A Touch of Camelot

by Delynn Royer

  Arthur crouched beside one of the suits of armor. Hot tears of frustration and rage stung his eyes. Cole was losing. But what could Arthur do? He had no gun, and the weapons on the wall above him were out of reach.

  He gritted his teeth, tears now spilling down his cheeks. He had to do something. Even if it came down to running out there and throwing himself at that giant. Because this time he wouldn't stand by and just watch it happen. He would rather die than do that.

  Arthur clenched his hands as he watched that giant beating down on Cole ... that giant as big as Goliath. And that's when he thought of it.

  *

  Desperate, Gwin glanced at the fireplace, ready to move when she heard Arthur. For a split second, she froze, thinking she couldn't have heard right. Her brother wasn't here. He couldn't be. But when she turned her head, she saw him step out boldly from behind an armor figure in the hallway. He raised his slingshot.

  "You son of a bitch! You killed Silas!"

  Gwin's mouth dropped open, but otherwise, she had no time to react. The sling snapped, and now, as always, Arthur didn't miss. Ringo jerked and released his hold on Cole. One hand shot up to the back of his head. Arthur's missile hadn't only surprised him, it had also taken a chunk of scalp along with it.

  Cole, she saw with relief, was still on his feet—not moving much—but on his feet. Alive.

  It was only natural for Ringo to turn his head in the direction of this new attack. Only natural, but it was a mistake. Arthur had wasted no time in reloading. He was already stretching the sling back. Arthur's timing was perfect. When he let it fly this time, Gwin knew even before he released where he was aiming.

  Ringo howled as both hands flew up too late to protect his eyes. He staggered back into the banister of the staircase, which collapsed like a row of toothpicks beneath him. Blood from his ruined eye soaked his hands as he moaned amid the wreckage.

  Barnes raised his revolver, aiming for Arthur's stalwart figure across the great hall.

  Gwin screamed, "NO!"

  A shot rang out.

  Gwin whirled, expecting to see her brother down and bleeding, but he stood on his feet, looking in their direction, his mouth open in surprise. But he was all right.

  Gwin looked back at Barnes, who stood as frozen as Lot's wife, his pudgy arm still extended, the gun still cocked. Unfired. His eyes were wide. And it was only then she realized why. His cigar, the one he'd been clenching between his teeth, looked as if it had exploded. A thin, dying curl of smoke rose from its tattered remains.

  Except for the moaning Ringo, all movement in the foyer had come to a standstill. Sidney broke the silence. "Jasper, this has gone far enough."

  Gwin turned to see that her father had a long-barreled Colt revolver trained on his shocked colleague.

  He raised an eyebrow at Gwin. "Don't look so surprised, my dear. Who do you think taught your mother that trick?"

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Justice was swift once the wheels got turning. Alphonse Ringo's trial was over, and the prosecution was in the process of concluding its damning case against Jasper Barnes. Gwin had already testified, Arthur was in there now, and Cole was scheduled to appear next.

  Gwin and Cole sat alone in the empty hallway outside the sequestered courtroom. Thanks to the judge's order limiting public seating and allowing only one reporter from each newspaper access to this section of the Hall of Justice, it was quiet and deserted out here while court was in session.

  Ever since Phineas Taylor's name had hit the papers, the trials of his cohorts had turned into a public circus. Ringo and Barnes had not been the only ones to fall. Thanks to Sidney Pierce's decision to cooperate with the authorities, four members of the police department were scheduled to come to trial for their part in concocting the false charges against Ricardo Cortez.

  In addition, there were rumors that a few of San Francisco's most influential citizens would be criminally implicated by Sidney's testimony. One socialite, a wealthy banker, had already disappeared mysteriously in the night. The most popular theory was that he had packed his carpetbag and stolen off to South America. Whatever the truth was, it was clear that the secret group known as the Round Table was in the process of disintegrating.

  Cole shifted his position on the wooden bench and glanced at Gwin, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "Glad it's almost over?"

  Gwin let out a weary sigh. "Ohhhh, yes."

  Cole stole a look at the closed double doors of the courtroom. "I hope Arthur's doing all right in there."

  "If he got through Ringo's trial, he can get through anything. He's a tough kid."

  "That he is." Cole winced as he changed his position again.

  His right arm—splinted and bandaged—was confined by a sling. He had also suffered a cracked rib and a fractured nose from his near-fatal confrontation with Alphonse Ringo. He had spent a couple days recuperating in a hospital, and, though Gwin wished he’d not had to suffer those injuries, her time spent visiting with him had been the most precious hours they'd had together since all of this had happened.

  They had talked a lot, she about her childhood, he about his. She had learned about his late father, a peace officer in a small Kansas town, and his mother—what little he knew of her—a woman who had died giving birth to him. This story had brought tears to Gwin's eyes. How tragic that his mother had not lived to see what a fine young man her son had grown to become. How tragic that, after his father's death, Cole should now be left alone in the world.

  It had not escaped Gwin that most of their talk had been of the past, not of the future. This was because they had no real future, had they? Not together, anyway. This thought brought an unbearable heaviness to Gwin's heart.

  Only once during his hospital stay had Cole delicately steered the conversation onto the subject of their relationship. "Uh, about what happened between us, Gwin, there could be consequences."

  Gwin, who sat on a chair by his bed, raised her head cautiously. "Consequences?" she echoed, although she knew what he meant. He was worried that she might be carrying his child. The ensuing silence between them soon grew stifling.

  "Do you think you might be pregnant?" he asked, trying his best to look her in the eye even as she was doing her best to avoid him.

  "I don't know," she said. And she hadn't known, not then.

  "You'd tell me, wouldn't you, Gwin? Promise you'll tell me if—"

  "Yes, of course," she said, wanting to end the conversation.

  And she had gotten her wish. At that moment, one of the nurses, a cheerful nun, had swept into the room carrying a lunch tray.

  For the last few days, Gwin had felt the familiar stirrings of her monthly cycle, and this morning she had learned for certain that Cole had not given her a child. This was for the best. If she had been pregnant, she knew that Cole would have offered to marry her.

  It wasn't that she didn't want to marry him. She was in love with Cole. This was a fact she could no longer ignore or rationalize away. She didn't regret for one moment the decision she had made in that hotel room in Virginia City, and she would have given almost anything to spend the rest of her life in his arms at night. Almost anything.

  She wouldn't sacrifice her self-respect. Neither would she expect Cole to sacrifice a chance for real happiness with a woman he could truly love. No. If he had offered to marry her, it would have been done out of a sense of honor, not out of love. And Gwin knew from bitter experience—Silas and Emmaline's—that it took more than just one person's love to make a marriage.

  She tried to ignore these depressing thoughts as she cast an anxious glance at the courtroom doors. "I hope that defense lawyer isn't giving him a hard time."

  "Oh, I think it's the other way around," Cole replied. "He's a tough kid. I sure wouldn't want to tangle with him, especially if he's still got Excalibur in his pocket."

  "He always has Excalibur in his pocket." Gwin's gaze shifted to linger on Cole's face. The swelling of his broken nose had gone down,
but there were still bruises to testify to the punishment he'd suffered. It was amazing that not even a broken nose could detract much from his wholesome good looks.

  The door to the courtroom swung open, and Arthur emerged under the arm of a burly bailiff. After testifying at Ringo's trial, Arthur had come out looking pale and shaken, and perhaps that was what Gwin expected to see this time as she came to her feet.

  Today, however, he stood tall and proud in his new suit of clothes. His unruly dark curls were still combed back neatly from his forehead, and there was a certain glint in his eye. Confidence. He looked older to her in that moment than he ever had before, and she caught a glimpse of what Arthur would look like as a young man. It struck her that her little brother wasn't so little anymore.

  "Mr. Shepherd?" The bailiff motioned for Cole to enter the courtroom, and Cole rose to his feet. He'd removed his coat earlier and he reached now to snatch it up from the bench.

  Gwin held it for him as he slipped his left arm into the sleeve. She draped the other sleeve over his right shoulder. "There," she said, forcing herself to smile.

  "Thanks." He winked at her. "This shouldn't take long, but if you want to go back to the hotel awhile, I can meet you later."

  "Fine," Gwin said, shifting her attention to Arthur.

  "Good luck, Cole," Arthur said before the courtroom door closed again. He looked at Gwin. "Easy as pie."

  Gwin patted his shoulder, relieved and proud that he was trying to take this in stride. "Why don't we take Cole's advice and head back to the hotel?" She paused when her eye caught on a piece of paper at her feet. "What's this?"

  She bent to retrieve it and glimpsed the words Western Union Telegraph Company. "Oh," she mumbled, frowning. "It must have fallen out of Cole's pocket." Something else caught her eye. Without meaning to, she glanced at the scrawled words in the message and there, jumping out at her, was her own name.

  "What is it?" Arthur tried to read the telegram.

  Gwin jerked her hand up, snatching the communication away from his inquisitive eyes. "It's nothing. Just a telegram. Why don't you go downstairs and wait for me? I'll be there in a minute."

  "What does it say?"

  "I don't know what it says, and it's none of our business, anyhow. Now, go on and wait for me outside."

  "You're going to read that telegram, aren't you?"

  "No, I am not going to read the telegram. If you must know, I'm going to visit the convenience room."

  Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah? How convenient."

  Gwin scowled and shooed him away. "Oh, go on."

  Arthur left her, but he threw a knowing glance over his shoulder before he pulled open the heavy door to the stairwell at the end of the hall and was gone.

  Gwin stood for a long moment, her eyes glued to the spot where her brother had vanished. She half-expected him to appear again, but, after a few seconds, she decided he was really gone. She fingered the crumpled telegram. It was none of her business.

  But she'd seen her name.

  Gwin wrestled with her conscience. A month ago, she wouldn't have thought anything of it—sneaking a peek at private correspondence. She wouldn't have felt this nagging, admonishing voice whispering in the back of her mind. Fold it up, put it away. It's none of your business.

  But she had seen her name.

  Gwin unfolded the telegram and scanned the scrawled message.

  Happy to grant your request for an advance in salary. The other arrangements you requested have been made. Have personally contacted the marshal in Garden City. He will await your arrival with Miss Pierce. Take great pride in a job well done. Much to discuss upon your return to the home office. A. Pinkerton

  Her hands trembled. She stared at the words, reading them over and over, her mind at first refusing to grasp their meaning. Arrangements you requested ... marshal in Garden City ... await your arrival with Miss Pierce.

  But there could be no misunderstanding. Cole had arranged for her to return to Garden City, the town where she was wanted on a horse-stealing charge. But why? Why would he betray her like this?

  Cole's own words now came back to her with stinging clarity. "What I do, Miss Pierce, is my job. I do my job, that's all." And part of that job was turning in lawbreakers, wasn't it? It was devastating, but there it was, in black and white.

  Tears welled in her eyes. What had she expected? Hadn't she been telling herself all along that she and Cole had no future together? Hadn't she learned to accept that? Why did this come as such a heart-wrenching surprise? Why did it hurt so much?

  "I've been such a fool," she whispered.

  But, in her mind's eye, she saw Cole's face, his smile. She remembered the way he had touched her when they made love and the way they had opened their souls to one another in that hospital. There was still a part of her that couldn't fathom what she was seeing with her own eyes, but she refused to recognize that part of herself anymore. No. Never again.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned her back to the newcomers and stuffed the telegram deep into her skirt pocket. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  When she turned around again, she saw who was approaching. It was Sidney, followed closely by a uniformed policeman. He broke into a genuine smile upon seeing her.

  Gwin smoothed her hair and adjusted her hat, empty movements designed more to clear her head and gather her composure than to neaten her appearance.

  She had declined his offer to stay at his home, mostly because she was afraid Arthur might suffer nightmares after the horrible scene that had taken place there. Sidney had then insisted upon putting them up in the luxurious Palace Hotel. Upon seeing Arthur's face light up at the suggestion, Gwin had not had the heart to say no.

  Gwin hadn't seen much of Sidney this past week. She had been too busy with her own role in the trials, but now she knew she would be leaving town. Very soon. And this might be her last chance to speak with him.

  Sidney and the uniformed officer approached at a casual pace, their footfalls echoing on the hardwood floor of the empty hall. "You look like you've had a difficult day, my dear," Sidney commented when he reached her side.

  Gwin noticed that his hands were clasped behind his back. As he turned to look at the youthful policeman who accompanied him, she realized, with surprise, the reason for it.

  Sidney motioned downward to the officer with an inclination of his head. "Now that we've arrived, do you think we could dispense with these contraptions?"

  Gwin watched, confused, as the officer removed the handcuffs that confined Sidney's wrists.

  Sidney stretched his arms and flexed his wrists. "Much better!"

  "They've arrested you?" Gwin asked.

  "It seems there have been some irregularities discovered in my business accounts."

  "But I thought they'd agreed not to press charges against you in exchange for your testimony."

  "I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, there are some people in high places who have seen to it I won't walk away a free man. I've been offered the guarantee of a lighter sentence in exchange for my testimony. It's a deal I'm hard-pressed to decline at the moment."

  "I don't understand. People in high places?"

  Sidney addressed the officer. "Would you mind giving me and my daughter a moment of privacy, Officer O'Brien?"

  "I'm not to leave you out of my sight, Mr. Taylor."

  "Oh, of course not. Wouldn't expect you to, but they never said anything about out of earshot, did they, Jim?" Sidney rested a hand on the young officer's shoulder. "May I call you Jim? I feel as if we've come to know each other since this morning."

  "Well, I suppose ..."

  "Is it too much to ask, Jim? A moment alone with my daughter? I'm a doomed man, and we both know it. Is it too much to ask?"

  "Well ... just for a minute or two, but I'll be right over here."

  "Bless you, my good man!" Sidney beamed as the young officer moved to wait by the courtroom door with his arms folded. />
  Gwin pressed in a subdued tone, "What are you talking about? People in high places? I thought your testimony was to bring these people down for good."

  "Even my knowledge of the men who constituted the Round Table is limited. I know of their activities, but I only met a few of them."

  "You mean, there are still more out there? Free?"

  "Absolutely."

  Incredulous, Gwin studied Sidney's impassive expression. "Wait a minute. You knew all along that there were more of them, and you still agreed to testify against the others?"

  Sidney shrugged. "Perhaps it's just my way of stirring up the pot."

  "Just what kind of prison sentence can you expect for stirring up this pot?"

  Sidney offered a dry smile at her indignant tone. "Three years in San Quentin."

  "But it won't be safe for you there. Those men you testified against will—"

  "Try to have me killed," Sidney finished matter-of-factly. "I imagine there's quite a long line forming by now."

  "But it's not fair," she said.

  "Fair? Life is never fair. But we make our own odds. Didn't Silas ever teach you that?"

  Gwin could only shake her head. "It must be so hard for you to give it all up, all that power, all that wealth. It must have taken you years to climb that ladder." Gwin narrowed her eyes. "Even if it was a slightly crooked ladder."

  "Ah, well, there are ladders and then there are ladders." Sidney flicked a piece of lint from the lapel of his suit coat. "I haven't given up all that much, really."

  "I will never understand you," Gwin said. "Not for as long as I live."

  "And I hope that will be for a very, very long time." He smiled. "You will be leaving soon, I gather?"

  "Yes, very soon."

  "Where will you be going?"

  Gwin paused at the question. Where? She hadn't decided that for sure yet. "I don't know. Kansas City maybe."

  "I'd rather hoped that would be your choice. When you return to your hotel, you'll find an envelope waiting for you at the front desk."

  "An envelope?"

  "In it you'll find the name of a bank in Kansas City, the number of an account, and a safe deposit box key. They've been changed over to your name."