I only pray she remains unharmed.”
Reginald frowned and retrieved the last of his clothing from the closet. “She is a wonderful woman—a woman whom I intend to make my wife.”
“Your wife? But I thought her interest was in Parker.”
“It was. But that is in the past. She loves me now and plans to share a life with me in England.”
“I see. Then I suppose you know where she is,” Smith said, wiping his forehead again. When Reginald refused to acknowledge this statement one way or another, Smith continued. “Well, after you burn this place to the ground, I don’t much care whom you hitch yourself up with.”
“Well, I do,” Braeden said, casually leaning against the doorjamb. “I think the marshal here would probably care as well.”
Marshal Schmidt came to stand in the middle of the doorway but said nothing. Braeden eyed Reg with a look that demanded the truth. Reg knew the man would not leave without answers to his questions.
“It seemed rather strange that you and Tomas should spend so much time pouring over inventory sheets when there was so much else necessary to ready this place for the grand opening,” Braeden began. “It also seemed strange that Rachel’s inventory stopped disappearing, at least according to your tallies, while mine continued to show discrepancies.” He walked toward Smith and Worthington, appearing for all the world as though they were about to discuss the weather. “Of course, Tomas was really rather good at giving us the slip on more than one occasion. Weren’t you, Tomas?” he called out, and the boy sheepishly appeared to stand beside the marshal.
“You see,” Braeden continued, watching Reg carefully, “Tomas has just given us a full confession. He explained how you approached him to help you steal valuable articles from Casa Grande and how he’s used the money to help his family. Tomas had a very honorable reason for his thievery, but I wonder what your reason might have been, Mr. Worthington.”
Reg shrugged and nervously twisted his hands. “The boy is lying, and you don’t frighten me with your bullying ways.”
“The boy isn’t lying. I just heard more than a simple confession of stealing silver from your little conversation with Smith. You plan to destroy Casa Grande. I suppose the one question I have for you both is why?”
Smith seemed to understand that the matter needed to be taken quickly into hand. “Look here, Parker, you seem like a reasonable man, and while I don’t know the marshal here, I would imagine he’s intelligent enough to realize when something can benefit him.”
Parker exchanged glances with the marshal and smiled. “He’s a very intelligent man. He managed to lead us here tonight.”
Smith bit his lip and nodded. “Yes, well, then you will understand when I explain the dilemma the railroad finds itself in. The Santa Fe has made some poor investments and, in the course of this last year, has suffered a financial setback. Their investment in Casa Grande alone has cost them hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“So how does it figure that you would benefit from destroying the resort? I thought the Santa Fe and Harvey Company were hoping this would be their best joint effort to date,” Braeden said seriously.
Smith nodded. “They do. However, I’ve found a way to make it pay off in much quicker order. Fire insurance will more than cover the expense put into this place and leave money in addition to those expenses.”
“Fire insurance? You figure to burn the place down and collect on the insurance?” the marshal asked after taking a wooden toothpick from his mouth. He looked for all intents and purposes to be rather bored with the entire affair.
“Yes,” Smith said flatly. “The idea to sell off the inventory was Worthington’s idea, but I went along with it. It wasn’t like the stuff would be useful to anyone after the fire. Worthington pointed out that we could take what we wanted and sell it off. No matter how much we received for the articles, it would still be a profit to both of us.”
Smith moved closer to the men. “Look, I can make it worthwhile to both of you. I will control that insurance money when it comes in.
Tonight is perfect for burning the place down because there’s a storm brewing off in the distance, and once it hits here, we can plead a lightning strike or the wind knocking over a lantern. Then the wind will whip up a fury and hopefully—” “Threaten the life of every man, woman, and child in residence,” Braeden said sarcastically. “You really haven’t thought this through, Smith. Are you ready to be a murderer as well as a wealthy man?”
“I don’t stand to be wealthy from this,” Smith replied. “There are some matters that have made this situation necessary. The money will help to keep me out of trouble in Topeka. You can’t possibly understand.” “Try me.”
Smith took a deep breath and blew it out. As he did that, thunder rumbled off in the distance. “We’re losing time. The storm is moving in fast.”
“The way I figure it,” Braeden said, “you have all the time in the world to explain. You’ll have even more time in your jail cell.”
“You needn’t threaten us, Parker. We know what we’re doing,” Reginald replied. Parker could threaten and rage all he wanted, but Reg held the winning card. He would have things his way. He would be the top man for once in his life. “We have a plan, and we mean to carry through with that plan. It’s out of your hands, and frankly, it’s out of my hands.”
“What do you mean?” Braeden asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I mean that soon this place will be in a full blaze. You can’t prove anything; it’s your word against ours. And while Tomas may have told you a great deal, he’ll quickly side with us when he sees that the welfare of his family depends upon it. Your reputation is ruined here, and Mr. Smith and Mr. Harvey are the best of friends. So in spite of your bringing in the marshal, I doubt seriously anyone will listen to your tale of intrigue. They’ll remember your rejection of the woman you ruined—of her desire to marry you in spite of your actions. You are known now to be a liar, and frankly, I doubt anyone will give much consideration to what you have to say.”
“Marshal, surely you could use the extra money?” Smith said in a questioning tone.
The man grinned. “I reckon I can always use a little extra money.”
Smith nodded. “Then you’ll help us?”
The marshal shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t say that.”
“But … I thought from what you said about being able to use the extra money,” Smith countered, “that you were agreeing to go along with our plan. I know that if you will help us, Tomas will be happy to go back to keeping his mouth shut on the matter and rejoin our effort.”
“Tomas isn’t going to rejoin you,” Braeden said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And you can’t buy the marshal, so what do you propose to do now?”
“Gentlemen,” Smith interjected, “we needn’t argue amongst ourselves. I can make your silence quite worthwhile. I’m prepared to offer both you and the marshal two thousand dollars in order to simply escort Tomas to jail and forget everything else. I’m sure that by the time you remove the boy and process him for his crimes, that the destruction of this fine resort will already be well underway. So what do you say? Two thousand dollars is a lot of money to turn your back on.”
Braeden smiled, but it was a hard, unfeeling smile. Reg felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the cool, unemotional expression on the man’s face. “I have more than enough money to see to my needs, Mr. Smith. I hardly need your blood money.”
“It’s not blood money, Mr. Parker. No one has to be injured. We’ll sound the alarm well in advance and everyone should make it to safety before the fire gets out of control.” Smith stepped forward, his face pale, his skin sweaty. “I need this money, Mr. Parker. I’m afraid I did something rather foolish and gambled a good deal of money away. It wasn’t even mine, but rather money the Santa Fe entrusted me with. If I can successfully obtain the Santa Fe share of the hotel insurance, which of course has to be shared with Mr. Harvey, I can manage things a bit lo
nger. At least until I’m able to make back the money I borrowed.” “Stole, don’t you mean?” questioned Braeden.
Reg saw a brilliant flash of lightning and smiled. The thought of the storm made him feel as if everything would be all right. He hadn’t dared to hope they would be fortunate enough to have a lightning storm in the area, but now it seemed as if the destruction of Casa Grande was preordained.
If only they could force Parker to cooperate. They were too close now to lose everything they’d worked for. If Parker and the marshal wouldn’t agree, Reg would have little trouble in seeing them both killed. And with Parker dead, there would be no further obstacle to Rachel’s love. At this thought, Reg chuckled, causing all heads to turn toward him.
“What’s so funny, Mr. Worthington?” Braeden questioned.
“You are,” Reg said with a smile. “You stand here worrying about your precious hotel, when Rachel is still far from your reach. But it isn’t important because she’s within my care and that is all that matters. I shall take her to England with me, and we will live rather happily there. I would imagine she might mourn you for a time, but only in the sense of regretting her nai.”
Braeden practically flew at him, grabbing Reginald by his coat. “Tell me where she is!” he demanded.
Reg thought it all rather amusing. It seemed ironic that he would be standing here in Parker’s grip, while Smith begged the man to come in on their scheme. The marshal just stood there not saying a word, while Tomas trembled in the doorway, too frightened to run away and too unnerved to speak. To Reg it seemed like a poorly acted stage play. The final act, perhaps. The scene just before the ultimate climax, where all the pertinent players were gathered and the truth was finally told. He laughed out loud even as Parker shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“Where is Rachel?”
“She’s safe,” Reg replied, still laughing. “She’s with me and she’s safe.”
Outside, the wind picked up and lightning once again flashed to pierce the pitch-black darkness of the night. Braeden dropped his hold on Reg and turned to the marshal. “We need to get this trio over to your jail. I don’t know what they have planned, but I’m determined to bring it to a halt. I’ll—” “Just a minute, Parker,” the marshal cut in, tilting his head in the air. “I smell smoke.”
Braeden looked at Reginald, as did Smith. But it was Smith who spoke. “Is this your work?”
Reg tried to rationalize what they were asking, for his mind had already drifted to thoughts of Rachel Taylor in his arms. The storm outside and affairs of the hotel no longer seemed important. He looked up with a blank stare. “I’ve done nothing. The fire will start at two.”
Braeden looked at his watch. “That’s hours away.”
“Maybe lightning did strike,” the marshal said, moving toward the door. “Whatever the reason, I smell smoke.”
Braeden moved to follow the marshal into the hallway when the lights flickered and then went off. “What’s going on?” he muttered.
“Storm must have blown the lines down,” the marshal called out. He struck a match against the wall and looked to Braeden for help.
“You have any candles or maybe a kerosene lamp?”
“We have them downstairs, but if there is a fire, we’ve no time to be running all over the place. Tomas, you go downstairs and get us a couple of lamps out of the storage room. If you cooperate with us now, maybe the marshal can see to reducing the charges against you.”
Tomas looked at Braeden hopefully before tearing off in the direction of the stairs.
The match burned out and the marshal quickly lit another one.
“You take the west side and I’ll take the east,” he told Braeden. “We’ll get the folks to safety and then figure out what to do with these two.”
“It’s too soon,” Reg muttered over and over. He could smell the smoke now and felt his heart racing out of control. His plans had been altered and someone had taken matters into their own hands.
Pushing his way into the hall, Reginald was unprepared when Braeden slammed him against the wall, growling low and refusing to release him even as he struggled. “Tell me where she is!” Parker demanded.
Reg shook his head. “She’s mine. She doesn’t love you anymore. I told her you’d left with Ivy. I told her you were already married. She never wants to see you again.” Reg laughed at the look on Braeden’s face. Doubt mingled with fear as Braeden realized the potential such statements could have had on the already defeated Rachel.
“Senor Parker!” Tomas called as he brought the lamps. “There is a fire downstairs in the theatre. The stage curtains are already burning.” “That’s under the west side rooms,” the marshal called. “Come on, Parker, we have to get these people to safety.”
Braeden glared at Reginald with contempt, then slowly eased his grip on Reg’s shirt. Without a word, he turned and ran after the marshal. What followed next was like a macabre carnival. People poured from every corner of the second floor. Some were already in their bedclothes, others struggled to dress as they made their way to the stairs. A few of the older women sobbed fearfully, while some were in hysterics. Children, frantic in the wake of their disturbed sleep, seemed to sense the urgency and fear of their parents. This caused them to begin crying as they clung tightly to hands, arms, or even legs. Whatever they could manage to hold on to became their lifeline.
Reg stood rather dumbfounded for several moments as people streamed by him, pushing and shoving, all trying to reach the stairs first. He wondered if the fire would be a success, and even though he wasn’t responsible for the blaze, he knew he had completed his duty and could go back home.
Thinking only of leaving the hotel and retrieving Rachel, Reg systematically returned to his room, took up his luggage, and made his way to join the hysterical crowd.
Braeden choked on the thick black smoke. Because the hotel lobby was open to the second floor, smoke had no trouble pouring down the hallways and up into the second story. He took out his bandana and tied it around his nose and mouth, but it did little good. Pounding on each chamber door until someone came to answer it, Braeden felt light-headed from the lack of oxygen. He had to get the people to safety, but his mind kept going over and over the words Worthington had just told him.
“She doesn’t love you anymore. I told her you’d left with Ivy. I told her you were already married. She never wants to see you again.”
Braeden shook his head. He wouldn’t believe it was true. God wouldn’t let it be true.
TWENTY-SEVEN
BRAEDEN COULD BARELY MAKE OUT the image of Reginald Worthington as he moved toward the staircase. Without thought to anyone else or even his own safety, Braeden pushed through the crowd and grabbed the chef by the back of his coat. Turning him around rather quickly, Braeden drew on every bit of his self-control to keep from hitting the man.
“You’re coming with me, Worthington,” he said angrily. Dragging Reg down the stairs with him, Braeden was surprised when Tomas appeared at the bottom. “You come with me as well,” he told the boy, and Tomas nodded and followed Braeden outside.
Half dragging, half pushing, Braeden forced Worthington to the stables and instructed Tomas to get him a length of rope. “I don’t want to worry about either one of you while I’m trying to ensure the safety of our guests,” he said. Tying Reg and Tomas together, then securing them to one of the stall posts, Braeden left them and returned to the hotel.
Acrid smoke was now drifting from the open door, and as Braeden entered the lobby, he felt the air thicken and sting his nose and throat. Pulling his bandana close around his mouth, Braeden made his way upstairs to double-check for any guest who might not have found their way downstairs. He grabbed a lamp someone had thought to leave at the top of the stairs and hurriedly passed in and out of every room. Relief washed over him when he found the second floor completely deserted.
Making his way to the back stairs, Braeden felt a rush of panic. The staircase was engulfed in flames. Th
e fire greedily ate at everything in its path, the carpet on the stairway appearing to be a favorite meal. Realizing he couldn’t use the stairs for his escape, Braeden hurried back down the long, carpeted eastern corridor. The fire seemed to have started on the west side, which would suffer the most damage. He could only pray that the east side would remain intact long enough for his escape. Running now to rid his lungs of the caustic fumes, Braeden nearly fell headlong into the figure of a woman. He took hold of her arms and started to comment on getting her to safety when the glow of the fire behind him made it easy to see her features.
“Ivy?” He pushed her toward the stairs, hoping to remove them both out of harm’s way. “You need to get out of here. The whole place is about to go up.”
“Oh, Braeden, you mustn’t be mad at me,” she said sweetly. She clung to his arm and didn’t seem to notice that he had nearly lifted her off the stairs as he took them two at a time.
“I don’t have time to worry about being mad at you,” he said, grimacing as they hit the ground floor. “Look, you go on outside, I need to search the place and make certain no one else is inside.” He pushed her toward the open front doors.
“No! You can’t go back inside,” she protested. “My mother did that. My father too. You don’t understand. I did what I had to do.”
Braeden shook his head and took the one remaining lamp on the front registry desk. “What are you talking about?”
“My parents died,” Ivy said in absolute anguish. “I didn’t mean for them to die.” She wrapped her arms around Braeden’s and pulled. “You believe me, don’t you? Auntie didn’t believe me, but it’s true.” She pulled at his arm. “You have to come with me. You’ll die if you don’t.”
“People will die if they’re still inside,” Braeden told her. “I’m going to make a quick check.”
“No one’s in there. I saw them all leave. I only came back inside to find you. You are free now. Casa Grande won’t keep us from marrying. There will be nothing here for you, and you can take me with you to Chicago.”
Hidden in a Whisper Page 27