The Silver Shooter

by Erin Lindsey

  “My job is dangerous. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Oh, I know.” He shook his head and put his empty teacup aside. “For now, anyway. One day, maybe, you will have your fill of it. Believe me, danger stops being exciting after a while. You get tired of running for your life, and you learn to appreciate something like this.” He gestured at the sunny parlor.

  “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

  Now it was his turn to make a wry face. “I’m an orphan from Five Points, Fiora. Of course I am speaking from experience. So…” He pressed his hands together and pointed them at me. “For now, you go and earn your money, and then when you have enough, you can quit and you and me and Mama will grow tomatoes and drink tea and not have to worry about nobody getting shot.”

  I laughed. “It all sounds lovely. But for now, I have work to do. Which reminds me…” I glanced at the clock. “I’d better get going. I promised Thomas I’d look over the report he’s sending to Chicago. Tell Mam I’ll be home by five. And Pietro…” Jumping up from my chair, I gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for looking after her. I’d be lost without you.”

  He shrugged. “I care about your mama, and besides, I get to live here. Everybody is happy, no?”

  I thought about that on the train on my way uptown. I was happy, in spite of the little cracks in my heart. What happened between Thomas and me would hurt for a while yet, but we’d get past it. Things would settle into the familiar rhythm soon enough. And maybe someday, with a little ingenuity and a dollop of good fortune, we’d find a way to turn our partnership into something more. Until then, there were cases to solve and adventures to be had, and that was enough.

  Such was my thinking, at any rate, as I climbed the steps at 726 Fifth Avenue. But I knew the moment I walked in that something was wrong. Clara was standing at the foot of the stairs, hands on hips, gazing up at Thomas’s study with a worried frown. We hadn’t seen each other for more than two weeks, and yet she greeted me with only a brief hug, visibly distracted.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Hang it if I know. Mr. Wiltshire about bit Louise’s head clean off a minute ago, and for no good reason.”

  “Thomas? That’s not like him at all.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” She shook her head, still staring up at Thomas’s study. “I reckon it’s got something to do with that letter he got yesterday, but it’s no excuse. I’m gonna let him cool down a spell, and then he’ll have a piece of my mind.”

  “What letter?”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “You know him. He’d never say, and I’d never ask. But it has to be bad news, ’cause he’s been moping about ever since. Haven’t seen him but for a moment here or there, on his way out and so forth. He didn’t even come down for breakfast this morning.”

  “A death in the family, maybe.” I followed her gaze with a pang of anticipated grief. “I’d better see if he wants to talk.”

  I went upstairs and knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. “Thomas?”

  A pause. “Come in.”

  I found him seated at his desk with a faraway look. A letter was spread out before him, as though he’d been going over it again. I had to fight the urge to try to read what was on the page, but that would have been unforgivably nosy. So I just sank onto the sofa, not quite sure what to say. “Are you all right? Can I bring you some tea?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Clara says … Well, she mentioned you weren’t feeling yourself.”

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Shameful behavior. I’ll apologize to them both when everyone’s had a moment to settle.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Another pause. “There is something we need to discuss, yes.”

  He didn’t turn to face me. Instead, he pivoted toward the desk, almost as if he were taking cover behind it. Not a good sign.

  “I’ve been thinking a great deal about our talk the other night, in Medora.”

  I swallowed. Definitely not a good sign. “All right.”

  “We agreed to go back to the way things were.” He spoke softly, as though the words themselves were fragile. “But the truth is, I’m not sure we can. Too much has happened between us. To pretend otherwise will be all but impossible. And even if we could…” Propping his elbows on the desk, he knit his fingers and bent his head toward them, almost as if in prayer. He stayed like that for a moment, until finally he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t bear it, Rose.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I could see he was hurting. I could feel the shadow of that grief spilling over me, warning me of the blow about to fall, but I didn’t know how to stop it. So I just stood there, waiting for the inevitable.

  “Seeing you every day … Not being able to…” He shook his head again. “Even if I had the strength, it’s terribly unfair to you. You deserve someone who can give you everything. But so long as I am here, haunting your every step, I fear you may never find that person. May never become who you were meant to be. How can I, in good conscience, allow that to happen?”

  “You’re leaving.” Even as I said the words, my gaze fell on the train ticket on his desk. A ticket like that was only good for twenty-four hours. Which meant he’d be gone by tomorrow.

  “I’ve requested a transfer to San Francisco. Sharpe approved it this morning.”

  “I see.” The words spoke themselves. I was too numb to frame a thought more complicated than that.

  “I know this is terribly abrupt, and I’m sorry for that. There are other factors at play, but regardless, I believe this is the right thing for both of us. I want you to know that it has been the greatest privilege of my life to serve as your partner. You have flourished, Rose. And I have no doubt you will flourish even more without me casting a shadow over you. Personally, and professionally.”

  Scattered questions swirled in my brain. Who would be my partner now? Would I even have one? What would Clara do? They rustled through my mind like dead leaves on the breeze, without any real feeling attached to them. As if they weren’t even really my thoughts at all.

  I must have been quiet for a while, because Thomas closed his eyes and pressed his chin back to his knit fingers. “Please say something.”

  “What should I say? You’ve made your decision. You’ve even bought your ticket, I see.”

  “I am not one to linger over something painful.”

  “Evidently.” I stood up. “So I won’t keep you.”

  “Rose…”

  “It’s all right,” I said, and I was surprised to find that I meant it. Not that it didn’t feel as if someone were twisting a knife in my heart, because it very definitely did. But even in that moment, I knew there was more than a little truth to what he was saying. And as much as this hurt, it would hurt even more if we parted on bad terms. So I did my best to put on a brave face—for him, but mostly for me. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been an incredible mentor and a good friend.”

  I couldn’t read how those words landed with him, but in that moment, at that precise second, I stopped trying. I’d never been able to decipher Thomas Wiltshire, and that wasn’t going to change. It was time to accept that.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “For so much, but mostly, that things couldn’t be different.” I could see he wanted to say more. But as usual, he didn’t know how, so I decided to spare us both the struggle.

  “Me too, but you’re right, there’s no point lingering over it. The world is the way it is. I wish you the very best in San Francisco. I’ll say goodbye before I leave, but just now, I’d like to spend some time with Clara. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  I left the study and closed the door behind me. I heard him lock it as I walked away, and that was all right with me.

  I was through knocking.

  * * *

  “He’s a coward.” Clara fairly vibrated with outrage, her finger tapping a furious rhythm agains
t her teacup. “A no-good coward.”

  I’d told her the story in reverse, beginning with the transfer to San Francisco and working back through everything that had happened between us in Dakota. There was a lot of ground to cover, since I hadn’t managed to answer her letter. But she listened to it all, and the more I talked, the angrier she became. At one point, she actually got up and left the room, presumably to spare me the sight of her losing her temper. Either that, or she’d gone upstairs to thump him one. As for me, I was still numb. I could feel the grief lurking around the corner, but it hadn’t pounced yet. It didn’t quite feel real.

  “I’m sure it has something to do with whatever was in that letter.” He’d all but said as much. Other factors, he called them. I couldn’t imagine what those might be, but just now, I didn’t much care.

  Neither did Clara. “Hang the letter. After what you all have been through together, he’s gonna just leave? Tomorrow?” She shook her head. “A coward and a sneak.”

  “That’s unfair. I might not like how he’s handled this, but I know he wants what’s best for both of us.”

  “He don’t even know what’s best for himself, let alone you. He don’t wanna hurt. Well, who does? Anyway, if it hurts so bad, why don’t he find a way to fix it?”

  If only it were that simple. “Being with me would ruin him, Clara. He’d probably be fired from the Agency. At the very least, his reputation would be left in tatters, and not just at work. He’d never be able to show himself in society again. Why should he have to sacrifice everything? For that matter, why should I? I’d be fired too, and unlike Thomas, I don’t have a reputation to rebuild from. I’d be a laughingstock from here to Chicago, the girl who only got her job because she was sleeping with the boss. It would be worse on Fifth Avenue. I wouldn’t be able to walk out that door without people whispering behind their hands.” I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  Clara listened to this speech with a stony expression. “You really believe all that, or are you just trying to convince yourself?”

  Sometimes, your friends can know you a little too well.

  “It’s all true,” I said, which was part of an answer, at least.

  The doorbell rang, and a moment later, a familiar voice sounded from the entryway. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.”

  The poor maid stammered out something inaudible.

  “We’re in here,” Clara called.

  Edith burst through the kitchen door. “Oh, Rose,” she said, flinging her arms around me. “Oh, my dear.”

  “How did you—?”

  “I called her,” Clara said. “Figured you needed reinforcements.”

  So that’s where she’d disappeared to.

  Edith took me by the shoulders. “He’s a beast, and I’m going to tell him so right now.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “A coward, and that’s all there is of it.”

  Clara hoisted an eyebrow at me. See?

  I couldn’t help laughing, in spite of the ache in my chest. “Stop it, both of you. His reasons are perfectly valid.”

  “Valid. Hmpf.” Edith plonked herself onto a chair and started tugging off her gloves. “A man should be prepared to fight for his beloved.”

  “This isn’t a storybook. And anyway, who says I’m his beloved?”

  “Don’t be absurd. Of course you are.”

  “He never told me so. He never made any promises. On the contrary, he was clear from the start that we shouldn’t become involved, that it would only bring us grief. He has feelings for me, sure. But feelings aren’t necessarily love.”

  Clara narrowed her eyes at me. “Did you tell him?”

  “That I loved him?” I hitched a shoulder self-consciously. “Not in so many words, maybe, but it’s not as if he doesn’t know it.”

  “Says who? You just finished saying feelings aren’t necessarily love. He knows you got feelings, but how’s he supposed to know how deep if you don’t tell him?”

  Maybe she was right, but just then, I was rather glad I hadn’t. Mam would call that pride, and maybe it was. But if you ask me, a little pride is no bad thing when your heart’s just been broken.

  “What I don’t understand,” Edith said, “is where this all came from. Why the sudden volte-face? Did the two of you talk about it at all in Dakota?”

  “Some. We agreed to go back to the way things were before.”

  “You agreed? Both of you?”

  “Pardon?”

  Edith bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. It’s just that in my experience, people often talk past one another. They make all sorts of assumptions, fill in all sorts of gaps. Especially when they’re emotional.”

  That was certainly true. And I hadn’t been in the best frame of mind when we’d spoken. “It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? The bottom line is that we can’t be together. Thomas doesn’t want to be reminded of that every day, and I can’t blame him.”

  Clara sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Rose, honey, you’re strong as an oak, and everybody knows it. But it’s just us chickens here right now. Ain’t no shame in admitting he hurt you. We love you just the same.”

  And that, right there, was the moment the grief finally pounced. Tears pricked my eyes, and my chest grew so tight I could hardly breathe. And then Clara’s arms were around me, and Edith’s, and we took a moment, just the three of us. There would be more moments, I knew, in the days and weeks to come. Hurt like this didn’t just vanish overnight. But I’d get through it, just as Clara said. And in the meantime, even though my heart was cracked, it was full up too, because I had no shortage of love in my life.

  After a minute or two, Edith drew back with a sniffle. “Well, then.” She flicked a tear from her cheek. “I think we had better drink, don’t you?”

  “Oh.” I dragged my sleeve across my eyes. “I almost forgot. I brought this back for you, Clara. A little taste of the Dakota Territory.” Reaching into my handbag, I produced a bottle of Lee Granger’s forty-rod.

  Clara took it with a bemused expression. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t drink whiskey.”

  “In that case, you needn’t worry,” said Edith. “Whatever that is, it isn’t whiskey.”

  Clara laughed. “I’ll get some glasses.”

  So there we sat, sipping kerosene and denouncing the perfidy of men, and all I can say is if tea is the world’s greatest problem solver, Dakota moonshine ain’t too shabby. It sanded down the edges of my hurt, and after a couple of drams, I was starting to feel downright reflective. “Maybe this all happened for a reason. Something Thomas said keeps coming back to me, about needing to grow outside his shadow. I think he’s right about that. This case … it was the first time I truly felt like a full-fledged agent in my own right. Like I didn’t need to look to him for advice at every turn. I think it’ll be good for me to be on my own for a while. Gain a little independence.”

  “Funny,” Clara said, “I was thinking along the same lines a minute ago. How maybe this is the push I need to get on with nursing school.”

  “Ladies, you are paragons of modern womanhood, and I salute you.” Edith raised her glass. “To independence.”

  Glasses clinked, and it felt a little like toasting the New Year. Which, in a way, I suppose we were.

  * * *

  I helped Clara pack up the house after Thomas had gone. It was strange, seeing Number 726 empty like that, all the furniture covered up and the curtains drawn. Walking through it made me feel a little like a ghost. I was seeing ghosts, too. In the parlor, two partners sharing a passionate kiss. In the bedroom, a fledgling agent getting ready for her first ball, as if she were Cinderella. In the study, a wide-eyed housemaid listening as her employer showed her “the gears inside the watch,” introducing her to a world she never knew existed.

  Clara found me in Thomas’s room. I hadn’t set foot in there since I left his service, but as a housemaid, I’d lingered here often. Lifting one of his ties t
o my face, or perusing his bookshelves, or straightening his cuff links just so. It was the closest I could come to knowing the man. Maybe it was the closest I ever really got. As hard as I’d tried, I never truly knew him. For a long time, that had felt like my tragedy, but I saw now that it was his.

  “Here you are. Been looking all over for you.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled at her. “Just lost in memories. It’s going to be strange, not seeing this place.”

  “For me too. ’Course, I’ll be here now and then. He wants me to check in every so often, make sure it hasn’t burned down, I guess. As though that earns the pay.”

  “Pay?” I cocked my head. “I thought he let you and Louise go.”

  “He did. Due severance, he calls it. I don’t know what’s due about it, but if he feels guilty, that’s his business. I plan to put that money to good use in school.”

  How things change. Not so long ago, Clara would have been too proud to accept anything she didn’t feel she’d earned. She was still angry, obviously. I hoped it wasn’t entirely on my account, but either way, it was between them. “When do you start?” I asked.

  “In the fall. Not sure what I’m gonna do with myself in the meantime.”

  “How about learning to ride? It’s going to be a lovely summer in Central Park.”

  She snorted softly. “Sure.”

  “Why not? Mr. Burrows has plenty of horses you might borrow.”

  Clara shook her head, but she was smiling, too. “We’ll see. Meantime, we oughta be on our way, but before I forget, I found this for you in the study.” She handed me a sealed envelope, heavy, with my name written in Thomas’s tidy handwriting. “I’ll give you some privacy. See you downstairs.”

  Opening the envelope, I found a familiar brass badge.

  PINKERTON NATIONAL DETECTIVE AGENT, NEW YORK.

  There was something else, too, wrapped in velvet to protect it from the badge. A glint of rose gold peeked out between the folds, and I caught my breath. There, ticking softly in its velvet bed, was Thomas’s Patek Philippe.

  My first thought was that it must have been a mistake. He would never leave that watch behind. But no … one didn’t just drop a gold watch into an envelope accidentally. For whatever reason, he’d decided I should have it. There was no note, of course. Heaven forbid Thomas Wiltshire should explain himself.