by Sharon Ihle
Mariah's heart practically stopped, and beside her, Artemis gasped again.
"I don't know where you got that information," the sheriff replied, "but if he's dead, the law don't know about it. He is overdue checking in, I'll give you that, but I'll also give you twenty-to-one odds that he's sniffing them out as we speak. There's no one like Morgan Slater when it comes to getting his man. He'll turn up soon, and when he does, he'll have a Doolittle clutched in each fist."
Mariah's heart started again, racing in double time. Dear God! She'd never considered that he might have been on an assignment when they crossed paths. If so, she and her family may unwittingly have put Cain in danger. What if this Doolittle Gang were to come across him here or on the trail, and recognize him? Surely there'd be a confrontation of some kind, but in Cain's state of mind, he probably wouldn't know them, much less be able to defend himself. Had the deception she'd practiced left him helpless, an easy target for the outlaws?
Mariah's mouth went dry as she imagined the dangers which might lay ahead, and beside her, Artemis began to tremble. He seemed as disturbed by all this as she was. Why?
As the conversation in the office segued into words of praise over the way the sheriff kept order in Durango, Mariah leaned in close to Artemis and whispered, "All right. I want the truth, and I want it now. I know you're aware that Cain is Marshal Slater. What does he have on you?"
Artemis's eyes bulged and his windpipe closed up, making it difficult to talk. But that was all right, because he couldn't think of what to say or do anyway. Mariah had frightened him half to death with such a direct question, and for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what Tubbs or Billy would expect him to answer. Because he couldn't think what else to do, Artemis made a kind of choking sound, and then shrugged her off.
The ploy didn't work.
"Come on, Artemis—are you wanted by the law?"
"Oh, n-no, ma'am. I sure ain't. Not yet, anyways."
"Not yet? What does that mean?"
Artemis squeezed his eyes shut and his bottom lip began to tremble as he tried to think of how to get out of yet another trap he'd gotten himself into.
Seeing his distress, Mariah persisted, using a more gentle, nurturing tone. "You don't have to worry about me. I promise not to tell anyone what you know, especially not Cain. He, ah—" She paused, thinking up a logical excuse for his new name. "He's doing a special job right now and he doesn't want anyone to know who he is."
Didn't he already know that. Artemis began trembling again, sweating too, as he tried to think of what to say.
Still trying to reassure him, Mariah smiled and offered her hand. "You can trust me, Artemis—remember? All I want from you is your promise that you'll keep what you know about Cain to yourself. You mustn't let on to anyone, especially not him, that you know who he really is. Is that a deal?"
That was it? Just keep his mouth shut and do the same job Tubbs wanted him to do? It almost seemed too easy. Hardly understanding what had just happened, Artemis accepted her handshake. "D-deal."
"Just one other thing," Mariah said, raising her voice. "What do you know about this Doolittle Gang?"
"H-holy shi—ucks, Miss Mariah." Artemis lurched forward, nearly falling off the bench. "W-why you want to ask a question like that?"
The fear was still shining in his eyes, brighter than ever, and his complexion had taken on a waxy sheen. What on earth was this young man so frightened of? "I just want to know who they are, Artemis, that's all. Have you seen them? Would you recognize them if they were to come to town?"
Artemis couldn't take any more. He got to his feet, in spite of the fact that his legs had turned all quivery, and shot a fast glance toward the front door. He imagined himself running through that door, running and never stopping. Not for Tubbs. And not for Billy. He was leaning in that direction, thinking of launching himself, when the sheriff came out of his office.
"You folks want to see me?" he asked Artemis.
Mariah rose, gesturing for Artemis to join her, and then smiled up at the sheriff. "We're with the medicine show. I lost my dog a little while ago. It seems my brother here accidentally let her get away while he was giving her a bath." She batted her long black lashes. "I need to find her right away. We've got a show to put on."
"I'd be delighted to help, ma'am." Then he showed Mariah and her "brother" into his office. There he explained all the ramifications of Ordinance #7—including instructions to kill any bitch in heat found loose in the town of Durango. After that, he levied a small fine, collected Daisy from the group of animals he'd impounded the day before and that morning, and bid them good day.
Through it all, Artemis remained quiet and subdued, his thoughts scattered. He knew he probably ought to run right over to the hotel on Tenth Street and inform Tubbs about his conversation with Mariah and what he'd overheard in the sheriff's office. Especially because he had noticed Wanted posters in the police station with Billy's picture glaring out from them. But if he did that, he would jeopardize his new job with the medicine show. And Tubbs wouldn't like that any better than the news he brought.
Glory be, what was a fellah supposed to do? He'd be in a world of trouble no matter what he did. When he added those woes to the fact that he couldn't even remember the questions he was supposed to be asking the marshal, well, hell—Artemis figured he might as well start digging his own grave, 'cause he was sure to be lying belly-up before this day was over.
* * *
Later that night, after an exceptionally profitable show, Mariah, who'd yet to sit down to a fine meal in Durango, decided to risk a public appearance, and joined Zack, Oda, and Cain at a window table in the hotel restaurant. The Strater boasted of its fine cuisine, offering items such as bluepoint oysters and a variety of French sauces to garnish a long menu of meats and vegetables. Staring out at Main Avenue through the windows, Mariah absently picked at her favorite supper in the world: fried chicken with corn fritters smothered in honey. She'd worked herself into a dreadful headache, what with worrying about Cain and the danger she'd put him in. If that wasn't enough, every time she looked at Oda, she remembered that Zachariah wasn't her father, but that some man she'd never met had claim to that title. This little complication distracted her so much during the show, she'd accidentally sold a male customer a bottle of remedy for "the female complaint" when he'd ordered Zack's Special Spring Tonic.
Now she couldn't even concentrate on her food. Both Zack and Cain were busy shoveling down mounds of browned potatoes and chunks of the biggest steaks she'd ever seen, and Oda was intent on her slab of ham. The three of them were far too caught up in assuaging their appetites to take notice of the fact that she'd completely lost hers.
She knew that no matter how hard she worked on her problems, none of them would simply fade away. Oh, she supposed she would get over the deception practiced by her parents in time, but Cain was another matter entirely. Soon he would revert to Morgan Slater and walk out of her life forever. She couldn't prevent it. Not with the sheriff of Durango actively searching for him. Not with Artemis and his penchant for talking without thinking. And not with Cain's habit of reading the newspaper in the evening before turning in. She couldn't buy up all the papers in town each and every day. Sooner or later—and now she was sure it would be sooner—all the lies would come crashing down on her, breaking her heart in the process.
There was nothing to do but admit that part, too. For days now, Mariah couldn't seem to lose the almost sick feeling that churned in her belly when Cain was near, or the ache in her chest when he was not. She'd even swallowed a little of her own Special Vegetable Compound, hoping to straighten herself out, but it hadn't worked. She supposed she'd known all along that it wouldn't.
Until last night, she'd been unable to put a name to her malady. But then Cain had taken her in his arms, holding her the way she supposed a lover might, and she knew for certain what ailed her. She loved Cain Law, loved him as she'd never dreamed of loving anyone. Now she stood on the thresho
ld of losing that chance at love before she ever got to express it to him or herself.
Mariah glanced across the table, catching his gaze as he washed part of his meal down with a long swallow of beer. He winked at her and smiled, then fell back to the business of finishing his meal. She loved him enough, Mariah realized then, to ensure his safety by coming right out and telling him who he was and why he'd been on the trail to Durango.
Would he turn his back on her after that? Probably, but that would be better than witnessing his murder. She had no choice but to tell him, and tonight was as good a time as any.
Mariah dipped her finger into the honey on her plate and brought it to her mouth. She slowly licked it from her finger as she considered how best to explain why she'd done what she'd done. Cain would be mad, of course, but he had admitted in his room just last night how much he'd come to care for her. Was it enough? Maybe she could talk him into taking her with him when he moved on!
Her heart raced at the idea of spending the rest of her life with the man she loved. Once she explained everything to his satisfaction, she told herself, there would really be no reason for him to leave her behind, save perhaps the little problem between her and her parents. That seemed to be important to him, but if she were to show him that she'd patched things up with them, there would be nothing to keep her and Cain apart.
She'd noticed that he was staring at her from across the table, his green eyes practically glowing in that odd way she found so exciting. His eyes were pinned to her mouth, and Mariah realized she was still licking the honey off of her finger, still rolling her tongue in circles, seeking the very last drop. Yes, she decided then and there. She would do it. She would tell him who he was and beg him to take her away with him. She would do anything if it would keep Cain looking at her like that for the rest of her life. Anything at all.
Breaking into a broad grin, Mariah turned to Oda, who was sitting beside her, gave her a big, noisy kiss, and said, "You're just about the most wonderful mother in the world."
If Oda had been puffing her usual cigar, it would have dropped out from between her lips and landed with a splat in the middle of her mashed potatoes. Her mouth still agape, she glanced across the table to where her husband sat, her brows high with surprise. Zack, normally unflappable under any circumstances, was a mirror image of his wife's stunned expression.
Cain, not exactly sure what was happening, cleared his throat.
Shifting her attention to her father, Mariah said, "And Zack is not only the best father in the world, but he runs the best medicine show this country has ever seen. Why, hiring Artemis as a musician was an inspiration. He really knows what he's doing with the banjo."
Zack, still visibly surprised, agreed. "Ayuh, he does, at that. Why, it seems that boy can play almost any musical instrument you hand him, and any tune as long as he's heard it before. A natural, the kid is. Just a born natural."
Mariah beamed, knowing the show could go on without her. "I think it'd be a good idea to keep him around for a while. He's just plain good for business, not to mention an extra pair of strong hands. Wouldn't you say so, Mother?"
Oda stared at her daughter a long moment, sure something was afoot but baffled as to what that something might be. "Oh, I suppose he's all right."
Satisfied she wouldn't be leaving her parents in the lurch, Mariah glanced across the table at Cain again. His reaction was even better than she'd hoped. He was smiling at her, a bright, open grin with just a hint of sensuality, an expression which suggested that as far as he was concerned, the barriers had fallen.
Mariah returned the smile triumphantly. Tonight would be the night, all right. Tonight would be a time for truth... and love.
And time was a-wasting.
Without another moment's hesitation, Mariah gathered her untouched chicken into a napkin and excused herself from the table.
Chapter 11
Artemis gnawed on what was left of his thumbnail as Tubbs paced in their cramped room at the Last Stop Hotel. He was having trouble explaining about the medicine show and Marshal Slater, Lord if he wasn't, and any minute now, he expected Tubbs to turn on him, call him viler names than Billy had ever thought of, and then maybe even shoot him.
But Tubbs surprised him by saying, "That clever son of a bitch. So as far as you know, Slater has stayed in disguise and hasn't even made contact with Sheriff Black?"
His confidence building, Artemis smoothed the sides of his hair, hoping to draw attention to his new haircut, and said, "Nope, but I did."
"You did what?"
Artemis hadn't meant to mention the episode at City Hall, but now it seemed a rather important bit of information. At least part of it, anyway. Still preening, he quickly relayed the story about the lost dog. "While I was waiting in the sheriff's office for him to go get Daisy, I took a look around, and what do you think I spied?"
"Get on with it, kid."
"A Wanted poster of the Doolittle Gang. There was a likeness of Billy, and Shorty, and Tate, and a whole lot of words beneath that." He didn't mention that Mariah had deciphered those words as he added, "Most of what it said was a description of Cletus."
"Damn." Tubbs punched the rough-hewn wall, driving several minute slivers into the tight skin around his knuckles. "Cletus should already be in place up at Silverton, poking around for information about the next big gold shipment to Durango." He shook his head. "Nothing we can do about that poster now but hope it ain't reached Silverton, and that if it has, no one's noticed him. Billy and the rest will be heading for Needle Creek in a day or two, and then there'll be no turning back."
This was the first Artemis had heard that Billy was changing locations. "What's at Needle Creek?"
Tubbs, busy wondering if he ought to send a wire to Cletus warning him about the poster, and trying to figure out exactly how to word the message in a code only Cletus would understand, thoughtlessly said, "That's where we're going to dynamite the train to stop it."
"We're going to blow up a train?" Artemis was absolutely incredulous. "Won't someone get hurt that way?"
Sorry now that he'd mentioned it, Tubbs brushed him off. "We're going to blow up the tracks, kid, not the train. No one's going to get hurt, so forget about it. What else have you learned? Did Slater tell you when he figures on leaving the medicine show?"
Artemis scratched his head, still trying to draw attention to the fact he no longer wore a dunce cap, but Tubbs was interested only in answers. Trouble was, Artemis had forgotten to ask the questions. Backed into a corner, he did what he'd done earlier: lied to his hero. He never would have thought himself capable of it just a few weeks ago, but Tubbs hadn't called him names or slapped a woman around in front of him before then, either.
With a surprising amount of ease, Artemis shrugged and said, "He ain't planning to leave for a while yet, leastways not until after we take the medicine show to Silverton. He'll most—"
"Silverton?" Tubbs grabbed Artemis by the collar of his shirt. "Slater's going to Silverton?"
His eyes bugging out of his head, Artemis nodded rapidly. "Well, sure he is. We got a show to put on."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that the minute you walked into this room?"
"I—I d-didn't figure it was too important where the show went, Tubbs. We ain't taking the train for a week or so yet."
"The train? Morgan Slater is taking the damn train to Silverton and you didn't think it was important enough to mention?" Enraged, Tubbs didn't just shake Artemis this time. He threw him against the wall. "Maybe Billy's right about you after all."
Momentarily stunned, Artemis staggered a few steps to the left, and then listed to the right. "Sorry, Tubbs," was all he could say as he shook his head to try and clear it.
"You'll be a lot more than sorry if you mess up like that again." But as he considered it, suddenly the thought of finding the marshal aboard the train didn't sound so bad. In fact, Tubbs couldn't think of a simpler way to take Slater out than kicking his ass down into one of the ste
ep, rocky gorges between Durango and Silverton.
* * *
A few hours later in room 226 at the Strater Hotel, Cain tossed and turned between his flannel sheets. He was having another nightmare—actually, the same nightmare he'd had three nights running, a terrifying scenario in which he was both hunter and quarry. A group of nameless, faceless men bore down on him, driving him farther and farther into a box canyon from which there was no escape. He turned on them, the hunter now, and reached for pistols that were no longer strapped to his thighs. His heart hammered loudly against the walls of his chest and sweat popped out along his brow, running down into his eyes, blinding him. He was trapped. Cain could no longer see his tormentors, but they were coming after him, the sharp retorts of their weapons exploding all around him. Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap... tap.
Cain abruptly sat up in bed, suddenly aware that the sound he heard was someone knocking at his door. Groggy and disoriented, his pulse still racing, he lit the small lamp on the bed table and climbed out of bed. Tugging his jeans up over his hips as he hurried across the room, Cain held his waistband together with one hand and opened the door with the other.
Squinting into the hallway, with its blinding lights, he said, "Mariah? What the hell...?"
Without waiting for an invitation, she brushed past him and pushed the door shut behind her. Cain quickly turned away from her and hastily buttoned his jeans, but not before she caught a glimpse of the shock of auburn coils at his groin. Mariah shivered at the sight, wondering when or if he would initiate something in that area of their relationship.
Shirtless, but with his pants decently fastened, Cain turned back to Mariah. She was dressed in a voluminous robe of soft white cotton, her long black hair spilling over one shoulder like a river at midnight, that flow barely contained by a purple satin ribbon. Her eyes, captivating as always, were alight with a curious glow; a far, far better dream than the one he'd been having. Cain cleared his throat. "Is something wrong, princess?"