by Anna Schmidt
He was so damned young, Seth thought. How on earth had he gotten himself mixed up in something like this? “What’s your role?”
“Horses. I hold ’em and have ’em ready to run soon as the job’s done.”
“You understand that if you don’t get yourself killed tonight, Ma is gonna do the job herself?”
Sam chuckled. “Her and Pa think I’m still just a kid, but it’s time, Seth. I want my chance to do what you’re doing. Chicago is boring, but out here there’s adventure around every bend. And if I do this right, then Wells Fargo will take notice. We could work together.”
Seth wondered if he had ever been quite so naive. “Here’s the way we’re gonna play this, little brother. You are going to leave here now and head for the fort. Hopefully, you’ll intercept the payroll detail on the way and can warn the captain of the plan and let him take matters from there. You’ll stay put until I come to get you. Understood?”
But even as he laid out the instructions, he knew it was already too late—he heard movement at the entrance to the alley two blocks away. Before Sam could protest, Seth held up his hand for quiet and crept to the edge of the roof to see what was going on below. He saw half a dozen riders, their horses muzzled.
“Are they expecting you to be here?” he whispered.
“Yeah. It was my job to slip into the bank and hide until after closing, so I could open the side door, and then take hold of the horses while they move the money. They’re early though.” He sounded surprised and confused—and very, very young.
“Okay, give me your hat and jacket.” Seth shrugged out of his own garments and handed them to his brother. “I’ll go do your part. As soon as they are inside the bank, you head for the fort.”
“They’ll have two acting as lookouts,” Sam protested.
That explained the large number of men. Two outside to keep watch, while four pulled off the heist. Think, Grover!
He wished Amanda’s brother were around, or that he could at least count on the district sheriff, but Richter was part of this whole business. It was Sam and him against six members of the gang and probably the sheriff.
“Hey, Seth, maybe I can jump from here to that roof next door and then shimmy to the ground and then…”
Seth’s instinct was to immediately reject the idea. But then he looked at the roof of the mercantile. It was flat and slightly lower than the bank’s roof. The gap between the buildings was maybe six feet.
“I’ll do it,” he said as he handed Sam back his hat and jacket. “You follow the original plan they laid out for you, but when I show up, you get the hell out of there, do you understand me? No heroics. Just grab a horse, mount up, and ride hard for the fort.”
“But the payload detail must be getting close to town already.”
“Then you’ll warn them off. I’ll handle things here.”
The movement below had stopped. He heard men arguing in low voices. They had reached the bank.
“Now go on, and do whatever you were told about the door.” He shoved Sam toward the stairway and watched him hurry down. He waited until he heard voices below.
“Where were you, kid?” a rough-talking man demanded in a raspy whisper.
“Right here, Rudy—just like you told me.”
“Come on,” another man said. “We don’t got all night.”
Seth peered over the edge of the roof and saw Sam emerge into the alley and take hold of the horses. To his credit, he resisted the urge to glance up. Two men spread out to watch from either end of the alley, while the other four entered the bank carrying saddlebags.
Seth hurried to the far side of the roof, took a running start, and jumped.
Ten
Amanda was tired, annoyed, and desperately in need of an escape from Ezra Baxter’s hand.
It appeared that the banker had packed as many people as possible into the over-furnished and already crowded rooms of his home. The dining room table was laden with food, while in the parlor several guests were relegated to standing or perching on chair arms and ottomans to enjoy the refreshments. In the library—where Ezra insisted that Amanda stand in a receiving line with him and the children—there were so many people talking at once she could not hear herself think.
On top of that, she had now been standing for over an hour, and Ezra kept touching her—his hand at her waist or on her arm. Once he had even dared to touch her cheek on the pretense of brushing away an errant curl. She had no doubt that it was his intention to send a message of ownership to anyone who took note of these intimacies. And she was aware that tongues were wagging.
Furthermore, the windows and doors were closed, and there was a fire blazing in the corner fireplace on a night when the air outside might be cool, but would certainly be a welcome relief for those crammed into the small space. Amanda was quite certain that if she didn’t get some air soon, she was going to pass out.
“Father, please,” Ellie pleaded when there was finally a momentary break in the throngs of guests around them, “can we have something to eat?”
“Yes, Father,” Eli added. “It seems like hours.”
Amanda saw Ezra hesitate. He had been enjoying his position as host and his children’s as the center of attention. She decided this might be her only opportunity. “I believe if Eli and Ellie could get some refreshments and circulate among the guests, that would make an even deeper impression, Ezra.” She had deliberately elected to call him by his given name, knowing it would soften him.
“Yes, yes,” he said, waving the children toward the dining room. “Feed yourselves, but do not go far. I want you here for the special announcement I have planned.”
The twins glanced at each other, their curiosity evident. But in the end, their appetites won out, and they headed for the dining room. When Amanda started to follow them, Ezra caught her hand. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to leave your post, Amanda.”
And when Judge Ellis and his wife approached, and the judge asked how Amanda was doing with the jail improvements work, she was aware that Ezra did not release her hand. The sweat from his palm as he gripped her fingers sickened her. It occurred to her that based on their behavior, Eli and Ellie were unaware she had refused his proposal, and she feared his “special announcement” was that they were to wed. He would bank on her not wishing to cause a scene in such a gathering.
She forced a smile as she focused her attention on the judge. “We are making some progress at the jail, sir,” she told him, and then saw her path of escape. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Matthews’s daughter has come up with some quite innovative ideas. I’m sure she would love to have your opinion, sir. Allow me to introduce you.”
She wrenched her hand free of Ezra’s and led the judge and his wife across the room to where Jim and Ginny were talking to Miss Dooley. Behind her she saw three local businessmen surround Ezra, and they did not look pleased.
This was her chance. As soon as the Matthews and the judge were engaged in conversation, she excused herself and slipped down the hall to the kitchen and out the back door.
Outside she turned her face to the sky and closed her eyes as she allowed the fresh air to wash over her, as if it were a welcome rain shower on a hot summer day. The streets were deserted as she hurried to put some distance between herself and the house ablaze with light, buzzing with the muted conversations of Ezra’s guests. In the distance, she could barely hear the music from the saloons at the far end of town.
The sky was clear, the air cool on her face. She wondered what might happen if she simply returned to the boardinghouse, changed clothes, and went for a long walk. Of course, that would be the final straw for Ezra. She would be fired, but so what? He was going to send the children away soon, and she would no longer be their teacher.
Behind her she heard the front door of the Baxter house open and close. She moved into the shadows, not wanting to be s
een or questioned. She was sure Ezra had come to find her, and she was about to fake a spell of sickness, when she realized the person coming her way was not Ezra. It was Eli, and so intent was he on whatever his mission might be that he had walked right past her without realizing she was there. He had also changed from his Sunday best to the rougher clothes he wore for riding. He headed down the main street past the plaza and then ducked into an alley.
Amanda gathered her skirt in one hand and followed him.
* * *
Seth limped across the roof of the mercantile, nursing a sprained ankle he’d suffered in the jump. He was no good to Sam if he was injured, so he gritted his teeth and put the pain out of his mind.
What he needed now was to get to the Baxter house and raise the alarm. Ezra Baxter might be up to his eyeballs in this robbery, but among his guests would be Judge Ellis and the district attorney, and any number of locals who would do whatever it took to foil a robbery that could include their life savings. He had no doubt that the Stock brothers would see the opportunity to include whatever money was already in the bank, in addition to the payroll, in their take.
He shimmied down a ladder the store owner used to display blankets and other handwoven items from the local pueblos, dropped to the ground, and started running, bum ankle and all. But he stopped dead in the middle of the deserted street when he saw what he was pretty sure he couldn’t possibly be seeing—a flash of blue gown and a certain strawberry blond hurrying down the alley toward the back of the bank.
Amanda?
He thought about how the contact for the gang’s messages to Baxter and the sheriff was “some woman in the boardinghouse.”
He felt sick and betrayed and furious. There had been a time when he’d given his heart to another woman, been ready to give up everything for her, only to learn that the whole time she’d been part of the gang he’d been chasing. That had been the one and only time Seth had failed in his job. That woman and, as it turned out, her brother had robbed a train and gotten clean away, and it had all been Seth’s fault. The Stock boys were not part of Amanda’s family, so what was the connection?
He thought about her decision to move to Tucson about the same time he had learned that Tucson might be the site of the crime. He thought about the way she had been standing there that night at the edge of town. He thought of how often she had demonstrated a passion for adventure. Maybe somewhere along the way—long before he’d met her—she’d met up with one of the Stock boys, and she’d seen in them the exciting life she clearly craved. He thought about the questions she’d asked about him and his work. And he battled the idea that either Rudy or Orson could be her lover. Doubt and distrust outweighed everything in his mind, even as his heart tried to tell him this was different. She was different.
The fact that she had not stopped to change out of her party dress told him she was acting on impulse. But it could still mean that because she knew this was the night, she had decided to go now, rather than wait to meet up with her lover later. He hesitated, uncertain whether he should see what she would do, or raise the alarm as he’d intended.
In the end, he followed Amanda. He needed to know for sure—to see for himself. He had fallen in love with her, and on this night his heart trumped his mind and common sense.
By the time he reached the entrance to the alley, she was nowhere to be seen. But the lookout outlaw had hold of Eli Baxter, wrestling him down the alley toward the rear entrance to the bank. The kid struggled and shouted something unintelligible until the outlaw slugged him hard, and he crumpled to the ground. The outlaw left him lying there and ran to the far end of the alley where a wagon pulled up to the entrance to the bank.
Seth was about to go to the kid when he saw Amanda step out of the doorway to the pharmacy and hurry to the boy’s aid. Acting purely on instinct—and his hope that no way could she be part of this—he joined her.
“Seth,” she whispered. “Eli’s hurt and…”
The kid moaned, and his eyes opened in slits as he focused on her. “Stop them,” he pleaded. “They’re gonna ruin my father.” He tried to sit up, but failed.
Seth pulled Eli to his feet. “Take him home, Amanda. Go back to the party, and raise the alarm.”
To his relief, she didn’t argue. Instead, she wrapped her arm around Eli’s waist and led him away. Relieved that his instincts about her innocence were right after all, and satisfied that for once she would do as he asked, Seth turned his attention to the far end of the alley. The two outlaws who had been the lookouts were holding the soldiers accompanying the payload at gunpoint while the rest of the gang hurried to the back of the wagon to unload the money, placing bills and bags filled with coins in saddlebags. He didn’t see Sam, but there was a lot of activity, and maybe…
He heard a click and felt the barrel of a gun press hard into his back.
“Hello, detective,” a woman’s voice whispered. “Let’s take a walk.”
“Sure. Where do you want to go?” He thought he knew the voice but couldn’t place it.
The gun poked his back. The woman carrying it remained silent.
* * *
Eli wiped blood from his lip, which had puffed up to double its size. He stumbled along until he finally found his footing, and Amanda could release the hold she had on his waist.
“Are you gonna tell my father?” he asked.
Amanda could not believe this was his focus. “Eli, those people back there. Who are they?”
“Outlaws. I guess they mean to rob the bank.”
“You guess?”
“Okay, I know. I’ve been working for them.”
Amanda’s head was spinning. “Start at the beginning. Does this have something to do with those rides you took at night?”
“Yeah.” His tone announced he was clearly surprised that she knew of those outings. “Did the Grover fella tell you that?”
“No one had to tell me, Eli. I saw you.” They were nearly at the entrance to the house. Inside, the party was still going on. “Why were you helping the outlaws?” She had a sudden memory of Eli’s black eye. “Was your father forcing…”
“My father knows nothing about me,” Eli muttered. “He especially doesn’t know I was trying to save him. Of course, now he will, and that I failed—again.”
The door opened, and Ezra stood there for a moment, speechless, as he looked at his son. “You left the party and got into a fight?” He made a move toward the boy that was more threatening than concerned.
“We don’t have time for this,” Amanda said, stepping between father and son. “Eli, go around to the kitchen and let Mrs. Caldwell treat your lip. Then go to your room and stay there.”
Eli limped away. Ezra started to stop him, but Amanda placed both hands on his chest. “Your son was acting on your behalf,” she told him, “so leave him be.”
Ezra turned his attention back to her. “What are you talking about?”
“Outlaws are in the process of robbing the bank. Eli somehow knew about the plan and went to stop them.”
“And they hit him?” Ezra was incensed.
“Did you not hear what I said? A gang of outlaws is now robbing the bank.” She had never met a man who seemed to have such tangled priorities. “We need to raise the alarm.” For a long moment, Ezra stared at her. It was as if he were trying to make sense of her words. “Ezra? We have to…”
“Yes, of course. Leave it to me. You, my dear, have placed yourself in danger. You must immediately go back to the boardinghouse and wait for me there.”
“No, I…”
“Do as I say, Amanda.”
She could stand there and argue, or she could let him raise the alarm and stop the robbery. “All right, I’m going, but you should know that Seth Grover is already there, and he is not one of the outlaws.”
To her shock, Ezra smiled. “Then why is he there?” It was
clearly a rhetorical question because he turned and entered the house, apparently satisfied that Amanda would follow his instructions to wait for him at Miss Dooley’s.
And she did walk back to the boardinghouse, where she stood on the porch, expecting to see a throng of male guests leaving the party and heading toward the bank. When they didn’t, she returned to the Baxter house, and as she passed a front window on her way to the entrance, she saw Ezra in conversation with the judge, but the two men were laughing. Ezra wasn’t warning anyone. Was he in on this, and what of the judge?
There was no time to figure out who was involved. If she ran inside and shouted the bank was being robbed, would Ezra pretend it was all a hoax? There had to be a reason he hadn’t done as he’d promised, but instead returned to the party as if nothing were amiss. It was up to her to do something.
Trying not to trip over her gown, she ran down the street, intent on the saloons where there were men gathered as well—men who might actually do something to stop this madness. But as she passed the plaza, she saw the bell tower used to raise the alarm in the event of fire, built by Miss Dooley’s father because of his fear that his Victorian frame house would be far more vulnerable to fire than its adobe neighbors.
She climbed the rungs of the ladder, reached for the rope, and pulled it with all her strength.
* * *
The clang of the fire bell distracted the woman with the gun enough that Seth was able to spin around, pin her arms to her sides, and make her drop the weapon. He kicked it away and then grasped the woman’s jaw.
Mild-mannered Mrs. Rosewood glared back at him with a fury and hatred he could not have imagined she possessed. “Who are you really?” he demanded.
“None of your business.” She practically spat the words. “Now, let me go.”
Her demand was ridiculous given the circumstances. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll blow your damn head off,” a gruff male voice replied.