Innocent Bystander
Page 9
“I need you to let me get dressed,” she simpered. “I’m naked.”
“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” he barked, folding his arms.
“I can’t turn around without you seeing my—” she trailed off.
“So just how were you plannin’ on usin’ the gun?” he glowered at her. “Did you plan on shootin’ me? It don’t sound like you were planning on holdin’ me at bay. Not when you still had to get dressed.”
“I—” She gulped down a lump of intimidation her eyes welling with tears. “I would have taken the horse—grabbed my clothes. I was only going to leave you behind.”
“Holdin’ a gun at the same time? How many hands you got? I got a pretty good look, and you seem to have the normal amount of everythin’ to me. And what about my horse? What was stoppin’ me from comin’ after you if you weren’t gonna shoot me?”
She shook her head furiously as she began to plead. “I wouldn’t have shot you. Honest. I don’t know how to shoot. I’m from the East. Women don’t use them there.” The tears streamed down her face. “It was stupid.”
Jake buckled on his gun belt and replaced his weapon in the holster. “Real stupid. You showed about as much intelligence as a tree stump in a hard frost. I ain’t a gent in a parlor forced to behave to maintain his good name, lady. In fact, my name’s about as bad as they come, with good reason. You better start bein’ more careful or I won’t be responsible for the consequences. I’ve got nothin’ to lose.”
Her knees started to shake, buckling as she dropped her head and started to wail. He consciously softened his tone aware that she was close to breaking point. “You should’ve thought this through, darlin’. Now, you’ve gotta choice. You can either walk off and get your dress or you can slip that shirt on and join me for dinner.” He flicked up an eyebrow as he regarded her with feral eyes. “I know which I’d prefer, if that makes any difference, but I ain’t turning my head.”
Madeleine sniffed back her pride and stalked off toward the dress she had left down at the riverbank. He didn’t seem too clever and he certainly found her attractive, but how on earth was he managing to best her at every turn? This was exactly the kind of man she could usually twist around her finger. If she didn’t know better, she might think that a woman had told him every ruse she might use. That must be it. He was very experienced with women. She turned to peer back at him. Just how experienced now intrigued her.
One thing was for sure. It was dangerous to push him in the same way as she had so many others. She dragged on her dress with a sob, deciding that she had never met a man like him in her life before. This man didn’t seem to have boundaries in any way that she could recognize. His blue eyes looked straight into her heart, alerting her to the wild rawness just behind the gentle front. Madeleine had finally met the only man she could not push too far.
And she found herself quietly surprised about the fact she quite enjoyed the challenge.
♦◊♦
Abigail wore her day best dress as she presented herself at Miss Atchinson’s grand family home. The brick façade was imposing enough to suggest they were not about to allow just anyone into their presence and staff in such homes were well trained at keeping those who were euphemistically named “persons” from gaining access to the inner sanctum.
“My card.” She smiled at the footman, but her eyes were full of earnest sophistication, making it clear that she was not about to be trifled with.
“I need to see Miss Atchinson on a matter of extreme urgency.”
“Miss MacKay?” he repeated as he read from the card.
“It’s pronounced Mac-eye. Miss Abigail MacKay. Please tell your mistress I must see her.”
“Is she expecting you?”
“No, I’m afraid I have some bad news for her regarding a mutual acquaintance.”
“I shall check to see if she is at home. Please step inside, ma’am,” the servant’s reply was laden with potential rejection. She nodded, her gold earrings glittering in the sunlight. She had been careful with her ensemble as only the gauche nouveau riche would wear diamonds before sunset. She knew the rules, and she made sure that she followed them.
She waited, eventually seeing the man return. “Miss Atchinson is not at home.”
Abigail flicked up a brow and stood her ground. “I have come a long way and I must see her. I will wait while you get her.” She tilted her chin in defiance. “And do not consider trying to put me off, young man. I saw her come in and I have information which is most definitely to her advantage. Please tell her it is regarding Mr. Bartholemew. If she won’t see me, I’ll have no alternative than to seek out her father. Tell her that.”
Hard, pebble eyes observed her from the top of the servant’s sharp nose. “Please take a seat, miss. I will check again to see if she is prepared to take callers.”
Abigail strode impatiently around the marble hallway, her burgundy gown trailing on the shiny floor behind her.
“Miss MacKay?”
Abigail’s dark eyes turned up to the prim young woman who stood at the top of the staircase in a stark navy blue dress with a gold chain strung across some decorative frogging on the bodice.
“Yes. Miss Atchinson?”
The woman sailed decorously down the staircase, a credit to the years spent perfecting her deportment. “I had to find out what was so important that you should intrude on my privacy. You were quite insistent by all accounts. My family is in the drawing room. Come through to the morning room.”
“I can assure you it’s a matter of great importance.”
Abigail followed her into a bright room lined with Chinese silk and took the proffered seat on a plush primrose-colored settee.
“I have something very important to tell you. I believe that you have been seeing a Mr. Bartholemew, and that your family has absolutely no idea you have been having assignations with this man, let alone the serious turn the relationship has taken. You intend to get married very soon. Don’t you?” Abigail was bluffing, but her bluffs often paid off.
The woman sucked in a breath as dark anger gathered under pale blue eyes. “I have to say that you don’t look like a blackmailer, but if you don’t leave this house immediately I will have you thrown bodily out.”
Abigail bridled at her. “I am not a blackmailer. I am a wealthy woman in my own right, and I resent the insinuation that I am here for anything other than your welfare. I have been told that you plan to marry. Very soon. However, I thought you should know that he is not free to marry. He married my sister about a month ago. She has now disappeared. She is not the first of his wives to come to a sticky end, either.”
The woman stared at her, sunlight catching her pale brown chignon as Abigail tried to soften her tone. Women like this were not often caught wrong-footed, and her pride would be terribly hurt.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I have brought a copy of their wedding photograph. This is the church in San Francisco they married in last month. You can check the register there yourself. In fact, I hope you do.” She snapped her bag closed and handed the document over. “Trust me when I tell you that our family is no happier about the situation than yours would be. The man has a knack of finding young women with trust funds and marrying them quickly. He did it in the name of Duffy, and once more in the name of Mitchell. There may be more. He’s penniless and every single one of those young women had terrible ends. We have no way of knowing where my sister is, and we’re worried sick.”
Hortense Atchinson stared fixedly at the piece of paper in her hands as her face blanched. “He’s married?” she whispered hoarsely, staring off into the distance. Her mind suddenly seemed to snap into action. “How do I know this is a wedding photograph? She’s wearing a day dress.”
“Is this him? This is a police picture.”
The woman stared at the sepia mug shot inscribed with the name ‘Mitchell’ as her gall rose. “So? How do I know he’s done all the things you’re accusing him of?”
Ab
igail’s heart went out to her. There were so few opportunities for women in this world, and those who could not get a husband were considered inadequate, especially if they were wealthy enough to compensate for any deficiencies in the virtues or accomplishments considered desirable in a wife. She handed over the newspaper cutting.
“He was arrested when his second wife also died suddenly, but they couldn’t prove murder and had to release him. Why is he using another name all the way out here? Nobody would know who he was.”
Miss Atchinson blanched and stiffened, casting the pictures aside as her lips puckered as though she had tasted something bitter. Abigail stretched out a hand and gently touched the back of her hand as her voice softened. “I’m sorry. So sorry. It’s too late for my sister, but you have a chance to keep your respectability, and I promise you no one need ever know.” She opened her bag and handed her the stack of love letters from the safe. “And you will be in a position where no one will ever be able to blackmail you, either.”
The woman gave a little gasp and fell on the little parcel tied up with a pink ribbon.
“This is all of them?”
“Yes. All he had, anyway. Check for yourself. A detective found them when he was trying to find my sister. I still don’t know where she is, but if some good can some of this I’d like to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”
Her eyes flicked up to Abigail, glittering with tears, but her posture was still stiff and composed.
“He’s not worth it, Miss Atchinson. He’s really not.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not successful with men. My father always treats me as though I’m not good enough because I wouldn’t marry any of the gormless idiots he presented.” She sniffed and turned away. “A woman like you would never understand. You can get any man you want.”
“That’s because you have a brain. Stick to your guns and find your passion in life, then find a man who shares it.” Abigail paused. “Just make sure you meet his family next time. And for the record,” her heavy sigh was laden in meaning, “the man I want isn’t an option. I am also very lonely.”
“You won’t tell my father?”
Abigail shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone, Miss Atchinson. I really am here to help, not to hurt you. I’m truly sorry for any pain I’ve caused you.”
Hortense Atchinson stood up and strode determinedly over to the fire, throwing the letters in with an angry flourish. They caught in the flames, consumed in hungry fingers of orange and yellow which sent curling gray wafers of burning paper flying up the chimney in the searing heat. She watched the pile disintegrate into powdery ashen flakes before turning round to face Abigail. Her steely blue eyes glinted with flint-like determination as she squared her shoulders stiffly, mustering her dignity, but failing to completely hide the seeping wound David Bartholemew had left behind.
“I owe you quite a debt, Miss MacKay. I don’t know how you got hold of those letters, but I’m very grateful that you did. Please let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you.”
Abigail stood. “Be happy. It’s all I ask. Good day, Miss Atchinson.” She turned and strolled over to the door, but Miss Atchinson’s call made Abigail turn.
“I hope your sister is safe and well, Miss MacKay.”
“Thank you.” Abigail’s watery smile echoed her downcast eyes. “So do I. It isn’t over yet. Not by a long way.”
Chapter 7
Jake Conroy lay on his bedroll and gazed up at the clear night sky, the burning, bright stars echoing the smoldering ache in his chest. He tried to work out if it was anger, annoyance, or just sheer lust before deciding that it was a mixture of all three. He closed his eyes, trying to block out any hint of the provoking woman lying on her own bedroll a few feet away.
It had taken every ounce of his strength to walk away from her this afternoon, wet, naked, and furious. What if she did something like that again? Jake truly feared the part of him that might be released if she continued to push him.
Maybe he should just turn around and take her home? After all, they were no more than a day’s ride from San Francisco at any point, merely circling outside the city and it was surely up to Abigail and her family to look after their own troublesome relatives? He had Nat to look out for.
She had pushed, goaded, whined, and even tried to pull a gun on him. He’d had enough. More than enough, but at least she didn’t annoy him when he lay back and shut his eyes. He could shut out the day’s stresses and strains and drift off without any distractions and just relax.
His mind began to unwind as his taut muscles began to loosen and his breathing became deeper and slower. He allowed his rhythmic breath to slow down his fraught mind like calming draft of a heady wine as his body also responded by sinking into the bedroll as though he were melting. Sucking in a great lungful of the wild evening primrose that drifted in the air was therapeutic and soothing. It was just what he needed.
Jake’s thoughts turned to the cool, clear water and the beautiful woman who floated forward into his arms—at least, in his dreams, she was receptive and loving. His tensions started to dissipate at last as the fantasy hardened. It was a refuge from stark reality which crowded out the irritations of real life and he wallowed in it as a beguiling diversion from his troubles.
Then she started to cry—with great gulping sobs which cut into his frayed psyche like a pair of blunt rusty shears and jolted him out of his reverie. He threw up his hands and rubbed his face. There was only so much a man could be expected to take. Jees! He couldn’t even sleep in peace.
♦◊♦
Ten days later
A startled Abigail pulled open the door to her lodgings to take in the wide, engaging grin of Jake Conroy.
“Jake?” She darted black eyes around the streets outside before ushering him inside. “Where’s Maddie?”
“Jake?” Nat called from behind her. “Is everything all right?”
“Yup. I need coffee and some food, then I’ll explain.”
“Where is she? What’s happened to her?” Abigail’s demanded as he strode into the apartment.
“You were right, Abi. She’s every bit as difficult as you said she was – and then some.” He threw himself down on the chair and draped his leg carelessly over the wooden arm. “We’ve had more than a few run-ins, but I thought we had things sorted. Then yesterday, we saw a wagon and some riders in the distance and she took off toward them.”
“And you let her go?” snorted Abigail in disbelief.
“What was I supposed to do? Ride after her and drag her away screaming? Let off a few shots? I had no choice.”
Abigail was having none of it. “But they could be anyone. You just left her with them?”
“Of course not. I hung around and watched until this mornin’. It was a family, with kids and women. They were obviously one of the silver wagon trains out of Boulder Creek Gary warned me about. They were well armed and knew the road. She’ll be fine. Better than I would have been if I’d been caught. I got no doubt she told them that she’d been held prisoner or some kind of wild tale. She knows how to play the victim when it suits her.”
“He’s right, Abi.” Nat cut in and handed Jake a cup of coffee. “There isn’t anything he could have done without attracting the wrong kind of attention.”
“You wouldn’t believe the antics she pulled, Abi. You don’t know the half of it. She went swimming in the buff and everythin’. She even tried to pull a gun on me.”
She released a long slow tense breath. “How far away was she when you last saw her?”
“They’re travellin’ slow with a heavy wagon. I reckon she won’t get to San Francisco before tomorrow night. They need to go by road. I went cross country.”
Abigail dropped to a chair and held her head in her hands. “She’ll go back to him. I know she will. We’ve no idea how he’s killing people, and he’s desperate for money. She won’t last ten minutes.”
“Can’t you talk some reason into her Abi?”
“Your family think you’re a governess for a surgeon. What about telling her your boss works for the Pinkertons?” Nat said. “Your boss could have warned you.”
“I could try I suppose…” She rose and paced back and forth.
Nat fixed her with a gimlet eye. “It’s all you can do, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll have to get over there. Maybe we can persuade Bartholemew it’s more than his life’s worth. A few tender words from us might work. I can’t say it’ll stop him killing long-term, but it’ll save your sister.”
She sighed and sank into the chair by the window. “It’s a start, but I’m not giving up. I need to gather my thoughts and decide how to proceed. I don’t know how to thank you enough. If it hadn’t been for you two, she’d probably be dead by now.”
“Thank me? I’m sure I’ll think of something if you give me enough time, Abi.” Nat grinned.
Jake drained his cup and held it out for a refill. “Is there a bathhouse around here? I want to clean up.”
“Yes, there’s one a few streets down,” Abigail replied. “Why don’t you go, and I’ll do some work on what we’ve found so far? Go for a drink. Have dinner and catch up.”
“You ain’t eatin’?” asked Jake.
“I’ll grab a sandwich here.” She pulled out a ledger and a stack of papers. “Go eat. Go for a drink. I need to concentrate, and I’ll do it better alone.”
Nat’s head tilted in query. “You’re not planning on going over there are you? You really are going to go over your notes?”
“Of course I am. His next victim has abandoned him. Madeleine won’t see him until late tomorrow at the earliest. I need to make the best use of this hiatus.” She turned back to the men and waved a dismissive hand toward to the door. “Go. Enjoy your bath and your dinner. I need to look at some plans to see what I’m missing here. I have the feeling it’s something very obvious.”