Storing Up Trouble

by Jen Turano

  Thankfully, another man galloped into view, throwing himself off his horse and at the man Theodosia was now whacking with the book.

  Relieved that Theodosia was getting assistance from a man who was evidently one of the Pinkertons responsible for keeping Norman safe, Beatrix spun around and headed after Norman. Racing down the street, she dodged carriages and wagons, until she spotted Norman a moment later.

  He was no longer on the mule but lying in the street, one of the handkerchief-wearing men trying to wrestle a satchel away from him.

  She stopped in her tracks when she saw the other man, one who was still on his horse, pull out a pistol and aim it directly at Norman. Fumbling with her reticule, she withdrew her pistol purse and took aim.

  “Lower your weapon or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

  When the man didn’t lower his weapon, but instead turned it on her, she flipped out the trigger on the bottom of the purse right as a gunshot rang out.

  After she lurched to the right, her relief was swift when she didn’t feel a bullet tear through her, but then the man took aim at her again, and she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, thankful in that moment that her father had had the foresight to make certain she knew how to aim and operate a gun.

  Satisfaction was immediate when the man dropped from his horse and landed on the ground, reaching for his shoulder, where a small stain of blood was already forming. That satisfaction, however, was short-lived when the man jumped from the ground and began advancing her way, menace in his every step.

  Raising her purse again, she pulled the trigger, horrified when nothing happened and the man kept advancing.

  “Beatrix, run!” she heard Norman yell right as the man stopped directly in front of her.

  “You!” he roared. “I should have known.”

  Sweat beaded her forehead and began running down her face the moment she recognized the distinct scar running up from where the kerchief covered the lower half of the man’s face.

  It was the man who’d tried to rob her on the train, the same man who’d threatened to shoot her then, and given the rage she now detected in his voice and the horrifying sight of him raising his hand and training his pistol on her again, she was all but certain that this time he would shoot her.

  Norman broke free of the man who’d been trying to wrestle his satchel away from him and flew at the man threatening her, tackling him to the ground.

  Norman and the man rolled over and over again, and then Theodosia was rolling with them, having jumped on the back of the man after he’d rolled Norman beneath him.

  “Good heavens, is that Miss Robinson?”

  Turning, Beatrix found Mr. Harvey Cabot standing beside her, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the sight of Theodosia thrashing around on the ground. A second later he apparently came to his senses and leapt forward, pulling Theodosia from the melee before throwing himself into it.

  Grappling with the man who was all but smothering Norman, Harvey planted a fist in the man’s face as Norman lumbered to his feet and dashed a hand over a nose that was now bleeding. He immediately turned to the man who’d been trying to steal his satchel, who was now bolting down the street, the mule Norman had been riding chasing after him.

  “Give me your pistol purse,” Norman yelled to Beatrix.

  Rushing to his side, she thrust the purse at him. “It misfired just a minute ago so it might not be of much help.”

  Norman nodded, tossed his satchel to her, then was off, racing down the street after his mule and the assailant.

  “He’s getting away.”

  Turning, Beatrix discovered Harvey Cabot lying on the ground, blood smeared on his face, his jacket torn, and his trousers covered in the filth that littered the street. The man with the scar was already leaping up into the saddle of his horse, kneeing his horse into motion.

  Temper flashed anew when she realized there was little chance she could capture the man since she was on foot, nor would the Pinkerton man be of any assistance because he was in the process of securing the man Theodosia had first subdued. Her temper soon turned to trepidation, though, when the scarred man turned his horse in her direction. Realizing that the man was after Norman’s satchel and would probably resort to deadly means to get it, Beatrix turned and bolted across the street toward Marshall Field & Company, hoping to find safety and concealment amongst the well-heeled customers.

  Before she could make it to the front door, though, police whistles rent the air. When she turned around, she saw the scarred man racing away, apparently unwilling to face arrest, even if that meant leaving Norman’s satchel behind.

  Ignoring the curious looks of the ladies who were whispering behind gloved hands outside of Marshall Field & Company, Beatrix hurried back across the street and found Theodosia helping Harvey Cabot to his feet.

  “Ah, Beatrix, thank goodness you’re all right,” Theodosia said, releasing Harvey’s arm and apparently not noticing that he immediately began to wobble about. “I was so afraid that man was going to run you over with his horse before the police arrived.”

  “The two of you all right?” the Pinkerton agent asked, appearing by Beatrix’s side with one of the assailants in tow, a man who now had his hands firmly secured behind his back.

  “We’re fine, Agent Cochran, but Norman went after one of the men,” Theodosia said.

  “Which way?” Agent Cochran demanded.

  Beatrix nodded down the street.

  Agent Cochran pushed the man he’d apprehended toward Harvey Cabot and nodded. “This is James McCaleb. He’s a habitual criminal and is known to be crafty, but I need you to see after him so I can go after Mr. Nesbit. Do not allow him to get away.”

  Before Harvey could do more than blink, Agent Cochran was in motion, racing down the street.

  “How am I supposed to see after this criminal when I don’t even have a pistol to—”

  Whatever else Harvey had been about to say got lost when James McCaleb suddenly headbutted Harvey, which had him dropping like a stone to the ground. McCaleb then bolted away, moving remarkably fast for a man without the use of his hands.

  Beatrix, with Theodosia by her side, took a step forward, preparing to run after the man. But she was pulled to an abrupt stop a few seconds later by Harvey, who had gotten rather unsteadily to his feet.

  “You two have no business chasing after a criminal. You’re ladies, and as such, you need to leave this nastiness to the discretion of men,” Harvey rasped, keeping a firm grip on Beatrix’s arm when she tried to tug it away from him.

  “Release me,” Beatrix said between gritted teeth.

  “I think not,” Harvey returned before he frowned at Theodosia. “Your father would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. Why, it’s bad enough you threw yourself into a brawl, but I’ll not tell your father the details of that if you behave yourself from this point forward.”

  Theodosia shoved back a hat that had slipped almost over her eyes. “You overstep yourself, Harvey. You have no authority over me, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  “Your father and I have an understanding in regards to you,” Harvey said, continuing to hold Theodosia’s arm although he did release Beatrix’s.

  “I don’t know you nearly well enough for you to have any type of understanding with my father.” Theodosia shrugged her way out of his hold. “Do know, however, that I intend to have a chat with Father at my earliest convenience since he’s suffering from some type of misunderstanding about the two of us.”

  “I would think his expectations should already be clear to you,” Harvey argued. “Surely you’ve realized how amiable he’s been to the idea of me escorting you around town.”

  “You’re taking me to a ball,” Theodosia said impatiently, looking around. “That’s not escorting me around town.” She nodded to something over Harvey’s shoulder. “Seems like half the city’s police are descending on the scene. We should give them our account of what happened, which will hopefully assist
them with apprehending the criminals.”

  Beatrix nodded, tightened her grip on the satchel, then fell into step with Theodosia as Harvey trailed after them. They were quickly approached by three officers, who immediately began taking notes as they recounted their stories.

  As she talked to the policemen, Beatrix saw numerous customers from Marshall Field & Company pass by, as well as numerous employees. But whereas the employees sent her looks of concern, the customers regarded her with suspicion, as if she’d done something wrong and was now being interrogated by the police about it.

  She couldn’t help but wonder—and not for the first time—how those ladies would have reacted if they knew her as Miss Beatrix Waterbury, grand American heiress, instead of a salesgirl from a store they frequented.

  “There’s Norman,” Theodosia said. “He must have lost the man he was chasing as well, but . . . oh dear, he seems to be experiencing some difficulty with Mort.”

  Excusing herself from Officer Stewart, the policeman who’d just finished questioning her, Beatrix turned her attention to a most curious scene unfolding half a block away.

  Norman was standing in the middle of the street, gesturing to a mule that appeared to have turned stubborn since the animal was not moving a single inch, blocking traffic in the process.

  “Should I assume that’s Mort?” Beatrix asked.

  Theodosia nodded. “Indeed. Norman only recently purchased him, even though I told him mules have a tendency to be tricky, but he wouldn’t listen.” She shook her head as Norman tugged on Mort’s reins to no avail. “Bet he wishes he’d listened to me now.”

  “While I’m more than intrigued about why Norman would have purchased a mule, I believe he needs some assistance.”

  After handing Norman’s satchel to Theodosia, Beatrix slipped through the congested traffic, stopping a few feet from Norman.

  He was looking the worse for wear, his clothing dirty and his face smeared with blood, while a distinct trace of annoyance radiated from him as he tried to pull Mort into motion.

  “You’re trying my patience,” Beatrix heard him say. “And while you’re obviously feeling very disappointed that you were unable to catch that criminal, we have important matters to attend to now, such as ascertaining that Beatrix and Theo haven’t been harmed. That means you need to stop being muleheaded and come with me.”

  “Theodosia and I are fine,” Beatrix said, which had Norman lifting his head, relief replacing the annoyance as he looked her over. “As for your mule, may I suggest you simply release the reins and walk away from him? Mules are complicated creatures, and Mort may be testing you at the moment to see how much he can get away with. I would advise you to not allow him to do that because you’ll never be able to manage him properly after that.”

  Norman frowned. “You think I should let go of the reins?”

  “I do. That will show him you’re the boss, and he should eventually follow you.” She glanced at Mort and frowned. “Although mules are unpredictable, so my advice might be way off the mark.”

  “Since I don’t have any other thoughts about how to get him to move, I’m willing to give it a go,” Norman said, dropping the reins and striding Beatrix’s way, taking her arm once he reached her side. “Shall we?” he asked, tugging her forward without so much as a single look back at Mort.

  Beatrix tried to sneak a peek but stopped when Norman shook his head. “Aren’t you even curious as to whether or not he’s following us?” she asked.

  “’Course I am, but at the risk of allowing him to believe he’s got the upper hand, I’m going to ignore my curiosity for the moment.” With that, Norman increased his pace, not slowing down until they were a few feet away from Theodosia and Harvey.

  “Harvey’s looking rough,” Norman said, nodding to Harvey. He was standing beside Theodosia, who’d retrieved her book from the ground and was, peculiarly enough, reading it again.

  “The poor man got headbutted by James McCaleb, the one and only criminal we captured, who then made a rather spectacular escape.”

  “He got away?”

  “He did. Theodosia and I tried to go after him, but Harvey, unfortunately, intervened. He apparently thought that we, as women, had no business pursuing a member of the criminal persuasion.”

  Norman’s hold tightened on her arm before he nodded. “Odd as this may seem, for once I find myself in full agreement with Harvey.”

  Chapter 24

  For some unfathomable reason, the second after those words left his mouth, Beatrix’s nose shot into the air. She then sent him a glare, shrugged her arm free, and stomped away. Mort, to Norman’s surprise, trotted past him a second later, not bothering to spare Norman a single glance.

  Finding himself more than a bit bewildered, Norman strode after Beatrix, catching up with her in no time. “Forgive me, but I get the distinct impression that I’ve somehow annoyed you again.”

  She stopped in her tracks and plunked her hands on her hips. “Of course you annoyed me. Here I was beginning to believe you were coming around in regard to how you view women, but apparently, I was wrong about that.”

  “What do my views on women have to do with any of this?”

  “You just said you agree with Harvey, after I told you that he took Theodosia and me to task for wading into the fray.”

  Norman blinked. “I agree with Harvey because the two of you could have been grievously injured, and that would have distressed me more than I can say.”

  Beatrix blinked back at him. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh, but I do apologize if what I said came out wrong.” He smiled, and then winced when the action reminded him he’d recently taken a blow to the face. “The only excuse I have, though, is that I fear I’m not myself at the moment, not after what just happened, and what happened earlier today.”

  “What happened earlier today?”

  “Someone broke into my home, but—” Norman looked up and gestured to the officers still milling around—“perhaps now isn’t the moment to get into all that.”

  “I’ll expect you to tell me everything at some point,” Beatrix said, moving into motion again until she reached Theo’s side, Mort stopping directly beside her, where he proceeded to nuzzle Beatrix with his nose.

  “That’s an interesting animal you’ve got there,” Harvey said to Beatrix, dabbing at a small trickle of blood running down his cheek with a handkerchief.

  “He’s Norman’s.”

  Harvey sent a nod Norman’s way. “Ah well, I suppose you have your reasons for owning a donkey, Norman, and I must say it does fit your reputation as an eccentric about town.”

  “Mort’s a mule,” Norman pointed out. “I purchased him at an auction because he’s rather odd, quite like myself, and he was being overlooked because all the horses at the auction were prime specimens.”

  Harvey frowned. “You bought him because he’s odd?”

  “That, and I overheard a man say Mort was destined for the glue factory if he wasn’t sold that day, which made it impossible for me not to buy him.”

  Beatrix moved closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. “You saved him from the glue factory?”

  The touch of Beatrix’s hand on his arm sent a jolt racing through him, one that left him feeling as if his brain had been scrambled as well.

  “He did,” Theo said, looking up from where she’d been riffling through an etiquette book and pulling Norman from a state of what could certainly be considered shock. “I think it speaks to Norman’s sensitive nature.”

  Not certain he was comfortable with Theo delving into his sensitive nature, because from what he’d read, sensitive natures in gentlemen left ladies with the impression they were not manly men, Norman opened his mouth, but swallowed the argument he was about to make when Beatrix sent him a smile.

  It was a lovely smile, filled with genuine warmth, which made him think that perhaps he’d been wrong about the whole sensitive nature business.

  “Oh, lovely, you still have my pisto
l purse,” Beatrix said, interrupting his thoughts as she nodded to the small pistol he was clutching in his hand. “Were you able to get it to fire again?”

  Before Norman could answer, Harvey stepped forward. “What do you mean, fire it again?” He nodded to Norman. “Did you shoot at those criminals?”

  “I didn’t. Beatrix did. Hit one of them in the shoulder.”

  Harvey’s eyes went wide as he considered Beatrix. “You shot a man? How did I miss that?”

  “You were preoccupied,” Theo returned. “And before you start lecturing Beatrix about the inadvisability of her shooting a man, she had no choice in the matter. If she’d not pulled out her pistol and taken action, Norman could very well be dead right now.”

  Harvey turned to Norman. “Why would anyone want to shoot you?”

  Having no reason to avoid the question, Norman shrugged. “Someone’s been trying to steal my research pertaining to double electrical currents. The danger has apparently escalated, what with how my home was burgled this morning and how I was just set upon by some of the same men who tried to divest me of my research when they held up a train I was recently on.”

  Harvey blinked. “Who would possibly want to steal your research? Seems a curious thing to want to steal, and most scientists, myself included, take pride in making new discoveries on our own.”

  “I’ve narrowed down my list of suspects considerably of late, although given recent events and the unexpected intelligence of the person evidently behind the attempts to steal my research, I’m going to have to rethink that list.”

  Harvey tilted his head. “Who do you believe is trying to steal your research?”

  “I originally thought it could be any of the men who attended that meeting about electricity in New York with me, yourself included at first.”

  Harvey seemed to swell on the spot. “I’m insulted you’d even consider me a suspect.”

  Norman frowned. “I said you were a suspect at first. I’ve since changed my mind.”

  “As I would expect you to, but . . .” Harvey returned Norman’s frown. “What made you change your mind?”