Ginger Snap

by Marisa Masterson

  Whitey’s massive head shook, sending a flash of light as his white mane moved in the lantern glow. “Nah, the man doesn’t drink with us. I’ve never seen him drunk.”

  He held up a hand and stood silent for a moment. “Without that gun of his, he’s not much of a man. Bet a little roughness would get us what we want.”

  The soft, tender tapping of his fist on his jaw was the only tell that Collins was nervous. He nodded to Whitey, giving him the go ahead. When the man would have left, Collins stopped him with a question.

  “What about your man at the fort? Did Guy tell him our plans?”

  Massive shoulders turned back to him. Whitey threw him a devilish smile.

  “Sort of. He said it was Miss Ginger Snap who reported about a planned robbery. Never saw Guy.”

  “Well, what’s gonna happen?”

  Whitey paused, enjoying the anxiety he’d sensed in Collins. His power grab made the leader want to draw his weapon. Only the fact that he needed the other man stopped him from pulling out the handgun. Later, when this was over, he’d remember this moment and pay the man back.

  “She thinks the army will send men to arrest you all when you grab the gold. But the corporal made the report disappear, he says. Nobody knows nothin’ bout it.”

  Before the boss could respond, the local left. Collins growled into the empty livery.

  “I promise you, Whitey Nielsen, you’re not gonna see too many more sunrises.”

  Grabbing the lantern, Collins stomped his way over the livery’s threshold. If he’d looked backward, he’d have glimpsed an older version of the man he’d just threatened. A very worried man.

  Chapter 10

  Melvin Edwards lived over his offices.

  That fact complicated Theo’s plans. During the day, Melvin guarded certain files. Mrs. Perkins’ and Guy Snap’s files were among those the man hoarded. To see them, Theo figured on breaking into the office one night, when most activity in Kearney had shifted toward the saloons.

  This afternoon changed that awful plan. Melvin received a telegram that had the man nearly dancing a jig. He’d raced from the office, for once leaving behind his portmanteau containing papers.

  “Headed to the telegraph office.” Those words flew behind the man. Theo caught sight of his coattails flapping before he was gone.

  One quick wire. How long did he have if Melvin was only sending a short telegram?

  Picking up a document, he carried it with him toward Melvin’s lair. Cautiously, he entered the office and crouched on the floor in front of the portmanteau. Opening it’s clasps, he raised the lid.

  Nothing. It was empty. Where were the files?

  Carefully reclosing and positioning the case, he stood. Looking around the office, Theo tried to think like a man with secrets. Where would he hide the files?

  Wooden crates containing their clients papers stood in a small room next to this one. Melvin’s office appeared almost barren. It gave one the idea of emptiness. A false idea, Theo knew. They had to be here.

  The empty walls had no pictures for the man to hide files behind. In fact, the only thing on the walls was a long cabinet. He quickly opened both doors.

  One side of the cabinet groaned with items. It had so much stuffed into it that a cup fell out when Theo opened the door. Reaching out, he caught it before it landed on the ground.

  Curiously, the other side of the cabinet was empty. Not even a piece of paper lay inside. He felt along the edges of its back. At the bottom, his fingers found a space.

  The back wall of the cabinet slowly lifted. Edges of paper appeared.

  Footfalls had him stiffening. He lowered the false back and shut the cabinet.

  When Melvin entered the room, Theo stood by the man’s desk. He carefully centered the document before turning to look at his boss.

  “What are you doing in my private office?” It was an unspoken accusation. The man’s color revealed his anger as much as his words had.

  Theo shrugged, hiding his nervousness. “Only wanted to put the Kramer document here for you to read over. I need your approval.”

  The older man glowered. “You should have handed it to me when I returned.”

  Slowly, Theo looked down at the document and then back at Melvin. “Maybe it wasn’t as important as I thought. Guess it’s one more reason I shouldn’t be a lawyer.”

  The other man harrumphed before shooing Theo out. He slammed his door behind his assistant’s back. The sound caused Theo, already nervous, to jump.

  Theo stood with a hand to his chest, breathing slowly and deeply. Behind the door, he heard the grating sound of the false wall lifting.

  A terrible thought seized him, stealing away his breath. What if he’d left an end of one of those papers behind it peeking out?

  No, if he’d done that, Melvin would be out here now. Confronting, shouting.

  Once again inhaling and exhaling slowly, Theo moved to his desk in the front of the building. He sat near the building’s door, working on documents and waiting for business.

  No one entered or waited so he used the time. He needed a plan. His longing for Ginger drove him to look into the hidden files.

  He supposed some people might consider what he wanted to do as trespassing. Not once did Theo feel that way. No, he had to help those two women, Mrs. Perkins and Ginger.

  To Theo, finding the files wasn’t a crime. It was more like Jonathon climbing the impossible cliff to defeat the Philistines. The story in the first book of Samuel perfectly fit.

  Doing something he’d been told not to do. It had to be done so the bad guys didn’t win.

  Melvin played poker once a week. His usual night to do that was tonight. Theo had to act while the man was out.

  His mind was deeply absorbed by his plans. When someone politely cleared his throat, Theo jumped. Struggling not to fall from his chair, he turned an embarrassed face to the newcomer.

  A wrinkled face under a shock of white-blonde hair studied him with wry amusement. “Wool gathering, boy? Might you tell the boss I want some advice?”

  Shaking his head, Theo denied him. “I’m sorry, but I am not able to interrupt him at the moment. But, come this way.”

  Theo led the heavily muscled man into the small room reserved for client conferences. The wood of the chair groaned under the man’s bulk. Ignoring it, Theo moved to his own seat behind the small desk.

  “Now, I know we haven’t met. Still, I’ve seen you ‘round town. You’re Mr. Nielsen, the blacksmith, right?”

  The older man nodded his head. “I own the livery, too.”

  His comment intrigued Theo. Not because of the words. No, it was the grief he heard in them that concerned him.

  Sitting straight with his shoulders back, Theo did his best to impress the man. “I am a fully-qualified lawyer. You can explain your situation to me, and I’d be happy to help.”

  For a long moment, Nielsen sat unmoving and only studied him. Then, nodding, he explained his situation.

  “I’ve been suspicious of a small bunch o’ men who’ve been coming late and hanging ‘round my livery. Whitey’d been told to keep an eye on ‘em.”

  At Theo’s nod to continue, the man sighed heavily as he explained. “I’ve learned they’re up to no good. Planning a robbery. Outlaws in my own business! And now my son’s been drawn into their group.”

  Interest had Theo leaning forward, almost across the small desk. “Does it happen to be a robbery of a gold shipment?”

  Jaw dropping, Nielsen stared. Closing his mouth, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh my stars! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em!”

  Hurriedly, Theo held up his hands to stop the man’s thoughts. “No! A friend overheard the plan. He went to Fort Kearney so the Army can stop the gang.”

  Snorting in derision, Mr. Nielsen shook his white head. “No good. I heard my own boy say the corporal at the fort ripped up the report.”

  With graveness, the man pronounced the words. “No one’s coming.” The man went on
to retell everything he heard the night before from the shadows.

  A sinking sensation caused Theo to gulp before he spoke. “Which concerns you more, the robbery or your son’s involvement?”

  The man scowled. “The later, don’t you know? A man don’t like to think he’s not raised his boy to know right from wrong.”

  Returning the scowl with a somber gaze, the younger man folded his hands on the desk and gave his advice. “Your son is already an accessory to a crime that will be stopped. Trust me on that.”

  Nielsen nodded, grief apparent by the set of his mouth. “So, what do I do? Is there any hope?”

  “Hmm.” Thinking for a minute, Theo rubbed his jaw. Then he gave an impersonal smile, meant to gain the client’s trust. “So far, your son hasn’t actually helped them commit the crime, from what you’ve said. You have to convince Whitey that the gang will be caught and put in prison.”

  Hope and fear mixed on Mr. Nielsen’s face. “Not gonna be easy. Still, you’ve given me a way to save my son.”

  Rising, the blacksmith suddenly stopped. With brows raised, he asked the tough question.

  A hint of challenge sounded in the man’s voice. “How’re you so sure the gang’ll be caught? No one’s coming to help, and the sheriff’s in on it.”

  Confidence that he didn’t feel colored Theo’s answer. “Why, I’ll go for the Army myself? After all, I’m here to help.”

  Chapter 11

  Tomorrow, Kearney would celebrate. Ginger planned to be a part of it.

  Her first 4th of July picnic. Her first dance. She knew it wouldn’t be the same without her mama’s lace gloves. Also, Mrs. Hooper had promised to weave Ginger’s severed braid into her hair for the dance. That was why Ginger decided to face her family at the farm.

  Trying to overcome any dread at seeing Step Pappy, she let her mind remember the night before. Walking down the dusty road, she hummed a little of the song Mrs. Hooper had played the evening before. While the music flowed from the piano, Miss Mari Lisa moved Ginger through the steps of a dance. While she acted dotty, the woman turned out to be an excellent teacher.

  She’d patiently explained how ginger needed to move. With little instruction, Ginger found herself able to match Mari Lisa’s movements as they waltzed around the sitting room.

  When her student grew confident with the steps, Mari Lisa lapsed into stories of parties before the war. Finishing one, the woman giggled, “And that’s how I broke the nicest fan I ever owned. Nasty man that he was, he deserved having it cracked over his head instead of just his wandering hand!”

  Ginger imagined the scene in her mind, laughing along with the woman. Lost in the older woman’s memory, Ginger startled at the warm hand laid on her upper arm.

  Whirling, she found herself only inches away from a well-formed male chest. Looking upward, she met warm eyes twinkling down at her.

  “May I have the next dance?”

  From her seat at the piano, Mrs. Hooper answered for Ginger. “Mr. Edwards, a wonderful idea. Here’s one composed only last decade that I love to play.” Rummaging quickly through sheet music, the woman soon played the opening bars of the Blue Danube Waltz.

  Holding his hand out to her, Theo waited. Blushing, Ginger laid her much smaller hand in his and allowed herself to be swept into his arms.

  Watching, Mari Lisa objected. “No, Mr. Edwards! That is much too close.”

  Giving Ginger a rueful grin, Theo placed a few additional inches between them as he swept her around the large sitting room. Oh, but dancing with him hadn’t been anything like Mari Lisa’s instructions. Suddenly, the man, the music and herself seemed to meld into one entity as they glided around the room.

  He didn’t speak, allowing her to focus on the steps, if needed. Instead, his eyes conveyed his interest and joy at holding her. She remembered, oddly, a sort of possession in those eyes. Almost like she’d received a wordless marriage proposal.

  Remembering it now in the light of day, Ginger giggled. The romance of Pride and Prejudice must be warping her brain. “I don’t want to turn into a silly Lydia,” she spoke aloud.

  Sudden hoofbeats behind her told her someone hurried down the road. She moved into the shady trees at the edge and waited.

  A man with a blaze of white hair galloped past her. She made a noise of disgust at the sweat of his horse. In the July heat, he mercilessly drove the animal on at a terrible speed.

  She watched, surprised when he turned into the lane ahead of her. Whitey Nielsen was headed to her farm. Odd since he’d never come before dark.

  An urgency moved her faster through the dust of the road. Her quick walk turned into a run as Ginger came to the start of the farm lane.

  Ignoring the house, she headed for the shed where Step Pappy kept his still. By afternoon, he usually stayed in the cool shade of the shed rather than work his field of corn.

  Raised voices alarmed her. At the open door of the building, she saw Whitey shake a finger in Wiley Snap’s face.

  The older man nodded. His words chilled Ginger.

  He whimpered and then spoke in a shaky voice. “Leave me alone. I’ll tell ya what yer wantin’ to know. The girl ain’t nothin’ to me.”

  “So, is there a girl? Or did Guy dress up like a girl to hide?”

  Before Wiley could speak, Ginger yelled from the doorway. “Step Pappy, no! Don’t tell him.”

  At her words, Whitey whirled. His elbow caught Wiley under the chin and threw him back toward the plow stored at the back of the shed. The sickening sound of skull meeting plow shear echoed in the shed, sounding again and again in Ginger’s brain like the reverberation of a gong.

  Stomach clenching, she slowly approached the prone man. Whitey stammered behind her. When he spoke, a sob erupted along with his stammered explanation. “I didn’t mean—Just wanted to shake him up a little. Didn’t plan to—”

  Blood steadily seeped into the dry earth of the shed’s floor. Ginger had sharpened the plow shears after the last use. She’d done such a good job that the shear had been able to embed into Wiley’s skull and gone deeper.

  Shaky fingers felt along Wiley’s neck. Not finding a pulse, she held a trembling finger under his nose. No air tickled her skin. Nothing.

  “Best go to the barn and hitch the wagon up for me, Whitey.”

  Whitey’s face shone as pale as his hair while he stared at the body. Then, he spoke rapidly. “Yeah. Doctor. We gotta get him to the doc.”

  With a shake of her head, Ginger stopped his rambling. “Nah. He has to go to the undertaker.”

  Ashen-faced, the man’s shoulders shook with sobs. “I didn’t mean—It was my elbow. It hit his—”

  With a hand held up for him to stop, Ginger took control. “It’s my word against yours if I wanted to say that I watched you murder him.”

  The sobs grew louder. “Now, I’m not gonna lie. Just wanted you to feel the noose around you since I heard you took up with Collins and his bunch.”

  A jarring quiet filled the shed at her words. Whitey stared. Ginger nodded to emphasize her words.

  “You could be facing prison if you keep running with them!”

  Whitey looked lost. Hopeless, in fact. “They’ll kill me if I don’t do what I promised.”

  Ginger threw him a look of disgust. “Collins will kill you regardless. He’s not gonna share gold with some local hick.”

  “What should I do, then?” He truly looked baffled.

  To Ginger, it was all too clear. “Go to Collins and tell him Wiley fell before you learned anything about me. Listen in for more details of his plans.” She stopped to see if Whitey would cooperate. His nod flopped his drooping hair against a sweating brow.

  Ginger folded her arms across her chest, her stance showing that she was in control of the situation. “Good. Tell Theo Edwards anything you learn. He’ll take it from there.”

  Finally, she made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now, go. Get the wagon.”

  Heading for the house, Ginger stiffene
d her spine for the scene to come. Opening the back door, she caught sight of Amy May bent over a mound of dough, kneading it fiercely. She looked up, first with surprise and then contempt filling her face.

  “What ya doin’ here? Yer only bringin’ trouble to my door.”

  Ginger easily could have reminded the grumpy woman that it was her door not Amy May’s. It was Guy’s farm and, hopefully Ginger’s. That was so unimportant at the moment considering the body in the shed.

  For a moment, Ginger stuttered as she tried to form the words. Finally, she formed one single sentence. “Wiley had an accident in the shed.”

  The other woman’s eyes widened. Then, even with the bulk of her pregnancy, she raced out of the house.

  Ginger didn’t follow her. Waiting in the kitchen, she heard the woman’s wail through the open windows. Looking out one window, she watched Whitey load the limp form. Amy May held onto an arm as if she intended to pull the corpse away from the man placing him in the wagon.

  Willard ran from the barn. He pulled at his screaming mother. Clung to her when she wrapped her arms around the man-sized boy. Watching, Ginger felt alone.

  Alone, except for an unspoken promise sent her way while dancing.

  Ginger drove the wagon into town. She, and not Amy May, dealt with the undertaker. She, not Whitey, explained to Mr. Nielsen and Sheriff Riley what happened in the shed.

  By the end of the day, Ginger felt like a rag that had been rung out and hung up to dry. Putting Amy May to bed, she lay alongside the woman in the bed where Ginger had always slept.

  Amy May had refused to sleep in the room she’d shared with Wiley. Tenderly, Ginger had taken the cantankerous woman’s arm. At that moment, she allowed Ginger to lead her like a child to the other bedroom.

  Leaving her there, she moved to retrieve Amy May’s summer nightgown from the larger bedroom. A gloom in that room caused Ginger to shiver. She wouldn’t want to sleep in there, either.

  After helping her dress for bed, Ginger helped the woman to lay down against cool, white sheets. Once under that sheet, Amy May pleaded for Ginger to settle beside her.