“Who warned you?”
Cat turned, but before she could answer, her gaze caught a shadow behind what looked like a piece of wood sticking out above the open door. She stepped around him and pulled the door toward her. Behind the door, she found another smaller door tucked into the corner of the adjoining wall.
“That must be the tunnel leading to the springhouse.”
“There are only three people who would know about this tunnel—and one of them is dead.” Tate whispered close to her ear.
Cat nodded. “The other two are Rose Marie and Big John,” keeping her voice as quiet as she could, although she didn’t think her boss would be stupid enough to stand in the tunnel listening to their conversation but, as she’d discovered, she was probably wrong.
Tate grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the house then led her to the sofa near the fireplace and gently pushed her down.
“Stay there and warm up.”
Her frown returned when he jerked on his boots and grabbed his drying coat, shoving his arms into the sleeves.
“Tate, what are you going to do?”
“First, I’m going to make sure he never uses the tunnel again then I’m going to confront him.”
She jumped up.
“No you will not!” She waved away his quick frown. I want answers as much as you do. Both Rose Marie and I want to know what happened to her brother and my intended. I believe Sutton had him killed and so does she. Yes, you can seal the tunnel. I would never be comfortable knowing it was there. But you can’t say anything to Big John or you’ll blow whatever it is you and Thad are trying to do!”
His frown turned into a dark scowl.
“He’s not going to stop until he has you, Cat. What do you want me to do, step back and wait until he takes you? People have disappeared around him—it’s too dangerous! He’s too dangerous.” He continued buttoning up his coat and walked toward the door. Before turning the knob, he hesitated and partially turned toward her.
“Stay out of this, Cat. No meddling or asking questions. Not after this. I promise you and Rose Marie will get your answers, but I’m going to be the one who ends this once and for all before somebody else gets hurt.”
She placed her hands over her hips, as he slammed the door closed behind him. Her concern grew at this surly side of Tate’s personality. She had seen a duality to him before, but not like this. Around her, he was usually polite...controlled. Now he was so aggressive and so angry.
“I’m going to figure out who you really are and what you’re doing, Tate—and protect you from yourself.” She hugged her waist and stared outside as the snow began falling again.
“You’ll be glad of my help. Just you wait and see.”
Chapter 14
Morning arrived too soon as Tate splashed water over his face, rinsing off the last of his shaving cream. Patting his cheeks and mouth area with a rough towel, he tossed it over the built-in rod on the side of the water stand. He tugged on his shoes and picked up his gun belt from the chair beside the door and fastened it, adjusting the weight until it settled just right over his narrow hips.
Grabbing the heavy coat hanging by the door, he shrugged it on and headed into town for the meeting he scheduled with Biggers, Adams, and Thad. He made his way down the street behind the saloon, thankful for the thick evergreen canopy overhead, which kept most of the snow off the ground. He should have left twenty minutes ago, but Sutton hadn’t been willing to let him go, instead pulling him along to meet the traveling actor troupe that had arrived in town. The saloon had been total chaos with all the actors filing in and out as they brought in trunks of equipment and racks of costumes.
Not confronting the man had been the hardest thing he had ever done, and the emotional overload had him feeling nervous and jittery. In the evening’s dim light, he slipped on a patch of hidden ice and slid over icy dirt and pebbles then righted himself again. After a few more minutes, several voices somewhere ahead of him rose in volume as their agitation grew. He stepped around the corner and into a narrow alley between buildings. A spark of annoyance surged through him. Thad had begun without him.
“Damn it, Tate! Little late, aren’t you?” Adams said. “Your buddy here said we needed to wait for you—that you’re some kind of mastermind when it comes to planning things like this.”
Tate gave Thad a reproachful glare.
“I have planned a few before. I just came from the saloon. The acting troupe arrived and the actors are setting up for the show that’s slated to begin in about ten minutes. We’re going to hit the bank just after sunset. Biggers, I want you and Adams to take turns breaking through the wall. If everything goes right, you’ll be able to break through in about an hour—maybe a bit longer.”
“When Sutton had the bank built, he was braggin’ how strong it was, sayin’ no one would be able to break through without dynamite. Those walls are a foot thick!” Biggers said.
Tate let out a frustrated sigh, playing along with what the man said. In reality, he knew about the thickness and planned to use it to keep the men from breaking into the building too early. Robbing the bank was a step in the wrong direction for him and Thad, no matter how much he was tempted to take just a little of the spoils.
It would make life a little easier. He shook his head in disgust at his own thoughts. He wasn’t Welder and never would be. His one-time friend had given Tate up to the miners, told them he’d been the leader of an outlaw gang almost as notorious as a few of them now roaming the area. That was the last thing Tate wanted—for people to know who he used to be—and Welder knew that. Tate had given up that life and worked hard every day to keep it all behind him.
He thought about Cat and what her reaction would be when she heard the news, because in this small town no one seemed to be able to keep a secret. He didn’t want her to know he used to be an outlaw or killed anyone. Sure, in a court of law, the killings might have been ruled as self-defense, but that was neither here nor there. The fact was, he had committed a horrible crime and took mens’ lives.
This was why he couldn’t open up to her or tell her how bad his life had been. On a couple of occasions, he noticed the doubt in her gaze and the worry on her face when she asked him who he really was. Thad told him how often she prodded him for information. Maybe he just needed to come clean with her? Leaving town would mean she’d be safe from Sutton. That was something, at least...
He pulled his mind back to the men and the meeting
“There’s a cushion, depending on how long the troupe performs. Sutton will stay there until the end. Maybe a bit longer. There’s supposed to be some kind of party afterward, so you should have enough time to get through the wall. The spot I chose to break through leads directly into the vault, so you’ll only have the one wall to breech.”
“And what are the two of you gonna be doing?” Adams asked, his tone full of doubt.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be keeping my eyes on Sutton. Thad will stay here and make sure nothing goes wrong.”
He pulled Thad out of earshot of the two other men. Hunched over from the bitter wind blowing into the alley, Tate kept his gaze on the men.
“Make sure they don’t get through that wall. Pinkerton can only do so much to keep us out of jail. Breaking into a bank is above his reach—a federal offense. We’ll both be behind bars for sure.”
Thad nodded, hooking his thumbs together behind his waistband and rocked onto his heels a couple of times as if the icy wind wasn’t a problem.
“I’ll make sure they don’t get through, unless you take too long getting back. I can only stall them so long, you know.”
Tate’s eyes narrowed at his friend.
“Figure something out then—use that brain you’re always bragging about.”
He waited a minute, letting Thad take charge of the situation. As he turned, he heard the first sounds of a pickaxe striking the far wall of the bank.
Sneaking back into the saloon was simpler than he thought it wo
uld be, but the play or whatever the production was had begun, making it almost too easy. He sat at the end of the bar and watched two actors gallop from one side of the stage to the other as if they were on horses. When the actor closest to him turned around, he caught a glimpse of the stick pony between the man’s legs. Tate bit back a chuckle. They were on horses...of a sort.
The low mumble of voices behind him caught his attention. From out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the sheriff stroll into the saloon, followed by a man he’d never seen before. A third man brought up the rear, and from his stiff countenance and two-star insignia on his shoulder, he was the commanding officer from Fort Douglas. The newcomers, now sitting at a table near the stage, made Tate nervous.
As the show progressed, the sheriff finished his third glass of beer. Tate noticed that the man’s companions continued to nurse their first drinks. Tate’s gaze narrowed, studying the levels of the amber liquid in the two mens’ glasses. If he were a betting man—and he definitely was—he’d gamble everything he had that neither man had taken a single drink.
The sheriff hollered for another beer, his words slurred, but it was the other two men who made Tate tense up. As the act changed, two miners left their table, giving him a perfect view of Sutton, sitting at a table near the stage. A woman sat beside him...a woman with golden blonde hair with red highlights piled high on her head. His gaze traced the elegant curve of her neck. His eyes narrowed. As far as he knew, there was only one woman in this town with hair that color, and he was married to her.
He watched them for a few minutes, his position at the far end of the bar giving him a perfect view. He noticed every glance Sutton gave her, each time he leaned over and said something to her, every touch to her shoulder, back, and arm. With each touch, she straightened in her seat and edged away. The hint of a smile curled one side of Tate’s mouth. His woman had spunk, he’d give her that.
A quick flash of red pulled his attention away to where Rose Marie stood near the stairwell. He frowned. He would have seen her if she had come down the stairs, but she hadn’t. If she was coming into the saloon from outside, where was her coat? It was too cold for her dress, which showed her generous curves and bare shoulders. Her appearance was a surprise...and he didn’t like surprises. He didn’t know how she felt about Cat or if Rose Marie was going to be a problem. She was a wild card and he didn’t like wild cards.
His surprise grew when Rose Marie walked up to Sutton’s table and took Cat’s elbow, helping her to her feet. Before Tate could move, she led her to the hallway behind the stage where the dressing rooms were. A few minutes later, Rose Marie returned alone and sat in Cat’s empty chair.
His heart beat heavy in his chest. Each sharp thud echoed the increased pounding in his head as fear for her grew. He stood but hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. He fought the urge to confront her and demand to know where Cat was. Instead, he forced himself to stay put. He couldn’t run off half cocked. Not with Sutton sitting beside her.
“Haven’t I seen you before?”
Tate turned toward the voice and realized the colonel stood beside him. The young man’s eyes were narrowed speculatively, studying Tate’s face.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’ve been through this area before. The last time was just before I joined the Union Army, if I remember right.”
“You were a Union soldier then.” He held out his hand, which Tate shook. “Colonel Patrick Connor, commanding officer at Fort Douglas.”
“Nice to meet you, Colonel.”
The man’s dark gaze never left Tate’s face, and his nervousness increased when the colonel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m positive I’ve seen your face somewhere else.”
It had only been six or so years since the gang’s last holdup, and Tate knew wanted posters were still hanging in some of the more remote towns throughout the West. Pinkerton’s reach only went so far, and this soldier wouldn’t think twice about arresting him. Trying to cover his tracks, Tate held out his hand.
“Good to meet you, Colonel. Name’s Tate. A buddy and I came to Alta to mine and got lucky when Sutton hired us.”
The colonel’s brow rose. “You work for Sutton?”
“Sure do.” Tate pointed toward Big John’s table and motioned with a quick flip of his head.
“There he is, up close to the stage. Front and center, just as he likes it.” He held his breath, praying the colonel didn’t keep digging for information. The last thing they needed was for him to be recognized and arrested. It would ruin everything.
He’d been gone almost an hour, and the boys would be getting close to breaching the bank. All he could do sitting him was hope and pray Thad did his job. When the colonel’s dark gaze turned back to him, Tate tugged on the brim of his hat.
“Work doesn’t wait. Gotta get back to my rounds before Sutton sees me tryin’ to catch part of the show.”
Before the colonel could stop him, Tate walked away, making his way along the side of the room then slipped into the same hallway where Cat disappeared earlier. He tried the first room but it was empty, as were the next two. He opened the door and walked into the last dressing room and found himself face to face with his wife, who looked at him in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, laying the gown she was sewing on the table behind her.
Tate didn’t like the look of doubt in Cat’s eyes as she stared at him, waiting for him to say something. The problem was, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted more than anything to tell her she was right about everything. He wanted to swear to her his only goal was to bring Sutton to justice for his crimes, but his promise to Pinkerton to keep silent, no matter the cost, kept his lips pressed together.
Suddenly, the door behind him slammed open and Sutton barged in with his gun drawn. Tate backed into the room and motioned for Cat to get behind him when a frantic Rose Marie burst into the room. Tate saw fear in the woman’s dark brown eyes. In two steps, Tate moved to stand in front of his wife.
“What do you think you’re doing, Sutton? Put the pistol down before someone gets hurt!”
Sutton’s eyes widened, and he jabbed the gun at Tate as if he were poking him in the ribs.
“I know who you are,” he said in a shrill voice.
“You’re trying to take everything I’ve built here for yourself! This is my town and my saloon. Everything you see here is mine! I won’t let you ruin it for me!” His voice rose higher and louder with each word.
Tate raised his empty hands. The last thing he wanted was for Sutton to completely lose control and shoot. With the way he was swinging the gun around, he was sure to hit either Cat or Rose Marie—probably both, if not all three of them.
“I work for you, remember? I came here searching for a small productive mine, that’s all. I don’t want your town. As soon as I have a bit of money in my pocket, I’m leaving, Sutton. I told you that.”
Suttons’ eyes filled with doubt. The gun inched lower until it hung by his side.
“Then why are you here with my woman?”
Tate heard Cat’s frustrated sigh behind him. He reached behind his back and tried to grab her arm to warn her not to say anything, but he was too late.
“I’ve told you many times, Mr. Sutton. I am not your woman and I never will be your woman. I’m married to Tate! Why can’t you just accept that?”
Sutton’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Cat, who, thankfully, stayed behind him. The seconds ticked by and Tate’s anxiety climbed. There was a minute twitch in the corner of Sutton’s left eye as his gaze returned to Tate.
Holding his body still, Tate inched his hand over his pistol. His thumb hooked over the leather strap on his gun, and he wrapped his palm around the handle. He would probably die, but he would die fighting. Regret for everything he hadn’t done in his life, regret for not telling Cat what he felt for her, filled him. He loved her. He hadn’t realized what the emotion was until now. His wasted life played through his mind.
Sutton�
��s gun rose, and Tate drew, his gun barely clearing the holster as he fired. The bullet ripped through Sutton’s chest, momentarily stopping the upward motion of his pistol. Sutton’s jaw went slack, and his mouth dropped open. His head tipped forward, as a bright red stain spread over his pristine white shirt and white jacquard vest. He made a gurgling sound deep in his throat and fell to his knees. The gun fired, the shot hitting the floor near Rose Marie’s shiny black boots.
Tate’s gaze moved away from Sutton to where Rose Marie stood behind the dying man, a bloodied penknife clutched in her trembling hand. “Rose Marie?”
Cat reached over to a costume rack and grabbed a brown habit from the end, throwing it to Tate.
“Put that on! Someone had to have heard the guns go off!”
Tate stared at the scratchy material in his hands then down at Sutton’s body.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t have enough time to find proof,” he muttered.
Rose Marie, her wits recovered, led him to the hidden door at the back of the room.
“You will, Tate, but not if you’re hanging from a rope. Put on the habit and go. Cat and I will be fine.”
She opened the door and pointed to the black interior of the passageway.
“This will take you to the other side of the hall behind the rooms, so when you exit the passageway, you’ll be in the front part of the saloon. It leads to the stairwell wall where a panel pops open. “There’s a peephole,” she raised her hand to her forehead, “about this high. Look through it to make sure no one is nearby. To your right, there’s a looped rope. Pull down to open the door.”
She placed her hands over his and squeezed. “Thank you, Tate, for always treating me like a lady. It reminded me of who I really am—who I was before being stranded in this town. No matter what you believe, by killing Sutton, you’ve helped not only me but also the entire town. Whether or not that was your goal is irrelevant. You helped us all.”
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