Lawman in Disguise

by Laurie Kingery

  She felt Prissy’s gentle touch on her hand. “Don’t worry, Daisy. As soon as some new tale gets passed around, everyone will forget about this one. And remember, no Spinsters’ Club member is going to stand still while anyone speaks ill of one of their own! Did you know, we asked her once to join the club and she couldn’t have been more scornful about it—guess that was a warning what she was made of then! It was as if the idea of women helping and supporting each other to find husbands had never occurred to her, since the only person she ever cared about was herself.”

  The reminder that she had a strong group of friends who understood and supported her—and who knew what was truly behind Tilly’s malice—warmed Daisy’s heart, but she didn’t like thinking Thorn was out there somewhere in danger, riding with desperadoes.

  “You’ve come to care about this man, haven’t you?” Prissy murmured. There was no condemnation in her voice, only sympathy.

  Was she that obvious? “What you must think of me, caring about a man who may or may not be an outlaw, falling for him after only a few days,” Daisy murmured, trying to hold back tears. Did she look like a desperate widow, needing a man in her life, even though her marriage had been nothing but a misery?

  “He must be a very good man, to make you care in so short a time,” her friend said. “And remember, there was a time when Sam’s reputation was in doubt, too,” she reminded her.

  Daisy could barely recall the dishonor that had once clouded Sam Bishop’s name, when he was exposed as a down-on-his luck gambler who’d stolen a valuable ring from a powerful criminal who’d tried to kill him. By this point she, like all of Simpson Creek, believed in Sam Bishop’s integrity as much as they believed the sun would rise each morning. He’d overcome his past and earned the respect of everyone. Surely Thorn could do the same, especially considering he was only masquerading as an outlaw so that he could see the true outlaws locked away.

  “I’ll give Sam your message,” Prissy promised. “You’re right, he’d want to know. And I’ll remember Thorn Dawson in my prayers. Keep your head up, Daisy. No one who really knows you will believe Tilly’s nonsense. The Lord will work this tangle out, I just know it.”

  A good friend was like a tonic, Daisy decided—one she wouldn’t deny herself in future. Oh, how she hoped Prissy was right!

  * * *

  “I’m right pleased at the way things went today,” Gordon Griggs declared as they sat around the campfire that night at a new site they’d chosen to use as a hideout. “None of us wounded, didn’t have to wing any townsfolk to keep ’em docile and the idea to rob the Lampasas saloon at the same time as the bank, so we could have ourselves a safe, private celebration complete with whiskey—pure genius, Pritchard!”

  “Thank ya, boss,” the outlaw said with a grin. “I reckon the only thing we’re lackin’ now is saloon girls. Next time we’ll have to steal us a couple of them, too.”

  A chorus of guffaws met his sally. The trouble was, Thorn thought, Pritchard wasn’t actually joking, and next time, a couple of unlucky saloon girls in the wrong place at the wrong time might find themselves kidnapped and abused. He had to find a way to stop this gang, as soon as possible.

  “How ’bout you, Dawson? You enjoy bein’ back in the saddle again?”

  Thorn kept his features relaxed, knowing that the others were still wary around him after his time away from them. And even before then, he’d been the newest recruit to the gang and therefore viewed with an unending amount of suspicion. He’d felt them watching him during the holdup at the bank and knew it might be a long while before they relaxed around him and trusted him. Infiltrating the group to begin with hadn’t been easy; the Griggs gang hadn’t stayed on the loose as long as they had by being gullible fools.

  When he’d first agreed to this scheme of pretending to be an outlaw, it hadn’t mattered to Thorn how long he would have to be with them in order to gain their trust. He wasn’t doing anything of lasting value with his life, after all, just trying to avoid being a dirt-poor rancher. And he’d wanted to do something to strike a blow against the gangs that ran rampant in Texas. Nothing he could do would bring Selena back, of course, but fighting against gangs like the one that killed her seemed to be the least he could do to honor her memory.

  But now that he’d met Daisy and Billy Joe, and had glimpsed the possibility of an infinitely more satisfying life, each day Thorn had to postpone starting that life loomed ahead of him with agonizing slowness. Plus there was always the possibility something could go wrong and he’d miss out on having that chance with Daisy entirely.

  He wondered what she and her son were doing back in Simpson Creek. How was Billy Joe dealing with Thorn’s abrupt disappearance without a proper good-bye? Had Daisy been able to explain why he hadn’t said goodbye, in such a way that Billy Joe didn’t hate him? How was Daisy holding up?

  “I had a fine time,” he drawled at last, “and like the boss, I always appreciate getting away without the lead flyin’—’specially in my direction, after last time.”

  There were knowing grins and chuckles around the fire as men passed whiskey bottles from hand to hand. Their haul from the saloon wasn’t going to last long at this rate.

  “Not me,” countered Zeke. “I kinda like lettin’ daylight into fancy fools in frock coats, seein’ the stupid surprise in their eyes that they’ve actually gotten shot and might be about to die—and cheatin’ death myself.”

  Thorn had known the other outlaw had a bloodthirsty turn of mind, but the callousness of his words was chilling nonetheless. If he continued thinking that way, Zeke would probably end his days on a gallows someday soon—or bleeding out on the street beside a bank.

  Thorn thought about saying something about not being able to count on staying bullet-free forever, but decided to hold his peace. Tomlinson had to know that already, deep down, and if he didn’t, he wasn’t likely to listen to any advice on the subject.

  “Say, boss, mind if I ask you something I was curious about?” Thorn inquired.

  “What’s that?” Griggs looked at him out of slitted eyes, and Thorn wondered if he’d made a big mistake by speaking up and drawing the suspicious man’s attention onto him.

  “Just wondering how the fellas managed to locate me at the widow’s house without callin’ attention to themselves. I mean, Simpson Creek’s not all that big a town, but did they search every barn or what? Pretty slick work, however they managed it.”

  Griggs’s grin was smug. “It was, wasn’t it? Well, Thorn, my boy, it pays to have informants here and there, and it so happens I have a lady friend in Simpson Creek who’d been keepin’ her eyes open, so to speak.”

  Thorn felt a prickling at the back of his neck.

  “That so?” he said, injecting as much of the slavish admiration Griggs seemed to require into his tone as he could stomach. “Boss, you’re a wonder.”

  “Yup. Happens I visited the town a while back, an’ while I was havin’ a meal at that restaurant in the hotel, I met a gal named Tilly, the waitress there. She was right hospitable, if you know what I mean, and we had ourselves a fine time after she got off work. I didn’t figure I’d be seein’ her again after the bank heist, but then you went missin’, and we was worried about ya...”

  Worried I’d get arrested and turn informant in return for a lesser sentence, you mean. Thorn remembered Daisy telling him about the waitress who coveted her job, and felt chilled to the bone at the knowledge that the same woman had a connection with the outlaw leader. From what Billy Joe and Daisy had told him, Tilly wouldn’t have hesitated to blacken Daisy’s name because Thorn had stayed with her, he was sure, even though she herself was consorting with the outlaws’ leader. So now, because Daisy had helped him, she would pay the price in the loss of her good name.

  “So...I snuck into Simpson Creek the night after the robbery and went by her place. Asked her to keep an ey
e out for a fella of your description, and told her where she could leave me a message. Well, sure ’nough, she knew somebody who was out and about Sunday mornin’ and happened to see you climbin’ around on top of a barn. As soon as my little waitress heard the news, she got in touch with me just like I told her to. We wasn’t sure that meant you was stayin’ there, but it just so happens you was...”

  “So here I am. That was right smart work, boss.”

  “Women come in handy sometimes, don’t they? And the only reward I had to give her was a pair of gold earbobs I took off one of the lady customers in the bank when we robbed it.”

  Thorn hoped the spiteful waitress would be foolish enough to wear the earbobs around town and have the owner recognize them. Daisy was probably already suffering the consequences of Tilly’s vicious tongue, and bemoaning the day she’d met him. She’d never want to see Thorn again. But somehow, if he managed to live through all this, he had to make sure she was all right.

  “So what’s next for the Griggs gang, boss? Are we gonna lay low for a while?” He should probably have quit with the questions while he was ahead, but in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went. Maybe Griggs had drunk enough that his tongue would be looser than it usually was, and Thorn would finally be able to prepare a trap for the gang and its leader.

  The others fell quiet as they waited to hear how their leader would respond to the question.

  “Haven’t thought about it much yet, Dawson. Why? You got a suggestion?”

  Griggs’s eyes had narrowed again, and Thorn knew his question had been a mite too presumptuous. He shrugged. “Just wonderin’ if you thought we ought to get out of the Hill Country for a while, now that we’ve hit Simpson Creek and Lampasas...if you thought it might be getting too hot for us, that’s all.”

  He hadn’t meant for that to sound like a criticism, but the implication that the situation might be becoming too dangerous, that Griggs wasn’t smart enough or capable enough to avoid capture if they stayed in the area, turned out to be exactly the right spur to the man’s excessively large ego.

  “Now listen here, Dawson—we didn’t get to be the most feared outlaw gang in Texas by actin’ yellow,” Griggs snarled, showing stained, irregular teeth. “I say when a place is gettin’ too hot for us, understand? Most of these hick towns ain’t even got a telegraph to pass the news of what we done, let alone a sheriff smart enough to catch us. We ain’t goin’ nowhere unless I say so. An’ when I want your advice, I’ll ask for it, is that clear?”

  Thorn hunched his shoulders and raised both hands palm up to signify submission. “Sorry, boss, I wasn’t tryin’ to suggest anyone was lily-livered. Just after hearing your story about the waitress, I thought it might be nice for me to take the lady who was caring for me some token of my esteem...if we were still gonna be in the area, that is. If we’re movin’ on, no problem...” And if he knew where the next robbery would be, he could use the visit to Daisy to tip off Sheriff Bishop while he was there, and not have to convince a lawman in some new town who didn’t know him.

  Griggs sniggered. “Hopin’ to get some time for sparkin’ with the lady now that you’re on the mend, was you? Must be feelin’ yore oats... Well, ya can’t go wrong with jewelry, if you get a chance to snatch some—women do like their baubles, don’t they?”

  Thorn allowed himself to relax a little now that Griggs seemed to have been placated by his reaction.

  “Like I said, Dawson, let me think on it a mite.” He belched, then let out an enormous yawn. “Shoulda said sleep on it. Reckon I’ll turn in...”

  * * *

  “Here’s the chicken and dumplings Mrs. Detwiler ordered,” Daisy said, pointing to the steaming dish she’d just set out as Tilly entered the kitchen.

  Tilly’s mouth twisted in an unbecoming pout. “She told me when it was ready to have you bring it out.”

  With an effort of will, Daisy kept a grin from blossoming on her lips. It had to be a blow to Tilly’s ego that her campaign to discredit her had met with such a spectacular failure. While a few folks seemed to study her with increased interest, no one had shunned Daisy, treated her like a scandalous woman or even mentioned that they’d heard that a wounded outlaw had been staying in her barn. Everyone seemed to believe the story that her roof was repaired by a working man simply passing through town.

  “Oh, Mrs. Detwiler and I are old friends,” she said, picking up the hot dish with a towel and heading for the dining room. “She even gave me one of her rose bushes once.” Tilly didn’t have to know that the older woman, famous for her roses, had done it as a gesture of sympathy when Daisy’s husband had been killed.

  “Mrs. Detwiler, so good to see you,” she said to the woman, who beamed back at her from her seat in the center of the room. “Here’s your blue plate special, but we’re out of blue plates,” she added, as she laid the dish at her place.

  It was an old joke between them. The hotel had never had anything but gray-rimmed white china.

  “I decided I needed to get out of my house for a while. Tired of my own cooking. How are you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Detwiler. The elderly woman was the acknowledged social arbiter of the town by virtue of her long residence and the fact that her late husband had been a preacher. Yet for all her status, she always had time to inquire kindly after Daisy. “Are you holding up all right?”

  Her question, Daisy knew, was a discreet way of asking how she was weathering Tilly’s gossip.

  “Just fine, thank you, ma’am,” Daisy said, giving her a wink to show she understood the deeper context of Mrs. Detwiler’s inquiry. “Simpson Creek folks are the nicest folks in Texas.”

  “Most of them,” the older woman agreed, with a nod toward the kitchen to indicate she was exempting the waitress. “As my ma used to say, ‘What you don’t see with your eyes, don’t witness with your mouth.’ Some people haven’t learned that yet. How’s that boy of yours? I hear he’s working at Ella’s café. I had breakfast there the other day, and Ella speaks very highly of him.”

  Daisy smiled. “Billy Joe’s doing just fine. He seems to enjoy the job.” She started to say she’d better get back to the kitchen, but heard a flurry near the doorway and looked up to see Mr. Prendergast ushering none other than the mayor into the dining room.

  “Mayor Gilmore, such an honor to have you dine with us today,” he was saying, as he showed him to the most central table.

  The mayor thanked him in his affable way as he sat down.

  “Get back to the kitchen and I’ll bring his order right in,” commanded Tilly. But just as Daisy was about to do so, the mayor caught sight of her and beckoned her toward him.

  “If it isn’t the best cook in the Hill Country,” he proclaimed. “Come here, Mrs. Henderson, and tell me what the special is today.”

  Daisy heard Tilly’s barely suppressed sniff of outrage beside her. “Miss Tilly can take your order, Mr. Gilmore,” she suggested, knowing she’d pay later, somehow, for any favoritism shown by the mayor.

  “I know she can, but I’d like to visit with you for a moment, if that’s all right,” he said. “My daughter was just telling me what a nice visit you two had the other day.”

  “It’s always pleasant talking to Prissy,” she said. “She makes me feel good. Little Samantha is growing like a weed, too, isn’t she?”

  The mayor chuckled and slapped his leg. “That’s a fact.”

  “I hope your wife is well?” Daisy inquired. The mayor, who’d been a widower, had recently wed an old friend from his school days, and it was unusual to see him out and about without his Maria.

  “She’s in Houston, settling the sale of her former home there and visiting old friends, and our cook is taking some well-earned time off, which is why I’m eating at the hotel today,” Mayor Gilmore told her.

  “Oh, you must miss Mrs. Gilmore tremendously,” gushed Tilly, who s
till hovered behind Daisy. “When will she return?”

  “She’s coming back on the stage exactly two weeks from today,” the mayor said.

  “Two weeks from today?” Tilly echoed. “I’ll bet you can hardly wait, Mr. Gilmore.”

  “Indeed I can’t,” the mayor agreed. “The house seems empty without her. All right, Miss Daisy, tell me about the special today.”

  It was a gracious dismissal of Tilly, and the waitress knew it. She withdrew, but kept an eagle eye on Daisy and the mayor from the front of the restaurant until Daisy took his order and excused herself to return to the kitchen.

  To Daisy’s surprise, Tilly took no opportunity to attempt to pick on her further, even after the mayor departed, but seemed preoccupied with her thoughts. She’s plotting something, Daisy thought, but what?

  Chapter Ten

  “Still have a hankerin’ to visit yore lady friend in Simpson Creek?” Griggs inquired of Thorn the next evening, after they’d spent the day profitably holding up the stage that traveled between Lampasas and San Saba. “I thought after dark I might go see my little waitress, and it occurred to me you might like to go, too.”

  “Sure, why not?” Thorn drawled, careful to keep his tone noncommittal, as if he didn’t care too much one way or the other. Griggs might think he was fooling Thorn, but he wasn’t. If they were both in town at once, the outlaw might go nowhere near the traitorous Tilly, but might situate himself so he was in a perfect position to see if Thorn visited Daisy...or if, instead, he used the time to report to the sheriff.

  And if that was Griggs’s plan, it must mean he suspected Thorn, at least a little. Or was he just being paranoid? Perhaps Griggs really did want to see the waitress.