Two cups of coffee later, Ryder had his telegrams ready and a brilliant idea, but he’d need Dodie’s help. He didn’t have any doubts there. She’d be an eager spy, given she’d have license to do what she loved best, trick riding. But he’d have to hurry if they were to infiltrate Circus International.
»»•««
By noon Saturday, the gentle rain of morning gathered strength and burst into a wind-driven heavy downpour. The girls huddled inside their cottages, reading or playing board games. Jo, wrapped in her quilt, sat on her cot trying to read her book. The tent shuddered and ruffled with every gust. Rain blew in over the back wall. The wind whistled and wailed, driving the rain down the flue where it hissed and sizzled on the stovetop.
The tent flap blew open, and Dodie entered with Grace and Twyla-Rose following behind her. “Come on, you can’t stay in here,” Dodie said, snatching Jo’s riding coat off the hook to the side of the flap. “The water’s coming inside and shooting down your chimney. It’s cold in here.”
Twyla-Rose shuddered. “You’ll catch your death if you stay in here.”
Grace snatched the book out of Jo’s hand and laid it on the trunk. The hawk feather fluttered to the ground. “Miss Ott and Miss Ames are away this afternoon with family. We need you to chaperone.”
Dodie stood with the hawk feather in her fingers, her lower lip tucked between her teeth and a knowing smile on her face.
“I hardly think you need a chaperone,” Jo said, and removed the feather from Dodie’s fingers and hid it beneath her blouse between her breasts. She folded her quilt and held it to her chest. “Very well, but just for the afternoon. I’m sure this storm will have passed by then. I like the rain.”
“That is a pure lie,” Twyla-Rose said. “Rain, maybe, but the wind, I don’t think so. You can bunk in with Dodie tonight. She doesn’t take up a lot of room.”
Grace nodded. “If anyone dares tattle we’ll…we’ll…well, I don’t know what we’ll do, but it will be terrible. Now, let’s get out of here. Mama sent me a tin of cookies. I’ve been saving them for a rainy day just like this.”
Twyla-Rose exited first and then Grace. Dodie hung back. “Gerald’s gone. The Joneses won’t venture out in the rain today. I don’t think you need fear being discovered inside our cottage.”
Folding her quilt and bedding and stacking them so they would fit in her arms, she said, “Very well, but just for this afternoon. I like the rain.”
Dodie snorted and peeked out through the flap, her face screwed up in disgust. “This is not rain—this is a storm. Tree limbs falling all around. You can’t stay here.”
“He’s gone for a while. Probably days,” Dodie said, her back to the tent flap and the storm outside.
“He’s always gone,” Jo said, adjusting her cape over her shoulders and the hood over her head. She stomped past Dodie, her head down against the wind. The wind caught her hood and ripped it from her head. She dropped her pillow in the mud. Silently cursing Ryder McAdam, she raised her face to the heavens in defiance.
Ahead of her, Dodie called to her over her shoulder, “I smell ham cooking. Pretty sure the Joneses are over their feasting. I think we’re having ham-hocks and beans and cornbread for our supper. We better hurry if we want any cookies.”
»»•««
Ryder slowly opened the heavy barn door, cringing with every squawk and rumbling sound it made. Scout II, his old hunting buddy, set up the alarm, growling and barking until he saw who it was. Then his big golden tail started to whip, and his butt wagged. The silly old dog bounced around, his mouth catching Ryder’s coat sleeve. “Shhhh, boy. Don’t want to wake the house. Let me in, fella.”
He moved down between the stalls in the dark, Scout’s thumping feet and joyful yips sounding ahead of him.
“Sorry, old friend, you awake?” Ryder called out to the dapple gray stud in the end stall. The animal whickered and blew his nose, picking up Ryder’s familiar scent. In the stall across from the stud, Magi bumped her gate with her head, demanding attention.
Ryder rubbed Sarge’s nose and pressed his cheek to the horse’s jowl. “So how would you like to join the circus? You, and Magi over there. We could do some of our old tricks. We’ll get Dodie. She’ll be happy to see you and Magi. I know she’s missed you both like crazy.”
Magi thumped her gate again, her head bobbing. She scraped the gate with her hoof. Ryder swung around to give her some attention. “Shhh, now. All in good time,” he said, giving her nose a rub while scratching her behind the ear. At the end of the row of stalls, above the tack box, he found the lantern. “First we have to pack up some of your gear.”
The old dried boards at the front of the barn creaked, and a shaft of light waved from side to side in the doorway. A gruff, menacing voice shouted into the darkness, “What the hell is goin’ on in here?”
Ryder heard the deadly click and snap of a rifle being cocked. “Don’t shoot, Royce. It’s me.”
The light began to swing and float toward him.
“It’s me, Royce. You got your old over-and-under cocked and ready? I know, but don’t shoot.”
“And why shouldn’t I shoot you, looks to me like you’re about to steal my horses.”
Ryder chuckled derisively. “You got me there.”
Lantern light rose up in front of his face, and all Ryder could make out was Royce’s pale, bewhiskered jaw. Ryder lit his own lantern and held it up to get a good look at his father. Royce stood before him in his black barn boots, naked but for the loosely tied plaid wool robe he wore tied at his waist with a cotton cord. Ryder didn’t bother to hold back a mirthful howl of laughter.
“It’s open season on horse thieves,” Royce said, his jaw tight and teeth clenched.
Ryder clamped his mouth shut to hold back the laughter. He sobered or tried to. “Always. I know the rules.”
“Then explain.”
“Royce,” came a feminine voice from the opened barn door. “What’s wrong? You shouldn’t be out here with no clothes on. It’s cold and wet. What was Scout barking at? If it’s the blasted raccoon again, I’ll shoot him myself.”
Royce and Ryder turned, holding their lanterns up and out, allowing the light to shine the length of the barn. A vision in pink flannel, Titian hair set aflame in the lamplight, using her canes, the vision shifted her way over the threshold. Leaning heavily on them, she swung one leg forward, then the other, making slow but purposeful progress toward them.
“Ryder’s quit Pinkerton and taken up horse thieving,” Royce said, throwing his voice up to the rafters.
Ryder groaned, taking several paces forward to help his mother along. She jerked back, eyes wide, and then smiled up at him. “Ryder. Ryder, oh, what a lovely surprise. Pay no attention to Royce. He’s been prowling around bored to flinders ever since he got back from chasing down your train robbers.”
Ryder kissed her cool cheek. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake anyone. I thought I could stay here in the barn until Royce came out to do chores. But he caught me.”
She pulled back to gaze deep into his eyes. “Caught? Sooo, you were planning on stealing the horses?”
“Borrow,” he said to correct her, unable to hide his smirk.
“Steal, borrow, whatever you want to call it. Taking my animals in the middle of the night is stealing in my book,” Royce said.
Cleantha started forward with Ryder’s aid. “Don’t be silly. Ryder doesn’t have to steal his own horse.”
“That horse is in my barn, under my care,” Royce said, and stepping forward, took up his wife’s other side, one arm around her waist.
“You’re cranky because you had to get up an hour early, that’s all.” Royce’s robe fell open, the rope cord dangling down in front of his crotch. Cleantha gasped and tapped him on the chin with her cane. “You are not decent. It’s cold out here. Come on, let’s go up to the house. I’ll make breakfast, and we’ll get this sorted out.”
Ryder balked. “I don’t really have time…”
<
br /> She stopped and turned on him, shaking one of her canes at his nose. She said, “You are coming to the house. And, you are going to eat. In this light, I can see you are gaunt and sleep deprived. I know whatever you’re doing, it’s important. You taking sick would be very bad, very bad indeed. You won’t last long without food. You can’t run forever on pure stubborn cussedness.” With that, she turned and slowly and awkwardly made her way to the barn door without either her husband’s or Ryder’s assistance.
Chapter Seventeen
Obeying Cleantha’s long-standing house rules, Ryder washed his hands and face using the pump and laundry sink in the enclosed back stoop. He combed his fingers through his hair, pulled it back into a tail, and secured it with a leather lace. The sky had started to lighten. The need to rush, to get back to Jo, had him in a sweat. He’d left her alone and vulnerable. If anything happened to her…unable to finish the thought, he shuddered and put warm water in the soap mug and picked up the razor.
Squinting into the mirror, he set the blade to his jaw and lined out what needed to be done. If he could get back to Cherry Grove before daylight tomorrow, he and Dodie could set to work getting Sarge and Magi back in shape. They’d been grazing on sweet grass and corn for the last four months, running free. He and Dodie would need a place to train and sleep, a place where no one could see them. He had in mind the barn on the sheriff’s property. He could send a telegram asking for permission. But first, he had to get his plan past Royce and Cleantha.
“Ryder, breakfast is on,” Cleantha called to him from the kitchen. “It’s getting cold.”
Checking to be sure he had all the soap off his face, he squared his shoulders. He set a confident smile on his lips, entered the house and came to the table. He nodded to her, took his seat, and dived into his stack of cakes with a will. She slid two fried eggs and a rasher of ham onto his plate. He swallowed, grinned, and thanked her again. Across the table, Royce ate his portion slowly, his brown eyes, steady, watching Ryder.
Refusing to squirm under his father’s hard glare, Ryder ate each and every bite, giving no hint the meal now filled his empty gut like cold rocks in a pillowcase. After sopping up the last of the apple butter with the last bite of his hotcakes, he sat back in his chair and washed it all down with a tall glass of milk. “Thank you, Cleantha, I needed that. You were right. I do feel better now. So I’ll be on my way. Sun’s almost up. I’m taking Sarge and Magi with me. I’ll gather up some of their gear.”
“Sit down,” Royce said, a familiar and unmistakable timbre of authority in his tone.
Ryder clenched his jaw and pulled his lips to the side. He glanced in Cleantha’s direction looking for an ally. She raised her delicate brows and pursed her rosy lips but gave him no indication she intended to intervene.
Royce leaned across the table, one beefy arm stretching out toward Ryder’s empty chair, eyes narrowed and his gaze sharp. “You’re not leaving this house until you tell us what’s goin’ on. This has somethin’ to do with the girl, the schoolmarm I’ll wager. I’m familiar with the symptoms, I’ve suffered the same affliction. She got her hooks in you, didn’t she? Now something's come up, and you think you gotta rush to her rescue.”
Cleantha’s pretty head pivoted from her husband to Ryder, her big green eyes blinking and her pretty pink lips parted. “Woman? What schoolmarm?” Finger pointing at her husband she said, “Oh, oh, the young woman on the train, the one who helped you catch those robbers.” Head pivoting, she asked, “Ryder?”
Heaving a weighty sigh, Ryder sat down, put his elbows on the table, and folded his hands. How much did he know? He didn’t know anything, not really. He had suspicions but didn’t have any hard facts.
Royce and Cleantha hadn’t taken their eyes off him. To save time, he gave them both a nod of surrender. “The schoolmarm is involved, and yes, as you so delicately put it, Royce, she has her hooks in me. But…but, she’s only part of what’s got me in a rush to get back to Cherry Grove. The Payasos train robbers might be one facet of a larger organization. I don’t have any facts, just bits and pieces. Nothing fits together.”
Royce sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his bare chest. Cleantha signaled for him to pull his robe over his lap and legs, frowning at him and tugging on the rope belt of the garment. Royce waved her hand away and stuffed the robe between his legs to cover them. “I’m listening.”
Ryder ducked his head to hide his grin. Sobering, he picked his head up and said, “The Joneses, at the school, that’s not their name. Ira Jones is not a reverend. He’s never had a congregation. Ester Jones is not a teacher. Nobody knows who she is or anything about her. Their bank account is very healthy, nearly a half a million dollars. Which does not jibe with the income brought in from tuitions.
“Ira Jones, or Ira Jaynes, whichever it may be, has a brother, Omar, a sea captain who sails around the world doing what, nobody knows. Omar and his ship are in the Port of Portland. No crew sighted, no cargo loading or unloading. And, in the Cherry Grove jail, we have Jacob Jaynes, the leader of a gang of train robbers who call themselves the Payasos gang. Too much coincidence, to my mind, to have that many people with the last name of Jaynes and not try to connect them all together.”
He paused for breath. “I searched Ira’s office and found a letter, an unsent letter, addressed to his brother Omar. According to the letter, Ira has in mind a certain female, who recently arrived at the school, who might please the Sultan. She’s too spirited, not exactly blonde, but fair, and comely. She might please him more than the two young ones or the older female, who is, the Sultan pronounced, too weepy. Delivery could be made to the Sultan before the end of the year.”
Cleantha sucked in her breath and put her hand on his arm. “Oh, my God, Ryder, your schoolmarm?”
Royce shook his head at her and leaned forward. “What does this have to do with Sarge and Magi?”
Ryder studied his fingers for a second or two before answering. “There is a circus,” he said and brought his head up to meet Royce’s hard gaze. “Circus International arrived in Umatilla last week. They’re in Pendleton now. They’re on a tour of the Columbia and the northwest. They have a clown act, magicians, a man and a woman, Georgio and Rosa Jaynes. They call themselves the Payasos Performers. The circus is made up of performers from all over the world, mostly from the Orient. The owners of this circus are the Jaynes Brothers.”
Royce’s expression changed slightly. His features softened, replaced by puckered brows of concern. “You think this circus is going to aid in an escape of the Payasos gang?”
“Well, they were still in jail when I left town. Pinkerton hasn’t given me a time or a destination for their transfer. We only have the sheriff and two deputies guarding them. A jailbreak would be easy enough.”
Royce sat back in his chair, his arms going across his chest and his chin down in obvious contemplation. Ryder stayed quiet and was about to add a comment when Royce interrupted. “So, you’re thinking of joining the circus? Infiltrate, right?”
Royce never failed to surprise him. Even when he was a kid, Royce could anticipate, foil, and uncover Ryder’s plots and plans. He nodded, and to use Royce’s Irish-speak, he said, “Yeah. That’s about the long and the short of it.”
“You goin’ in as a horse trainer or a circus act?”
“I thought Melody and I could get in as a team, me as trainer and Dodie as trick rider. Play up the Indian in us. You know, wild battle cries, bows and arrows, tomahawks, the full show.”
Cleantha leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Dodie? No. No, you will not embroil Dodie in this, Ryder. I forbid it.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Ryder said, putting his hand over hers and looking deep into her pretty eyes. “She’s ready to run, Mother. They treat her like a slave. You’ve paid her tuition there, but the Joneses don’t see her as one of the students. They allow her to attend classes, but she’s being worked to death every day, all day and night. She’s less t
han dirt under Mrs. Jones’s fingernails. Dodie dreams of Magi and running away. I’d rather set her to doing what she loves to do, and in the process, she can help me catch these animals. I don’t want her to get so desperate she runs off to who knows where, doing who knows what on her own.”
Cleantha closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I knew she wasn’t happy there, but I had no idea how badly she was being treated. Of course, she would never complain. None of you children are complainers. The Reverend Gooden, he took a ruler to your hands. You told me you’d gotten in a fight and Royce gave you a whipping. Jewel, Mrs. Peterson was sure he’d stolen a chicken from her yard, she’d caught him holding it, cradling it in his arms, blood all over his shirt. We made him paint her house as payment. While he was doing that, a fox got in her yard and took out three of her chickens right in front of her eyes. Did he complain? No, he finished painting her house.”
The room went silent. Royce sat with his chin to his chest. Cleantha pressed her lips together, tears flooding her lovely eyes. Ryder rose from his chair. “Thank you for the food. I needed a good meal.”
“I’m coming with you,” Royce said, pushing his chair back and rising from the table.
Ryder shook his head. Putting himself in check, denying himself the urge to stomp his foot, he said, in his most adult voice, “No, not this time. The Joneses know you, know your face. They don’t know me. They haven’t ever seen me. They don’t even know or care if I exist.
“I’m going to send out some telegrams to the sheriff in Cherry Grove and to the home office notifying them of a possible jailbreak. I didn’t want to use the telegraph in Cherry Grove. The Joneses have a kid who lives at the school. He sneaks around. Hard telling what he knows or what his part is in all of this. Anyway, I didn’t want to take any chances. It’s my guess the Joneses will allow the girls at the school to attend a special performance, possibly Friday evening. That could be when it all goes down, the jailbreak, the abduction, everything.”
Jo and the Pinkerton Man Page 12
