Mail Order Celeste

by Elissa Strati

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ve seen that character and I believe he may just be trying to avoid the conductor if he has no ticket, but I’ll keep an extra eye out for you. He certainly doesn’t appear to be a First Class passenger so has no business passing through this car in any event. I’m Peters. Just ring for me if you need anything at all.”

  She smiled at him, grateful to have been taken seriously and not treated as a crank.

  A few hours later Peters reported back to her, pleased as punch.

  “You were right! He was trying to travel without a ticket! We put him off at the last stop—into the arms of the local sheriff who will be checking to see what other mischief he may have been getting up to besides stealing train fare.”

  Well, that was one of the men Henry had described to her out of the picture. But there were at least three others in the Krause Gang who’d been described to her. She could only pray her father wasn’t in danger.

  ~~~

  Ever practical, nonetheless Miranda did not ignore the tension she was feeling. Even after Peters had advised that her stalker had been arrested, she still felt she was being watched. Sunny have been obvious because his class had not been consistent with her car and he had stood out. Now she observed everyone who passed by and evaluated whether they might be a threat.

  Harry

  Passers-by glancing into the car saw a quiet woman reading. Politeness kept most people from staring into the car as they went by, except, perhaps, the first time if they were of an overly curious nature. And there really wasn't much at her end of the train to require people to pass by. So when the handsome, well-dressed gentleman seemed to come by more often than others, with a steely glance into the car each time, she took note.

  She wasn't quite sure why, but she decided to remove the derringer from her reticule and put it in her lap, tucked into the folds of her skirt. The reticule itself remained at her side and her book now rested on the gun, mere inches from her fingers.

  She glanced up as the man sidled down the corridor yet again, glancing both ways before opening her door and slipping in, promptly taking a seat across from her as if he belonged there. She just stared at him, letting him begin the conversation. She had learned from observing her father that most people seemed not to be able to handle silence and would soon start babbling just to fill the void.

  Mentally thanking her father for the various nuggets she had gleaned from him over the years about people, she remained still as the man darted his eyes about and then returned them to her.

  “Where is it?” he demanded of her, and then repeated, “Where is it?”

  Slowly she inserted her bookmark and closed the volume, leaving it on her lap but keeping her fingers curled around the book, where they were actually touching the gun. She refrained from fingering it, or otherwise moving her fingers, and portrayed absolute calmness, although her heart had started thundering in her chest.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said, “but we have not been introduced.”

  He stared at her as if she had spoken in Greek to him. His reaction gave her a bit of confidence.

  “I'm afraid you will have to remove yourself,” she continued, as if chatting with a friend at tea, “as you are unknown to me.”

  A crafty look came into his eyes.

  “We may not have met but your stepmother asked me to watch out for you.”

  “I fear you are mistaken if you believe that will commend you to me.” She casually shifted, lifting her left hand to rest upon the armrest.

  She had deliberately brushed her fingers against her reticule, as if to ensure its location, and, as she had hoped, his eyes were caught by the bag and didn't notice that her fingers we're now pressing the call button set into the armrest. The agreed signal had been one long and two short rings. She could only hope that someone was within hearing distance of the bell.

  The stranger's eyes were still locked on her reticule and he suddenly demanded in a bark, “You had best pass that purse to me.”

  “I am sorry,” she said, “I thought you said you were checking on me on behalf of Step-mama.”

  He laughed harshly. “Yes, and she asked me to check your reticule.”

  “I'm afraid that is not appropriate,” she responded stiffly.

  His handsome face morphed into an ugly mask and his eyes became balls of steel, while his voice dropped to a gravelly range.

  “Give.Me.The.Reticule. Now!”

  For whatever reason, Miranda was beginning to enjoy herself. Lowering her eyes and peering through her lashes, she did her best to appear the Damsel in Distress as she reached her left hand down and grasped the reticule reluctantly, then glanced at the bag and back up at her adversary.

  “Now!” he ground out again, more loudly.”

  She gradually lifted the bag, bending forward slightly to hand it to him. His hand snaked out and snatched it from her. His eyes were on the reticule, as she slid her derringer out from under the book and pointed it at him. She did have some money in her bag, but anything of value was in the pocket of her chemise, securely out of sight.

  His hands rapidly tore through the contents and then dumped the remainder onto the seat beside him.

  “Where is it?” he barked.

  “Where is what?” she responded.

  “The necklace! The diamond necklace!”

  She watched his eyes widen as he became aware of the gun pointed at his middle.

  “I know you have it hidden on you someplace!” he exclaimed, tensing his muscles as if to attack her.

  “Don't you know I cannot miss at this range?” she queried calmly. “While you might survive being gut-shot, it would not be a pleasant recovery for you, especially from a jail cell.”

  His eyes dropped to the gun and he seemed to relax a fraction and then his muscles started to bunch again. But she had seen a movement behind him and smiled. The smile stopped him. There weren't too many women who would actually pull a trigger but someone who would smile while doing it—that was someone to be afraid of. Harriet Krause was like that.

  Miranda was startled to see the man turn white and drop back into the seat. She could see Peters and the conductor approaching her door and, flourishing the gun just slightly, nodded in their direction.

  “No,” said Harry, “you're not going to get me that way. I know there's no one out there.” His smile broadened.

  “Believe what you wish.” And then in a conversational tone she asked, “Are you the one they call Handsome Harry?”

  She saw him start to preen at the moniker.

  “Oh, I see you are. So is there anyone else with you or was it just you and Sunny?”

  His eyes bugged out just a bit. He had seen Sunny pulled off the train and hadn't realized this woman was behind it. Who was she? He thought it was her father who was a Secret Service agent. He didn't realize it was the daughter who was involved.

  “Please do tell me what you know,” she said.

  “All I know is I was supposed to get the diamonds from you. Harriet said you had your mother's diamonds. Karl wants the gold but Harriet doesn't believe there is any. But Karl saw your father after the robbery and is convinced he was in on it during the war.”

  “Karl? Harriet's brother?”

  “Ha!” he laughed harshly. “He's her husband. Sure had your pa fooled though didn't he? Of course if he touches her, he won't be long for this world.”

  Now her concern for her father grew tremendously. She shrugged her shoulders, however, as if he hadn’t said anything important.

  “But you have not told me if any of the rest of the gang is here with you or if they're still back in Baltimore and Philadelphia.”

  Harry was feeling more confident now. She was succumbing to his charms clearly. He should be able to get that gun away from her in a moment or two. He’d best keep talking to keep her concentration off of him.

  “You sure know a lot,” he said. “Harriet had it all wrong about you. She said you were crazy in love with some guy you never
even met and were traveling west to be with him. Turns out you may be the Kingpin in the whole operation. So do you know where the gold is?”

  Miranda chose to be coy and replied, “But that would be telling.”

  Then she hardened her eyes and waved the pistol again, saying, “I asked you where the members of the gang are.”

  His mouth hung open a second and then he coughed and said, “I am the only one left on the train. Bones and Rocky stayed behind to back up Karl. When your sister took off Harriet needed to talk with Karl so she convinced your pa to take her on a visit to Philadelphia. When they got back they found you had taken off too. That's when she got suspicious and sent me and Sunny off after you. We almost didn't make the train.”

  “Well,” she sighed, “I guess it's about time to let you leave.”

  “You're going to let me leave?” he questioned.

  “I certainly don't want you staying here with me!”

  “And I thought we were getting along so well,” he replied.

  “You forget,” she retorted. “I'm crazy in love with a man I've never met.”

  She tilted her head towards the door and put on the icy face again.

  “Leave. Now.”

  He got up slowly and backed to the door, not trusting that she wouldn’t shoot him in the back. Fumbling behind him he slid open the carriage door and stepped back into the corridor. Suddenly people nabbed him from both sides, grabbing his arms and pressing him against the far wall. The porter was on one side and the conductor on the other, and just beyond them was the Pinkerton agent assigned to this train. And his gun was considerably larger than the derringer which was still pointed at his middle. His shoulders slumped.

  “I should have listened to my mother when she told me to become a dance instructor,” he mumbled.

  ~~~

  “Your father didn’t mention in his wire that you were also a trained agent. It was very clever of you to arrange the signal with the porter,” complimented Agent Smythson once Handsome Harry had been bundled off to be confined until their next stop.

  Miranda just smiled and nodded. She had been trained by her father, but knew better to comment on anything to do with her father’s work, even with a Pinkerton agent.

  “Were you able to transcribe any of the conversation?” she asked.

  He nodded, patting his pocket.

  She nodded back. “Then can you please provide me with a copy of your notes to turn over to the government? They are needed for another case.”

  Agent Smythson agreed, but with eyebrows raised.

  She smiled at him regretfully. “I’m afraid it is a matter of national security and I cannot talk about it.”

  His face fell, and he left, but returned in less than half an hour with neatly printed notes of his observations and recollection of the conversation.

  “Thank you so much,” Miranda said sincerely. “I will mention your assistance to my father. I know he will be grateful you were here.

  “I would also like to request that there be no mention of me in any capacity. I know your agency employs women; perhaps when you are interviewed for making this arrest, you could imply this was a Pinkerton investigation?”

  Smythson flushed with pleasure, gratified at her praise, and pleased with the idea of seeing his name in the paper. He bowed, and took his leave.

  Miranda leaned back. She only hoped Harry had been telling the truth and the others were still back east. She’d had enough excitement to last her a good long time, thank you very much. Her own notes joined the Pinkerton agent’s in an inside pocket of her valise. And, nestled in the inside pocket of her chemise, she patted her mother’s diamonds.

  Even with doors locked, Harriet had managed to get into her mother’s jewel box and snatch them. She’d actually left behind a few objects even more valuable, but only to the cognoscenti. Miranda laughed. Those yellow stones, “probably just topaz” had whined Harriet to her broker, were rare yellow diamonds. What Harriet had stolen were some rather gaudy paste jewels Mrs. Belden had worn to a masquerade, but Miranda had recovered them, as well as the other trinkets taken, from Henry. Harriet had been unaware that the fence she used was in William’s employ and that he had promptly turned all the stolen items over to Henry.

  Arrival

  Miranda stepped down from the train, assisted by Peters the Porter. That made her smile. He had been very good to her on the trip but the phrase always made her think of the childhood tongue-twisting a nursery rhyme. She thanked him very much for all his help on the journey and for helping save her life.

  “You were a hero to face that villain. And you rounded up all the right people to assist you and me. Thank you again.”

  The conductor was further up the platform assisting an elderly gentleman from his car. She had thanked and tipped everyone on the train earlier, but waved once more and received a grin and tip of the cap in return. Once the “excitement” had been dealt with, she very much enjoyed the trip and seeing the scenery coming across the country. But now she was here in Green River with another adventure to start.

  Glancing around the platform she saw her sister waving at her, flanked by a pair of gentlemen who appeared to be brothers. Neither was wearing a red shirt, but either one could be her fiancé! As the trio made its way toward her, where she stood surrounded by her luggage, which had miraculously appeared next to her as she was searching for Celeste, she tried to study the two gentlemen's faces.

  The one with the lighter colored hair had a big grin on his face and his hand protectively cupping her sister's elbow. Interesting! The other man was also smiling broadly, but seem to have a more serious cast to his face. That one, she thought, must be Charles, based on our correspondence. He looks thoughtful and caring.

  She was unaware of her own beaming face, so happy to see her sister safe and sound, although she wondered where Samantha might be. It was unusual to see her sister without the baby in tow.

  Celeste had pulled away from her escort and flung her arms about Miranda who return the hug with enthusiasm. Then the two sisters step back from each other still holding on to each other's arms. Almost in unison, they cried out, “I'm so happy to see you safe and sound!” Then they laughed that each had had the exact same thought for the other.

  Turning back to the gentleman, Celeste said, “Please allow me to present the Hardwick brothers. To our right, Miranda, is Charles Patrick, known as ‘Chip,’ and to our left is Sylvester, his older brother. They neglected to mention there were two of them, but,” she glanced at her sister, “you also failed to mention your family.”

  “Oh, no, that's not possible. We corresponded for months!” And then she realized they had talked about everything under the sun but their family members.

  “Gentlemen, this is my sister Miranda Belden. We can discuss all the details once we are driving. We do seem to be attracting a bit of attention here.”

  Sylvester reddened slightly, but Chip merely laughed and, once more cupping Celeste’s elbow and, leaving Miranda for Sylvester to assist, began escorting the ladies off the platform. The station porter Sylvester had snagged quickly summoned another to assist and they loaded the trunks and the boxes onto a trolley and followed the two couples.

  Miranda had retained her valise but Sylvester, bowing slightly, took it from her. Seeing her continue to glance back and forth from him to his brother, he smiled at her very warmly and said softly, “It is so very good to finally meet you in person. My apologies for the confusion but we will explain it all shortly.”

  Knowing her sister had packed all her household goods, Celeste had made sure to suggest a slightly larger conveyance than the small surrey Chip had used to fetch her. The porters quickly loaded the buckboard wagon, pulled by a draft horse, with Miranda's luggage, and they were on their way.

  “We are headed to the home of Pastor and Mrs. Richardson,” explained Celeste. “They have graciously housed Samantha and me these past two days while we awaited your arrival. I can tell you have news to shar
e about your trip, but look as if you could stand a cup of tea first.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me if you'd heard from Papa.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Celeste, “That's what I meant to tell you first! Yes! He wired to say the entire Krause Gang had been rounded up including the two men you captured on the train.”

  “Oh, no, don't tell me he sent that in the open!”

  “No, he used our childhood code. I'll show you the wire. I did take the Richardsons and the Hardwick brothers into our confidence because it wasn't fair to endanger them, should there be any other villains.”

  Miranda had been looking around as they drove through town and although it was rather dusty, the town was quite pretty and seemed to have a decent number of shops.

  Celeste turned to Chip. “I don't seem to recall this many people tipping hats and nodding when we came through two days ago.”

  “Well, I merely run the lumberyard, whereas Sylvester, as our local attorney, is rather a bigger kettle of fish. You'll notice he's the one that's been returning most of the greetings.”

  Seeing the Town

  While awaiting Miranda's arrival, Chip had escorted Celeste throughout the town, introducing her to the shopkeepers, simply saying she was staying with the Richardsons, even bringing her into La Belle Mode, a dress shop.

  He had also taken her to the sawmill, showing her around Hardwick Lumber and the operations, and brought her up to the office, showing her his books. She glanced at them and back at him.

  “These seem reasonably in order,” she said.

  “Well they should be, I'm quite good with numbers.”

  “And I can read your handwriting,” she said.

  “Yes, but every hour I spend in here has to be after work because I am needed in the yard during the day. So I am working 10 hours a day and barely getting sleep. I desperately need your help here.”