by Carol Cox
“So do I, for that matter. Clifford doesn’t have any more get-up-and-go than his horses do. He’d not be likely to hurry them along that way, especially not in the middle of town when he’d almost reached Jake’s shop.”
A feeling of foreboding crowded out the delight of imagining what it would be like for Steven’s lips to touch hers. The contrast jarred her, something like the way Juliet would have felt if she’d toppled off her balcony, plummeting past Romeo to land on the cobblestones below.
“You’re saying it was a prank? Some urchin with a slingshot caused that accident? Why, I could have been . . . I could have lost my aunt.”
“I don’t think—”
“Which boy was it? Billy Taylor?” The more she remembered the fear and danger of that moment, the more her anger grew. “That sounds like something he might do. Do you think it was him?” If it was within her power, Ellie would have been glad to rain fire down on the little wretch. “I’ll tell his mother. No, better yet, I’ll wring his scrawny neck myself.”
“Jessie.” She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Through the mist of rage that shrouded her vision, she realized Steven was squeezing her arm.
“What?” With an effort, Ellie reined in her ire and pulled herself back to the moment.
“I don’t think it was a childish prank.” Steven stared at her intently, as if waiting to see whether his words would sink in.
“Then what . . . ? Who . . . ?”
“It could have been done intentionally.”
Steven had her full attention now.
“What I’m trying to say is, there’s a possibility that someone deliberately spooked those horses in an attempt to run your aunt Lavinia down.”
Ellie gaped at him. A tendril of dread coiled its way up her spine. “That’s ridiculous! Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“I’m not sure, but it may not be the first time they’ve tried.” His lips pressed together. “Did your aunt tell you about the collapse in the mine?”
She nodded her head.
“My foreman discovered that was no accident, either. At first I assumed it was an attack directed at me, that somebody wanted me out of the way so they could get their hands on the Redemption. I never dreamed anyone might be trying to harm Lavinia until this happened today and I started putting the pieces together.”
“You mean . . . you’re saying someone is trying to kill . . .” Ellie’s vision closed in around the edges, as if she were looking down a long, dark tunnel. Her knees buckled, and she began to sway.
She heard Steven say something, but his words were distorted, as if coming from a great distance. His hand slid past her shoulder and circled around her back, catching her before she could slump to the ground. She leaned against him as he half led, half carried her to the bench in front of the dressmaker’s shop.
The irony of the situation didn’t escape her in spite of her hazy thoughts. Only moments before she had been longing for Steven to take her in his embrace. And now she rested in the circle of his arms, but she was too numb to fully appreciate the experience.
He let her sink onto the bench and steadied her with one hand while he fanned her with the other. Keeping a firm grip on her arm, he knelt down beside her, his face mere inches from hers. “I guess I should have broken the news to you a bit more gently.”
His breath grazed her cheek, jolting Ellie back to awareness as effectively as if he’d waved smelling salts under her nose. She looked deep into his eyes, feeling as though she were being drawn into their deep brown pools.
The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Are you all right?”
Ellie nodded. The numbness was definitely fading now, leaving her all too aware of the warmth of his touch. Every nerve ending in her arm tingled.
A warm smile curved his full lips. “I’m glad, Jessie. Really glad.”
“Me too.” The simple statement was truer than he could imagine. It was worth that kind of shock to experience this closeness and see the tender concern in his face. She longed to admit to every deception, every lie, so nothing stood between them and they could start anew.
I’m the Pinkerton agent you sent for. I’m here to find the men who have been stealing your silver. The words trembled on her lips, ready to spill forth and end the secrecy. It was time he learned the truth.
Much of the reason for keeping her identity secret was to protect her from those who would want to thwart her efforts. But Steven was not one of those evildoers. She knew it in her heart. He was the soul of integrity through and through. She should tell him. They could work together to find the robbers and bring them to justice. And then . . .
And then . . . what?
The tenderness she saw in Steven’s eyes was for Jessie Monroe, not for Ellie Moore. What would he do if she stood before him as herself? If Jessie’s wig and makeup were gone, and he saw her as just plain Ellie?
She knew the answer to that question. Jessie dazzled everyone who met her—Steven included. But he wouldn’t look twice at mousy Ellie Moore.
The harsh truth struck her like a blast of icy air off Lake Michigan. She was in Pickford because she had a job to do. And finishing that job would save Steven’s mine. That was what counted, not her romantic fantasies. She needed to keep her focus where it mattered.
Once she solved the case, her future with the Pinkerton Agency would be secured. She would investigate more cases and solve more crimes. She might even build a brilliant career as their premier woman detective.
But she would never find someone who made her feel the way Steven did. He smiled again, and Ellie’s heart wrenched.
“Should we tell your aunt about my suspicions? I don’t want to frighten her, but it’s important that she keep her guard up.”
“But why?”
He leaned back, as if confused by her question. “Why?”
“Yes, why would anyone try to hurt her?” She thought she knew the answer but was curious about what he saw as the reason for the attacks.
“Well, I’m afraid it is because of her interest in investing in my mine—and she does ask a lot of questions. I’ll talk to her soon about spreading word around town that she is no longer interested in investing in the Redemption, but I thought it best you talk to her first.”
Ellie bobbed her head. “Yes, that makes sense. I’ll be sure to let her know.”
Steven’s smile stretched into a rueful grin. “It’s probably best that you have her sit down before you break the news. I’m sure you’ll do a better job than I did.” The light in his eyes faded, and the grin slid from his face. “I’m not entirely sure that you’re safe, either.”
Ellie’s mouth sagged open.
“It’s something we probably have to face. They might not believe she has changed her mind and could try to get to Lavinia through you.” Steven stroked her cheek with his thumb, sending a delicious wave of warmth surging through her. “I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you,” he whispered.
Her throat constricted. “I’ll try to be careful. I’ll do everything I can think of to keep myself safe. I promise.”
“There may be more than one way you need to guard yourself.” Steven looked down and cleared his throat, then resumed eye contact. “I was just talking with Jake Freeman. With all the times you’ve stopped by the smithy, he’s convinced you’ve set your cap for him.”
Ellie caught her breath. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do. More importantly, Jake does. He’s already spinning daydreams and building castles in the air about a future together. Not only that, but I noticed you talking with Marshal Bascomb when I came up. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen you chatting with him . . . and others around town who are no better than he is.”
His words doused the warmth in her veins like a splash of cold water.
“I’m sure you don’t know what kind of man he is, or the sort of reputation he and those other men have. But reputation is a precious thing, and I don’t want to see you get
yourself into a situation that would tarnish yours. So while you’re making promises, would you also promise me you’ll be more careful about where you spend your time and who you talk to?” Steven’s dark eyes gazed into hers with an intensity that left her breathless.
She ran the tip of her tongue across lips that felt as dry as sandpaper. “I . . . can’t do that.”
Steven drew back as if she’d slapped him. “What?”
Ellie rose quickly, bringing a stab of protest from her stiff muscles and knocking Steven off balance. “I said I can’t make that promise.”
Steven scrambled to his feet and loomed over her, standing so close she took a step back. “I don’t understand.”
He advanced a step, and Ellie moved back again, coming up hard against the front wall of the dressmaker’s shop. The sharp nubs of the rough-cut boards jabbed into her shoulder blades.
He reached out his hand but drew it back before he touched her. “I thought there was something between us, Jessie. Was I wrong?”
No! The denial reverberated through Ellie’s brain as she struggled to keep her outward composure. She hated being the cause of the pain she could see etched on his face. But those were Ellie’s emotions. Jessie had to be a stronger person.
She grasped for words, knowing that any explanation she might make wouldn’t satisfy. “I want to experience the West. I know these men are a little rough around the edges, but it’s the only opportunity I may ever have to meet the kind of people I’ve only read about.”
Steven stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Don’t you understand? These men aren’t gentlemen. I don’t want to see you hurt . . . maybe even ruined.”
Ellie averted her gaze and looked past him. Farther down the boardwalk, a couple stared at the spectacle she and Steven were creating. A lanky cowboy strolled past, a knowing smirk on his face.
She steeled herself and met his eyes again. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
The anguish in his eyes was no match for the misery in her heart. With all her being, she longed to reach out, cup his cheek in her hand, and tell him how she truly felt. But that wasn’t possible. Feeling a profound sense of loss, she turned and started to walk away.
Quick as lightning, Steven’s hand shot out and gripped her arm. He spun her back to face him. “That isn’t good enough, Jessie. We need to talk about this.”
Ellie put her hands up to catch her balance, and they came up hard against Steven’s chest. She could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his broadcloth shirt, pressed flat under her splayed fingers. Everything around them faded away. The only thing she was aware of at the moment was the man standing over her, filling her senses and drawing her ever closer.
She felt his hand pressing against the small of her back. He dipped his head lower. Ellie watched his lips draw nearer, felt his breath flutter her lashes. Her eyes drooped halfway closed.
“Jessie.” His soft murmur sent renewed heat flooding through her veins.
A harsher sound pierced her consciousness. Ellie pulled back, suddenly aware that she had been about to let Steven kiss her right out on the boardwalk. In broad daylight, no less. A flush of embarrassment scorched her cheeks, but a quick glance reassured her that no one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to them. As the strident clanging continued, she realized people were shouting, running west along Grant Street.
She looked up at Steven. His face had lost its ardor, replaced by a chiseled sternness. Dread clutched at her with cold talons. “What is it?”
Steven’s mouth set in a grim line. “That’s the bell at the Redemption hoist works. It means there’s a fire.”
23
A fire at your mine?” Even as Ellie spoke, her mind registered that couldn’t be the case. People weren’t running south of town, where the Redemption was located. Instead, they seemed to be converging at a point farther west on Grant.
“There.” Steven pointed to the plume of black smoke spiraling upward. “The hotel.” He set off at a dead run, with Ellie at his heels. Moments later, they joined the crowd of townspeople, some staring, some shouting, all showing a devastating awareness of what could happen if the fire got out of hand.
Six men wheeled a hose cart down the middle of the street. “Come on, boys!” their leader shouted. “Let’s get the pump going.”
A man tossed a bucket to Steven, who hurried off to join the bucket brigade forming at a nearby horse trough. As he ran, he yelled back over his shoulder, “Stay back! This is going to be dangerous.”
Ellie couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. She stood transfixed, her horrified gaze focused on the cloud of smoke pouring out of the hotel’s front windows. The fear she’d felt once before when standing outside a burning building threatened to engulf her even as the flames began licking along the eaves.
Once again she was a helpless child standing on a Chicago street, held back by a policeman’s strong arms while she watched the flames devour the theater where her parents were trapped inside.
“I got more buckets.” The man carrying them bumped into her as he ran past. Ellie did a quick sidestep to maintain her balance, and the movement jolted her back to the present.
The powerless feeling remained, though. How well she remembered the raw terror of the night her world came down around her in a heap of blazing timbers, leaving her an orphan, dependent on her parents’ theater associates to take her in.
Was anyone still inside the hotel? As the question popped into her mind, the paralyzing fear fell away, and the urgency of the moment galvanized her into action.
Ellie gathered up her skirts and ran to the man barking orders near the hose cart. “Did they all escape?” When he paid her no mind, she grabbed his arm and shook it. “Did everybody get out?”
He barely gave her a glance. “I don’t know, lady. We’re trying our best to keep this thing contained. If it takes off like that fire did in Tombstone last summer, we could lose this whole section of town.”
Ellie looked around frantically for someone else to ask. No one paid her the least bit of mind. They were all scrambling to save the hotel and the adjacent buildings.
A knot of people moved. Beyond them, she spied two men dragging Donald Tidwell across the street. After propping him up against a hitching post, they ran back to join the others fighting the fire.
Ellie sprinted across the street, dodging a falling ember as she ran. She could hear Donald’s racking coughs over the tumult of the crowd. When she reached him, she fell to her knees at his side. “Donald, are you all right? Where’s Myra?”
Another fit of coughing seized him. Ellie waited for agonizingly long seconds until the spasm ended. Donald looked up at her blankly, his head lolling to one side. Seizing both his arms, Ellie bent over him and repeated the question: “Where is Myra?”
Grief darkened his eyes. “I tried. So help me, I tried, but it was too late. I couldn’t get to her.” He bent over double, his body convulsed this time by sobs.
Ellie caught sight of a woman hurrying past. Seizing the woman by the sleeve, she pointed to Donald. “This man needs help. Go get the doctor. Hurry!” Without waiting to see if her command had been obeyed, she dashed off toward the hotel.
Heat from the flames pushed against her as she drew near, and a stocky man blocked her way. “Get back! Get back. You’re too close.”
“But someone is still inside!”
The man’s face paled, and he looked over his shoulder at the twisting flames. He turned back to Ellie and shook his head. “It’s too far gone for anyone to go inside now. It won’t help to send someone else in there to die.”
He gave her a little push. “Go on, now. You need to get back to where it’s safe.”
Ellie stumbled backward, her eyes fixed on the burning building. The memory seared in her mind from long ago threatened to overpower her once more.
“Not Myra.”
The words seemed to bolster her courage. No, not Myra. It wasn’t going to
happen again, not if she had anything to say about it. She wasn’t a frightened little girl anymore. She was a grown woman, with a will of her own.
She studied the scene with a critical eye. Most of the smoke seemed to be confined to the front of the hotel, while the back appeared to be relatively clear. Myra’s bedroom was somewhere in the back.
Maybe, just maybe . . .
“Please, God,” she breathed as she dashed around the corner to the alleyway that ran behind the hotel.
Which room? She had never seen the hotel from the rear before.
She ran up to a small window near the west end and peeked inside. A sink, a stove, a set of cupboards. Obviously the kitchen.
She backed away, trying to picture the layout of the hotel in her mind. If that was the kitchen, the window next to it probably belonged to the office. And if that was the case, the one to the right might be the bedroom.
Ellie rushed over to it and cupped her hands against the glass. Her calculations were correct. Inside she could see the bed, its rumpled sheets pushed to one side, as though someone had scrambled out of it in a hurry. She stood on her tiptoes and gasped when she saw Myra’s frail body lying on the floor.
Gripping the bottom of the sash, she shoved it upward until it gave way. Then she hopped up on the sill and swung her legs inside the room. “Myra?”
A sob of relief escaped her when the other woman turned her head at the sound of Ellie’s voice.
“Donald. I need to find him.”
“He’s already outside, waiting for you.” Ellie looked toward the door. For the time being, the air inside the bedroom was relatively clear, but she could see smoke seeping in underneath and around the top. “Do you have any guests? Is anyone else inside?”
Myra shook her head. “The last one checked out this morning.” She looked at Ellie as if registering her appearance for the first time. “Do I know you?”
“Of course you do. I’m—” Ellie bit back the words. Today she was Jessie, a woman Myra had never seen before. “I’m Lavinia Stewart’s niece.”