I need to go into town tomorrow. I have an appointment to meet some of the local women to find out more about the Middletons and Dora’s past. I’m sure she’s the key to this. I’ll be staying at the hotel after that.”
“You think they’ll mix with a woman who used to work in a brothel? It ain’t gonna work.”
She flicked up an eyebrow. “I’ll make it work, Jake. I also need to send a telegram to get Dora and her husband’s past checked out in Boston for me. Once I’ve done that, there’s just one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?” Jake put the coffee pot on the stove.
“I need to go alone for a psychic reading with the Schmidts.”
The men exchanged a glance. “I can’t allow that, Abi,” Nat replied.
Her dark eyes gave an adversarial flash. “You can’t stop me, Mr. Quinn.”
“Can’t I? I’m not the best man to push, Abi. Jake’ll testify to that.”
Her stomach fluttered as she realized he was issuing a serious warning. “I need to experience what they did that day. It’s the only way I can find out what the Schmidts had to do with it, if anything.”
“It’s too dangerous. You going into town and asking questions is one thing, a stunt like this, off into the countryside on your own is another thing entirely. Two women have already been killed doing the exact same thing.”
Her generous lips pulled into a smile. “I didn’t know you cared, Mr. Quinn.” She stood and strode over to face him. “It’s my job. I’ve chosen to do it.”
“Yeah? And do you think the murderers are gonna look after you like we did?”
She paused. “That’s never happened before.”
“And if we hadn’t come along nothing would have ever happened again; except, maybe, your funeral.” He leaned back on his chair and shook his head. “Nope. I won’t allow it.”
“So? Have you never had a close shave? This is a risky business. When you’re no longer prepared to accept that, it’s time to get out.”
His answer was an impassive, hard stare.
“You looked after me, and I’m very grateful. I’m doing this for you, as well as Bessie and Dora. I need to thank you, but this isn’t your decision. If I don’t go alone, I won’t get the real story.”
“Don’t try to tell me what I can and can’t decide.” The brown eyes glittered dangerously. “I can promise you won’t win that way.” He folded his arms and held her gaze. “You can go to the Schmidts’ place, but we’re comin’ with you. You’re not doing this without back up, and I won’t hear another word about it.”
“That’ll be pointless. I can’t arrive with a pair of gunfighters. I’ll learn nothing.”
“They won’t see us. But we’re backing you up,” Nat replied.
She turned to Jake. “My stars, how can you work with him?” she huffed in exasperation.
Jake narrowed his eyes to the gleam of hard flint. “If he hadn’t said it I would’ve. I’m not about to let anyone take a risk like that, either. Not even him, and I know he can take care of himself. You’ve got a lot to learn about teamwork, Abi.”
She paused. “Fine. They usually send me in alone. I’m not used to working with others, and when I do, men often need convincing of my abilities. It’s a battle I’ve fought for years, even before I became a Pinkerton.” She glanced from one to the other. “I’ll trust you as long as no one sees I’ve brought back up.”
“They won’t. We know what we’re doin’.” Jake fixed on her as though she were a simple child. “There are lots of women on our side of the law, and none of us doubt they’re good at what they do. We don’t work to the same rules as everyone else. Results count, nothin’ else. Don’t pull that woman stuff on me.”
“Thanks,” she rubbed her face in defeat. “I’m turning in. I have to get up at dawn to get to town in the morning, if that’s alright with you two?”
“As long as you really are goin’ to town and not headin’ out to the Schmidts’ place, you can do what you want.” Jake’s brow furrowed. “What’s the matter with you? First, you ride into the night after criminals on your own, and now you want to follow in the footsteps of two women who were murdered, and with even less back up than they had? Are you crazy?”
She stared back at him, mute and defiant, with eyes so dark he couldn’t even make out the pupils. He frowned, sensing he’d hit a nerve.
“Abi? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she pasted on a watery smile. “I just don’t have any responsibilities; no family to worry about, so I don’t consider the dangers enough. You’re right. I need to be less impulsive. Goodnight.”
She stepped over to the brass bed and pulled over the blanket which had been rigged up as a curtain to afford a measure of privacy.
Nat gestured with his head, inviting Jake outside to the porch. He waited until the door closed behind him. “What was all that about?”
“It’s like she doesn’t care about her own life. It comes last to everythin’ else. That’s a real deep hurt. She says she ain’t got any family.” Jake leaned on the rail. “Do you think somethin’ happened? Somethin’ like ours?”
“That’s what I wondered,” Nat folded his arms and stared out into the night. “And if we can believe her, she usually works alone. That could be important to understanding how Pinkerton aims at bringing us in.”
“Yeah, there ain’t many women out there like that; out there on their own, that’s for sure. They should be easy to spot; people with no connections.” The blue eyes glittered through the night. “Now I’ve just got to work out if it’s strength—or a weakness.”
“It’s both, Jake. It depends on the situation. But now that I know, I can use it.”
Chapter Eleven
Nat’s brown eyes opened a crack at the sound of a splash of Abigail’s washing behind the curtained-off area. The swish of fabric and the rumpling of materials as she got dressed followed. He glanced over at his uncle, who signaled his annoyance at being awakened before dawn in a flash of bleary blue eyes before he turned over and pulled a blanket over his head. She peeped around the curtain, but Nat feigned sleep and listened to her pad over to the door.
He waited for it to creak closed and followed her out to the porch where she sat buttoning her boots. The gray crepuscular twilight added silver tones to the morning chill and made the whites of her eyes gleam like mother-of-pearl as she turned her head around to face him.
“Creeping off, Abi? You know we can’t let you negotiate your way to town without a blindfold. We need to keep this place private.”
“Och, for heaven’s sake. Can we stop this charade? If I haven’t been able to work out the way by now I should be watered twice a week. I’ve known where we are for ages.”
“I should’ve guessed.” He arched a brow and gave her a wry grin. “We haven’t had that talk yet, though.”
“Talk?”
“The one I promised when you broke into the orphanage last night. The one about going it alone.”
She tilted her head. “You mean when you went it alone and I walked in on you? It’s too early to analyze irony.”
“And yet, you’re still doing it. Where are you going?”
“Would you believe, to the outhouse? You go there alone, too. If you want us all to go together, I have a problem with that.”
“If you mean you’re going there first before you take a horse and head off, yes. I would.” He leaned on the rail blocking her way. “This can’t go on. We need
to be more honest with each other. I think we’re risking more than you are.”
She stared at him, her chocolate-brown eyes glistening with frankness. “I’m a head smaller than both of you and I’m out here alone. How can you say that?”
“Because I proved it to you. I took you to my limit as well as yours,” he folded his arms. “I haven’t seen anything like that from you.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’m not going to ravish you, Mr. Quinn, no matter how nicely you ask.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “Now let’s not be rash and just go dismissing things out of hand. All I mean is, we only have your word for what you might do to us. One of the drawbacks of my profession are people’s words don’t count for much. I need more.”
She stood. “Such as what? Don’t you think I could have walked right over to the sheriff’s office when I was at Pearl’s? I didn’t have to come back with Jake after the funeral parlor, either. I could have followed him with a posse. At some point, you’re going to have to accept that all I’ve done is try to find out who murdered Dora and Bessie.”
He paused, his intense stare glittering in the half light. “So where are you off to now?”
“To town. I need to speak to the women, and I need to access the wigs I have hidden there. You said yourself I can’t see them looking like anyone who worked at a brothel. Is that a problem? You could come, too, and ask around to see if anyone has been trying to sell any stolen goods. The people who buy them will talk to you better than they’ll talk to me.”
He rubbed his face, his tawny bed-hair standing out on end. “Abi, I worry about you.”
She smiled, her eyes warming. “That’s sweet of you, Mr. Quinn. I must confess to having a creeping affection for you two. You are throwing your lives away, living like this.”
“What else can we do? You get into a bad crowd when you’re young and it gives you a life sentence. There’s no statute of limitations in Wyoming. We’ll be wanted as long as we live.”