Giselle gave one quick nod. “I’ll cover your tables, but only because it’s the morning shift and we don’t have as many customers. I’ll need an explanation before the next train.”
“Thank you. You’ll have one.” She paused. “Be careful of the two men at table twelve.”
She grabbed a knife and began cutting and plating bread, still doing her best to be useful. Sarah and Ruth both looked at her curiously, but didn’t question her, and things went moderately well. Georgia made sure to stay clear of the kitchen door so she wouldn’t be visible from the dining room as the other girls came and went. She doubted the men would even look in that direction, but she felt it important to take that precaution anyway.
Once everyone had cleared out of the dining room, she stuck her head through the doorway, then came out of the kitchen cautiously. She was stripping tables when Giselle walked over and asked her to take a seat.
“Now, what was all that about?” Giselle asked.
Georgia leaned forward and then lowered her voice. “This is going to sound crazy, but Mr. Larsen is a Pinkerton detective here on a case, and the two men at table twelve are suspects. I helped him get more information last night, and they could have identified me.”
Giselle blinked. “I’d say that sounds exciting, not crazy. You’ll probably want to know, then, that those men were joined by a third one—a balding man with a large mustache. He was fairly tall and a bit portly. They seemed to defer to him quite a bit. Is he a suspect too?”
“I’m guessing he’s the man they were arranging to meet last night, but we never caught up to them.” Georgia thought for a minute. “Would you be willing to run over to the sheriff’s office and give him that same description? He’s assisting on the case.”
Giselle glanced around the dining room. “I can, but I’m concerned about leaving you shorthanded here.”
“I’ll take care of it—I promise.”
Giselle nodded. “All right, then. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She rose, then put her hand on Georgia’s shoulder and smiled. “Be careful. Sometimes men who deal with dangerous things are also a little bit dangerous.”
Georgia nodded to accept her friend’s kindness, but she knew Chet would never bring her to harm. The only danger she had to fear from him was the danger of losing her heart.
***
Chet sat on a bench at the train station, holding a newspaper high as though reading it when in reality, he was scanning the platform for his suspects. Their description had been given to two other deputies who were also milling about. Mr. Hoover, the station manager, had been informed as to what was going on, and to the man’s credit, even though his eyes had blinked rapidly the whole time he was being brought up to speed, he showed no other signs of emotion and handled the news quite well.
A man Chet didn’t recognize took a seat next to him. “New suspect,” he said quietly as he opened a newspaper of his own. “Balding, large mustache, portly. Seen breakfasting with the other suspects at the hotel this morning.”
Chet nodded, but didn’t reply.
The train’s passengers reassembled on the platform to begin the next leg of their journey. Chet made a show of checking his pocket watch and comparing it to his ticket lest anyone wonder why he wasn’t boarding too. He scanned the faces of each passenger as they climbed on, but he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
If his suspects had eaten breakfast at the hotel just now, they obviously weren’t lying in wait down the tracks, although their accomplices might be. He’d checked with Mr. Hoover and learned that the train with the gold would be coming through around noon. This gave the robbers in town three and a half hours to get into position. And it gave Chet the same amount of time to figure out their plan.
Once the train pulled out of the station, the deputies left to wander around the area and see if they could locate their suspects hiding out in a nearby building or business. If they’d been at the hotel just a short time before, they couldn’t have gone far. Chet was particularly interested in their balding friend, who had to be Jones.
He folded up his newspaper and strolled down the street toward the general store. It was always a good time for lemon drops, and maybe he’d pick up some chatter while he was down there.
As he walked, he stayed on the alert, but didn’t see anyone who piqued his interest until he entered the store. A balding, portly man with a mustache was purchasing some tobacco at the counter. Chet looked at some items a few shelves over, listening in on the transaction as best as he could, but he didn’t learn anything useful.
When it was his turn, he flashed the counter clerk his badge. “The man who just left—is he a regular?”
“No, sir. I’ve never seen him here before.”
“Did he mention where he was from or where he was going?”
Chet nodded. “I’ll take two pennies’ worth of lemon drops, please. And I might have a few more coins here if you’ll keep our little chat to yourself.”
The young man nodded, bagged up the candy, and accepted the money Chet handed him. Time to dig out his emergency reserves now—and this was hardly the first time he’d spent the last of his money bribing someone for information. Money might not be everything, but it certainly did loosen tongues and make people a lot friendlier.
Chapter Ten
Nothing much happened over the course of the morning. Each time a train pulled into the depot, the deputies materialized as though out of the air, but they didn’t spot anything suspicious. Either their suspects planned to board the train carrying the gold or they’d ridden out of town to meet the train outside the Topeka city boundaries, but the deputy in charge of keeping an eye on the stretch of land heading out that way hadn’t seen any such thing. By eleven o’clock, Chet was convinced that the men would be taking the noon train, and at eleven thirty when they showed up to buy their tickets, his patience was rewarded.
He glanced at the deputy nearest him to make sure the man had noticed the newcomers. Then he turned the page of his newspaper and continued to skim it, wondering just how many times he’d already seen that article about alfalfa seed or this advertisement for ladies’ hats for fall. It was hard work, looking casual.
When the train pulled into the station at long last, Chet immediately recognized Lyle Green, one of his fellow agents, as one of the passengers. A moment later, Fred Harcourt also disembarked. They didn’t acknowledge each other once on the platform, and Chet took that to mean they were keeping their distance purposely to avoid suspicion.
About two-thirds of the passengers wandered over to the hotel to get something to eat while the remainder walked around and stretched their legs. Chet wasn’t hungry—he rarely was right before going into the dangerous part of a case—but he was tempted to catch one more glimpse of Georgia before he boarded. He pushed that desire aside, however, and focused on his task. He’d known more than one agent who got distracted by personal feelings and nearly ruined their cases because of it. This case was far too important to let his mind wander for even a second.
When the train whistle blew half an hour later to alert the passengers of its departure, he got into line, but didn’t push toward the front of the line. He held back to see what position the suspects would take. They too held back a bit, placing themselves in the middle. Fred had climbed on almost immediately and Lyle was getting on behind Chet, meaning that they would be able to spread out a bit. The two deputies who had been surveilling the platform also prepared to board. Five law enforcement officers up against three known robbers and possibly more to be revealed later, with an indefinite amount of ammunition.
It was time for things to get even more interesting.
Chet positioned himself midway on the car, noting where everyone else had chosen to sit. It amused him in a rather grim sort of way how the officers and outlaws both were sprinkled around like confetti, with regular passengers intermixed. He supposed that really couldn’t have been avoided, but he was very concerned for the safety of the innocent me
n and women on the car. Thankfully, he didn’t see any children. That would have made things a hundred times worse.
As the train pulled away from the station, he settled back and lowered the brim of his hat over his eyes, pretending to sleep. Given how little rest he’d gotten the night before, a nap did sound good, but his senses were on such high alert that he was in no danger of accidentally nodding off.
He knew from speaking with the officials that the gold was located in the train’s safe, which was the car right behind the car where he sat. About fifteen minutes after the train reached its full speed, he noticed one of the original two men glancing around, and he steeled himself. It was time.
The new suspect, the man Chet chose to think of as Jones because it made sense, stood up and patted his pockets, pulled out a cigar, and stepped out the back of the car, making it seem that he was heading out for a smoke on the train’s small platform. Instead, just as Chet had assumed would happen, he crossed the coupling and entered the car behind. There should have been four armed guards in that car, so Chet knew Jones wasn’t going in there without some sort of deterrent.
Chet stood up and followed, moving out onto the platform and stepping over the coupling. With the wind howling past and the sound of the wheels on the tracks, it was difficult to hear anything else, but he did think he heard a gunshot. Pulling his pistol from the holster, he held the gun aloft as he opened the door to the other car and stepped inside.
Jones stood just inside the doorway, waving his gun back and forth. He had shot all four guards in the car, and it must have been in quick succession because none of them seemed to have been able to get off a return shot. Chet didn’t understand how that could be—four men against one, and not one return bullet had been fired?
Jones turned to Chet, a rather calm expression on his face. “Well, hello. I imagine you’ve decided to try to interfere with my little project here.”
“I did think I’d give it a go.” Chet motioned to the four men lying on the floor of the car. “You seem to have done rather well here.”
“I’m afraid I caught them off guard, if you’ll pardon the pun, but not in the way you think. You see, every one of them works for me—or I should say worked, in the past tense, as they’re obviously all dead.”
Chet nodded. “You’ve had them on your payroll for how long now?”
“Oh, about six months. You see, something of this nature takes quite a lot of planning. And you, I’m afraid, are in my way as well.”
He lifted his gun, aimed at Chet’s heart, and pulled the trigger.
***
Georgia carried plates around and refilled glasses with a smile, but her thoughts were far from her work. She had placed Chet’s letter in her pocket where she bumped against it once in a while, and it was both comforting and distracting. She’d known from the first moments she’d spoken with him that he was in a dangerous line of work, but she hadn’t understood what all that would entail for her, how she would find herself wrapped up in the thought of him while she should be thinking about blackberry pie or a piece of corn bread.
At the end of the shift, she went out and stood on the front porch for a moment, gazing in the direction of the train station. That was a silly thing to do—he wouldn’t be there. Even if he’d gotten off at the next stop, he wouldn’t possibly be back for an hour or more. But still, she looked, as though looking would somehow help him or protect him or bring him back faster.
She turned at a touch on her shoulder. Giselle stood there, a worried look on her face. “Can you please go sit with Nora? She’s feeling agitated, and I thought some soup might help her. Sarah’s making some up, and I need to reset the dining room.”
“Of course,” Georgia said. Again, she felt bad for leaving work to the others—she’d have to tell Chet she blamed him entirely for how lazy she’d been as of late. If he came back. No—when he came back. She had to think positively.
Nora gave her a wan smile when she came into the room. “I’m sorry to be causing trouble.”
“It’s not as though you’re doing it on purpose.” Georgia took a seat next to her and grabbed a cloth from the nightstand to wipe her forehead. “Are you in pain?”
“Not pain so much as restless and uncomfortable. Giselle wants to send for the doctor again, but I honestly don’t see what he could do that he hasn’t already done.”
“You could be right, but if you’re still feeling this way later, I think we should at least consult with him,” Georgia said. “I’m not fond of doctor visits either, but he’s a fair and kind one.”
“I really can’t complain about him at all. He’s likely the best doctor I’ve ever seen. It’s just . . . having to be seen at all. I’ve never liked it, and while I’d do anything to keep this baby healthy, I do struggle with the need for so many visits. Does that make sense, or do I sound horribly selfish?”
“It does make sense, and I don’t think you’re selfish at all,” Georgia replied. “Frankly, I think you should get at least fifteen minutes a day to feel however you want to feel. We spend so much time denying ourselves our feelings that I wonder if we don’t make ourselves sick because of it.”
“You could be right,” Nora said as she shifted a little bit on her pillow. “What if we all felt free to say whatever was pressing on us without feeling guilty because of it? It sounds marvelous.”
“Well, why don’t we practice it right now?” Georgia suggested. “Go ahead—what do you want to say?”
Nora took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I wish this had never happened and that my life was still the same and I was at home and going to parties.” She opened her eyes slowly. “Well, what do you know? The world didn’t come to an end.”
“You’re right—it didn’t. Rather shocking, isn’t it?” Georgia said with a laugh.
“And now it’s your turn. What feelings are you bottling up?”
“I . . .” Georgia pulled in a shaky breath. Being open and honest was a tricky thing. It was all well and good to talk about it in theory and to see someone else do it, but when it was your own turn, it was entirely different. “I wish Chet would come back so I could tell him that I love him too.”
Nora’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, I’ve missing something, haven’t I? When did he tell you he loves you? This morning?”
“No, he was already gone when I came downstairs this morning. He told me last night, and he says that when he gets back, he wants to marry me.”
“Gets back from where?”
Georgia realized that most of the other girls still didn’t know Chet’s secret. Was there any harm in telling Nora? She didn’t see how there could be—it was a secret so he could operate undercover, and because he was out on that case at the moment, surely the time for secrecy had passed.
“He’s a Pinkerton detective, and he’s here on a case,” she said, feeling she could share that much at least. “He’s out taking care of some things right now, but then he’ll be back. If he can come back, that is. I don’t know for sure what will happen.”
Nora looked concerned. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea becoming involved with a man like that, Georgia. Always in danger, having to lie for a living, facing down armed criminals—I don’t think I could ever commit myself to a man who might not come home one day.”
Georgia considered that briefly before responding, “I was having those same thoughts just earlier today, but do you know what I just realized? We can lose a loved one in any number of ways. I remember Harriet telling us how Tom fell off the roof while he was working on the hotel—that injury might have killed him. Or what if we fell in love with a cowboy and he was gored by a bull? Or a farmer, and he got run over by a thresher? Those are all gruesome thoughts, to be sure, but they’re equally as plausible. To love someone mortal is to face their inevitable death. We can’t love without acknowledging the risk of loss, can we?”
Nora reached out and took Georgia’s hand. “That was beautiful, and you’re much wiser than I would be in your sit
uation. I’d likely send him on his way and end up an unhappy spinster. I’ll likely end up a spinster anyway, all things considered.”
“Well, to be honest, I didn’t really know I felt that way until I said it aloud just now. And don’t even say that, Nora! A wonderful man is going to come along, a really wonderful man, who will love you and cherish you and sweep you off your feet.” Georgia tucked the blanket more closely around Nora’s waist. “Don’t stop believing that for a minute.”
Nora looked over Georgia’s shoulder, a smile on her face, and Georgia turned to see who had come in the room. It was Sarah, carrying a tray. “I made you some soup, and I also brought corn bread with butter and honey,” she said. “You’re under strict instructions to eat all you can. You need to keep up your strength.”
“I’ll do my best,” Nora promised.
Sarah turned to Georgia. “Can you go down and help Giselle start the laundry? I said I’d send you when I brought up the soup.”
“Of course.” Georgia stood up, but turned back to Nora. “Thank you for the talk. Remember what I said, all right?”
“All right,” Nora replied. “And thank you.”
As Georgia headed down the stairs, she thought about the value of good friends—and how very blessed she was to have them.
Chapter Eleven
The force of the bullet sent Chet flying backwards, where he rammed into the wall. He couldn’t breathe—he was stunned clean through.
Jones gave a smirk and turned toward the safe. He holstered his pistol so his hands would be free, and in that moment, Chet saw his chance. He peeled himself off the wall and lunged forward, throwing Jones off balance. The two of them toppled to the floor just as the door to the car opened and Lyle came in, his own pistol at the ready. Fred was right behind him.
“Here you go,” Chet said weakly, rolling over onto his side so the other two could get Jones restrained.
A Joyful Noise (Kansas Crossroads Book 14) Page 7
