A Touch of Camelot

by Delynn Royer

  "Why?"

  "Because, Gwin, I have an account in Kansas City that I doubt I'll be needing where I'm going. Perhaps you can find some use for it."

  Gwin placed a hand on one hip. "Now, why would you have a bank account in Kansas City?"

  "If he's smart, a trapeze artist never practices without a net. A bank robber will always make sure he has his horse saddled, and our kind—"

  "Always keeps one foot close to the door," Gwin finished flatly.

  Sidney lowered his voice. "Precisely, my dear. I thought it prudent to have accounts in a variety of places. Philadelphia, New York, London, Honduras, or ..." He gave her a secret smile. "You get the idea."

  "Yes, but that's not going to help you now, is it?"

  He cocked his head to one side. "One never knows what the future holds."

  Oh, how true, Gwin thought. "Perhaps you should keep your money."

  "Don't worry about me. I won't be destitute."

  "Well, I don't know."

  "Is there a problem?"

  Gwin shook her head. "I just ... I never wanted your money, and I ..."

  "Speak. We haven't much time."

  "Okay. I can't help wondering how you got it."

  "Got what?"

  "All that money. I mean, I don't want any part of dirty money, and—"

  "Dirty money?" Sidney echoed, appearing truly perplexed. "Why, I don't believe I've ever heard the expression. Could this be the rumblings of a conscience?"

  Insulted, Gwin opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again. What was so bad about having a conscience?

  "Interesting," Sidney said, "a conscience. I wonder wherever in the world you acquired such a thing?"

  Gwin studied his face. He was her father. She was beginning to feel a certain sort of affection for him, but perhaps that was because of gestures and expressions that reminded her of Silas. What she had told him was true. She didn't understand him, but she did know one thing: In the end, he had chosen, at great cost to himself, to save their lives.

  Officer O'Brien cleared his throat. "That's enough time, Mr. Taylor."

  "Please. Call me Sidney."

  Gwin offered Sidney her hand. "Well ... goodbye."

  He reached out, but instead of shaking her hand, he swept it up in his own and bent to kiss it. When he straightened, he gave her a dastardly wink. "Nothing worse than some gifted stock speculation, my dear. Some people would call that dirty money."

  Then, without another word, he turned to his uniformed guardian. "Shall we go join the party?"

  Officer O'Brien grimaced at the gallows humor. "This way, Mr., uh, Sidney."

  Gwin watched as her father disappeared into the courtroom. "When the doors swung closed behind him, her throat tightened, and she found herself blinking back another swell of tears. This was because, in her heart, she knew she would never see him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cole awoke the next morning, early as usual. He stretched and turned over, acutely aware that he was sleeping single in a roomy double bed. He was growing tired of sleeping alone, of being alone. Funny, he hadn't ever thought much about that until lately.

  He had received an answer to his last telegram yesterday from Allan Pinkerton himself. In it, Mr. Pinkerton had beckoned him back to Chicago, hinting that a plum assignment would be waiting. Cole should have been ecstatic at the thought of returning home to resume his career, a career that now seemed to hold all the promise he had ever dreamed of, but upon reading the words, he'd felt curiously unmoved.

  He climbed out of bed, careful not to jostle his healing arm, and squinted at the clock on the dresser. Six-thirty. He didn't have to meet Gwin and Arthur for breakfast until eight. Nevertheless, he knew it would be useless for him to try to go back to sleep. He crossed the plush hotel room to a washstand, poured some clean water into the basin, and gathered together his toothbrush and razor.

  He thought about his time in the hospital. Gwin had visited every day. In fact, she had spent as much time there as the nurses and doctors had permitted.

  As Cole applied the shaving soap to his face, he recalled a particularly revealing conversation having to do with Arthur's future. Gwin had jumped up from her seat to pace by his bed. "I want to settle down and live in one place. I want Arthur to go to school and learn about all the things Silas and I could never teach him. I want him to go to college and hold the world in the palm of his hand."

  "And you?" Cole had interjected, unable to take his eyes from her face. "What is it you want for yourself?"

  "Myself?"

  "If you could have anything in the world, Gwin, what would it be?"

  "I don't know." She smiled wistfully and turned her back to look out the window. "I guess I wish that I could wipe the slate clean and start over, but ..."

  "But what?"

  "That's impossible, isn't it? Undoing the past? Starting over?"

  "I don't know," he answered thoughtfully.

  Later that night, in the darkened hospital room, he had remained awake for a long time, thinking. Maybe it wasn't impossible to undo the past. Maybe it wasn't impossible to wipe the slate clean.

  The next morning, he had enlisted the aid of one of the nurses to get a telegram off to Fritz. The Pinkerton Agency wasn't all-powerful, but its formidable reputation was influential in many circles of law enforcement—especially in the Midwest.

  Cole had received an encouraging reply from Fritz, who had been at work on his request. And in yesterday's telegram, Mr. Pinkerton himself had assured Cole that everything was taken care of. All that was left to do was to sit Gwin down and tell her the news, and he had intended to do that, but last night had not been the right time.

  She'd seemed distracted by something all through dinner. He supposed it was natural for her to feel a little let down now that it was all over. The trials had passed quickly, but not without exacting an emotional toll.

  No, last night had not been the time to bring up the subject. Perhaps this morning would prove different. Cole cursed as he finished shaving, nicking himself repeatedly in the process. He was learning to become proficient with his left hand at a number of tasks. Shaving wasn't one of them.

  He got dressed and took the elevator down to the hotel lobby. Normally, the Palace Hotel would have been outside his budget, but it was Sidney Pierce who footed the bill for all this extravagance.

  Cole still wasn't sure what to make of the man. His first inclination was to classify him with the rest of the villains he'd chosen to associate with, but there was something different about Pierce that Cole couldn't quite pin down. He knew that he wouldn't be alive today if Sidney hadn't drawn his gun when he did. That decision, belated as it might have been, was a hard detail to overlook.

  Cole crossed the expansive lobby to the front desk, noting the time on a grandfather clock in passing. Seven. He still had an hour until he had to meet Gwin and Arthur. He'd been turning over in his mind the problem of how to bring up the subject of Garden City with Gwin, and now he had an idea.

  He motioned for a clerk. "Excuse me?"

  "Yes, Mr. Shepherd?" A middle-aged man answered his summons.

  "Do you know where I might be able to get fresh flowers at this time of the morning?"

  "Would you be speaking of a bouquet for a certain young lady?"

  "Is it that obvious?"

  The clerk smiled. "I suggest you try one of the pushcart vendors on Kearney Street. There's one in particular, a man named Winfrey, who sells the most delightful bouquets."

  "That sounds perfect." Cole turned to leave and stopped. "Oh, maybe I should leave a message for Miss Pierce in case I'm late getting back."

  The clerk hesitated. "A message? For Miss Pierce?"

  Cole read something unsettling in the man's expression. "Something wrong?"

  "That's Miss Guinevere Pierce, correct? The pretty one with the young brother?"

  "Yes, that's the one. Is something the matter?"

  "Well ... she's gone, sir."

&n
bsp; Cole was stunned. "Gone?"

  "Yes. She and her brother checked out this morning."

  "They checked out? They couldn't have checked out. I was supposed to meet them here for breakfast in another hour."

  "I'm sorry, but I'm certain they're gone. They both had their bags and I accepted their key myself. Over an hour ago now."

  Cole felt like he'd been sucker-punched. He was numb. "Did she leave any message?"

  "No message. I'm sorry, Mr. Shepherd."

  Jilted. Twice now, Cole reminded himself morosely, and yet, Gwin was nothing like Cynthia. Why, after all they had been through together, would she pack up and leave him like this? Why run? Why now?

  "Mr. Shepherd?"

  "Yes?"

  "She did say one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "She asked when the first ferry was scheduled to depart for Oakland."

  *

  The Oakland train station was bustling. Gwin and Arthur stood in line to board behind a robust, ruddy-faced gentleman with muttonchop whiskers.

  Going home, Gwin thought. Home. Kansas City for starters. Then? It was hard to think about where she wanted to go when all she could think about was what she was leaving behind.

  Gwin and Arthur boarded, soon locating an empty compartment near the back of one of the Silver Palace sleeping cars. Gwin slid their bags beneath the table that separated their seats and settled in with a tired sigh.

  She was trying to remain cheerful for Arthur's sake, but it wasn't easy. At least he'd finally stopped asking her about Cole, about why they hadn't waited to tell him goodbye. Gwin didn't yet feel up to disillusioning him with the ugly truth.

  "Hey, Gwinnie! Look!" Arthur pointed at something over her shoulder. He wore a new set of clothes today, a clean white linen shirt with brown trousers, and he’d even combed his hair without a fuss.

  Gwin turned around in her seat to see what had caught her brother's eye. The gentleman seated with his back to her was reading the paper. Over his shoulder, she could make out a double column heading from this morning's Chronicle: SLICK SIDNEY SLIPS THE KNOT!

  Gwin's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "No …"

  The gentleman must have heard her. He lowered the newspaper and turned to glower at her. "Is there something I can help you with, young lady?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Hmmm." The man turned back around, snapped his paper huffily, and raised it again to pick up where he left off.

  Not to be deterred, Gwin began to read the article aloud. "Only hours after delivering incriminating testimony—"

  The man whipped around again. "Am I inconveniencing you, miss?"

  "Not at all."

  "Is there something of particular interest to you?"

  "Well, since you asked—"

  He handed the paper to her with an arched brow. "Perhaps you would like to peruse it at your leisure so that I can then read my paper in peace?"

  Gwin accepted it with a smile. "Why, aren't you kind."

  Before the man could change his mind, she turned around in her seat and spread the paper out on the table between her and Arthur so they could read it together.

  Only hours after delivering incriminating testimony against former business partner Jasper Barnes, Sidney Pierce, better known as City Hall hopeful Phineas Taylor, escaped the custody of a none-too-alert police department yesterday evening when ...

  Arthur whooped. "He got away!"

  Gwin shook her head. I’ll be darned... "

  "Attaboy, Sidney! They can't keep us Pierces down!"

  "I have a feeling he's gone for good this time, Arthur. I don't think we'll be hearing from him again."

  "But at least he got away."

  Gwin couldn't repress a smile. "He sure did, didn't he?"

  After they finished the rest of the article, she returned the paper to its grumbling owner. It appeared that somehow Sidney had convinced the authorities that he needed to return to his home to retrieve evidence hidden in one of his safes.

  Escorted by three police officers, Sidney had arrived at his home only to be greeted by a teary-eyed woman. After a heartrending homecoming scene, Gwin imagined Sidney might have taken the three officers aside. "We're all men here, aren't we? I can speak frankly? Pete? Carl? Jim?"

  Yes, it might have gone like that. Sidney would have gestured in the heartbroken woman's direction. "I'm a doomed man, we all know it. Can you blame me for wanting just one last precious hour alone with my lady love? Is it too much to ask?"

  Yes, yes, they were all men. They would have understood, but they wouldn't have been stupid about it. One man would have been outside the bedroom while another watched the windows and the balcony from the courtyard below.

  It had been well over an hour later that they had finally broken down the locked bedroom door only to find the room deserted. Sidney and his mysterious lady love—now suspected to have been a French courtesan named Jasmine Devereaux—had inexplicably vanished.

  The police had torn the place apart in their search, soon discovering that the design of Sidney’s mansion resembled a medieval castle in more than just appearance. It was riddled with secret doors and winding passageways. Safety nets and saddled horses.

  Gwin smiled to herself. She had to give Sidney credit. He was good.

  Arthur separated the slats of the venetian blinds with two fingers to peer out at the observation deck that sided their sleeping coach. "Hey, no one's out there. Let's go out so we can feel the wind when the train starts up."

  Gwin started to decline, then thought better of it. Why not? They would be cooped up on this train for four days. "All right, just as long as you let me catch some shut-eye later. Promise?"

  "You bet! I'll be quiet as a mouse."

  Gwin followed her brother up the aisle. She felt dead on her feet after getting little sleep the night before. The words in that telegram had played over and over in her mind. She wondered how long it would be until she could put the painful memory of Cole Shepherd behind her.

  Once outside, Gwin was glad her brother had suggested it. The morning sun was warm and bright in a cloudless blue sky, and a cool breeze swept in from the bay. She gripped the iron railing and leaned forward, closing her eyes and tilting her head to let the sun bathe her face.

  She thought about Sidney's bank account in Kansas City. She didn't know how much was there, but she had already decided to leave it untouched if she could. It would be their nest egg, their safety net. Otherwise, it seemed to Gwin that a sum of money like that should be saved for something important like Arthur's education.

  She heard the door of the observation deck open behind her and felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of some chatty passenger intruding on her solitude, but it was Arthur who spoke first.

  "Cole! What are you doing here?"

  "A better question might be, what are you two doing here? Just where did you think you were going?"

  Gwin’s breath caught in her throat. She thought she was done having to face him. Now, here he was, expecting what? To apologize? To take her into custody?

  Gwin turned to face him. He looked as gallant and princely as he ever had in her dreams, but his expression was somber, and there was a hint of anger behind those intelligent brown eyes.

  "You should have known I'd catch up with you, Miss Pierce. I always do."

  Gwin didn't answer.

  They appraised each other, intimate strangers, neither of them moving or saying anything until Cole broke the impasse. "Could you leave us alone for a minute, Arthur? I want to talk to your sister."

  Arthur looked from one to the other like a saloon cowboy expecting two gamblers to push back from their table and fast-draw. "Uh, okay." He moved for the door. "I'll keep your seat warm, Gwinnie, all right?"

  "Fine. This won't take long."

  As soon as Arthur was gone, Cole spoke. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

  "What's the matter with me?" Gwin was flabbergasted that he had the audacity to ask. All of he
r hurt and anger erupted. "Garden City! That's what's the matter with me!"

  Cole looked confused. "What's Garden City got to do with ...?" A sudden understanding sparked in his eyes. "How did you even know about that?"

  Gwin turned away and grasped the railing with trembling fingers. "It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that you planned to turn me in."

  "Where did you get a stupid idea like that?"

  Gwin tried to steady herself, furiously blinking back tears. "You can just give it up, Cole. I'm not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever. Maybe it's true I stole that broken down old horse, but we were desperate. We'd run out of money, and the nearest town was miles away, and—"

  "Gwin!"

  She swung around to face him, forgetting to hide her tears. "How could you do that to me?"

  Cole closed the distance between them in one stride, grabbing her arm at the wrist and holding it rigid between them. "If you'd just be quiet a minute, I can explain."

  “Let go of me!” Gwin tried to pull away, but Cole wouldn't release her.

  "Not until you've heard my side of it. Do you want to know the real reason I wanted to take you back to Garden City?"

  Gwin didn't want him touching her or standing so close. It wasn't fair. It unsettled and frazzled emotions that weren't setting on such firm foundations to begin with. "So, what are you going to do with me this time, Cole? Wrestle me to the deck? Handcuff me to the rail? Shackle me to the cowcatcher?"

  "None of those suggestions strike me as a bad idea at the moment."

  "Fine. Say your piece."

  "Do you remember telling me that if you could have one wish in the world, it would be to start over?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "In the hospital. You told me you'd give just about anything to be able to wipe the slate clean and start over."

  Gwin frowned, vaguely recalling the conversation.

  "I took you at your word. I sent a telegram to Fritz asking him to look into the charges that were pending against you in Garden City."