The private looked doubtfully at the other soldier. Jules could see they were going to refuse her. Apparently the damsel in distress wasn’t enough for these men. Fine. She had another card to play.
“The bandits said something about soldiers!” she added. “I heard the lead bandit say so. He said his name was Razor, something like that. He said he was waiting for you!”
The soldiers shared another look, this one more urgent. That had gotten through.
“Take me to your commander!” Jules said. “I’ll tell him everything I know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the private said, and turned his horse back to the stagecoach. “He’ll want to talk to you.”
Jules turned and gave Miranda a smug look. Miranda just frowned at her.
“It’s not going to work,” she said quietly.
“I’m getting awful tired of your negativity, dear sister.”
Miranda looked down at the ground and shook her head. Other soldiers came up in force, and the stagecoach drew to a halt a few feet away. Jules decided that she needed to look more helpless or this whole endeavor was going to fail. She rushed forward to the window.
“Sir, sir, you must assist me! My sister and I have been robbed by bandits and I do believe they’re meaning to do you harm as well. I heard part of the plan. I’m happy to—”
She stopped as the door opened and a man got out.
There he was, in the flesh. A young man in his early twenties, with that square jaw, effortless smile, and blue eyes that you could practically swim in. He stepped out, lean but athletic, looking dashing in his crisp blue uniform.
Will Starling.
Behind her, she heard Miranda gasp. Jules opened her mouth to continue speaking, but no words came out.
“Do go on, ma’am,” Will said, grinning. “I’m sure your tale would be most entertaining.”
“Will,” Jules said. “Will, I can explain—”
The private she’d spoken to earlier stepped toward her.
“Do you know this woman, Colonel?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” Will answered. “This is my wife.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Frustratingly, the ‘Lady of Shadows’ seems to be everywhere and nowhere at all. She turns up at critical moments and then vanishes without a trace, only to turn up halfway across the world a short while later. I’ve found accounts that put her in different places at the same time.”
— Terry Jacobsen, “A History of the Supernatural,” 2013
“I’m not your wife,” Jules said.
It was the first thing that popped into her head. She couldn’t believe Will was here. She kept waiting to wake up.
“Really?” Will said, appearing amused. “I could’ve sworn that was you at the church in front of everyone. Why, I even remember your maid of honor.” He turned to Miranda. “It’s pleasing to see you again, Gertrude. Or should I call you Miranda?”
Miranda gasped again. He knew her real name. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. He must have done research after—she cut the thought off.
“You married Sally Hawkins,” Jules said, meeting his eyes, her shock wearing off. “That woman no longer exists. The marriage is invalid.”
Will looked at the private, nodding.
“What do you say, Jenkins?” he asked. “If a woman pretends to be someone else, but stands up and says the words ‘till death do us part,’ does it count as a real marriage?”
Private Jenkins looked like he wished he could be anywhere other than right here. He glanced between Will and Jules.
“I… uh, don’t know,” he said, adding after a moment, “sir.”
“Fair enough,” Will said. “I don’t know either.” He extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jules Castle. The real you, at any rate.”
Jules shook his hand and was unsurprised when Will tied a rope around it. He grabbed her other hand quickly, tying the two of them tight. He needn’t have bothered. She was never going to take on fourteen men, least of all trained soldiers, with only three of her own.
“Arrest the other two,” Will said to Jenkins.
Other men stepped up, grabbing Miranda and Luke. Will stepped forward, nodded briefly to Miranda, and settled his eyes on Luke.
“Luke Hawthorne,” he said. “I didn’t realize you’d sunk as low as banditry. The word is that you’ve been helpful in rounding up criminals, not participating in crimes.”
“I do what pays well, Colonel,” Luke replied. Jules glanced back at him. He looked neither surprised nor particularly alarmed. Once again, she was forced to admire his calm.
“Disarm them and then put them in the carriage with me,” Will said. “We need to have a talk. Put the horses in the rear.”
“You’ll never get Onyx to cooperate,” Jules protested. “Let me handle her.”
Will gave her a sidelong glance, moving to Jules’ horse. Rather than rearing up, the horse approached Will and nuzzled him. He stroked her black mane.
“Well, at least one of you is glad to see me,” Will said. “Your horse and I started getting along when I brought her fresh carrots. We’ll be fine without you, thanks.”
“Traitor,” Jules muttered to the horse.
Will handed the reins to Jenkins and gestured toward the carriage. Men came up and removed the guns at her sides, also taking Luke’s rifle. Miranda didn’t have a weapon on hand.
“Inside,” Will said.
“You’re running into a trap,” Jules told him.
He eyed her coolly. “Think I just avoided one,” he said.
Reluctantly, her hands tied in front of her, Jules stepped into the carriage.
It was more spacious than she would have guessed from the outside. Jules, Miranda, Luke sat on one side, while Will and two other soldiers were on the opposite.
After a moment, the coach began moving again. Jules barely felt the bumps on the trail.
She searched the cabin. There was no lockbox of money she could see. It was likely stored in a space at the back of the coach, probably with extra weapons and ammunition.
They sat in silence for several minutes. There was no point in Jules talking. What could she say to a man she’d abandoned the day after their wedding? He clearly knew what she was now.
Jules felt no shame in that. She was a damn good thief. She felt no guilt about her profession. She’d been raised for the job.
But that wasn’t something Will would understand. He thought all women weak-willed and helpless, casting himself as their gallant defender. She’d enjoyed her time with him in Chicago, but sometimes she’d had to grit her teeth at the condescending way he talked to her. Oh, he didn’t mean it badly—most men talked that way to women—but it grated just the same.
So she said nothing as the carriage trundled along. She waited for him to start talking. Apparently Will had opted for the same tactic. He barely looked in her direction, but pretended to stare out the window.
“You two are unbelievable,” Miranda said after several minutes. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Jules looked at Will, who frowned. He didn’t speak. God, but the man was stubborn sometimes. She set her jaw and turned her head toward the window.
“I told you this plan was going to end badly,” Miranda said.
“Oh please. Even you couldn’t have predicted Will would be here.”
“I knew something would happen.”
Jules glared at her.
“Tell him, Jules,” her sister said.
“Tell him what?”
Miranda made an exasperated noise and looked at Will. “Rezzor’s men are up ahead.”
“I figured,” Will replied.
Jules turned back to him. “Really?”
“I assumed you were working with him when my men noticed you on the side of the trail,” Will replied. “That’s the plan, isn’t it? You steal the paymaster’s coin when Rezzor starts shooting, then split it with him later?”
Jules gave a short laugh. “You’re right
about everything but the splitting part. Last time we met, Rezzor and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on terms, Will. He’ll shoot me and you dead just the same.”
For some reason, Will looked at Miranda for confirmation. When she nodded her head, Jules found it impossible to swallow her frustration.
“Oh, you trust her now, do you?” Jules said.
“Of the two of you, she was always the more trustworthy,” Will said. “She never pretended to like me.”
“You didn’t exactly hide your distaste for Indians,” Miranda said.
“I have always respected your people.”
“Right. So long as you can put us on a reservation and keep us penned there,” Miranda said.
“So you don’t keep killing miners and settlers!”
“We wouldn’t keep killing them if they weren’t coming onto our land,” Miranda said.
Will sputtered at her. “Coming onto your—”
“This seems a might bit off topic,” Jules said. “Reckon we ought to get back to the subject at hand. That being where Rezzor shows up and kills us all.”
“How many men?”
“He started with eleven that I saw,” Jules replied. “I may have winnowed that number a bit, but it’s also possible he had more men hiding in the hills. He’s planning a slaughter, Will. He wants to wipe you all out.”
“Like your plan was any different.”
She looked at him with genuine shock. “I’d be a fool to kill troopers and not expect payback, Will Starling. My plan was to disable the carriage and frighten you off.”
Will looked at her with his sky-blue eyes. “And what would you have done when that didn’t work, I wonder,” he said. “Give up? Doesn’t seem like you.”
She met his gaze and didn’t flinch. “Doesn’t matter. It would have worked.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” he said. “We expected an attack.”
“Why would you expect an—”
Jules broke off. Will’s sudden reappearance in her life had distracted her, preventing her from seeing what she should have recognized earlier.
“This is a trap for us,” she said.
She’d assumed Will’s presence here was a coincidence, a joke played by the fates. What were the odds that he, of all people, would be guarding this stagecoach? Except it wasn’t ordained by the gods after all. He was here on purpose.
“How did you know I’d hit this?”
“Come on, I know you,” Will said, lowering his voice, letting the words convey all kinds of meaning.
Jules scowled at him. “The fact that you and I briefly shared a bed does not mean you ‘know’ me, Will. I had you fooled for months.”
The soldiers beside him had the presence of mind to look out the window, pretending not to hear the conversation.
“You really aren’t embarrassed by it at all, are you? You lied to me, my family. My mother cried for a solid week after you ran off.”
“Well, I did steal a lot of her jewelry on the way out,” Jules said.
“She didn’t give a fig for that!” Will said, his voice suddenly heated. “She was crying over losing a daughter-in-law, one she’d grown to like. She insisted you weren’t involved for the longest time. Even when we learned the truth, she said it was all your father’s fault. She still makes excuses for you, something about growing up without a mother. At least that part of your story turned out to be true.”
Jules had pretended to be a poor Southerner from Virginia, while Miranda had been the last of her family’s servants, a role her sister hadn’t enjoyed in the least. Jules had found her way into Will Starling’s life easily enough, meeting him “by accident” at a ball and ensuring she was the only woman there worth talking to. She’d expected some real competition, but apparently Will knew most of the others who showed up that night. She had the virtue of being fresh.
She’d concocted a sob story designed to keep his interest. A noble family fallen on rough times, spinning a tale about how her father had opposed secession and the nasty rebels had taken away all his livelihood after the war. She’d kept the part about her mother being dead, though she’d created a fictional one of high birth and even higher morals, a figure designed to evoke sympathy and admiration, something Jules assumed her real mother could never do.
“I’m curious how you learned so much about me,” Jules said.
“You’re in such deep trouble, you don’t even understand it.”
“Enlighten me then, Will,” she said. “You were always so good about explaining things to a poor country girl like me.”
He looked at her in shock. She’d thought he was past hurting, but apparently her barb had found a mark.
“What the devil does that mean?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to use smaller words so you can feel all superior again? Heavens above, I do hope you’ll speak slowly so I can follow along.”
He glared at her. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t speak at all. Finally, he shook his head.
“Yes, we knew you were going to attack this stagecoach,” he said angrily. “After what you did on that train—”
Jules brought up her still-bound hands, frustrated she couldn’t gesture with them. “I didn’t—” she started.
“You were on that train, don’t deny it,” he said. “Sally, the amount—”
“The name is Jules, thank you very much. And I was on that train, but it’s not—”
“You killed so many people, Jules,” Will said. “Men, women and children. You didn’t think they’d want to bring you in for that?”
Jules was stunned. She knew from Dy that there were whispers she was behind the train job, but she’d assumed those were limited. The fact that the U.S. Army knew she’d robbed that train was alarming. The idea that they believed she killed those people was far worse. She looked at Will in horror.
“You were sent for me?” she asked.
“I volunteered to bring you in,” he said. “I told my superiors our history gave me insights into how you think. They approved. Once we set up the trap, I let it be known we were carrying quite a bit of money. It was too close to where you were known to operate not to draw your interest.”
“You hate me that much?”
Will appeared confused. “Hate you? What?”
“I hurt your masculine pride and now you have to be the one to bring me in,” she said. “Well, that must make all your private parts tingle. You finally have your revenge.”
“Revenge?” Will said, looking shocked. “I’m not here to gloat. I’m here because I saw the orders, Sally. Or Jules. Whatever your real name is. They weren’t planning to bring you in alive. I told them I could do it, and I aim to do just that. This way, you’ll get a fair trial. Trust me.”
He seemed so earnest that a part of her wanted to believe it. But she knew how deeply she’d hurt Will. He’d loved her, or the version of her she’d played in Chicago. She also knew how this play was going to end.
“And when we get to Fort Curtis, what then?” Jules said. “You said it yourself. The Army thinks I did it. You think they’ll believe me when I say I didn’t? You don’t even believe me. Yes, I robbed that train, but I didn’t kill those people on it. That was something else. You think your ‘fair trial’ will end with them accepting that?”
Will turned away from her and looked out the window. He knew. Of course he knew. She’d be found guilty and quickly thereafter, Jules would find her sentence delivered. Being female didn’t matter, not for the crime she was being accused of.
If Will had his way, Jules Castle was going to hang from the gallows.
Chapter Nineteen
“It is our considered opinion that something otherworldly has taken up residence in the Badlands of the Dakota Territory. We do not consider it a threat to the U.S. government at present, but if word of it spread, it could stop western expansion and weaken the authority of the state. For this reason, we recommend that all public discussion of this be repressed, and any fatalities b
lamed on the native hostiles in the region.”
— Congressional report on the “Happenings in the Dakota Territory,” dated 1881. Stamped SECRET.
Jules wasn’t going to go out like that.
She’d struggled through too much, gotten too far, to end up as a moral lesson to other wayward girls who dared step out of the roles established for them. Far better for her to die here and now.
She leaned forward toward Will.
“Can I tell you something?” she whispered.
There was only a slim chance this would work. Will was trained by the military and quick on his feet. But if it failed, at least this farce would be over quickly.
When he brought his face toward her, she grabbed for the gun on his holster. To her surprise, she successfully wrenched the gun free.
In a single motion, she pushed back against the seat inside the coach, cocking the hammer and aiming it at the head of the soldier next to Will. The poor sap hadn’t even noticed what was happening. He’d been too embarrassed, staring out the window in an effort to give his commanding officer some privacy.
“Make another move and I’ll blow his head off,” Jules said.
Will was already reaching for the other gun on his side, but he stopped in mid-air. The other two soldiers didn’t move either, but kept their eyes on Jules.
“Jules, what are you doing?” Miranda hissed.
“You heard the man,” she said. “I can’t let him take us in. The Army must be smart enough to know I didn’t kill the people on the train. But I’m the public excuse for what happened. Which means I’ll be railroaded through the system, Chicagoed by the man I married.”
“If you’re trying to convince me you’re innocent, pointing a gun at one of my men isn’t the way to do it,” Will said.
“Well, rational discourse wasn’t working,” Jules said. “And if it’s a choice between me and the likes of any of you, I’ll choose me every time.”
“What’s your plan, Jules?” he asked. “I’ve got more than a dozen men out there. You can’t shoot your way out of this.”
“I can try.” The idea had a certain appeal. At least she’d go down with a gun in her hand. “But I’m open to suggestions, since you’re feeling helpful and all.”
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