The Silver Shooter

by Erin Lindsey

  I felt a lot better now that we had a way forward again, and some of the giddiness from before seeped back in. “I’m not sure I’m ready for Jonathan Burrows,” I said with mock weariness. “It’s been so very peaceful without that particular slice of New York in our lives.”

  Thomas’s smile faded, and something passed through his eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

  Rose, you nit. That’s his best friend you’re making fun of. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

  He caught my face in his hands and kissed me. It was abrupt and a little disorienting, but that burned away in an instant, lost in the sort of desperately passionate kiss that makes you forget your own name. I went to pieces as usual, blissfully surrendering to sin. Good Catholic girls did not kiss this way. For that matter, neither did proper English gentlemen. We ought to have been ashamed of ourselves, I suppose, but in that moment, I felt about as far from shame as it’s possible to be.

  We broke off after a minute or two. I didn’t want it to end, but I didn’t dare stay any longer. Whatever had come over Thomas a moment ago still had a powerful hold on him; I could see it in his eyes. Until now, I’d been relying on him to draw the line between us. That was unfair, and tonight I sensed it would also be unwise.

  I cleared my throat. “Well. I should…” I pointed at the door.

  He nodded absently. His hands still framed my face, his thumbs drifting across my cheekbones.

  “Thomas?”

  “Forgive me.” His hands fell away. “I hope I haven’t…”

  Not this again. “Whatever you’re trying to apologize for, you needn’t.”

  He sighed. “At a minimum, my behavior has been most ungentlemanly.”

  “I don’t always want you to behave like a gentleman.” I couldn’t say it without blushing, though it was no more than the truth.

  A wisp of a smile touched his lips. “Nevertheless.”

  “Anyway, what does that even mean in a place like this? It’s like you said. We’re a long way from formal society out here.”

  “Society will find us eventually.” His voice was full of quiet regret. “Sooner or later, we must return to New York, and then…”

  And then what? Neither of us had an answer.

  “You’re right. New York will find us eventually, one way or another. But not today, and not tomorrow. So in the meantime…” I planted a quick kiss on his lips and bade him good night.

  It wasn’t very brave of me—cutting Thomas short like that, retreating before he could say something I might not want to hear. But the thrill of his kiss still sparkled in my veins, and all I wanted was to savor it, to savor him, for a little while longer. Besides, I needed time to think things through. Time and a sympathetic ear, and in that moment I missed Clara painfully. Of course, I knew what she’d say if she were here.

  Talk to him.

  She’d been giving me that advice for nigh-on three years now, and it was high time I took it. And so I shall, I resolved as I turned down the lamp.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  Thomas and I were headed for breakfast the next morning when a commotion at the end of the main street drew our attention. A herd of about a dozen horses was making its way from the livery, moving at a jog while a pair of riders whistled and hawed behind them. I spotted John Ward straightaway, and a moment later, Red Calf swerved out alongside, keeping the stragglers in line. Up ahead, Little Wolf rode at the opposite flank, waving his hat every now and then when the pace started to flag.

  They’re not supposed to be here, I thought worriedly. What are they doing?

  They’d already drawn a crowd, and it didn’t look friendly. Cowboys lined the boardwalk, grumbling to one another while they glared at the Lakota. Little Wolf sat proudly upright, pretending not to notice the hostility building around them. Red Calf, meanwhile, met every pair of eyes along the way, practically daring the onlookers to start something. John Ward brought up the rear, grim and watchful, rifle resting pointedly behind the horn of his saddle.

  Thomas fished out his Pinkerton badge and pinned it to his chest, in case there was anyone left in town who didn’t know who we were. Then he strode out into the middle of the road and threw a cheery wave at the riders. “Ho, there!” he called in a voice pitched to carry. “Good morning, my friends!”

  Little Wolf reined in, shaking the hand Thomas offered him. “Are you marking your territory?” he said with a wry smile.

  “Something like that. I doubt many of the townsfolk would knowingly cross the Pinkerton Agency. But there are always exceptions, as you know only too well. You and Red Calf risk a great deal by showing your faces here in town, my friend.”

  “We had no choice. John bought all the horses he could find at the ranches, but it wasn’t enough to make a decent herd. The livery was the last place for us to try.”

  “But you needn’t have come yourselves,” I said, throwing an anxious look at the hostile faces lining the boardwalk.

  The wry smile again. “John Ward is good with horses, but even he could not move this many on his own.”

  “Thomas and I would have been happy to—”

  “What do you know of herding, my friend?”

  Well, he had me there.

  “Besides…” His smile faded. “Two Horses is my responsibility. It was my hunting party that brought him here. It is only right that I lead the party that will set him free.”

  Thomas sighed. “We just hope you know you’re not alone in this.”

  “Thank you. I know you are doing everything you can. And we have John to help us.”

  Hearing his name, John Ward trotted up, and we brought him up to date on the doings at Cougar Ranch. It was a lot to take in—dead colleague, treacherous foreman, employer on the warpath—but as usual John received the news stoically. “Never did like George Howard. I’ll bet it was him got ol’ Gus all riled up, too. Probably figured going after you all”—he nodded at Little Wolf—“would keep the boss off his scent.”

  I gave him a rueful smile. “There you go, thinking like a detective again.”

  “We should not linger here,” Little Wolf said. “The animals are getting restless.” Grinning, he added, “The horses, too.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. What would it take, I wondered, to subdue that easy humor? I hoped I’d never have to find out. “One more thing before you go. Some of the local ranchers just put a bounty out on the creature. A big one. It’s about to get crowded out there.”

  John sighed. “Figures.”

  “Have you decided where to set the trap?” Thomas asked.

  “Near Painted Canyon. There’s a clearing up the northern end with a crick nearby, not too far from the spot that Jonah fella was took. White Robes is there now, looking for spoor.”

  Red Calf called a low warning, and we turned to find Hell Roaring Bill Jones striding toward Little Wolf with a furious expression. “You people got no business here,” he barked.

  “I have a pass,” Little Wolf said.

  “Good for you.” Jones put a hand on Little Wolf’s bridle. Red Calf didn’t like that one bit, scowling and swinging his horse around, but Little Wolf stayed him with a gesture.

  “I can show you my pass,” Little Wolf said patiently. “Will you let me reach into my pocket?”

  “You trying to start a shootout, son, or are you just plumb stupid?”

  “Sheriff—”

  “Bill—”

  The sheriff silenced us all with a scowl. “Not a word from you two,” he said, jabbing a finger at Thomas and me. “As for you, John Ward, I’d expect better sense.”

  “We ain’t looking to start nothing, Bill. Wouldn’t be here at all if we had a choice. Livery was the only place still had horseflesh for sale, and we got an urgent need.”

  “Urgent enough to get shot over?”

  “Yessir.”

  That clearly wasn’t the answer the sheriff was expecting. He frowned up at John, as if he didn’t quite know what to say.


  “These men are on Pinkerton business,” I put in. “We tried to tell you, Sheriff.”

  “Oh, is that right? You’re a Pinkerton now, John, is that it? Does Gus know what you’re up to?”

  John let out a dry laugh. “I expect he don’t. You can go ahead and tell him, if you like. Now if you don’t mind, Sheriff, we got important business to attend to, like the lady said.”

  “Damn sure don’t let me stop you.” Jones gestured irritably down the street. “And don’t be bringing these two young bucks back here, either. I got problems enough keeping this rabble in line without Indians and Pinkertons and every other pain in my arse stirring things up.”

  “Lovely to see you as always, Sheriff,” Thomas said.

  Jones shot him a look that could curdle milk, but he released Little Wolf’s bridle and turned away. “Clear the street,” he hollered, hand on the butt of his gun. “You hear me, you bunch of mouth breathers? Move along.”

  The crowd had already started to disperse—along with the horse herd. “We best move along ourselves,” John said. “Gonna take a minute to get these animals back in line.”

  “We’ll join you on the trail as soon as we can,” Thomas said. “We’re close to tracking down the man behind all this, and once we learn how he made the creature, we can learn how to unmake it.”

  “Do you really think we’re close?” I asked in an undertone as they rode away.

  “We had better be,” he said grimly. “Because we’re running out of time.”

  CHAPTER 22

  COMING CLEAN—OF DUCKS AND DERRINGERS—THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM

  The Western Express pulled into the station at a little before seven the following evening. Mr. Burrows had wired us from St. Paul, warning of his impending arrival. He hadn’t said anything about a traveling companion, however, so Thomas and I were awfully surprised to see Edith Islington standing in the doorway of the Pullman car, looking absolutely exhausted.

  “Good heavens!” Thomas sprang forward to help her from the train. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that very question for the past forty-eight hours.” Putting her hands on Thomas’s shoulders, she let herself be hoisted down. “I couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on the adventure, but I confess I had no idea the journey would be so ghastly.”

  “How on earth did you manage it in three days?” I asked.

  “We were foolish enough to take the overnight from Chicago.” Mr. Burrows appeared in the doorway, looking red-eyed and disheveled. “I don’t care to see another railway station for a very long time.” Glancing about for the missing platform, he added, “And perhaps I shan’t. Where in God’s name have you brought us, Wiltshire?”

  “May I offer you some assistance?” I smiled up at him, extending my hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

  He gave me a wry look. “You certainly look as though you could manage it. Whatever are you wearing, Rose?”

  “Blue jeans. They’re extremely practical.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Don’t be a beast, Jonathan.” Edith gave my arms a squeeze, looking me up and down. “I think she looks grand. A proper frontierswoman. And you, Mr. Wiltshire. Why, both of you seem…” She trailed off, regarding us with a puzzled smile. “Completely at home, actually.”

  “Well, it has been nearly a week.” Saying it aloud, I marveled at how quickly the time had passed. “A lot’s happened.”

  “And I want to hear all about it,” Edith said. “But first, for the love of all that is holy, please show me to a bath.”

  “And a drink,” Mr. Burrows added. “And if we somehow manage to stay awake for that, perhaps you can tell us why you’ve dragged me halfway across the country.”

  * * *

  “Pooh,” said Edith. “The water’s getting cold.”

  “Probably for the best. If you stay in that tub any longer, you’ll turn into a raisin.”

  “I feel as if I only just got in.” She glanced over at me with that arch smile of hers. “But I see you’ve managed to unpack my entire trunk in the meantime. I appreciate the help, but I can manage without a servant, you know.”

  “I don’t mind. Gives me something to do while I’m talking.” Of which I’d done plenty, bringing Edith up to date on our escapades over the past week while she scrubbed three days’ worth of train travel away.

  “Hannah insisted on packing virtually everything I own. And yet…” Edith scanned the piles of clothing with a sigh. “Hardly a stitch of it seems appropriate now that I’m here. I’m going to feel very left out being the only one not in trousers.”

  I laughed. “It must have been a little jarring to find me looking like this.”

  “Not half as jarring as finding Thomas Wiltshire looking like the world’s most elegant gunslinger. I thought he was dashing in evening attire, but the juxtaposition of silk waistcoat and six-shooters is just too delicious. You must be swooning all over yourself.”

  I hesitated in the midst of unfolding a dress. I’d never discussed my feelings for Thomas with Edith. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to confide in her, but the fact that she’d confessed her own feelings for him shortly after we met made the prospect more than a little awkward.

  “I hadn’t really noticed,” I said with an offhanded little shrug.

  She just laughed. “Rose, darling, have you forgotten who you’re talking to? One hardly needs supernatural powers of observation to see that you’re absolutely mad about each other. But as it happens…” She folded her arms over the edge of the tub and batted her eyelashes at me. “I have them.”

  My skin grew warm, and I couldn’t help laughing too. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.” Thomas referred to Edith’s luck as photographic memory, but it was much more than that. Edith didn’t just remember everything. She noticed everything. It was silly of me to think I could hide my feelings from her. “How long have you known?”

  “Since that day in Mr. Burrows’s parlor, with Clara and Joseph and Sergeant Chapman. The two of you were practically finishing each other’s sentences. It was adorable.” Sighing theatrically, she added, “And utterly heartbreaking.”

  I bit my lip, sinking down onto the bed. “I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t think—”

  “Don’t be silly. I have no claim on him, and besides, how could you possibly resist? You’re perfectly suited.”

  I gave a hollow laugh. “A former housemaid and a society gentlemen? Yes, perfectly.”

  She tsked. “As though that’s the whole story.”

  “Maybe not, but the rest is just as complicated. We’re partners. As it is, half the special branch seems to think the only reason I was hired was because Thomas and I are…” I cleared my throat. “You know.”

  “And?” She lifted herself out of the tub and grabbed a towel. “Are you?”

  A furious blush warmed my skin. “Of course not!”

  “Well, and what would be wrong with it? It’s not unheard of in society circles to have a dalliance or two before marriage, even for young ladies.”

  “Well, we’re not. Dallying, that is.”

  “But you are something, obviously.”

  I sighed. How could I explain when I barely knew what to make of it myself? “This place … It’s done something to us. To him, especially. He’s always been so reserved, but out here … There’s a zest to him. A little mischief, even. It’s as if I’m seeing the real Thomas Wiltshire for the first time.”

  “How intriguing.” Edith starting unpinning her hair. “And what has he done with this newfound freedom? Has he confessed his feelings?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  She smiled knowingly in the mirror. “A good-night kiss, perhaps?”

  “Every night for the past few days.” Confessing it made me blush even harder. Last night’s kiss hadn’t even included the customary apology. Just a teasing Good night, Miss Gallagher, and that ironically formal nod that made my heart do somersaults. “It’s been…” I
trailed off, lost for words.

  Edith took both my hands in hers. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

  “But…” My smile faded. “It’s a bit of make-believe, isn’t it? And we both know it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Out here, we can do whatever we like. But what happens when we go back to New York? Nothing’s changed. All the reasons that have kept us apart until now are still valid.”

  She gave my hands a sympathetic squeeze. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. And in the meantime…” Her arch smile returned. “Take what you can get. I know I would.”

  I laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Does that make us wicked, you and I?”

  “It makes us honest. Now, help me pick out something to wear, would you?”

  I started sifting through her wardrobe, feeling a little lighter. I’d missed having someone to talk to, but until this moment I hadn’t realized just how much. “Edith?” I turned, one of her frocks pressed absently to my chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So am I. I’ve always wanted to see the Wild West. It will be an adventure.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way.” Smiling apologetically, I added, “Because you’re going to need a gun.”

  * * *

  “Thank heavens,” Mr. Burrows said, waving Edith and me over to a table at the back of the saloon. “My drinking companion has been the most dreadful bore.”

  Thomas ignored that, rising politely while keeping one finger on the page he’d been reading. “I trust you’re feeling refreshed, Miss Islington.”

  “Oh, I think you can call me Edith, since we’ll be bearing arms together.”

  “I … beg your pardon?”

  “I gave her my derringer,” I explained. “With everything that’s going on around here, I thought she should be able to protect herself.”

  My partner looked a little nonplussed, but he didn’t say anything. Mr. Burrows, meanwhile, took the liberty of yanking Thomas’s Peacemaker out of its holster and examining it critically. “A bit basic, isn’t it? Where’s the ivory handle? The gold inlay?” He cocked the hammer.