by Deeanne Gist
They headed in the direction of Luke’s boardinghouse. It was just up the road from the lumberyard.
“So how will it work?” Luke asked.
“I’ve only been on two, but they did exactly the same thing both times.”
Only two. Maybe Luke could talk to the judge. “Tell me.”
“Everybody’s given a different location. Even me and Necker don’t go to the same place. That way, if the lawmen get wind o’ somethin’, the townsfolk can honestly tell ’em we all went in different directions.”
“That’s mighty smart.”
“Comer don’t use up all his kindling gettin’ his fire started, that’s fer sure.”
“So what happens when you reach your destination?”
“I wait around until Finkel gets there, then we go to a different spot and pick up the next feller who’s been a waitin’ fer us.”
“Finkel?”
“Yep, though I didn’t recognize him ’til he started talking.”
He drew his brows together. “Why didn’t you recognize him?”
“Ever’body, including me, is supposed to show up with their neckerchief strapped on. Shoot, I ain’t never even seen Comer without a mask.”
He pulled up short. “Never?”
“Nope.”
“Has Necker?”
Duane gave a quick shrug. “I’m not real sure, but I can tell ya Comer don’t show up until the very end.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Finkel takes us to the spot we’re going to rob the train at. Then, when the train is barreling down on us, Comer rides in so fast his horse is throwing dirt in the eyes of jackrabbits.” A tone of awe coated the boy’s voice.
“You’ve never seen him?”
He straightened. “No, but I spoke to him once while we was waitin’ fer the train.”
Luke tugged his hat lower on his head. “What about afterwards? Do you see Comer then?”
“Nope. We all have different routes fer goin’ home. One route if ever’thing’s fine. Another route if the lawmen show up. And no two are the same.”
“Then how do you get paid?”
“I get mine from Necker. I don’t know how ever’body else gets theirs.”
What a convoluted mess.
“Who else is in besides you, me, and Necker?” he asked.
“Only ones I know about are the ones at our poker games—Ragston, Finkel, Blesinger, and us three. Prysborski was with us fer a while, but he, uh, had that huntin’ accident.”
“What about that Hurless Swanning guy from the shooting tournament? Who was he?”
“I dunno. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. But Necker tol’ me later he was tryin’ to horn in on Comer’s territory, so they got rid of him.”
A light inside the window of Mrs. Sealsfield’s boardinghouse burned low. Luke paused outside the gate. “You ever have second thoughts, Duane?”
“No, why? You havin’ second thoughts?”
“I’ve just been reading a lot in the papers. The Rangers seem determined to catch Comer.”
“They caught us unawares this last time. Like to scare me to death.”
“So why not quit?”
“What else would I do?”
“I don’t know. Take over the store for your pa. Find you a woman. Have a few kids. Go to church. Just be normal, I guess.”
Duane looked off in the distance. “I’ve thought about it before. But after Prysborski, well, there ain’t no gettin’ out less’n it’s in a coffin.”
“Prysborski wasn’t an accident?”
Duane pulled in his chin. “You need ta decide if yer in or not, Luke. ’Cause if yer not in all the way, it puts the rest of us at risk.”
He wanted to tell Duane he was already at risk, but he couldn’t chance the boy going straight to Necker. “I’m just thinking out loud. Trying to think beyond today and consider tomorrow.”
“Then what ya oughta do is think about goin’ ta bed, ’cause ya won’t get much sleep tomorry.” He grinned. “But you can earn in a day what would normally take a whole year.”
Luke lifted his hat, then resettled it on his head. “If you aren’t with Comer when he splits up the money, how do you know you get a fair shake?”
“Comer divvies it up different fer each feller. The ones who have children get the most. Then ones who’re married. Then fellers like you and me. I’m purty sure that’s why Necker got married. We do most o’ our robbin’ between harvest and plantin’.”
“And Necker married Lulie after the harvest?”
“Yep.”
“That still doesn’t guarantee the money is split like it should be.”
“Aw, ya worry too much. Frank Comer’s the best dad-blamed outlaw to ever live. He wouldn’t cheat nobody.”
Other than the people he robbed, Luke thought. Or who want out of his gang.
He placed a hand on Duane’s shoulder. “You be careful tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry. Everything’ll be just fine.”
Nodding, Luke opened the gate and let himself into the boardinghouse.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Luke needed to alert his captain. The lines in town were down, but everything originated at Georgie’s cottage. So the wires going to rural areas would still be functioning. He waited in his room, allowing Duane time to make it home, then set out.
After these last few months, he knew every shortcut and back alley, especially to Georgie’s. He kept well out of sight until he was practically at her door.
Circling to the front, he knocked. “Georgie? It’s me. Can you answer? I need you to make a call.”
“Luke?” He heard her scramble; then a light came on in the living room.
The moment she opened the door, he pushed inside and closed it behind him. Instead of a nightgown, she wore a calico. What was she doing dressed at two in the morning?
“They came back,” she said, distress etched on her face.
He sucked in his breath. “Necker? He was here? Did he hurt you?”
She took a step backward. “Is that who it was? Arnold Necker?”
His pulse thrummed. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, no. He didn’t come in. He stood out front and fired his pistols, making all kinds of racket. It scared me so much, I crawled to the switchboard and tried to phone the sheriff. But the lines won’t work.” Her body trembled.
Pulling her against him, he rubbed her back. He hadn’t had a chance to think much about their argument. Truth was, he understood her position and deep down respected her for it. But the thought of doing without her kisses was not to be borne. Still, now wasn’t the time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The wires in town were shot down, but everything else should be working.”
“They aren’t. Nothing’s working. I tried every single one.”
“Blast.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze, then released her. “I’ll be right back. I need to check something outside.”
He didn’t have to go more than halfway down the walkway to see every telephone line on the pole had been shot off. He cursed. Necker had made sure there would be no way for anyone to communicate with the outside.
Why had he done that? Did he suspect something? Did he suspect Luke? Was that the real reason for tonight’s prank?
Taking the steps two at a time, he darted back inside. “Everything’s down. He shot the lines clean in two. There’ll be no way to use the telephones or the telegraph. We’re completely without communication.”
She glanced out the window. “Why would he do that?”
Walking over to his desk, he yanked open a drawer and pulled out schematics for the various lines. “I need to reach my captain. Do you know offhand which line runs out to Industry?”
“The one that leads to the Dobbings’ place.” She joined him at the desk. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“I’ll be right back.” Grabbing the lantern, he hurried out to his tool cart and snatched up his gloves
, climbers, splicing pliers, and wire grip. But when he reached the pole, he stood amongst a tangle of wires, having no idea which one went where. It would take sunlight and a great many hours to sort them out.
He returned his tools to the cart, resisting the urge to vent his frustration. But there was no time.
Georgie met him at the door. “Too dark?”
“And too much of a mess.”
“What’s happening? What do you need your captain for?”
“Comer’s going to rob the 4:53 to Houston.”
Her lips parted. “When?”
“Today.” He tossed the schematics on the desk, then headed to the back door.
“What are you going to do?”
He stopped, his hand on the knob. “I’m going to round up a posse. Lock your doors.”
Georgie resumed her position in front of the window, keeping watch over the fledglings. She’d been there all night and had dozed off until Necker’s shooting jerked her awake. Now, knowing Luke had no way to call for help from his Rangers, she was once again wide awake.
She racked her brain for a way to get word to his captain. She could ride to Industry at first light and use their switchboard, but with Brenham’s phone lines in the shape they were, the entire town would be in an uproar. Were she to leave during a crisis of this magnitude, SWT&T would be sure to dismiss her.
She supposed she could send Bettina, but it was an awfully long way for the little girl to go. In addition to the fact the switchboard was housed in a saloon.
Mrs. Patrick would have helped her, but she and her husband were in Jefferson visiting relatives. Georgie went through her list of acquaintances and customers. The men would most likely be helping Luke. The women either had children, were too old, too young, or had sympathies for Comer.
In the end, her thoughts circled back to Bettina. It wouldn’t be the first time the girl had gone to a bar. Heaven knew she’d had to haul her father home any number of times. And if she dressed like a boy, then perhaps no one would ever be the wiser.
She drummed her fingers. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She jiggled her chair. Finally, she rose and placed a palm against her cool windowpane. “Sit tight, little ones. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
The von Schillers’ shack looked more like a horse shed than a house. Entire pieces of siding had splintered. The right side of the lean-to’s roof hung precariously from the eaves. And the porch had been torn completely off.
Georgie had no idea what to do. Should she knock on the door? What if Mr. von Schiller opened it? What if he didn’t? She couldn’t just walk in and start peeking under bedclothes.
She scanned the dark oblong windows, the gaping holes like yawning entrances to fathomless caves. If she knew which one belonged to Bettina, she’d throw rocks through it. But she didn’t, and she couldn’t risk guessing wrong.
In the end, she put her fingers in her mouth and did her cardinal call. The high-pitched sound pierced the air as loudly as a train whistle. She held her breath. After a few moments, she positioned her fingers in her mouth again, when a small silhouette raced around the corner.
Relief swept through her. “Over here,” she hissed.
“What’s happened?” The girl had either taken time to dress or she didn’t own a nightgown.
“I’ve just found out the 4:53 to Houston is going to be robbed today.”
Bettina’s eyes widened. “You gonna tell the sheriff?”
She shook her head. “He won’t do anything. Besides, we mustn’t tell anyone other than the Rangers. I tried to alert them by phone, but the lines all across town have been shot down by . . . by some pranksters.”
“Don’t ya think that’s a good thing? ’Cause it’s probably Comer who’s doin’ the holdup, and if word got to the Rangers, they might catch Comer unawares.”
Squatting down, she took the girl by the shoulders. “Listen, Bettina. You remember those men who broke into my home and burned up our hats?”
“Why, shore.”
“Well, we can never get those back. And that’s what Frank Comer does. He takes things which don’t belong to him and folks never get it back.”
The girl shook her head. “He takes stuff from trains and banks.”
“It’s not the banks’ money, though. Banks store money for their customers. The money belongs to those people. And trains cart money to business owners so they can pay the people who work for them. What if the money on today’s train belongs to SWT&T? If Mr. Comer robs it, then SWT&T won’t be able to pay us, will they?”
Bettina scratched her head. “Why would SWT&T put money on a train?”
“To send it to you and me, and then on to the next town where SWT&T has workers.” She could see the girl waffling. “I need you to take a message to the switchboard operator in Industry. Will you do it? You’ll get to dress like a boy.”
After a long pause, Bettina nodded. “Well, I reckon. If I get to wear my trousers.”
“That’s a girl. And you’ll need to hide your hair in a hat, as well.”
“All right. When ya want me ta leave?”
“Right now. While you get ready, I’ll wake up the livery and bring you a mount.”
“I don’t ride.”
“What?”
“I don’t ride. Don’t know how.”
Georgie blinked. She’d assumed Bettina walked everywhere because her father couldn’t afford to keep or even rent a horse. It never occurred to her the girl didn’t know how. “Oh, dear. That just won’t do. You can’t walk clear to Industry.”
“Shore I can. Me and Pa done it a million times. One o’ his favorite drinkin’ holes is there. The H.H. Boelsche Saloon.”
She straightened. “Why, that’s where the switchboard is.”
“I know.”
“It’ll take forever. By the time you get there and send word to Ranger headquarters, it’ll be too late for them to send out a company of men.”
“Maybe. But they might could get some on the 4:53. If’n they did that, then they’d catch the fellers red-handed.”
Biting her lip, she looked around. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“So?”
“So you can’t just walk to Industry in the middle of the night.”
“If I were a boy, would you feel the same way?”
She rubbed her forehead. Truth was, she’d have asked Fritz or one of the other boys in her Junior Audubon Society to go if she thought their parents would let them. But she knew they wouldn’t.
“Well? Would ya?” Bettina pressed.
“Probably not,” she admitted.
“What about the way yer always tellin’ me a gal can do anything a feller can?”
“This is different.”
“It ain’t. ’Sides, I’ve made up my mind. I’m goin’ whether ya say I can or not. Ain’t nothin’ you can do ta stop me.”
She’d seen that look in the girl’s eye on more than one occasion. With a sigh of resignation, she gave Bettina her blessing. “Just remember, you can’t tell anyone other than the Industry operator.”
Georgie didn’t bother returning to her vigil in the corner. Daybreak would be within another hour and the fledglings’ parents could take over the task. Falling onto her bed, she closed her eyes, second-guessing herself once again. If she’d had any idea Bettina would have to walk to Industry, she wouldn’t have involved her. And now it was too late. Bettina would have long since left. She prayed for the girl’s safety, but sleep overtook her before she ever made it to the amen.
Something was wrong. Georgie pushed herself up off the bed and glanced out the window. Dawn had just begun to lighten the sky.
Then she realized. It was quiet. Too quiet. Why weren’t the fledglings squalling? Cardinals were early risers.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she rose and padded to the living room window. Even though dawn touched the horizon, it was still too dark to see anything through the glass. Without taking time to grab a blanket, she hu
rried to the back porch and tiptoed toward the ligustrum.
No sound. No movement.
She edged closer, then pulled back. The fledglings were gone. She looked left and right. No sign of them.
Her heart sped up. She knew good and well they hadn’t been taught to fly in the dead of night.
Hurrying off the porch and into the yard, she scanned the trees. And then she saw Prince Albert, his bright crimson coat a fine jewel against the green of the elm’s leaves. He hopped along its branch.
Chit chit chit. A short, sharp cry of distress. Victoria fluttered down, landing beside him, then repeated the staccato notes.
Georgie whirled back around, covering her mouth with both hands. No. No. Please, Lord.
But there was no question. Something had snatched up the babies during the night. She saw no sign of disturbance. The ligustrum had no broken branches. The nest wasn’t cockeyed. Everything looked perfect. Except the cradle was empty.
For the first time, she realized how bright and noticeable the woven, colorful ribbon was. A sick feeling churned in her stomach.
Was that what alerted the predator? Was she at fault? Letting out a low moan, she dropped to her knees, for whether it had been snake, cat, hawk, or raccoon, one thing was certain. Edward, Alice, and Leopold were dead.
She rocked back and forth, keening, grieving. How could this have happened? She’d watched over them all night.
But that wasn’t exactly true. She’d dozed off and on, then been interrupted by Necker and Luke. She’d abandoned them completely to rouse Bettina, only to fall asleep the moment she returned. And at some point, something had grabbed those fledglings.
If only she’d stayed awake. If only she’d never left them. Her watery gaze traveled over the utopia she’d created for her birds. Oaks, cottonwood, and elm. Buttonbush, sumac, and honeysuckle. Columbine, Turk’s cap, and coneflower. She’d given them everything they needed. A veritable Garden of Eden.
Yet a serpent had come calling and it had swallowed up the helpless chicks.
No, she wanted to scream. They were safe with me. I provided for them.
