by Sharon Ihle
Cletus whistled his appreciation. "Hell, it might just work at that."
"Oh, it'll work." He flopped Morgan onto his belly and took the leftover twine to bind his wrists at the small of his back. "Or my name ain't Morgan Slater."
The pair shared a laugh as Tubbs bound the marshal's ankles. As he finished, his captive began to stir. Tubbs quickly got to his feet and stood back, ready for anything from the clever lawman.
Morgan shook his head, raised his chin as high as he could, and then glanced around the room. His gaze briefly skimmed across Mariah, touched on Artemis and Cletus, and finally landed on Tubbs.
With another shake of his head, he blinked and said, "What's happened to me? Who are all you people?"
Chapter 19
The outlaws and their captives stayed in Tubbs's room until just after dawn, leaving Mariah to feel as if she'd been strapped to the wooden chair for five days, not five hours. Each step during the short, frigid walk from Blair Street to the train depot brought protest from her stiff, sore muscles. And as far as she could tell, Cain wasn't faring any better. He'd been forced to spend those hours on the floor trussed up like a pig at a barbecue.
Cain, that is, or whoever he thought he was now. Tubbs, who'd barely been able to keep from laughing at the time over the marshal's amnesia, informed him that he was Billy Doolittle, wanted for train robbery and murder. With three pistols trained on her, Mariah had been in no position to argue the point.
Now, as she stood near the entrance of the Silverton depot, she knew her position was even graver.
Obviously, killing those who might bear witness against them would be in the gang's best interests.
If only she could find some flicker of recognition from Cain, anything to let her know that yes, he knew exactly who he was, and that even now he was working on a way for them to escape. Mariah glanced up at him, hoping for just a tiny sign, but Cain stared straight ahead at the snow-dusted mountains, his profile rigid and unblinking.
It was hopeless. As long as he wore that same lost, cloudy expression he'd had the first time he'd been hit in the head—looking like neither Morgan Slater nor Cain Law, and not at all like the man who'd once said he loved her—Mariah knew escape was all but impossible.
Tubbs had bound Cain's hands behind his back, hers at the waist, and then added a length of rope around each of their middles, linking them together to keep better control of them. For that much, a shivering Mariah was grateful. Her thin wool dress no match for the frosty mountain air, she inched closer to Cain, seeking his warmth, and again, just a flicker of recognition. He glanced down at her as she snuggled against him, but as before, his features remained impassive.
Back in Bucksnort this reaction wouldn't have bothered her, but now, it nearly tore her apart. Mariah wanted him to remember, even as Morgan Slater, wanted him to recall the afternoon on the train when he'd crushed her against the window and told her he loved her, and that he'd love her forever. If he never remembered another thing as long as he lived, she wanted him to remember that much. Another shiver racked her body, but this time, it had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Cold, sugar?" asked Cletus, their lone guard. "I guess I never did get a chance to warm you up proper back at the hotel." He winked, and for a moment, Mariah thought he might actually desert his post to come dally with her, but the huge cross-beamed door of the depot opened then, and Artemis and Tubbs, who'd been speaking with the stationmaster, stepped outside.
His breath blowing white, dragonlike plumes, Tubbs laughed and caressed the shiny gold badge pinned to his sheepskin jacket as he approached his shivering captives. "Well, well, well, folks. It looks like you're in luck. It seems the officials from the Denver and Rio Grande are in no hurry to expose their passengers to a pair of desperadoes like you two. They not only think it's a fine idea, but very thoughtful of us, to board now before the decent folk show up, so none of them will be offended by the sight of you." Still laughing, he strutted up beside Mariah and pinched her cheek. "Shall we?"
Behind the trio, Cletus jabbed the barrel of his gun against Morgan's spine. "You heard him. Get moving."
And Artemis, still chanting "Don't tell them a thing unless I say so" in his mind, brought up the rear.
The prisoners were settled into a private compartment, with Cletus again as the lone guard, but when the train began to fill with travelers some two hours later, he and Tubbs took turns as the sentry in the cramped room. Artemis was shown to a seat in the adjoining parlor car, and told to stay put until further notice.
Mariah supposed she ought to be grateful that the outlaws were so preoccupied with the robbery and their clean getaway from Silverton. In all the confusion, they'd forgotten about their lewd plans for her.
In fact, no one seemed to notice that she was on the train—not even the man she loved. She sighed and turned toward the window, the long sugar-scoop brim of her bonnet bumping against the glass as the locomotive finally chugged to life. The private car lurched forward several times, and then caught, smoothing its path on the rails. It was then that a slight movement at the corner of the window caught Mariah's attention.
She glanced upward, noticing that the curtain had been torn from its moorings. All that remained were a few shreds of burgundy velvet, a pair of gold satin pulls and tassels, which bounced with the rhythm of the rails. Suddenly, hit full force with the intimate memory of exactly why the window dressing was in such a state of disrepair, Mariah gasped. She could almost hear the ripping of fabric, mingled with her own cries of ecstasy and, above them all, Cain's urgent words of love.
Her gaze darted across the aisle to where he sat. Their eyes met and held for a brief moment. Then he restlessly shifted his hips and quickly looked away, and in that moment, Mariah knew: The man across from her did indeed remember exactly who he was, and how close he'd once been to her.
Her response to it all—the memories, the knowledge that Cain was not only in his right mind, but thinking back to their wild, impassioned encounter right here in this room—was involuntary, instinctive, and impossible to harness. She turned bright red to her roots, and her gaze fell to the floor.
Tubbs, who'd noticed part of the exchange, and all of Mariah's reactions, said, "What's all this, sugar pie? Flirting with your old sweetheart, and blushing, too? You trying to make me jealous?"
"I doubt the lady had any such thoughts about me, Marshal Slater," said Morgan. "In fact, I can't believe I'm a bank robber or that this charming young woman is my partner. Are you absolutely certain you've detained the correct individuals?"
Tubbs let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh, I have the 'correct individuals' all right, Billy boy. As for the 'charming young woman,' she was your little bed- warmer. Now she's mine."
"I find it difficult to believe that I could forget a woman as beautiful as Mariah."
Tubbs laughed harder. "Now that's a crying shame. Why, to think that you had all that fine woman-flesh to yourself at one time, and now you can't even remember a minute of it. Amnesia. What a hoot."
Still laughing, Tubbs made sure his captives' bindings were still in place. In addition to the bonds at their wrists and ankles, Mariah and Morgan were strapped to their individual seats by a length of hemp.
When he was satisfied that they could not aid one another in escaping, he said, "You will excuse me a minute, won't you? I need to stretch my legs. You two be sure to stay put until my replacement gets here."
The minute the door closed behind the outlaw, Morgan whispered across the aisle. "Are you all right?"
"Cain—I mean, Morgan—is it really you?"
"It's me. I never had amnesia—just a hell of a knot on my head."
"But you were so convincing, I thought for sure that—"
"I've had recent experience with amnesia." His expression was grim. "I have firsthand knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be lost inside yourself. I also know how easily others can manipulate you into thinking you're someone else."
Any hopes sh
e might have entertained that Cain would be the man to emerge after the blow to his head were dashed as Mariah recognized Morgan Slater's authoritative, accusing tone. She stiffened, but said nothing.
"You didn't answer me," he said, still demanding, not asking. "Did they touch you, any of them?"
"I don't see what concern it is of yours if they did."
"I'm the law, remember? It's my business to ask these questions." He paused to soften his tone. "I saw your room, your nightclothes thrown all over. It looked like... dammit, Mariah. These men are animals. I have a right to know what they've done to you."
"You have absolutely no rights where I'm concerned." Mariah finally met his gaze, and finding at least a hint of concern in it, told him what happened. "Being dragged forcibly from my room at midnight wasn't, in any way, pleasant. Tubbs made me get dressed in front of him, and he did think about... about getting to know me a little better, but he was too afraid to do anything about it in case you came by to visit me. I guess he didn't want to take the chance of being caught in the act."
Morgan ground his teeth. "And when he took you to the hotel with his friend Cletus?"
She shrugged, far more concerned about her current plight. "I'm just glad you and Artemis came by when you did. They were talking about killing us. Why?"
"Because I'm a United States marshal, and those men are part of the Doolittle Gang. You, I'm afraid, had the misfortune of getting caught in the middle."
"The Doolittle Gang. But what about Artemis? Why is he with them, and why did you arrest him?"
"Artemis"—Morgan leaned as far forward in the seat as the rope would allow—"is a Doolittle."
She gasped. "But, but how is that possible? He's such a nice young man, and so, I don't know, polite."
"Whatever else he may be, Artemis is also the fox you hired to guard the henhouse, if my splotchy memory serves me correctly. You did put him in charge of keeping me from being killed by the Doolittle Gang while I still thought my name was Cain Law, did you not?"
"Oh, my God." Mariah recalled the day in the Durango sheriff's office, remembering particularly how nervous Artemis had been at the time, at how flustered he got when she mentioned the name Doolittle. The gang must have been tracking Cain's every move even then. "Oh, my God."
"Shush." Morgan glanced toward the door. "Lucky for us, your instincts weren't entirely—"
The door to the compartment opened, and Morgan quickly sat back against the bench seat, motioning for Mariah to do the same.
"You folks okay in here?" Artemis asked as he stuck his head inside the room. "I, ah, I'm supposed to stand right outside your door, and keep an eye on you for a spell."
Morgan canted his head, calling the fox into the henhouse as he whispered, "Are you alone?"
His eyes huge, Artemis checked both ends of the car. "Ah, yes, sir."
"Get in here, quick."
Artemis slipped inside the room and closed the door. "Ah, is your, ah, esthesia all gone, sir?"
"I never had amnesia." He slid down the bench to make room for the young man, pressing Mariah's legs against the outside wall of the car in the process. "Sit down, son."
"Yes, sir."
As Artemis sank down beside him, Morgan explained. "I've been pretending that I couldn't remember anything so I can get the drop on them a little easier. Understand that you've got to keep this information to yourself. Remember your oath?"
"Right. My sworn oath as your number one deputy."
"That's right, and now we have work to do." Morgan offered his back to Artemis. "Untie me."
Mariah, her mouth agog, shot Cain a look suggesting he'd gone mad. "Didn't you just tell me that Artemis is, you know, one of the, ah..."
Morgan smiled. "I deputized Artemis before we came looking for you. He wants to see these cutthroats brought to justice as much as I do."
"That's right, Miss Mariah," said Artemis, untying Morgan's arms. "I'm an honest-to-God deputy for the United States Marshal's Office. Cain made me one last night."
Incredulous, Mariah rolled her eyes and sank back against the bench seat.
Morgan, his hands now freed by Artemis, didn't notice her reaction or correct the young man on the use of his bogus name. He quickly untied his feet, and then rewrapped them, making it look as if he were still bound.
Then he reached down and did the same for Mariah, continuing to explain as he worked. "The gang is planning to rob the train a few miles down the road. They intend to blow up the tracks near Needle Creek to stop the train, but before that, somewhere between there and Elk Park, they plan to throw you and me over the side."
Mariah shuddered as she recalled the jagged face of the mountainside, the sheer drop to the canyon so far below. She held out her wrists, and as Cain untied them, she said, "What are we going to do? It's not like we can run away or anything."
"I'm working on it."
Artemis, who'd gotten up on his own to go check the aisle again, ducked back inside the room. "It's still clear out there."
Finished with Mariah's bonds, Morgan sat back in his seat and tried to look as if he were still a helpless captive. Then he asked his deputy, "Is there any way you can talk Tubbs or Cletus out of a gun?"
So proud of himself he thought he might burst, the youngest Doolittle flipped open his coat to reveal Morgan's huge peacemaker buried in the waistband of his trousers. "I asked Tubbs to give it to me in case of an emergency, and he did."
Chuckling softly, Morgan held out his hand. "I'd say we definitely have us an emergency of the highest order, Deputy."
After Artemis dropped the weapon onto his palm, Morgan checked the cylinder to make sure the Colt was still loaded. Then he slid the gun between his thigh and the wall of the train, and rewrapped his wrists. "Where's Cletus?"
"Last time I saw him, he was stretched out in the parlor car."
"And Tubbs?"
"He went up to check on the guards at the express car, where they got the gold."
"In that case, why don't we take care of Cletus first." Double-checking both himself and Mariah to make certain they looked as incapacitated as before, he nodded to Artemis. "We're ready. Go tell Cletus that Mariah's taken sick and you don't know what to do with her. Tell him to hurry."
"Yes, sir." He saluted, then ran out the door.
Looking back at Mariah, Morgan said, "It's going to get dangerous and maybe even a little messy in here pretty quick. The second I go for my gun, you drop to the floor and cover your head. Understand?"
"But I want to help. I have to do something."
"Just do what I said—and Mariah..." He hesitated, not sure how to say what he was feeling, not even certain what he was feeling, only knowing that he couldn't let things end this way. "If something happens to me, if I should—"
"No, don't say it," she warned, a sudden image of his blond wife coming to her mind. "Don't tell me anything you wouldn't have if we weren't in this predicament."
But Morgan wouldn't be put off. He had something to say, and by God, he was going to say it. "I have to let you know that, well... I forgive you."
"You forgive me?" Mariah's temper flared, sending her fears for her safety up in smoke. "For what, you arrogant bastard? For showing you how to live like a real human being for a few weeks, for caring about you? We ought to charge you for the privilege of having—"
The doorknob turned, and Morgan cut her off. "Put your head between your knees, and keep your eye on my gun" was all he managed to whisper before Cletus walked into the room.
"We got trouble in here?" the outlaw said as he leaned over to take a look at Mariah.
"Like you wouldn't believe." Morgan swung the Colt up to fit the barrel against the man's temple. The gun's hammer clicked back one notch at a time as he softly said, "Now straighten up, real slow." Rising along with Cletus, whose intense blue eyes had paled with fear, Morgan relieved him of his pistol. Then he dropped the firearm to the floor beside Mariah, and surprised the outlaw with a vicious left uppercut.
&nb
sp; Cletus staggered back to the door and stood there wavering for several long seconds, his legs unaware of the fact that he was unconscious. Then, finally, he slid to the floor.
Morgan quickly bound him with the ropes he'd removed from himself, then used Cletus's handkerchief to gag him before dragging him up to where Mariah had been sitting. After stretching him out on the bench, Morgan turned to find Mariah standing by the door. She was helping Artemis to keep a watch on the aisle, despite Morgan's instructions to stay on the floor.
"Next time I tell you to do something, you do it," he said, his voice gruff.
"Or what?" The set of her chin and look in her eye held more challenge than question. "Maybe you'd like to knock me down and tie me up, too, is that it? Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with."
Morgan took two short strides and caught her by the shoulders. "Damn you, Mariah. Now is not the time for this, understand?"
She shrugged out of his grip with a haughty toss of her head. "There will never be a time for this again, Marshal Slater. Either arrest me now, or leave me alone."
His green eyes glittered with rage and something else—a heightened sense of awareness, of what he'd had and what he'd lost—but Morgan didn't have the time to sort through it or figure it out. Not now, with another outlaw loose on the train. He did the only thing that he could do: He lifted Mariah off of her feet, swung her around in a half-circle, and set her on the bench across from Cletus.
"You may consider yourself under arrest, Miss Penny. From here on out you are under my orders, and you will do as I say."
Mariah was speechless. Never had either Cain or Morgan spoken to her in such a manner, and never had she experienced such a strange reaction to him, this feeling of being both threatened and cherished. As she stared up at him, her chin trembling, her gaze locked into his, the door to the compartment burst open and Artemis stuck his head inside.