“I was hoping to learn how to investigate and find ways for women to legally, or not, help them out of terrible situations. No man wants it to come out that they beat their wife. Lots of men think it’s okay to do so. I know a couple of places where they and their children can go for shelter, but I need to know how to get them away without the husband knowing and stopping them.”
“You’ll make a lot of enemies doing that. Men don’t like others to interfere with their families.” Morgan poked at the fire with a stick.
“No, they don’t. That’s why I need the skills to help but stay hidden.”
“That’s not what Pinkerton agents do. We expose criminals.”
“But you know how to do so without being found out. You know how to get the job done undercover. Once I learn how to do that sort of thing, I can adjust it so I can get the women and children away without being seen or tracked. If I know what to look for to find someone, I can make sure to do the opposite.”
~~~~~
Rilla couldn’t believe she’d gone on so about the plight of women. The rain had stopped, and they were back on the trail, riding to Jefferson.
It’s a wonder Morgan didn’t order her to stop talking altogether. He could have done that. Instead, he’d just sat staring into the fire. Maybe he was thinking about what she’d said. Maybe she’d planted some seeds about how women needed to have more rights for themselves. They surely were without now. Maybe someday women would be able to vote, have whatever job they wanted, be free to make decisions about the things important to themselves without some man having most of the say.
That day wasn’t today, though. Until that happened, Rilla wasn’t going to let a man have that much control over her life. As soon as they got back to Denver, she was getting an annulment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MORGAN AND RILLA, dressed as Riley, rode into Jefferson the next morning. He knew Rilla was out of sorts since she wouldn’t keep up a conversation with him.
He’d thought about what she’d told him about women yesterday. It was more like a lecture, but she’d had some valid points.
Morgan didn’t agree with all of them, women didn’t need to have their money separate from their husband’s. The man was supposed to support the family. Was supposed to take care of his wife and children. Was supposed to pay all the bills. That’s why he controlled the money. Besides, everyone knew women had no sense about money. If they controlled the money, they’d spend it all on fripperies in no time at all.
Look at Rilla. She’d spent fifty cents on a bath in Hamilton only a few days after she’d bathed in Denver.
“There’s the post office. It’s in the mercantile.” Rilla pointed, and they turned their horses toward the hitching rail in front.
“Don’t go looking at stuff in the store. Boys don’t do that sort of thing. If they do, it’s guns or food,” Morgan instructed as they wrapped the reins around the rail.
At least Rilla was looking more adept at getting off her horse. She trailed after him, slouching like a sullen youth.
Morgan walked up to the counter with the post boxes behind it. “Is there a letter for Adam Madison? It’d be in General Delivery,” he said when the merchant came over.
“Let me look. Seems I remember a letter with that name coming in a while back.” The man rifled through a box of letters and brought one over. “Here you go, Mr. Madison. Glad you finally made it. We get some letters that are never picked up.”
“I am too. Thanks.”
“Hey, Pa. They have licorice whips. Can we get some? It’d be a treat for us on the trail.” Rilla was standing next to the jars of penny candy. She definitely looked like a boy whose mouth was watering for the candy ropes.
Morgan grinned and looked at the merchant. “He said a treat for us, but I bet most will go into him.”
Nodding and chuckling, the man wrapped the black candy twists in some oiled paper and handed them to Rilla, while Morgan placed a coin on the counter.
“Thanks,” Rilla said. She looked at Morgan. “Thanks Pa.”
“Come on, boy. We still got a ways to go today.”
Once they were out of town, Morgan opened the letter. Rilla had a licorice whip sticking out of her mouth when he glanced at her. “Enjoying that?” Morgan asked with a wry grin.
“Yeah, Pa. I am. You want one?”
“Not just yet, but don’t eat them all.” He opened the letter and read, “From the iron’s center rock, 135 - 30, 170 - 15.”
“What do you think that means?” Rilla asked.
“Not sure. Let’s figure it out before we go much further. We don’t want to have to backtrack if we can help it.” Morgan turned off the trail, and they rode to a stand of trees. “Iron’s center rock.”
“What do you suppose iron’s rock means?” Rilla asked.
“Something heavy? Irons are heavy. Rocks are heavy.” An idea came to his mind. “A flatiron is heavy. Up by Boulder City is a range called the Flatirons. Maybe it means the center of them.”
“Could be. So what do the numbers mean? Distance?”
Morgan snapped his fingers. “Direction and distance. The first are compass degrees. The second numbers are miles.”
“What were the numbers again?” Rilla asked.
“135 - 30 and 170 - 15.”
“So, southeast for thirty miles, then nearly south for fifteen.” Morgan kicked Condor’s side. “Let’s move. The trail will take us back to Denver and then north to Boulder City.”
~~~~~
Rilla lay back in the warm water of the tub in the Denver Pinkerton Office bathroom. It had taken them five days to get back to the city. At least they’d stayed at a hotel in Bradford. That night it had stormed, and Morgan had had another nightmare. He wouldn’t tell her what it was about, but whatever was haunting him must be something traumatic. He’d cry out and fling himself up. Then he’d thrash as if he was swimming. When she was able to wake him, Morgan would lie stiffly next to her, insisting he didn’t remember and didn’t want to talk about it.
They’d arrived in Denver around mid-day. Marianne had taken one look at Rilla and hustled her up the stairs and into the warm bath. Rilla had ridden into the city as herself, on a sidesaddle. Morgan must be updating Archie about their travels.
A knock sounded on the door. “Lunch is just about ready, Pearl tells me. Are you about done?” Marianne called through the door.
“Yes, I’ll be out in a few minutes. Thank you.”
When Rilla came down the stairs, in clean clothing, she heard voices from the dining room. “I hope I didn’t delay you eating.”
“No, of course not. Come and tell us your version of your travels. I’ve heard Morgan’s report.” Archie held a chair for her to sit.
As they ate, Rilla told of their journey and how they decoded the clues. She was careful to remain neutral about the decision to go to Lincoln City. Rilla didn’t want to make Morgan look bad for not listening to her suggestion that they go to Jefferson. It could just as easily have been her picking the incorrect location. Besides, she still needed to go with him on the rest of the journey. It wouldn’t be smart to make a man look foolish to his boss, then travel alone with him.
They weren’t leaving Denver until the next morning, so the afternoon was restful. Rilla slept in the house that night while Morgan slept in the carriage house dormitory. She refused to admit to herself that she missed him sleeping next to her.
~~~~~
The ride from Denver to Boulder City was accomplished in one day since they’d left just as the sun peeked over the plains east of the city. The trail was wide and well travelled. The Rocky Mountains were a rugged purple to the west as they rode the flat lands north. The weather was sunny and warm. Rilla had chosen to travel as a boy even though they were sure to meet many people moving between the two major towns.
Boulder City was small, as were most of the towns in western territories. It was a place where those seeking their fortunes in the gold and silver mines got supplies, equ
ipment, and food. Gambling and saloons were plentiful as well. Men came and went as they needed, few planting roots in the town.
They got their first glimpse of the Flatirons as they crested a rise. They rose on the edge of the mountain range like five flatirons standing on their base. Gray stone, the color of wrought iron, Rilla could understand where they got their name. She pulled her horse to a stop and Morgan stopped next to her.
“Well, I’d say that’s what we’re looking for.” Rilla took off her hat to wipe sweat from her brow. The mid-spring sun had power even at this elevation. “That middle one really does look like the bottom of a flatiron.”
“That’s the one we need to use as our starting point.” Morgan pulled out his pocket watch. It was late afternoon. The sun was nearly to the tops of the mountains and would slip behind them soon. “Hopefully, there will be a boarding house or hotel with a room for the night. There’ll be at least one saloon where we can get some supper.”
They went on into town and found that they could stay in a room above one of the saloons. They settled the horses in the livery and took their bags to the room.
The barroom was crowded with miners and cowboys. It was Saturday night and there was money to spend on gambling, women, and booze. Layers of smoke hung in the air. A man was pounding on a piano. Women of the evening in short dresses with low-cut bodices served drinks, hung on men’s shoulders or disappeared upstairs with them for short periods of time.
Buffalo stew was the menu for supper. It was hot, filling, and Rilla thought some of the best she’d had on their journey so far. She was less fond of the beer she’d been served with it. Morgan took pity on her and moved the mug to beside his bowl and ordered her a sarsaparilla.
“You men interested in doin’ a bit o’ gambling?” A man in a stained canvas coat and bowler hat stood next to Rilla’s chair. After a quick glance at him, she studied her half eaten bowl of stew. Spooning a bite into her mouth, she waited for Morgan to answer.
“Not tonight, friend. We need to be heading out early in the morning. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
The man swung a chair around and straddled it. “Where you headed?”
“Need to be in Cheyenne by Tuesday. If we get an early start and have good weather, maybe we can get there by Monday night.”
“So ya ain’t attendin’ church in the morning.” The man laughed and slapped his leg. “Don’t figure I will either. Ain’t been since I left home at fourteen. Had enough o’ that malarkey fer a lifetime.”
Rilla scooped the last bite of her stew into her mouth as Morgan said, “You finished, Riley?”
She nodded as she swallowed, then drained her glass. Morgan set his empty beer glass on the table and they stood.
“Pleased to be chatting with you,” Morgan told the scruffy man. Morgan led the way to the bar, paid their bill, then led the way up the stairs at the back of the room.
Neither saw the scruffy man walk back to another who sat in a shadowed corner of the room.
~~~~~
Rilla didn’t know why they were keeping such a fast pace. Morgan had gotten her up way before dawn, and they’d gone down the back stairs to exit the saloon. It wasn’t like they hadn’t paid their bill and they were skipping out. He’d hurried her in saddling Biddy after they’d loaded Jack. The livery owner had stumbled from his house behind the stable to see what was going on so early.
They’d ridden to the middle flatiron and Morgan had taken a bead on their compass point. It seemed to Rilla they were going back to Denver. Or at least they were headed in that direction. This whole trip was seeming more and more like a wild goose chase to her. They’d traveled at least 200 miles with lots of backtracking. It seemed more like 2000 to Rilla. When they passed Coal Creek, she knew they were heading back to Denver. Maybe they should have gotten a protractor and figured out where they were going now on the map. It could have saved them sixty miles.
She wasn’t going to say that to Morgan, though. She didn’t want to upset him. Men didn’t take that sort of suggestion well. Then again, maybe he was as frustrated as she was. Maybe that was why he was making them push the horses so fast.
At the next creek they had to ford, Rilla said, “Let’s let the horses drink. I could use some jerky too.”
Morgan crossed the creek before he dismounted. Rilla followed and stretched after she was standing between Biddy and Jack. Both had their heads down drinking the cold clear water. There was a large stand of brushy trees, so she took advantage of the privacy. When she returned, Morgan was standing, facing the way they had come.
“What’s worrying you?” Rilla pinched her eyebrows together, trying to figure it out.
“I didn’t like that man asking us to gamble with him. That’s not normal. Usually, the one who asks is joining a game. We weren’t looking to get into one. We were just eating our meal.”
“You think they are following us?”
“I don’t know. That’s why we left so early. Hopefully, they weren’t awake when we left. They think we’re going north. At least I told him that.” Morgan got some jerky from his saddlebag and handed a piece to her before taking a bite of some in his hand.
“They?”
“I doubt he’s alone in whatever he was interested in us for.”
“You think they know about the gold?”
“Doubt it. We’ve not seen him or any of the other men in the saloon in any town we’ve been in. Haven’t talked about what we’re doing where anyone can overhear.”
Rilla didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have any idea how to help other than to scan the horizon for anyone following them.
~~~~~
The horses needed to rest and graze. Morgan didn’t like the delay but there was nothing he could do about it. He studied his compass, looking back to his marker point. He turned around and found the bead they’d head toward. He kept scanning the landscaped they’d traversed, but when the attack came, it wasn’t in the direction he’d anticipated.
The stretch of the stream they were along was void of trees. Just downstream groves ran thick along both sides. Three horses came galloping from the trees on their side of the stream, straight at them.
“Mount up,” Morgan yelled. He ran toward Rilla who was trying to mount Biddy. The horse was dancing at Rilla’s panic. Morgan grabbed the reins just as the men arrived.
One man rode between Morgan and Biddy, knocking him down and spooking the horse. The other man leaned down and grabbed Rilla around the waist. Rilla screamed and fought, but the man held her tight and galloped away. The first man smacked Jack on the rump, making him run after Biddy, then took off after the other.
By the time Morgan was standing, all that was left was a trail of dust in one direction and the horses running in another. Morgan swore and ran to Condor, who was tied to a bush. The horse was rearing in distress. Once Morgan was able to calm the animal, and mount, the dust had settled. He scanned the landscape. He could see the mare and donkey slowing. He rode to them, knowing he needed to get them before he went after his wife.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“LET ME GO, Morgan will come after me. You wait and see.” Rilla kept struggling to break the hold of the man who held her. She was still dangling off the side of the horse, but his grip was too strong to break.
“Now, Rilla, you just calm down.”
The voice made all her motion stop as if she was paralyzed. Then she began to fight harder. “No way, Leroy Bastion. What are you doing? Let me go.”
“No way, darlin’. You were promised to me by your pa. Imagine my surprise seeing you dressed up in that boy’s costume of yours. I didn’t like that you left without saying anything to anyone. You just disappeared in the night. Your pa figured you jumped on a train. He was right mad at you. I was too. Didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. Then you walk right into the saloon, big as life.”
Rilla kept struggling, but it was getting harder. She was hanging down and blood was filling her head, making her dizzy. Wi
nded, she finally stopped. Leroy was too strong. He was one of the strongest men she knew.
What was he doing here? How had they found them since they’d left so early and told Leroy’s companion they were going to Cheyenne? Why wasn’t he with the troupe? Had he come looking for her after her escape? What was he planning to do to her? The questions rolled through her mind.
With her no longer struggling, Leroy stopped the horse and swung her up in front of him. He kept one arm around her waist and one on the reins. “You stay still and I’ll keep you up here. You try to escape, I’ll hang you down again. You don’t weigh enough to tire me out. You know that, so just keep still.”
Her head cleared as they rode. The questions remained. They weren’t heading back to Boulder City, so where were they going? Had the troupe been in Boulder City? If they were, why wasn’t Leroy taking her back there? If not, why wasn’t Leroy with them? Who was the other man?
Rilla knew that Leroy must have recognized her when they ate supper in the saloon the previous evening. The man who asked them to gamble was riding beside them now. He wasn’t a member of the theater troupe, unless he joined them after she’d left.
Even though being dressed as a boy helped lead to her kidnapping, Leroy would have recognized her no matter how she was dressed, it was going to be a benefit when she escaped. She knew how to saddle and ride astride. If she’d never learned those skills, getting away from Leroy and his cohort would be much more difficult.
They were riding into the mountains. Well, the foothills, anyway. They were easier to travel through. Rilla paid attention to any landmarks they passed. She wanted to be able to head back to Morgan the way they’d come.
“You sure are quiet,” Leroy said. His hand slipped up her front. Rilla grabbed it and shoved it back down to her waist. “I figured you’d be railing at me with that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Figured that might be considered struggling. I don’t like hanging off the side of the horse.”
An Agent for Rilla (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 32) Page 5