She pushed him through the open doorway.
“Now go, before someone comes.”
Tate handed Rose Marie his pistol. “You’ll need that to convince the sheriff one of you shot him.”
His gaze moved past Rose Marie’s shoulder to where Cat still stood beside the costume rack. She took several steps but stopped. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she swiped it away with a quick brush of her hand.
“I need you to tell me who you are—who you really are, Tate. If you don’t, I won’t be here when you get back.”
He met her gaze in silence, unable to talk past the lump in his throat.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he said and pulled the cowl over his head. He stepped into the passageway, fighting his heart, which was screaming at him to turn around and take her with him.
* * *
Cat stared into the darkness where Tate disappeared.
“Be safe,” she whispered.
Rose Marie closed the narrow door and quickly scooted a large chest in front of it as if it was never there. She then placed two smaller boxes on top of the chest. To Cat’s discerning eye, even knowing where the door was, she wasn’t able to tell the wall was anything but a wall.
Rose Marie shook her head and pulled Cat to the opposite side of the room, shoving her to the floor in front of the dressing table. Holding out the penknife, Cat stared at it a moment then hesitantly took it, then immediately set it beside the gun, which already lay on the table.
“What’s your plan?” Cat glanced over at Sutton’s body and shuddered.
“I’m not leaving you here to take the fall for this. What you did. You saved our lives!”
From a distance, they could hear people shouting, and loud footsteps pounded down the hall, and the two women could hear the opening and closing of doors. Rose Marie wrapped her arms around Cat and dropped her head to her shoulder just as the dressing room door flew open.
“What in holy hell happened in here?” the sheriff’s voice boomed as he stumbled into the room. He grabbed the costume rack with his hand and regained his balance, still weaving but remaining upright.
“Now, sheriff,” the colonel said in a commanding voice as he and another man walked into the room behind the lawman. “I’m sure there’s no need to yell with ladies present.”
The sheriff glanced at them and scowled.
“Don’t see no ladies here. Those two are nothing more than prost—”
The colonel’s gloved hand clamped over the sheriff’s mouth as he pivoted to face the inebriated man.
“I don’t believe you should finish what you were about to say, Sheriff. As a colonel in the United States Army and the commanding officer of Fort Douglas, I outrank you by several levels. That being said, no one talks down to a lady —not in my presence.”
He tilted his head toward the two women who were now standing side by side, Cat’s arms threaded through Rose Marie’s for support and, because her legs were shaking so hard, to keep her upright.
The dust-covered cowboy stepped forward and kneeled beside the body, lifting the bloody jacket and unbuttoning the vest and shirt to look at the bullet hole. Cat had never seen the man around town before today, and just from his appearance alone, she would have remembered him. His bright blue eyes all but shone from his dirty face and the mass of tangled hair covering his features.
The colonel turned back to them and pulled out a folded white handkerchief from the inside of his blue army coat and handed it to Rose Marie, who, to Cat’s surprise, had managed to create a few tears. Out of the colonel’s line of sight, Cat raised one brow. Rose Marie hiccupped, covering her mouth before her grin gave her away.
The colonel gave them a slight bow. “Ladies, I am Colonel Patrick Connor. Do either of you need a moment or can you tell us what happened?” he asked.
Cat patted Rose Marie’s arm. “I’m afraid this may be my fault. John was angry at me because I married another man.” She let out a shaky breath.
“I told him several times I wasn’t interested in his advances...I told him...” She forced her shoulders back and cleared her throat. “Everyone in town will vouch for his temper when he’s very angry.”
“I know John Sutton’s character, ma’am,” the stranger said as he stood, wiping his hands on a dirty rag that had been thrown on the floor.
“I’m Jerrod Smithton, Texas Ranger. Did either of you see who shot him?”
Cat grabbed the gun before Rose Marie even moved and stepped toward him, holding the butt of the pistol to him.
“I did.”
Chapter 15
Rose Marie let out a frustrated huff behind Cat but didn’t say anything.
“He barged into the room with a drawn pistol, yelling at us and waving the gun in our faces,” Cat explained.
“I shot him before he could shoot us...sir.”
The ranger’s gaze dropped to Big John’s body then back to her, one dark brown brow disappearing beneath the brim of his hat.
She shrugged, her own brows rising.
“Lucky shot?”
He pushed his sweat-stained hat to the back of his head.
“Damned lucky, if you ask me.”
His eyes narrowed on Rose Marie.
“So, ma’am, why is there a bloody knife on the table next to you?”
Rose Marie sighed and picked up the knife, handing it to the ranger.
“The knife is mine, Mr. Smithton. I walked in to find John waving a gun at Catriona. It was the only weapon I had, so I stabbed him with it.”
The colonel used his foot to flip Sutton’s body over and both men kneeled on either side to examine him. The ranger jerked the shirt and vest up from his back. On the right side the skin was lacerated and bloody. The ranger glanced up at Rose Marie with a frown. He rose and took his hat off, running his fingers through his unkempt salt and pepper hair. Settling the hat back on his head, he continued to stare at Rose Marie. Cat could almost swear she saw his brain actually thinking. His gaze never wavered.
“Miss Adams, I would like to ask you a few more questions, just to fill in a few blanks for my report. It shouldn’t take too long.”
His blue eyes turned to Cat. “If you don’t mind stepping into the hall, Miss—?”
“Mrs. Tate.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I’ll speak with you in a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
She motioned with a flip of her hand and pointed to the door. “I’ll...I’ll just wait outside...in the hall.”
She squeezed Rose Marie’s arm one last time and tried to give her a reassuring smile then stepped out, the door softly closing behind her.
She paced the hall, wondering what the ranger was asking Rose Marie. Why had he singled her out? Tate had shot him, for goodness’ sake. She had confessed, not Rose Marie, so why not talk to Cat first? It made no sense. The look in Tate’s eyes when he left had almost killed her, but she refused to be lied to any longer—even if they were lies of omission. In her opinion, not telling her anything was just as destructive.
“Interesting finding you here...all alone.”
Dread filled Cat as she turned to face Welder. He was the last person she wanted to see, much less deal with. She did not like the man standing in front of her. No matter what he did or said, she would never like him.
“What do you want, Welder? Shouldn’t you be causing trouble somewhere?”
His face reddened, and she caught an angry glint in his brown gaze as he glared at her. He took a step forward, pinning her against the wall.
“What in the hell do you know?” his voice came out in a harsh hiss and spit splattered her face.
“What have you heard?” More spit hit her face.
She had no idea what he was talking about, but from his shifty demeanor, baiting him just might get her the information she needed to figure out what he was up to. She pressed her palms against his muscled chest and pushed him back...or tried to. The man didn’t budge. She changed tactics and tried to
smile, all the while swallowing the bile rising in the back of her throat. She really didn’t like him.
“Step back and I’ll tell you.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to either do what she asked or do something worse to her. She watched the bulging vein in his neck and the side of his forehead until, finally, he stepped away, his thick arms crossing over his chest.
“Miners talk, and my job allows me to hear all sorts of tidbits.” She thought back to something Tate had told Thad.
“I overheard that the explosion was set on purpose by someone who wanted Tate dead. From what the miner said about another close call a few days before, you seem to be the common denominator.”
He scowled. “The common what?”
“Denominator. In other words, you are the person who caused both incidents.”
The emotion drained from his face, leaving it blank and unreadable. She almost liked his anger better. At least then she knew what to prepare for.
“Do you think for one minute, my boys are going to believe you over me?” His sneer returned.
“I don’t think they will. We have too much history together, and they both owe me their lives. No, I think you’re grasping because Tate hasn’t conformed to your female whims.”
Before she could even react, he reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the wall toward him. His face was close enough for her to see the tiny red squiggly lines in his eyes.
“If you’re not careful, Mrs. Tate, you’re going to find yourself in a bad situation. A very bad situation.”
“Is there a problem out here?”
Cat glanced over her shoulder to find Ranger Smithton staring at them from the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Welder whose face blanched. Weldon dropped her arm and stepped away, pulling his hat lower on his face. Turning on one heel, he walked back into the saloon without saying another word.
“Mrs. Tate, who was that man? He seemed vaguely familiar...”
“His name is Don Welder—a despicable man.”
The ranger thoughtfully nodded, his gaze focused on the doorway leading back into the saloon.
“Mr. Smithton?”
“Hmm?” He glanced at her then shook his head and gave her a crooked grin.
“Yes, sorry, ma’am. There’s no need for you to wait any longer. Miss Adams gave me all the necessary details for my report.”
“Fine then,” Cat muttered, now worried about what Rose Marie had told the man.
“Since I’m no longer needed, I’ll just head on home.”
She gave him a nod and slowly walked through the saloon. Keeping her head down as she passed table after table, she was startled to hear her name as she neared the bar. She glanced up to see Matilda smiling at her from the end stool.
Matilda raised her drink and downed the last of her beer, dropping the glass back onto the scarred countertop with a thud.
“Heard there was a bit of a ruckus over here, so I dropped by to see what was a goin’ on.” Matilda wiggled her eyebrows.
“Care to fill me in on a bit of gossip? An old lady’s gotta keep on top of things around here. Don’t want the world passin’ me by.”
Cat chuckled. “As if you would let that happen.”
Matilda’s grin widened.
“You’re a girl after my own heart, Cat Tate. You sure are.”
She buttoned up her coat and slid off the stool with a slight sway.
Cat stepped forward, wrapping the older woman’s thin arm around hers.
“I’m heading home, so let me walk you to your door to make sure you don’t fall on your face halfway there. How many beers did you drink anyway?”
The older woman laughed and patted Cat’s hand.
“Only the one. When I was younger, I could drink with the best of ’em.”
“I’m quite certain you could, Matilda. I would’ve liked to know you back then. I think we would have been the closest of friends.”
Neither of them talked as they walked, the muddy ruts frozen like twin streams down the center of the street. The freezing wind had calmed during the time she’d spent in the saloon, and the winter night was almost comfortable, but still very cold.
A few minutes later, they climbed up the step to the tiny porch adorning Matilda’s house. Cat glanced at the false front and pressed her lips together. The building was nothing more than a one-room shack. The old woman opened the door and stepped inside, turning back to Cat.
“Would you like to come in for a spot of tea? Warm you up a bit before you head home?”
Cat’s refusal died on the tip of her tongue as she recognized the longing in the older woman’s gaze.
“Of course, I would.”
Matilda gave her a single nod and stepped back into the one-room house as Cat entered.
“Besides, I’m not looking forward to what I need to do when I get there, so...”
Matilda put the kettle on top of the small wood-burning stove then turned and sat at the small table between the stove and narrow bed, motioning with a flip of her hand for Cat to sit across from her.
“Now, spill it. What happened at the saloon and what are you putting off at home?”
Cat sat back, her lips twitching as she fought the smile threatening to appear.
“In summary?”
Matilda nodded.
“Big John asked me to attend the show with him and since he’s technically still my boss.”
“You didn’t think it would be smart to turn him down?”
“Not really. Anyway, I was enjoying the performance when Rose Marie arrived and dragged me to the back dressing room under the pretense of needing me to repair a few costumes.”
“I wasn’t sure why, but I did as she asked until Tate showed up. Two seconds later, Big John burst into the room, followed by Rose Marie. Things went downhill fast after that. Big John had a gun, but somehow Tate drew his own pistol and fired, hitting Big John in the chest. Unbeknownst to either of us, Rose Marie had stabbed him in the back with a knife. Come to think of it, that was probably how Tate was able to get a shot of first.
“Tate dressed up as one of the actors, and Rose Marie shoved him into a hidden passageway. She managed to slide the trunk in front of the hidden door just before the sheriff, Colonel Connor, and Ranger Smithton appeared and began questioning us.”
Matilda’s eyes widened. “And they let you go? Where’s Rose Marie? Is Big John dead?” her bushy brows drew together in a quick frown.
“You’ve left out too many details. You’d make a horrible author.”
Cat retrieved the kettle and poured their tea before answering. She sipped the hot liquid, letting the warmth soak through her chilled body. She wasn’t certain whether she was cold due to the short walk from the saloon or the retelling of what had happened. She cradled the chipped mug between her hands, close to her face, breathing in the chamomile-scented steam.
“Yes, the ranger let me go. Said he didn’t need to ask me anything after questioning Rose Marie, which worries me. As of right now, Tate got away, and Big John is definitely dead.”
Matilda threw her fist up in the air with a loud ‘woohoo!’ then slammed her fist onto the rickety table, her tea sloshing over the side of the cup.
“Town’s gonna thrive with that tyrant gone! ‘Bout time someone took care of that murderin’ bastard!” A giggle slipped out before Cat could stop it. Matilda’s reaction was priceless.
“What a relief,” Matilda’s expression turned serious, her gaze narrowed as she stared back at Cat.
“You didn’t answer my other question. What’s got you so mopey? You don’t strike me as someone who would let any little setback get the better of you?”
“I gave Tate an ultimatum—tell me who he really is or I would leave town—leave him.”
“And here I thought you were smart. You love your husband, don’t you?”
“With all my heart. But, how can our marriage work if he keeps everything so bottled up? I’m his wife and
I don’t even know his full name!”
“So ask him. Sit him down—without any interruptions—and simply ask him the things you need to know. Have you explained to him why you want to know?”
“No,” Cat said in a soft whisper. “He’s always rushing off. When he does show up at home, either Thad’s with him or he’s so exhausted, he barely gets through supper before falling asleep.”
“Tate’s a hard worker, I’ll give him that, but the man does seem to be running from something. My husband, old coot that he was, never told me anything either. I had to drag it out of him, kicking and screaming, and he always felt better afterward. Of course, the bed play helped soothe his ruffled feelings too.”
“Too much information, Matilda!” Cat laughed. “Way too much information!”
“Go ask your husband, Cat, before it’s too late. Don’t let the love I’ve seen blossoming between the two of you shrivel up and die. My Jerry’s been gone long enough for me to realize just how much I lost when he died. You’re meant to have a big family and a long, happy life with someone who loves you. Give Tate another chance.”
Cat reached across the table and wrapped her fingers around Matilda’s bony hand.
“You are an amazing woman, and I’m honored that you’re my friend.”
A pink blush stole across Matilda’s cheeks, and she rolled her eyes.
“Aw, go on and skedaddle out of here. You have a job to do and the night’s not gonna last forever.”
* * *
Tate made his way down the sidewalk toward the bank. The clink, clink of metal hitting block was muted but steady, growing louder with each step. He rounded the corner and ran into Thad who stood with his back facing him. He let out a low humph and chuckled.
“You may be a bean pole, but you’re as sturdy as a brick wall,” he said, rubbing his chest.
“Took you long enough to get back. What happened?” Thad asked.
“Ran into a bit of a snag. Cat was with Sutton.”
With a quick turn of his head, Thad gave him a weird look then returned to watching the men in front of them.
“She was with him?”
The Agent's Mail-Order Bride Page 16