Joe looked from Sarah to Nate, surprise registering on his face. Surely Joe knew they would search for him. Did he expect them to be angry? Did he think they'd just forget about him?
Sarah placed her hands on Joe's cheeks. "We love you. Surely you know we couldn't leave without you."
He shook his head and tears welled in his eyes. Sarah took pencil and paper from her reticule and gave it to the boy. She held her lantern so it shone on the paper.
"What's wrong? Why did you run away? Don't you like me?"
Joe wrote. Yur good lady. I bad.
She put her free arm around him and hugged him to her side. "No, you're not. You're a good person, Joe."
He shook his head and wrote laboriously. Men made me do bad things.
Nate said, "The men were bad, not you."
Joe's only response was to hang his head and Sarah heard him sniff, as if trying not to cry and almost succeeding.
She took her handkerchief and wiped Joe's cheeks and nose. Then she took his hand while she asked, "So you think I'm good?"
Joe nodded.
"Well, years ago a man--a relative--tied up my sister, my brother and me. He intended to kill us but my brother-in-law rescued us just in time. Do you think that made me bad?"
Joe looked upset and shook his head.
"If a bad man doing something to me doesn't make me bad, then how can a bad man doing something to you make you bad?"
Joe's expression registered astonishment. Clearly he felt responsible for all the wrongs done him in his short life.
She held on to his hand, afraid to let him go for fear he would dart off into the night. "Joe, we have to stay together. If you don't want us all to live here under this walkway with you, you have to come to Texas and live with us."
Joe laughed at the absurdity of them living under the dock.
Nate clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, son. Luke and Cindy are waiting for you at the hotel. They've been worried, too. Let’s get out of this place.”
Back at the hotel, Luke cheered and Cindy clapped when Joe came in. He offered a shy smile, and seemed relieved.
"Come sit by me, Joe," Cindy commanded and gestured to the seat just vacated by Mrs. Galloway. "I'll tell you the story Mrs. Galloway just told Luke and me."
Nate picked up his hat and coat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some last minute arrangements to make. I'll be here in the morning to help with our departure."
"The train leaves at half past six, so we need to leave the hotel a little before six," Sarah said.
He smiled and clapped his hat on his head. "I'll be here at half past five."
Sarah arranged for dinner to be sent to the room. She was too exhausted for food, but she knew the others needed the meal, especially Joe. When they had finished, she put the children to bed with Joe's promise he would never run away again.
"Now, Mrs. Galloway, your room is just down the hall, number 212.” She handed over the key.
"I'll leave me luggage here for the morrow.” Mrs. Galloway picked up a valise. "This wee bag is all I'll be needing."
"Good night, then.” As soon as the door closed, Sarah shed her clothes and crept in bed beside Cindy. What a day she'd had. They'd all had. Surely tomorrow would be easier.
***
Fiona Galloway wrote the letter with shaking fingers.
She didn't write well. It was illegal in Ireland for the Irish to attend school, so she was lucky to be able to read and write at all. Now she wished she had the words to say all that was in her heart, but she'd make do.
After she returned home from being hired, she'd tried to tell Betsie of the job. She'd wanted to tell her daughter good bye, but not a word would she say to the hard man her daughter had married.
Poor Betsie. If she didn’t already, she would soon rue the day she'd wed that one. When that day came, Fiona wanted Betsie to have a place to run to, even if she'd gone against her mother’s wishes to marry that bounder.
Betsie and Rolf had still been asleep when Fiona left. They'd been out late the night before visiting friends, Rolf's friends, of course. He'd insisted Betsie cut ties to her own.
Had Rolf been awake, Fiona feared he wouldn't have let her take anything but the clothes on her back. That's why she'd left her things next door at Mrs. Murphy's in readiness for her departure this morning. Rolf would have a fit for sure, thinking she'd taken things he could have sold. Didn't Rolf have the house left Fiona by her own darlin' Finn, and all that was in it. No matter now. They were only things, and Betsie had the use of them as long as Rolf let her.
Fiona worried, though. Rolf Hirsch was not a man content, nor was he a man to work for what he needed when there were those to give it to him. He was handsome enough, it's true, if you overlooked the mean cast to his eyes and the hard look of his mouth. Nothing like her Finn with the laughing eyes and the easy smiles and a voice that would charm the leprechauns. She shook her head and sighed, then got on with her task.
Fiona addressed the letter carefully, then slipped it in another envelope with a note to Mrs. Murphy asking her to deliver Betsie's letter when Rolf wasn’t around. Not for one minute did she trust that oaf Rolf to give Betsie her own mail without reading it first.
Fiona put in the bit of cash Miss Kincaid gave her in advance, or what was left after the ride in the carriage this morning and purchase of two skirts and shirtwaists yesterday. Fiona asked her daughter to keep the money hidden safe in case she ever needed to come to Texas. Heaven help Betsie if Rolf ever found it. He'd never let her keep the bit of money Fiona slipped in the letter if he knew about it.
***
Nate stepped into the saloon and moved to a table in the corner. Seated there was a tall, thin man dressed all in black. His solemn face suggested he neared middle age, but Nate knew him to be only thirty-one. Nate slid into a chair and placed his hat on the table.
"Got your message from the hotel clerk. You barely made it to town in time to catch me."
"Had me a bit of trouble in St. Louis," Monk said. "You leavin' tomorrow?"
"In the morning.” He leaned back and grinned. "You wouldn't believe the set up. Traveling in a private car all the way through. Imagine, this trip I won't have to worry about anyone recognizing me."
Monk narrowed his blue eyes. "With Roxie's daughter?"
Damn. He'd forgotten what a soft spot Monk had for Roxie. He’d looked after her like a mother hen. Nate hoped Monk wasn’t going to get all protective over Miss Better-Than-You.
Nate straightened in his chair. "With her and her traveling companion, and three kids. One of the kids is sick, that's why the private car."
Monk nodded. "Roxie had a little portrait of her daughter I recollect. Looked a pretty thing. She pretty in person?"
"Yeah, she's a looker. Pale hair and these eyes kind of purple, but kind of blue. Hard to describe. She's tall like Roxie, but doesn't look like her in the face.”
Nate motioned one of the saloon girls over. He ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, then turned back to Monk.
"Glad you got here before I left. We need to make plans."
Monk took the bottle and uncorked it. He poured some into each glass and set the bottle on the table. "So. What's up?"
Nate held his glass up and inspected the color. "Who you figure could help us pull a railroad con?"
Monk shook his head, sending a lock of his dark hair across his forehead. "Don't know. Iverson's dead."
"Damn. He was a good man. What happened?" Nate asked. Iverson was a deceptively respectable looking man who spoke like a Harvard scholar. Come to think of it, he had been at Harvard.
"Had one too many aces in Galveston. Shot in the heart."
"That'll do it.” Talk of trouble with a card game reminded him of his own recent battle. He'd been playing straight, too. Who could have known the locals would protect a crook just because he was one of their own citizens? He shook his head. "How about Winfield?"
"He's in prison in Kansas. Turned real mean I heard."
"Who's that leave?” Nate asked.
Monk shook his head. "I guess Hargrove's the only one I can think of."
"Damn. I hate that man. Never trusted him."
"Me either. But he can do the rich executive better than anyone I know, better than Iverson could." Monk tossed back the last of his drink and refilled his glass.
Except on very rare, thoroughly private occasions, two drinks was all either of them ever had, and Nate knew this would be Monk's limit. A man who drank too much sometimes talked too much. He also lost his edge for observation.
"Any idea where Hargrove is?" Nate asked.
"Last I heard he was up in Chicago, running a crap game. Had him a family, but heard his wife left and took the kids."
Nate snorted. "Not exactly big time."
"No, but he's in one spot.” Monk twirled his glass. "That part don't sound too bad to me."
"Don't worry. When we get our money this time, it's off to New Orleans like we always planned. We'll start us up our own Lucky Times Palace and be set for life."
"I'd sure like that. That's what Cal wanted--you fixed up in one place so you could have a home and family. Me, too, I reckon. Always treated me like I was family."
Nate set down his glass and looked at Monk. "He sure as hell went a long time before he settled down."
Monk nodded. "It was Roxie what done it. After your ma died, Cal was lost. Roxie gave him back the reason to go on."
Bitterness erupted in Nate. "You'd think a son and adopted son would have been reason enough."
"Cal always set special store by you, but a kid ain't the same as a woman, and you know it.” Monk gave him a quizzical look. "You still sore about that? I thought you got over Cal marrying Roxie. You sound like a kid who didn't get dessert."
Embarrassed his feelings showed, Nate said, "Yeah, yeah. I know Roxie was good for Cal. I'm sorry I didn't make it back in time to tell them both."
It was Monk's turn to look embarrassed. "My fault. I was the one sent to find you. Took me too long. Was me wanted to kick in to that poker game in Arkansas, too."
"No, you aren’t to blame. We both should have spotted a crooked deal, but who'd think the town would turn into a mob?"
“I sure thought you were a goner there.” Monk rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Seemed like such a good plan, you going out of town in a casket and them thinking you was dead.”
“It was a good plan.” Nate's fist hit the table as all the anger he'd felt then resurfaced. “Who knew the bastards would decide to plant me then and there?”
Monk said, “Ain’t that the truth? When that sheriff held me for questioning, I was fair in a panic. If it weren’t for the doctor getting me out of jail, I’d still be there.”
"I durn near died before I dug myself out of that grave, though. Still can't stand small places.”
The memory of the panic he'd felt left Nate's mouth dry as dust. It had even resurfaced tonight staring at the inky recess where Joe hid. He poured another drink and downed half of it.
"Lucky for you the undertaker was a poor carpenter. If that pine box had held together, you'd have died ‘fore I got to you."
"Reckon so. At least things are looking up now. Tomorrow I'll be on my way to Texas, traveling in style."
"What about the kids?" Monk asked. "Where'd Roxie's daughter come by three kids?"
"Found 'em.” Nate shook his head and chuckled. "It was the craziest thing. She found these three kids in a back alley shanty and took them in on the spot. Damned if she didn't rope me into helping her."
Monk laughed, "I'd like to have seen that."
"Before you know it, she'd reserved a private car and hired her a woman to travel on the train with them.” He told Monk about the Welborns, about the aunt who eloped, and about the three children.
"Sounds like a nice girl. Roxie was real proud of her. Hear tell she got there a few days before Roxie died."
"So I heard." He couldn't keep the resentment from his voice. The way she'd cut him when he offered his help on the train still stung. All this talk had brought back that plus all the pain of his father marrying Roxie and all the mistakes Nate had made in his life. He wanted to hit something, but only said, "She can be a prissy little snob when she wants to. Don't know where she comes off thinking she's a great lady, knowing what her mother did for a living."
Monk shook his head sorrowfully. "I know your pa loved your ma, but he loved Roxie, too. You cheatin' Roxie's daughter don't set right with me, Nate. She's almost like family."
"Look, The Lucky Times Palace should have come to me, and you too, if you weren’t so stubborn. If I'd been there when Cal died, I'd have inherited his share. The way it was set up, half of the money from the sale should come to me.”
He remembered the jewelry. "And damned if she’s not wearing the ruby ring that was Ma's. She's got the sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings, too.”
When Monk still looked unconvinced, Nate said, “You know I can't afford to file for my half in court, things being what they are in Arkansas and a few other places. It's best I stay dead on record, but I want my share."
Thinking about it got him mad all over again. "She's rich, I tell you. All the Kincaids are rich. Dammit, they've got a town and a county named after them. How many people you know can reserve a Pullman car when they want to travel? Tell me that. Hell, those folks won't even miss what we take."
Monk didn't look convinced, but said, "Reckon you're right. Say, if you're taking a rail car there, how we gonna pull the railroad bit on them?"
Nate sketched on the table with his finger. "I checked at the depot. The line from Austin to Kincaid Springs is one of those dead end tap lines. Going nowhere for them, but the start of a gold mine for us."
"Lord knows I could use a stake right now. Poplar Bluff didn't work out like I'd hoped, then there was a little trouble in St. Louis. I'm near busted.”
Nate stood. "Come with me back to the hotel and we'll work out the details for Hargrove's pitch. You can bunk down with me unless you have somewhere else to stay. I had a big win on the riverboat so I can let you have some spending money. Stay out of sight until we've gone, then you hightail it to Chicago."
***
Sarah turned over and punched her pillow once more. Though exhausted emotionally and physically from her day's search, sleep had eluded her for hours. Recalling her remarks to Nate about being able to care for the children without his help, she groaned. And after he had rushed in, gun drawn, ready to rescue her in that dark alley when she first found the children!
Why had she been so snippy with him when he offered his help? She heard herself boasting about being able to teach twenty-five students and how caring for three small children was well within her capabilities. How could she have been so insensitive?
Pride goes before the fall. In her head she heard Pearl saying those words, and Sarah had been prideful, hadn't she? More, she had wanted to distance herself from the tawny wolf tracking her every move. Then that wolf had spent all day in the snow helping her look for Joe.
Nate had not reminded her of her boast, had not told her she should have watched Joe more closely, had never even complained. He only helped. Though her head told her this wolf might devour her, her heart argued. Remember how gentle he was with Cindy, her heart pleaded, and how kind to the boys.
She snuggled into her pillow but sleep evaded her. Over and over, her thoughtless words replayed in her head. Regardless of Nate's intentions, she'd been rude to someone who offered help. Sarah hated rudeness.
Her tossing and turning disturbed Cindy. She reminded herself she never could sleep with a guilty conscience. With a sigh Sarah slid from bed and drew on her wrapper and slippers. Pacing the floor, she mulled over the day's events.
Nate had been organized and masterful. Not like Peter back home when he tried but came across instead as domineering, autocratic, and just plain bossy. Nate had been strong, encouraging, caring. She paced forward and back until she decided she
had worn a path in the carpet design.
She remembered how his arms felt around her, reassuring her when she felt at her lowest. How secure she had felt enclosed within those strong arms, her head against his broad chest. She groaned again. And after she had spoken so harshly to him only a day or two before. She threw herself into a chair and rested her head against the back. Fatigue dragged her down, but sleep would not come.
There was no getting around it. Until she apologized, she would get no rest, and she desperately needed sleep. If Nate hadn't turned in, she had better get it over with and eat her helping of humble pie. Expelling a large sigh, she stood and walked across the room.
As quietly as possible, she opened the door and peeked into the hall. A slit of light shone under the door of Nate's room. Before she lost her courage, she moved across the hall and knocked on the door.
When Nate heard the soft knock, he and Monk had finished the last detail of their plan. Nate had just pulled off his boots and removed his tie. He and Monk exchanged questioning looks and Nate shrugged. Taking out his pocket watch, he saw the hands pointed straight up and down--half past midnight. Who would call now? The rap came again.
Motioning Monk behind the dressing screen, Nate opened the door. Sarah faced him, wearing her nightclothes.
"Sarah, is something wrong?" he asked. Could Cindy have taken a turn for the worse? Surely Joe hadn't run away again.
"No. Well, yes." She stepped inside the room and folded her hands demurely in front of her. "Pardon me for coming at this hour but I saw your light was still on and I have something to say."
When he stared, she must have realized she was hardly dressed for calling on a man in his hotel room. Miss Pure-As-The-Driven-Snow blushed and her hands clutched the front of her wrapper tight against her throat. Not before Nate caught a glimpse of a sheer linen nightgown with lace at the yoke, lace which revealed pale satin skin. Instead of the neat bun, her hair tumbled down her shoulders and caressed her breasts.
His blood boiled. Were Monk not hidden in a corner of the room, Nate feared what he would have done. He longed to touch Sarah's pale golden hair, pull her to him and kiss those rose petal lips. He yearned to carry her to the bed and spend the rest of the night in reckless lovemaking.
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