“I paid him. Told him I wanted the headline to be: ‘Four Pinkertons and a Lady Rode into Town and Saved the Rio Grande.’”
Puzzled, Daniel faced him. “Ye did what?”
“Somebody had to set the narrative,” Connor said with a hint of boyish mischief. “I don’t want to read the story of what happened here and discover Masterson and Holliday led the resistance. They’re not here and they’re not getting credit. The Pinkertons deserve recognition.”
“Olivia and Amber were the ones spreading the false story that Masterson and Holliday would be here.”
The wariness that had settled in Connor’s face over the last hour lifted. “They had bad intel.”
Instead of looking directly at Connor, Daniel focused on the brim of his hat, which he was feeding through his fingers. “I don’t understand ye, Connor. I don’t understand Amber, Olivia, or Rick either, or Kenzie and David. I can’t go on listening to all yer lies. We’ve got to part ways. I appreciate what ye did here today. But I can’t skirt the truth with ye anymore. I’m done.” He slammed his hat against his thigh. “I got to cut ye loose.” He clapped his hat back on his head and strode away.
“Daniel, wait.” Connor hurried after him. “On the trip back to Denver, Olivia and I will answer all your questions.”
Daniel reached his horse and snapped the reins to untie them from the tie rail. “Ye’ll just feed me more crap. I love Amber, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“I’m serious. We’ll tell you everything. We’ll open the kimono.”
Daniel glared at him. “What the hell does that mean?” He swung up into the saddle and turned his horse in the direction of Pueblo. But he sat there, rubbing the back of his neck, wishing he could wipe away the desperate mixture of hope—that they would be honest with him—and fear—that they never would. Rambler pranced in excited circles.
“We’ll open up, be honest. We’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Connor mounted his borrowed horse. “No more side-stepping.”
“Can I expect the same honesty from Olivia and Rick?”
“Yes, but after you hear it all, you’ll be in the same pickle barrel you are now.”
Daniel slanted a suspicious look at him. “I don’t see how that’s possible.” He spanked the reins on Rambler’s rump and rode off toward Pueblo, Connor riding after him.
When they reached the bridge, Daniel reined to a stop. “Let’s take another bridge. Get away from the crowd.” He spurred the horse and took a side street with a barely visible set of wheel-tracks branching off to the right.
“I vote we pick up Olivia and get the hell out of Dodge,” Connor said.
“You’ve mentioned Tombstone and Dodge. Is that where ye’ve been?”
“It’s just an expression when you want to leave someplace.”
“Why Dodge? Why not Kansas City or Denver?”
“What can I say? It’s a piece of trivia from the dustbin of history.” Connor’s expression sobered. “Put it on your list of questions.”
A trickle of sweat ran down Daniel’s back between his shoulder blades, but he ignored it. Did he really want to know? Yes, dammit. He did. He had the grit to handle the ugly truth. Whatever it was.
Connor interrupted Daniel’s reflection when he asked, “Is your assignment with the railroad over?”
“My career as a Pinkerton is over,” Daniel said. “A stray bullet almost made Noah an orphan.” Feeling a tightness in his chest, his gaze slid to the distant scrub-filled hills, stripped of timber. The thought of leaving his son alone scared Daniel more than his own death. “I got a telegram from Alec earlier today. He’s leaving for San Francisco. He doesn’t care enough for his grandson to stay with him while I’m on assignment.”
Connor turned in his saddle to face Daniel, his mouth falling open. “I can’t imagine a grandfather not wanting to be with a kid like Noah. What are you going to do?”
Daniel shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know. I could always return to banking.”
“That sounds boring.”
“It is. That’s why I quit and went back to the Pinkertons.”
They rode in silence until they reached the St. James. As they dismounted, Daniel asked, “Ye got any whisky in that car ye rented?”
Connor looped the reins around the post and stretched his back. “I left the steward with a shopping list. The carriage should be supplied by the time we get there.”
Daniel stepped up on the sidewalk and glanced around. The drunken mob had stayed on the other side of the river, leaving Pueblo’s streets ringing with only the din of endless construction.
“I know it was hard to leave Olivia to go with me. I appreciate what ye did.”
“If she hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t have gone.”
Daniel clapped Connor on the back. “Then I appreciate what Olivia did.”
“I’m just relieved it’s over and we can leave town.”
Their flood of relief lasted until they cleared the threshold and ran smack into Rick. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Morrison,” Connor said.
“You’re supposed to be in Caǹon City,” Rick said.
“Where’s Amber?” Connor asked.
Rick put his hands on his hips, and his gaze shifted from his brother to the floor and back again. “We have a problem. Her journal was stolen, and I’m tracking the asshole who took it.” Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out a sketch. “She drew this. Have you seen him?”
Daniel looked over Rick’s shoulder. He tugged the drawing out of his hand and thumped the paper with his finger. “He was here a couple of hours ago. Train service to Caǹon City shut down, and he was forced to spend the night. There wasn’t any room here. I don’t know where he went. His name is Hendrix.”
“If he’s still here, we’ll find him,” Rick said.
“It’s just a journal. I can’t believe you came down for that,” Connor said.
“She insisted. And I couldn’t say no. Besides, there’s a sketch of a family heirloom in the journal with a detailed description of how it works. There are also sketches of unknown dinosaurs.”
Connor ripped off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Damn. We have to get it back. Where have you looked?”
“We’ve hit every saloon in Pueblo, and we’re almost through our list of hotels,” Rick said.
“We? Who’s with you? David?” Connor asked.
Rick pointed over his shoulder at a man talking to the clerk at the registration desk. “Not this time.”
Connor looked at the man, then shot a hot glance back at Rick. “What the hell? You’ve got some explaining to do.”
The man turned, and Daniel came face to face with a ghost. He grabbed Connor’s shoulder for support, shaking his head in denial. The man was the spitting image of Major McCabe, but that was impossible. He was dead.
Braham strode toward Daniel, extending his hand. “Good to see ye, Dan. I didn’t know if ye’d recognize me. It’s been a while.”
Daniel clasped McCabe’s hand, warm as summer sun. His own was cold as death. “Thirteen years. Ye haven’t changed.” Daniel released his grip on McCabe’s hand and his hold on Connor’s shoulder, as he slowly regained his senses. “I heard ye had a riding accident and died from the fall. So where have ye been all these years?”
“After we find Amber’s journal, I’ll tell ye what happened and why I disappeared.”
To hear the same crap from Braham that he’d heard from the others pushed Daniel over the edge. He walked away, swallowing to dispel the thick ache in his throat.
Connor came after him. “Daniel. Wait.”
Daniel pivoted. “No. Ye’ve yanked my chain long enough.”
“But we’re at the same place we were thirty minutes ago,” Connor said. “Braham is a friend of ours. We’re connected in an unusual way. But it’s all part of the same story. Let’s find Amber’s journal, go back to the train, and we’ll lay it all out for you.”
“And
after we find the journal, what will yer excuses be then?”
Connor blew out a long breath. “I won’t have any. Neither will Rick, Braham, or the girls.”
“Where’s Amber now?”
“I assume she’s in Denver.”
Rick walked up and interrupted Connor’s huddle with Daniel. “We’re short on time. Are you going to help us, or not?”
“Where’s Amber?” Daniel asked.
“She’s with the doctor. That’s why we’re in a hurry. Are you going to help us?”
Daniel stiffened at the news, but then relaxed. He’d sent a telegram to Alec’s doctor asking him to visit Amber. He must be with her now. A weight lifted from his shoulders. If finding her journal would make her happy, he had to help.
“Where have ye looked?” he asked.
Rick handed him a piece of paper. “Here’s a list of all the hotels, boardinghouses, and saloons in Pueblo. We’ve visited more than half of them.”
“What about the hotels and saloons in South Pueblo?” Connor asked.
“We’ve only looked on this side of the river,” Rick said.
“Daniel and I will go back over there. We’ll check the Grand Central Hotel, Victoria, Lindell, Topeka House, Commercial Hotel, a handful of saloons, and then meet back here.”
“Where’s the railroad car you rented for the day?” Rick asked.
“At Union Depot.”
“Where’s Olivia? Did she go back to Denver?” Rick asked.
“She stayed in Daniel’s room upstairs while we settled a few matters.”
Braham pointed to the side of Daniel’s face. “That butterfly Band-Aid looks new. Must have been some serious settling.”
“My head was in the wrong place, but others got it worse. There are hundreds of drunks running around with rifles and bayonets looking for trouble. Be careful.”
Connor and Rick left the hotel ahead of Braham and Daniel, leaning into each other as they talked privately.
Out on the sidewalk, Rick said, “When we finish here, we’ll pick up Olivia and meet you at the railroad car in, say…ninety minutes for a progress report? If we haven’t found our guy by then, we’ll start paying people to look.”
Daniel opened his pocket watch. “Five o’clock?”
Braham checked the time on his watch. “We’ll be there.”
Connor and Daniel mounted up for another hard ride across the bridge. When they reached town and saw the streets still crowded with drunks, they proceeded cautiously.
“How long have ye known Major McCabe?”
“A few years. I met him at Montgomery Winery in Napa. I’m shocked to see him here.”
“Why?”
Connor was quiet for a moment, as if deliberating where to start, and a frown creased his forehead. “It doesn’t fit.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Something’s wrong, but Rick wouldn’t tell me.”
Daniel turned in the saddle and leaned his hand on the horn. “He said Amber was with the doctor?”
“If something happened to her when her journal was stolen, and she needed immediate medical attention, the logical person to help her would be Braham’s wife, Charlotte,” Connor said.
“Why?”
“Because she’s a damn good doctor. But if Rick took Amber to Charlotte…” Connor’s eyes blinked rapidly, as if he couldn’t believe what his mind was telling him.
“What?” Daniel asked. “Whatever yer thinking is turning yer face white.”
In a shaky voice Connor said, “I think Rick took Noah and Ripley to the doctor, too.”
Daniel let out a huge breath. “God, ye scared me. If Noah’s with her, that’s good. I trust the lad to watch over her.”
Connor reined his horse around a large gopher hole. “I’m glad you feel that way. Let’s find the journal, then figure out what to do next. Decisions will have to be made that won’t be easy.”
For Daniel there was only one action to be taken next. Go to Amber and Noah. Everything else was of little consequence.
50
1878 Pueblo, Colorado—Daniel
In South Pueblo, a rumble of unrest still hung in the air like a heavy thundercloud ready to burst open and flood the city. It would force the drunks to sober up or sink. From the blasts of honky-tonk music and raucous voices spilling out through the saloons’ bat-wing doors, sobering up wasn’t on anyone’s mind. The tobacco juice-splattered boards were littered with broken bottles. Busted boxes filled with debris lined the alleys. It would take more than a heavy dousing to wash away the stink and filth.
The slow and rhythmic hoof falls of their horses accompanied Daniel and Connor’s uncomfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts of Amber and Olivia. What happened to one sister impacted the other and vice versa, which tied the four of them in a tightly bound circle, sort of like Dumas’ The Three Musketeers—all for one, and one for all.
After threading their way through the clog of drivers sawing the reins of their carriages, construction workers hauling building materials, and pedestrians dodging wheels and hooves, they arrived at the Victoria Hotel. The previous crowds had disbursed, and hotel employees were sweeping rubbish from the boardwalk in front of the entrance.
Daniel reined up alongside the hotel and dismounted with a groan, bones creaking. “Let’s split up and meet back here in forty-five minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan. You go left. I’ll go right. When we finish this side of the street, cross over and go down the other.” Connor unfolded his copy of the sketch and looked hard at Hendrix’s face, scowling as he did.
“Son of a bitch’s face is imprinted on my brain. Hope ye find him first.”
“We’re tried to control the violence all afternoon. Let’s not lose it now,” Connor said.
“Put your badge in a more prominent place. Let everyone ye ask know ye’re on official business.”
Connor repinned the badge on the collar of his borrowed duster. “If Hendrix hears Pinkertons are looking for him, he’ll leave town or go to ground.”
“Where’s he going to go? This isn’t a big city, and it’ll be dark soon. He won’t leave now for a forty-mile trek to Caǹon City. We’ll find him.”
Daniel left Connor in front of the Victoria Hotel and walked east, his spurs clinking on the boardwalk as he elbowed his way into one establishment after another. At the end of Union Avenue’s business district, he crossed over and headed down the other side.
Each time a barkeep or desk clerk said, “I haven’t seen him,” Daniel’s impatience grew. Twice, he was sent chasing men who looked nothing like Hendrix. Sooner or later, someone would point a finger in the man’s direction just to get Daniel—the looking-for-a-fight Pinkerton agent—off the streets.
He was tired, pissed, and hungry. But most of all, he was worried about Amber. If she was under Charlotte’s care, what did that mean? He had to get back to Denver to be with her. Memories of his late wife’s death haunted him. She’d already delivered one healthy baby, and the midwife had no reason to believe she’d have trouble with the second. Alec had sent him a wire, telling Daniel to come home, which he did. Two days later, he had buried his beloved wife and newborn daughter. He couldn’t bury another woman he loved.
By the time he met Connor in the middle of the block, he was ready to call it quits. “I can’t waste more time looking for him. I’m going back to see Amber.”
“I found him,” Connor said. “He’s sitting at a table in a saloon next to the Linton Hotel. I paid a man to keep buying him drinks until I returned. It will only take a few minutes. If Rick came here for the journal, it’s important to Amber. And I don’t want to disappoint her.”
What Connor didn’t say was that it would be important to Olivia, too.
“All right,” Daniel said. “But are ye sure it’s him?”
Connor’s green eyes creased briefly. “Give me a break. I’m a former Marine and a decade-long New York City detective with a master’s degree in criminal justice. I can ide
ntify a perp across a goddamn crowded bar.”
The normally even-tempered Connor O’Grady had reached the proverbial limit. He was disheveled, sweaty—and not to put too fine a term on it—almost done in. Daniel’s shoulders raised and lowered on a deep breath. The term applied to him, too.
“How do ye want to play it?”
Connor hammered a loose sidewalk board with the heel of his boot, taking his frustration out on a rusty nail. “Short of dragging him out and beating the shit out of him, I don’t know. He’s holding tight to a leather-tooled piece of hand luggage. The journal is probably in there.”
“Noah wanted a journal like Amber’s for their trip today. I took him to the store first thing this morning. He picked one out that he said resembled hers. It has a brown leather wrap cover, looped tie, with a tree design on the front.”
“What size?”
“Four by five.”
“We need to separate him from the valise.” Connor stomped on the board one last time and it slipped back into place. “Hendrix has a look about him. Like he’s holding the Holy Grail. If he’s hoping for a big payoff, he won’t let go of the bag until he gets his money. Not for a drink. Not for a woman. Not even at gunpoint.”
“No man can resist all three. The first two are easy enough. The last one not so much,” Daniel said.
“I got an idea,” Connor said. “You said Hendrix was looking for a room at the St. James. Tell him you’re checking out and he can have yours, but he has to go with you now. We’ll take him someplace, I don’t know, private, and search him. If he doesn’t have the journal, then I’ll beat the shit out of him.” Connor unpinned the Pinkerton badge and dropped it in Daniel’s pocket. “I’m tired, hungry, and I want my woman. I’m done with this nineteenth-century crap. Whatever I do going forward, I don’t want it to reflect on you or the agency.”
Daniel didn’t completely understand what Connor meant, but he got the gist of it. Except for the two years he worked as a banker, he’d been a member of the Pinkerton Agency since he was twenty years old. He unpinned his own badge and stared at the tin, glinting in his hand. Then he shoved it into his pocket where it joined its mate.
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 60