According to Tom’s research, Miner and his partner, Lewis Schraeger, would ambush the CPR train next April, the very night of the Slide, and escape with, then bury the fortune in gold bars near Frank.
Several times, Tom had watched The Grey Fox, a movie portrayal of Bill Miner’s life. The story was a touching and sympathetic study of Miner that revealed the human side of the famous criminal. Tom realized now that the actor who had portrayed the man sitting only a few feet away had created an uncanny likeness.
Tom had recognized him instantly and had longed to throw caution aside and confront Miner. There were questions only the gentle old bandit himself could answer, such as how he’d ever managed to escape from San Quentin and how he’d survived the long months spent in solitary confinement inside that prison. But, of course, it would have been both rude and insulting to put Miner on the spot in front of everyone.
When the women had excused themselves, Tom’s heart had leapt with excitement. Perhaps now was his chance. But Leona and Zelda were barely out of the room when Miner, too, got to his feet.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, there’s a matter I must attend to this evening. I do thank you for your hospitality, Jackson. Good to meet you, Tom. My regards to your lovely Zelda.”
In a moment, he was gone, and Tom felt like howling with frustration. Furious, he turned on Jackson. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d met Bill Miner?”
Jackson frowned and shook his head. “Bill Miner? What’re you talking about?”
Tom gestured at the empty chair. “Leona’s friend, George Edwards. He’s Bill Miner. I recognized him right away.”
Jackson still looked blank, and Tom grew even more impatient. “Miner, for God’s sakes, the man who was the brains behind the robbery of gold bars from the Klondike. The bars we originally came here to find, remember?”
Jackson looked stunned. “But I thought Lewis Schraeger was the guy who robbed the train and ended up in San Quentin.”
Tom shook his head. “Schraeger was just Miner’s partner. It was Bill who was the real brains behind the robbery.” Swiftly, Tom filled in all the details, recalling everything he could remember about the wily old bandit. “I know for certain this is Bill Miner. Miner had a ballet dancer tattooed on his right forearm, and because of his coat I couldn’t see that tonight. But he also had a tattoo mark at the base of his thumb, and that was there as plain as day on his left hand.”
Jackson’s mouth dropped open, and the stupefied expression on his friend’s face made it obvious that until now he hadn’t had a single clue as to Edwards’s true identity.
“Tom, I always left that research stuff to you, you know that. Sure, I remember now you talking about Bill Miner, but I didn’t connect it. Leona just told me Edwards was an old friend of her father’s, that when her dad died, Edwards,”---Jackson grimaced and corrected himself---“ Miner, that is, promised him….” His voice faded, and the full implications of Miner’s identity began to register on both of them.
“Of course she knows exactly who he is. She knows all about him. She has to, right?” Jackson’s jaw hardened, his mouth twisting into a grim line. “No wonder she’s been vague about so many things.” His eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched near his mouth. “I’d like to know just exactly how involved Leona’s been in Miner’s career. All this talk about an inheritance from a great aunt…”
In all their long years together, Tom could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d seen his partner totally lose his temper. When he did, it was monumental. Right now, he was on the narrow edge.
“Cool down, Zalco. Give her a chance to explain before you jump to conclusions.”
“Explain? How the hell do you explain something like this?” Jackson lifted the round globe of brandy and tossed it back in one swallow. His knuckles were white. “I’m gonna go find her and have it out right now.”
Tom sighed, accepting the inevitable. “I’ll come with you and get Zelda. Sounds as if you’ll be wanting privacy for this particular conversation.”
Jackson jerked his head in agreement.
On the second turn of the grand staircase, they met the women coming down.
“How sweet! You couldn’t wait a moment longer.” Leona smiled gaily and held her hand out to take Jackson’s arm, but one look at this face made her draw back. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“You and I need to talk, Leona. Right now.” He seized her arm and began to hustle her back up the steps, but she jerked away from him, scowling.
“Jackson, for heaven’s sake. Whatever it is has waited this long, surely it can wait until later. Zelda and I would like some coffee, and there’s dancing in the ballroom. I intend to enjoy the rest of my birthday.”
“This happens to be about you and your old friend, Bill Miner, Leona.” Jackson’s steely voice and narrowed gaze betrayed his anger.
Leona’s face blanched and her eyes widened. She stared at him for a moment, and then turned to Zelda. “I’m afraid we’ll have to have that coffee another time, Zel,” she said, her voice strained. “Thank you for the photograph, and for coming to celebrate my birthday with me. I’ll come see you soon and explain all this.” She turned and marched up the stairs ahead of Jackson, her back ramrod straight.
Zelda stared after them, her eyes wide. “Who in heaven’s name is Bill Miner, and what does he have to do with anything?” She sounded exasperated. “I would have said that Jackson had the explaining to do, not Leona. But I’m very relieved if you said something to him, Tom. He’s really been most dishonest with her, and in her condition---” She caught a glimpse of his astounded face and pressed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, damn my tongue. All that wine---”
Tom stood as if paralyzed, poised between one step and the next. “Leona’s pregnant. And Jackson doesn’t have a clue.” His words came out in a stunned whisper.
“I gave my word I wouldn’t say anything,” Zelda said miserably. “And I still don’t understand who this Bill Miner person is, either.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him, unable even to imagine how tonight’s events would affect their lives, knowing only that it would be profound.
She looked dejected, and suddenly it seemed important that he make her smile again. “C’mon, pretty lady. It’s their problem. Let’s you and I go down to the ballroom and see if I remember how to waltz.”
He was becoming an expert at shoving the things he didn’t want to think about into a giant trash can in his mind and slamming down the lid.
In Leona’s room, Jackson stood, his hands balled into fists and planted on his hips, voice soft and lethal. “Well, Leona?” he asked, in a soft, lethal tone. “And don’t bother telling me you didn’t know who Bill Miner is, because I won’t buy it.”
She’d flung herself into an armchair and unbuckled her shoes, kicking them off and tucking her stockinged feet up under her skirts. Rich color stained her cheeks, and there was a dangerous light in her blue gaze when she looked up at him.
“For heaven’s sake, Jackson, sit down. There’s no need to loom over me this way. I’m not about to bolt.”
He ignored her. “Bill Miner is a wanted man, Leona, by the Canadian police as well as the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He’s robbed trains all over the damned place. He’s done time in San Quentin and pulled off two jail breaks, and you tell me he’s your good friend.” His voice was deceptively mild. “You mind explaining just exactly how you come to be mixed up with him in the first place?”
She scowled up at him. “I told you. He was my father’s best friend. He’s been my---my guardian for years.”
“Your guardian.” Jackson shook his head, making his long ponytail switch from side to side. “What kind of father would appoint an ex-con, a known bank robber, as guardian to---” He stopped suddenly and looked at her, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you’d better tell me a little more about your father, Leona.”
With a furious movement, she uncurled her leg
s and sprang to her feet, mimicking his stance, her hands on her hips, leaning toward him.
“And maybe you’d better be a lot more honest with me than you have been, Jackson Zalco. You’re with Pinkerton, aren’t you?” There were angry tears shining in her eyes. “You’ve just used me to get close to Bill, isn’t that right? No wonder you were so secretive about where you were from and why you came here to Frank. No wonder you never said a word about our future together.”
Taken off guard, Jackson gaped at her. “Pinkerton? You think I’m a detective?”
She gave him a scathing look. “Stop acting, Jackson, Of course you’re a detective. How else would you know so much about Bill?”
He stared at her, then sank down heavily on the sofa. “Son of a gun. I give you my word I’m no policeman, Leona. There’s a lot I haven’t told you about myself, but one thing’s for damned certain, I’m not here to arrest Bill. I just want to know the truth about you. All of it, Leona.” He leaned forward scowling at her. “I’m in love with you. Don’t you know that, you impossible female?”
If he thought that was going to make her melt into a puddle of sentiment at his feet, he was dead wrong. She tossed her head and looked even angrier than before. “How should I know? You certainly never said so till this minute, and you’re only saying it now to divert me. Before I tell you one single word about myself, or Bill, or my father, you’d better do some explaining yourself Jackson Zalco. If you’re not some kind of lawman, then who exactly are you, and how do you know the things you do?”
She had him there, no contest. His anger dissolved and he sighed and patted the sofa beside him. “I’ve been puttin’ this off because it’s downright weird, and I didn’t want you figgerin’ I was some kind of nut case. Sit down here beside me, honey, this is going to take a while.”
Leona shook her head. He might be over his temper fit, but she certainly wasn’t. She gave him a frankly skeptical look and moved to the armchair again. “I can listen just fine from over here!” she snapped.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know this is gonna sound as phony as hell, but it’s the God’s honest truth. My bein’ here, in this place, is the damndest accident I ever had. Anybody ever had, for that matter.” He sucked in a long breath and expelled it. Then, in halting fashion, he began to explain how he and Tom came to be in Frank in 1902.
He told of his own time, of his partnership with Tom, of how they’d earned their living searching for lost treasure. He then spoke of Tom’s research, the research that involved Bill Miner, and of their intention of finding the gold they’d felt was hidden somewhere near Frank. And he told her about the Slide.
Leona’s eyes grew huge. “You’re telling me that Turtle Mountain is going to fall down right on this town?”
“On some of it, for certain.” Jackson sighed. “Next April. Same damned day we got here, April 29. Four in the morning.”
For a moment she looked as if she believed him, but then she shook her head. “That’s preposterous. Surely you don’t expect me to believe such a tall tale.” She cradled her hands over her flat belly. “I don’t have any idea why, but you’re lying to me, Jackson. You certainly have a vivid imagination, if nothing else.”
He swore viciously and got to his feet. “You wait right here, lady. I’ll prove to you I’m tellin’ the truth.” He limped to the door, slamming it.
Within ten minutes he was back with several items of clothing over his arm. He tossed the first into her lap.
“Those are my jeans, take a good look at the fly.”
She looked at him haughtily, her eyebrows raised.
He grinned and pointed to the zipper. “Don’t get modest on me, Leona. Just take a look. There isn’t another pair of jeans around with one of these handy little devices, now is there? There are buttons on everything. I never even thought about zippers much before I landed here, but believe me, I’d give a lot to have ‘em installed on my pants again.”
Next, he handed her the red sweatshirt he’d been wearing when he visited the Interpretive Center, with its “Life is a Beach” message blazoned across the front.
“Nobody’s thought of writing on clothes like that yet, either, right? Not that I miss it so much. It tended to get tiresome, all those message shirts. But this soft old sweatshirt is the sort of thing I used to wear most of the time, and I sure s hell miss the comfort. Clothes now just aren’t built for comfort the way they are where I come from. And here’s another prime example.” He dropped a scanty pair of men’s black bikini briefs on her lap, grinning when she picked them up between her thumb and forefinger as if they were about to bite her.
“These are what men wear under their jeans in my day, and you know full well that the things I’ve got on right now under these pants don’t bear much resemblance to those. More’s the pity. Damned underwear these days just isn’t comfortable or sexy, either.”
Next, he fished in his pocket and drew out his wallet, exhibiting his charge cards and driver’s license. From a hidden fold he took out the useless wad of money he’d drawn from a bank machine hours before the accident that had landed him in Frank.
Leona fingered the bills, staring at the date marked on them.
When she looked up at him again, Jackson felt elation and enormous relief flood through him. He could tell without having her say a word that she believed him.
Her full mouth was slightly open and she was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Twenty-Six
“Is there any way for you to get back there, to this---this place in the future, Jackson?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. Tom and I’ve got a plan we hope will work. On the night of the Slide next April, we’re gonna go to the exact spot where that Interpretive Center was and see if the actual event will reverse the time-travel process.” He outlined it for her in detail. “We’re gonna do our damndest to find a way back. We just don’t belong here.” He paused, looking at her. “And neither do you. I sorta thought you might come along if it works, Leona. You’d like it fine, where I come from.”
Slowly her blue eyes kindled, “I might at that,” she said. “First, though, I want to know all about this future place. Time. Whatever you call it.”
Jackson nodded. “Later, I promise. But first, we’ve got old business to settle here.” He rested one booted foot on the other knee and smiled at her, a deceptive, easygoing smile that meant she wasn’t going to get away with anything. “Right now I want to know everythin’ there is to know about you and Bill Miner and your father, so start talkin’ honey.”
She scowled and he could tell she was debating whether to tell him the truth, even now. At last, she gave an exaggerated sigh and made an impatient little movement with her shoulders.
“Daddy was Bill’s partner. They’d worked together for years.” She glanced at Jackson and scowled. “Yes, of course, robbing trains, although my father retired for a while when he married my mama. She was a good friend of Bill’s sister, Maizie. They lived next door to each other in Whatcom County, in Washington State. Bill used to come to see Maizie now and then, and once he brought my father with him, and when Dad laid eyes on Mama that was that.”
Leona’s smile was sentimental. “He stayed and got a job in the mill. I was born there, and we were happy.” Her voice took on a different tone. “Then Mama got sick when I was four years old. She died, and Daddy left me with Aunt Maizie and went away with Bill again.” She met Jackson’s eyes, daring him to judge. “Daddy and Bill got caught holding up a stagecoach the following year, and sentenced to twenty-five years in San Quentin.”
She swallowed hard, then continued, “Daddy died there, of pneumonia. Bill wrote and told me, and from then on, he wrote me often. Daddy had asked him to look out for me, and he did his best, even from jail. I found out later that Bill arranged somehow to have my tuition paid at a good boarding school until I graduated, and there was always money in an account in my name
for spending and clothing. He escaped once during those years, but he got caught, and when he was sent back, they made it horrible on him.” She shuddered. “He wasn’t released until two years ago. When he finally got out of prison, he came to see me, and we’ve been together ever since.” Her voice was filled with passion and affection. “Bill’s like a second father to me. He’s one of the kindest and best men I’ve ever known.”
Jackson had been watching her face as she talked. He nodded, and it was a moment or two before he responded. “And have you ever gone along with him when he robs trains, Leona?” he asked, his tone quiet and matter-of-fact.
Her glance skittered away and her lips set in a stubborn line. “How do you even know he’s robbed any trains since he got released? He doesn’t exactly want to go back to prison, you know.”
“He has though.” Jackson might be hazy on the details, but Tom had a steel trap for a memory, and he’d quoted dates and times.
Jackson repeated them now, and he could tell from the carefully concealed shock on her fact that Tom was right. “Were you with him those times, Leona?”
She bristled, avoiding his eyes. “What I do is no concern of yours, Jackson Zalco. If you have your way, you won’t be around here much longer. You’ll go back to that place where they have those---those zipper things on pants and that scandalous underwear for men.”
He took her chin in his palm and forced her to look at him. “I thought you said you wanted to come along,” he purred.
She twisted her head away. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I’d have to think about it.”
Jackson leaned forward, his arms resting on the sides of her chair, effectively imprisoning her there. “I deserve to know whether or not you’ve been robbing trains, Leona. I’m not going to run to the cops if you have. Morally I don’t give a damn one way or the other as long as you haven’t taken to murdering innocent bystanders. But I do need to know whether some lawman---one of these Pinkerton gents you mentioned---could come along and arrest you some fine mornin’ when I’m least expecting it. I need to know, Leona. Surely you understand that?”
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