“I wish I could have known your husband.”
“I wish you could have, too.” Her eyes crinkled. “Right now you have to concentrate on finding your own man.”
Katie blushed. “It’s not that easy.” It certainly hadn’t been for her.
Mrs. Bracegirdle picked up the menu and perused it. “Actually, finding the right man is not the problem. Recognizing him is the real challenge. You’d be surprised at what’s right there under your very muzzle.”
Right now the only thing Katie hoped to find under her nose was a sign pointing to the killer. She glanced around the room. God, if there’s a clue here, help me see it.
Tully was in deep conversation with a cattleman. Buzz watched them as he polished the brass door handles, a look of uncertainty on his face. Poor man had his hands full with Tully.
Charley drained the last of his coffee. He said something to Mary-Lou, bringing a smile to her face, and left. Abigail refilled Long-Shot’s cup and laughed at whatever he said. Next to the door Culpepper counted money.
Katie sighed. If there was a clue here, she certainly couldn’t see it. She filled a cup from the coffee urn and set the steaming brew in front of the old lady.
“I’ll have the usual.” Mrs. Bracegirdle folded the menu and set it aside. She always read the entire menu even though her order never varied.
Katie smiled and called Mrs. Bracegirdle’s order to the kitchen. Chef Gassy threw her a kiss before turning to the stove. Neither he nor Miss Thatcher mentioned the dance, but the dorm matron had been heard humming from time to time and just that morning failed to notice Tully was wearing face powder.
As for the chef, Katie swore she heard him whistling earlier when she stepped into the kitchen. He also failed to yell upon finding paw prints all over the chopping board. Instead, he surprised Katie by setting out a bowl of milk for Spook Cat.
She turned back to the counter. “Has anyone rented the apartment over the bank?” She spoke in a casual voice one might use to make small talk.
“No, and they won’t, either.”
Katie frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“The last couple who rented it moved in and out in less than a day. It’s that darn cat. It thinks it’s Jenny Lind or something.”
Mrs. Bracegirdle added a dollop of cream to her coffee and stirred. “I spoke to the dogcatcher, and he told me it’s not his job to catch cats.”
“Did you ever see a light in the apartment?” Katie asked. “You know, through the window?”
“No lights. Just opera.” Mrs. Bracegirdle blew on her coffee and took a sip before continuing. “Like I told you before, Branch checked it out but didn’t find anything but a banging shutter.” She set her cup down and added more cream.
Katie pondered this a moment before asking, “Do you remember Ginger?”
“Oh yes. Such a pretty little thing. She always served me breakfast. It’s a terrible thing that happened to her. Priscilla, too.”
“Did you know that Ginger’s shoe was found in front of your place?”
Mrs. Bracegirdle set her coffee cup down with a clink. “My place?”
“Actually, on the corner in front of the bank. I believe she might have lost it the night she died.”
Mrs. Bracegirdle pursed her lips. “That’s the first I heard of a shoe. How do you suppose it got there?”
“That’s a good question,” Katie said.
“I’m telling you, there are some mighty strange things going on.” Mrs. Bracegirdle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Did I tell you about the time I found a strange man in my bed?”
Chapter 38
Katie waited for Branch to unlock the apartment over the bank. A horse and wagon passed on the street below, stirring up dust. The door to Mrs. Bracegirdle’s place remained shut.
“I’m worried about her,” Katie whispered. How was it possible to sound so lucid even when talking about singing cats and strange men in her bed? “I don’t know that she should be living alone.”
“Her son keeps a pretty good eye on her, but I’ll talk to him.”
She nodded. “Good idea.”
The door opened with a creak of its leather hinges, and Branch gestured her inside.
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” he said.
“I told you. I thought I saw a light.”
They stood facing each other and a ripple of awareness rushed through her. Suddenly, she was in his arms again—or so it seemed—his lips on hers. The vision was so real it took her breath away.
Shaken, she turned away. Mrs. Bracegirdle wasn’t the only one suffering from hallucinations. Time to concentrate on the investigation and not the man.
She might have done just that had he not stopped her with a hand to her wrist.
“The other night…,” he began, his voice thick with meaning. “We should talk about it.”
She looked back at him, and her barely contained emotions took another perilous leap. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she whispered. “You needed a friend and it was me.”
He released her arm. “Is that what you think?”
She nodded and waited for him to object. No, no, she wanted him to say. The kiss meant much more than mere friendship. It meant the world to me. It meant I love you….
He said none of the words she longed to hear. Instead he stared at her long and hard before silently turning away.
She wanted to go to him. Lay her head on his chest and declare it all a lie. But fear prevented her from doing what her heart dictated. What if he rejected her like all the others? Her family. Nathan…
She’d managed to survive the rejections of her past, but she didn’t think she could survive his. Already she had proof of that. The piercing pain in her chest could only come from a broken heart, pieces of which were lodged in her throat.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look around. Work. That’s what she must concentrate on. It saved her in the past and she prayed it would save her now.
The room was empty and as forlorn as the void inside her. Flecks of wallpaper dripped from the wall like the tears she was too proud—or maybe even too stubborn—to shed.
Clamping down on her thoughts, she focused on the golden beam of sunlight streaming through the windows. Oddly enough, the cardboard sign she’d seen the night before was now on the carpet. She picked it up and placed it on the windowsill facing out.
Something bothered her nose and she sneezed. “What’s that funny smell?” She glanced at him. Had he heard the tremor in her voice? She hoped not. She cleared her throat. “Smells like metal.”
“Smells like dust to me,” Branch said.
All three rooms were empty except for a lantern in the kitchen.
Branch leaned against the kitchen doorframe with his arms crossed while she checked the cabinets and drawers. Even the light from the kitchen window failed to penetrate the darkness of his eyes.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, eyeing a tin cup in the kitchen sink. “For now.”
She wiped her damp hands on the side of her skirt. “I just want to check the bedroom again,” she murmured. There was nothing to check, but it allowed her an excuse to escape his scrutiny and get her rampaging emotions under control.
Moments later, she found him in the parlor staring out the window. The window shade had been lifted all the way up. He looked like he was a million miles away. Standing behind him, she rose on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. The window overlooked the street where Ginger had lost her shoe.
“Sorry to waste your time,” she said.
For the longest while he said nothing, and she hesitated to break the silence. She wanted so much to touch him. To bring him back to the present. To bring him back to her. But it was hard enough just being in the same room with him.
Finally he turned. “He knows,” he said, and the look of devastation on his face nearly tore her apart.
She drew in her breath. She didn’t have to
ask who or what. His expression told her all she needed to know. “How?”
“I told him.”
She frowned. “But why?”
“I decided to take the pastor’s advice and put my trust in God.”
She bit her lip. “That… that’s good, isn’t it?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Judge Hendricks arrives on the midday train. He agreed to postpone Scarface’s trial and hold a custody hearing instead.” He cleared his voice. “I’d like you to be there. That is, if you can get off work.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not sure I can be of any help.”
“You could say something nice about me to the judge. I’ll need all the character witnesses I can get.”
“I can do that.” She wanted to kick herself for not realizing sooner that he was half out of his mind with worry. Here she was thinking about her own feelings, her own needs, while he feared losing his son.
“The hearing will be held at the hotel at two,” he said and hesitated. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with Pickens.”
She discounted his concern with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter. Working at the Harvey House has got me nowhere. I’d have done just as well staying at the hotel.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I know how much you want to find the killer. We both do.”
She nodded. “Right now let’s concentrate on the hearing. We could both use some good news.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If you’re done here—”
“I am.” Turning, she walked to the door. She prayed she had better luck convincing the judge that Branch deserved keeping his son than she had in tracking down a killer. God, please make it so….
Chapter 39
The hearing was held on the second floor of the hotel in a room set aside for just that purpose. Katie slipped into the room quietly and sat in the back row next to newspaper editor Clovis Read. He nodded a greeting, pen and paper in hand.
The circuit judge was a barrel-shaped man with a sweeping mustache and sideburns so furry as to look like earmuffs. He sat at the front of the room facing them, his head ringed with cigar smoke. Wire-framed spectacles teetered on the tip of his nose as he perused his notes.
No sooner had Katie seated herself than Branch glanced over his shoulder. He winked before turning back to the man next to him, probably his lawyer. Reminding herself to breathe, she pressed her hands together on her lap.
She wouldn’t even be here had Chef Gassy not helped her sneak away and promised to cover for her. Ever since Katie had convinced Miss Thatcher to go to the dance with him, it seemed there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
The clock on the wall indicated it was after two. Still there was no sign of Clayborn. Did that mean he had changed his mind about seeking custody of his son? Oh, God, please make it so.
The judge pulled the watch out of his coat pocket and flipped the gold case open. “We’ll give Mr. Clayborn another few minutes before we get started.”
The room was hot and airless, yet no one had thought to open the windows. In a front seat Reverend Bushwell swatted a fly away with his hat.
The judge clamped down on his cigar with his teeth as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.
A restless buzz filled the air like swarming bees. Next to her the newspaper editor doodled on his notepad.
If Clayborn failed to show, would the judge rule in Branch’s favor through default? Now wouldn’t that be an answer to prayer?
Just then the door swung open, and all heads, including Katie’s, swiveled toward the back of the room. Only it wasn’t Clayborn. Instead, a dark-skinned woman ran into the room, obviously in distress.
“Andy’s gone!” she cried. “Andy’s gone.” She then collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
Branch shot out of his seat, ran to the back of the room, and stooped by her side. “What do you mean, gone?”
The woman could only manage one word, but it was enough. “Clayborn.”
A collective gasp filled the makeshift courtroom, and Katie jumped to her feet.
“When?” The blood drained from Branch’s face. “Tell me!”
“Just a while ago,” the woman said between sobs. “Saw him snatch Andy and… and take off on his horse.”
Branch straightened, hands clenched by his side. “Which way did he go?”
“West. He was travelin’ west.”
Katie ran down the stairs, through the hotel lobby, and out the door. “Wait!” she called. “Branch, wait!”
Already astride his saddle, Branch circled his horse to face her.
“I’m going with you!” she called.
“There’s no time.” He spun Midnight in the opposite direction and raced away.
Whirling about, she spotted Reverend Bushwell walking out of the hotel. She rushed over to him and whispered in his ear.
“I’m a Pinkerton detective and I need your horse.”
His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, but he nodded.
“Thank you!” She quickly untied the minister’s horse from the hitching post and jabbed her foot in the stirrup. Throwing her leg over the saddle, she’d barely settled astride before yelling, “Gid-up!”
The horse took off running.
A mule-drawn wagon blocked the road ahead while a farmer unloaded his crops. Katie caught up to Branch just as the farmer cleared the road.
“Did you see Andy pass by?” Branch called to the farmer.
The man’s face was as dark and wrinkled as a prune. “Nope. Can’t say that I did.” The farmer started to say more, but already Branch had taken off, Midnight’s thunderous hooves pounding the dirt road. The minister’s mare was smaller than Branch’s gelding, and Katie had a hard time keeping up.
Dogs barked, and chickens flew to the tops of fences, scattering feathers.
They saw no sign of Clayborn, but still they kept going, past fields of wildflowers and tall grass. Past herds of cattle and horses. Past acres of wheat and knee-high corn.
They rode for a good half hour before Branch reined in his horse. He twisted in his saddle and pointed to the side of the road. “That’s Andy’s!” he yelled.
She pulled up alongside of him and followed his gaze to the abandoned shoe—the first sign they were on the right trail. But that gave her little comfort. Between here and the cheerless prairie to the west was an abundance of hills and trees. Before Kansas became a state, this area flourished with outlaw hideouts. A person could get lost in those hills and never be found.
Branch slipped from the saddle and snatched the shoe off the ground. He held it to his chest before sticking it into his saddlebag.
Just as he mounted his horse, a gunshot ripped through the quiet, startling a flock of blackbirds. Squawking, the crows rose from the treetops, creating a swirling black cloud overhead. Branch raced away, clods of dirt flying from beneath his horse’s pounding hooves.
Acting purely out of instinct, Katie spurred her mount and took off after him.
Chapter 40
Branch pressed his finger to his mouth. He and Katie lay on their stomachs side by side in a dry creek staring at the Connor cabin.
Branch pulled out his Colt. Katie already had her weapon in hand, though Branch was hesitant to put the ridiculously small derringer in the same category as his own.
He took the derringer from her and replaced it with his own revolver. “That’s what I call a gun,” he said, reaching into his holster for his second pistol. “Cover me. I’m going in.”
She grabbed his arm. Surprised by the strength of her grip, he looked down at her hand before meeting her gaze.
“Be careful,” she whispered. The concern in her eyes filled him with longing, and he inhaled sharply. It had been a long time since anyone looked at him like that. Too long.
He sucked in his breath. He hadn’t wanted her to come. Now he was glad to have her by his side—a selfish thought. Still, it felt like she belonged there. But should anything happen to her… Oh, God, no!
Squelching the thought, he squeezed her hand.
“What would your Pinkerton bosses do under these circumstances?” he asked, hoping to tease the worried look from her face.
“They would try to negotiate with the hostage taker.”
“Negotiate, eh?” Gaze riveted on the cabin, he jumped up and left the gully on the run. He was halfway to the cabin when a voice called out.
“Pa!”
For a split second he was confused by the still-closed cabin door. He then realized Andy’s voice came from the woods, not the cabin. He spun around just as Andy broke away from Clayborn and ran.
“Pa!”
Clayborn was right behind him. “Come back here, you!”
“Watch out!” Katie screamed.
Branch’s gaze shot to the cabin. The door was open a crack, and the sun glinted against the muzzle of a rifle.
“Don’t shoot!” he yelled at the hidden gunman. He darted toward his son, but Clayborn reached him first and threw the startled boy down to the ground.
The sharp crack of a rifle was met with the heavy boom of a Colt pistol. Katie’s blast did the trick, for the cabin door slammed shut.
It took only a second for Branch to reach his son’s side, but it seemed like forever. Holstering his gun, he lifted Andy in his arms and ran into the woods for cover. He set Andy down in the middle of the thick grove of cottonwoods.
“It’s okay, Son. It’s okay.” He didn’t believe his own reassurances until he had checked Andy over from head to toe. Andy was still trembling, but there were no visible injuries. Oh, God! If anything had happened to him…
Andy stared up at him with eyes that seemed too old for his tender years. “I told that man I didn’t want to go with him.”
“I know, Andy. I know.”
“I lost my shoe, Pa.”
“I found it. It’s in my saddlebags. We’ll get it later. Right now you need to stay here.”
Calico Spy Page 21
