by Carol Cox
“That makes a lot of sense,” Ellie admitted. Why hadn’t she been able to see that on her own? It sounded so simple when Ted laid it out like that. That was the very reason they needed someone on the job who had experience, instead of a rank amateur like herself. She only hoped her blundering wouldn’t cost Steven and the other miners dearly in the long run.
Ted drummed his fingers on the table and glanced out the window. “We still have a bit of daylight left. Let’s take a walk.”
His abrupt suggestion startled Ellie, but she rose when he did and made a few adjustments to her disguise, pulled a shawl from the coatrack, and followed him outside.
To her surprise, he led the way west on Charles Street instead of heading back into town. In a few moments they had left the buildings behind and entered a path that led through a thicket of mesquite and cottonwoods. “Where are we going?”
“I noticed the line of trees from the stage as we neared town. Out here, a mass of trees like that means water, most likely a river.”
Ellie’s uneasiness returned full force. What did he have in mind? Ted seemed to take no notice of her discomfort but made his way through the grove as calmly as though they were taking a walk in the park.
She judged they’d walked about half a mile before they reached the banks of the San Pedro where it made a wide curve. From this point, the stamp mill was far out of sight, its incessant pounding muffled.
Ted nodded his approval. “Perfect. An easy walk from town, but far enough away that people won’t take note of the noise.” He reached into his right pants pocket and drew out a small revolver. “Have you ever handled one of these?”
Ellie eyed the little weapon with distaste. “Only as a stage prop.”
“Then it’s time you did. Here, let me demonstrate.” He raised his arm and took aim at a driftwood log twenty feet away.
Ellie jumped and clapped her hands to her ears when the crack of the gun shattered the evening quiet.
“Now it’s your turn.” Ignoring her reluctance, Ted showed her how to load the cylinder, cock the hammer, aim, and fire.
The lesson continued until Ellie lost her aversion to the weapon and it felt more at home in her hands. At last, Ted seemed satisfied. “You’re no expert marksman, but you could use it to take care of yourself if you ever needed to. Let’s head back now.”
She handed the gun to Ted, and they walked back to the house in silence, Ellie trying to make sense of the afternoon’s events. Had she passed muster with Cousin Ted? Why would he have taken the time to teach her to shoot if he planned to send her packing?
When they stepped into her parlor, he held out the pistol. “Keep this handy.” When Ellie started to protest, he pressed the revolver into her hand. “I have more. You may not need to use it, and I hope you never do. But if a situation arises where you’re up against the wall, I’ll feel better knowing you’re prepared.”
“But I—”
A knock at the front door cut her off.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
Ellie shook her head. She looked at the gun in her hand, then glanced around the room for a hiding place. Spotting the desk, she darted over to it long enough to yank open the drop front and slip the pistol inside before hanging her shawl back on its hook and opening the door.
Amos Crawford stood on the front porch, a nosegay of desert wildflowers in his hands. Ellie stared at him, openmouthed.
The telegrapher’s face turned a deep pink. “I’ve come to call on Miz Lavinia. Is she in?”
Ellie heard a snort of laughter, quickly muffled, from Ted’s direction and shot him a quick glare. “I’m afraid she’s lying down. She . . . had a bit of a dizzy spell, probably brought on by the excitement at seeing her favorite cousin again.” She reached out to take the flowers.
Amos’s face fell, but he kept a firm grip on the small bouquet. “Are you sure she can’t come out? I’d be happy to wait as long as she needs to make herself presentable.”
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said firmly. “I think it’s better that she rest.”
The stubborn set of Amos’s jaw told her he didn’t intend to take no for an answer. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ask her.”
Ellie couldn’t very well shut the door in his face, tempting as she found the idea. “All right, I’ll check with her. Wait here, please.” She darted another glare at Ted when she passed him. He hadn’t done a thing to help her out at all.
In the temporary sanctuary of Lavinia’s bedroom, she stood with her back to the door, her thoughts racing. How on earth was she going to get rid of the man? She looked at the gray wig on the stand and the charcoal dress that lay across the bed. Should she reappear as Lavinia and accept the flowers?
No, there simply wasn’t enough time to change her makeup again. Even if there was, transforming herself into Lavinia didn’t seem a good idea at that point. No telling how long it would take to convince the love-struck man to go away.
She knotted her hands into fists and pressed her knuckles against her temples. Think! The idea of a double identity that had seemed so brilliant at first now struck her as the most foolhardy scheme anyone had ever proposed. It was simply impossible to bring two roles to life onstage at the same time.
But she wasn’t onstage at the moment. . . .
A sudden idea struck her. Pitching her voice so it would carry through the door and out into the parlor, she said, “Aunt Lavinia? Are you awake?”
Switching to Lavinia’s quavering tone, she answered. “What is it, dear?”
Ellie grinned, warming to her new ploy. “Mr. Crawford came to call. He brought you flowers. Are you able to come talk to him?”
She sat on the side of the bed, bringing forth a creak from the bedsprings, and let out a pitiful moan. “Oh, dear me. My poor head is still swimming. Thank him for me, will you? And would you put the flowers in some water so I can enjoy them in here?”
“Of course.” Ellie stepped back into the parlor, closing the bedroom door with a decisive click. “I’m sorry, she says—”
“I heard.” Amos surrendered the flowers. “Tell her I hope she feels better soon, and I’ll see her around town before long.”
“I’ll do that.” She shut the door behind him and sagged against it. A soft, pattering noise caught her attention, and she turned to see Ted applauding gently.
“That was quite a performance, Miss Moore. The stage lost out when you decided to become a detective instead of an actress.”
The moan Ellie uttered wasn’t contrived this time. “I feel sorry for misleading the poor man. I never intended anything like this to happen.”
Ted gave her a sympathetic smile and shrugged. “It comes with the job, I’m afraid. You get used to it after a time. Besides,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “Lavinia really was in the bedroom, if that makes you feel any better.”
To Ellie’s surprise, he walked across to the coatrack and retrieved his hat. “I’ve enjoyed our time together thoroughly, but it’s getting late.”
“You’re going back to Denver?” She tried not to let too much relief show in her voice.
His eyes twinkled as though he knew exactly how she felt. “No, just back to the hotel. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready for a good night’s sleep. You and I need to meet again tomorrow. You have a lot to learn besides how to shoot a pistol.”
Ellie tried one last time. “But your investigation . . .”
“It will have to wait a few more days. In the meantime, I need to send my report to Gates and Fleming and see what they want to do.” He opened the front door and turned back to face her. “Meet me at the hotel for breakfast. We’ll continue your lessons then.” With a jaunty tip of his hat, he strode off into the evening.
Ellie watched him leave, feeling her spirits soar one moment, then plummet the next. Ted’s mention of further training gave her hope he wasn’t ready to give up on her yet, but the home office would have to make the final decision. What would Gates and Fleming think when they learn
ed the truth about what she’d done? And what sort of telegram could Ted send without drawing Amos’s attention?
She locked the front door and sank onto the sofa. In spite of her worst fears, her performance had turned out to be a rousing success. She had received unexpected acclaim from a seasoned operative and managed to pull the wool over Amos Crawford’s eyes. She ought to be celebrating a giddy triumph. So why did she feel more like crying?
It must be her jangled nerves. They had been frazzled ever since she received word of Ted’s impending arrival. But the day wasn’t over yet. She still had to spy on the secret meeting behind Pickford Hall. Once she’d unmasked the criminals, she would have ample reason to celebrate.
Ellie lurked—there was no other word for it—behind the rear staircase leading down from the second floor of Pickford Hall, thankful for the charcoal dress and gray wig that let her blend into the shadows. The moon’s pale glow gave enough light to illuminate the scene, but it didn’t extend to her little pocket of darkness. Peering out between the stair treads, she congratulated herself. The arrangement couldn’t be more perfect for spying. She felt sure Billy Taylor would approve.
The crunch of footsteps announced the arrival of one of the conspirators. Ellie ducked farther back under the stairs and watched as the man she’d followed earlier that day entered the open area behind the building. The constant glances he cast around him betrayed his tension.
Ellie’s mouth went dry. Maybe the gang was planning another raid against the miners. If so, she would be in an ideal position to overhear all the details. She willed her heart to slow its pace. She needed to be able to concentrate on catching every word.
A second set of footsteps approached from the direction of Charles Street, hesitantly at first, then pattering quickly across the hard-packed ground. Ellie held her breath and watched in disbelief as a young woman came into view and ran across the lot to throw her arms around the man’s neck.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Her breathy apology floated to Ellie’s ears. “Daddy kept us at the dinner table until I thought I’d scream.”
Her companion made no reply but lowered his head and planted a long, hard kiss on her lips.
Ellie gasped, and the couple sprang apart.
The man peered into the shadows, quickly locating the staircase as the only place of concealment. He crossed the distance in a few quick strides. Reaching out, he grasped Ellie’s arm and dragged her out into the moonlight.
“You!” His hard expression spoke volumes more than the single word he uttered.
Unable to find her voice, Ellie stared openmouthed, flicking her gaze between him and his companion, who she now recognized as the buxom brunette she’d seen flirting on the street with Marshal Bascomb not long after her arrival.
He tightened his grip. “What are you doing here?”
Ellie scrambled for something, anything, to explain her presence. “I was out for an evening stroll,” she faltered. “I heard someone coming but couldn’t tell who it was, so I ducked out of the way, thinking you’d pass on by. I never intended to intrude on your . . . um . . .”
She tried to withdraw her arm, but his hold remained firm.
The girl walked over to them. “Let her go. She looks scared.” She turned to Ellie. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? We’re not really doing anything wrong. It’s just that my father doesn’t approve. He thinks there’s too much difference in our ages.” She looked up at the man with an adoring smile. “But Daddy’s wrong. We’ll make him see it one of these days, won’t we?”
The man’s angry scowl melted into a somewhat softer expression. He released Ellie with a show of reluctance, managing to give her a tiny shove as he did so. “You’ve seen all you need to tonight. It’s time you got back home—where you’ll be safe.”
Ellie didn’t need further urging to convince her to comply. Spinning on her heel, she made her way home at as fast a clip as Lavinia could manage, berating herself with every step. Her big break in solving the mystery had turned out to be a huge mistake, and an embarrassing one at that.
The only consolation she could find in the whole humiliating mess was that she hadn’t told Ted about her plans.
20
A soft tap sounded on the back window. Setting aside the assay reports he’d been studying, the man walked swiftly to the rear door and opened it long enough to admit his henchman before closing it softly against the evening gloom.
The new arrival pushed his hat farther back on his head. “I got your message. You wanted to see me?”
A quick nod. “We need to talk.”
The other man’s eyes sparked with an eager light. “You got into the house?”
A grimace tugged at his lips and forehead, but he stiffened his features before his discomfort could show. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to start the conversation. “I got in,” he said in a flat voice. He glanced down at his hands, then back up in time to see a slow smirk spread across his visitor’s face.
“Don’t tell me you got caught?”
Rage boiled up inside. How dare a subordinate take on such an arrogant tone? The man was an underling, a tool, nothing more. He’d never been one to put up with a superior attitude from any employee. He clenched his hands, then forced them to relax, telling himself their association would soon be at an end.
He took a moment longer to tamp down his irritation before going on in his usual confident manner. “I watched her leave the house. She spends hours wandering around town, so I naturally assumed I’d have plenty of time.”
The smirk widened. “So what happened? Did the niece catch you?”
He narrowed his eyes and sent a venomous look at his minion. “I’m not a fool. I went up the front steps and knocked on the door to make sure no one was home. There was no answer, so I slipped around to the back and used my key to get inside.”
The other man hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “And?”
He held back the urge to use his fist to wipe the sneer off his visitor’s face and raked one hand through his hair instead. “I planned to go through the desk first. I’d just opened the first drawer when I heard her coming back up the front steps. I barely had time to shut the drawer and get out the back way without being seen. I didn’t even have a chance to lock the door behind me.”
A slow hiss of air escaped through his visitor’s teeth. “Nobody saw you?”
“No. There was no one out and about on that side of the house. I came home through the alleys.”
“When are you going to try again?”
“I’m not. That was too close for comfort. Now some cousin is visiting them, and no telling how long he’s going to stay. At this point, I’m willing to put your plan into operation, with some modifications.”
The tall man raised his eyebrows. “With the cousin here in town? I thought the idea was to keep her family from getting involved.”
“You aren’t going to make her disappear, just put her out of commission. Make it look like an accident.” He clipped the words out and eyed the other steadily. “Her family will be too distraught to think about looking into her business dealings. And . . . poof!” He waved his hands like a stage magician. “All those pesky questions will go away.”
The second man nodded slowly, then with increasing assurance. “All right, I’ll handle it. When and how?”
He arched one eyebrow. “I’ll leave the ‘how’ up to you. Take care of it the first chance you get.”
After another round of asking questions everywhere he could think of, Steven was ready to concede that the art of detection was best left to experts. Not only had his probing borne no fruit other than curious looks and raised eyebrows, but he wondered if the criminals were laughing at his amateurish efforts.
Pondering his lack of progress, he left the business district behind and walked out past the west end of town, where buildings gave way to the desert. He’d been looking for someone with a sudden flush of money, but perhaps these robbers were shrewder than run-of-t
he-mill thugs. What if they were hoarding the silver before making their next move, whatever that might be?
He felt the need to talk it over with someone, but Tom was unavailable that afternoon, and after the older man’s cautions about Alfred and Gilbert, Steven no longer felt comfortable confiding in the other mine owners.
But there was someone always available to help bear his burdens. Somewhat sheepishly, Steven turned his steps toward the San Pedro, ready to lay his cares at the feet of the one he should have turned to in the first place.
The riverbank had often provided a quiet spot when he needed to think . . . or pray. He followed the familiar path through the thicket of mesquite and cottonwoods, and the words started pouring forth even before the river came in sight. “Lord, you know my father expects me to fail, and it looks like that’s exactly what’s going to happen unless you intervene and show me how to—”
A sharp sound split the air. Was that a gunshot? Standing motionless, he stood listening, but the only sound he heard was the steady thump of the stamp mill in the distance.
His eye caught movement up ahead. Stealthily, he stepped behind the trunk of a mesquite tree. Footsteps rustled the leaves along the pathway, and Steven drew farther back into the shadows, watching as a figure dressed in sapphire blue came into view—Jessie. He stepped forward and called a greeting.
She let out a squeak and clutched her reticule against herself.
In spite of the strain of their last meeting, Steven couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She offered a hesitant smile, as if the picture of him marching her out of the Palace was fresh in her mind, as well. “I could say the same thing. But it’s a pleasant surprise.”
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the bare branches, dappling her copper curls. Steven’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. “I was heading for one of my favorite spots, out there where the river curves. It’s a good place to sit and sort things out.” Acting on impulse, he added, “Would you like to join me?” To his delight, she nodded and turned to walk with him.