by Deeanne Gist
He dragged a hand through his hair. “When exactly did all this happen?”
“Around dusk. By the time the police wagon left, it was dark.”
He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to go get Derry, just as he did with Nefan. But things were a lot more complicated now. And if Rice was upset about Hunter interfering with a boy who’d snatched a handful of coal, he didn’t even want to think what the colonel’s reaction would be if he interfered in a murder investigation.
“Can you get him out?” she asked.
“What did they say when you went to the jailhouse?”
She looked down, tucking her hands inside a dark, furry muff. “I didn’t go to the jailhouse. I, um, didn’t want to go off half-cocked.”
He let that sink in. “That’s good, Billy girl. That’s real good.”
“So, can you get him out?”
He couldn’t see the tears, but he could hear evidence of them.
He slid fisted hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. Murder’s a pretty serious charge.”
“But you’ll try?”
He’d just been assigned to guard the duke and duchess of Veragua, lineal descendants of Christopher Columbus who were coming to see the fair. If he saw to it successfully, he’d not only be awarded a spot on Rice’s secret service, but also receive another commendation he could forward to his captain. His captain could then present it to the politicians in Austin.
He’d already sent his captain one commendation he’d received for bringing the Italian lace mystery to a swift conclusion. If he were then to receive another and be placed in Rice’s secret service, it would be indisputable evidence that Hunter had skills atypical of regular lawmen. And the evidence wouldn’t be coming from just anyone, it would be coming from the head of the most exclusive force ever assembled in the country’s history. It would, without question, validate the special skills Rangers had to offer.
The duke and duchess were to arrive this morning. Hunter’s duty would entail a night-and-day commitment for the duration of their stay. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get over to the jail.”
She gave him a look of confusion. “What?”
“I said, I’m not going to be able to get over there for a while.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been put on special assignment and I’ll be working without breaks.”
“What about Derry?”
“He’ll have to wait until I’m free.”
Her breath came out in a huff, making a cloud of condensation. “Did you hear what I said? Derry. Nine-year-old Derry. He’s in that unspeakable jail.”
“I heard you.”
“And you’re not going to do anything.”
“Not right away.”
“Because you have a special assignment.”
“That’s right.”
“What on this blessed earth is so important that you can’t take a couple of hours to go down to the jailhouse and get him out?”
She wasn’t his woman. He wasn’t her man. He didn’t have to answer any of these questions. But he loved her. And he cared a great deal for Derry. “It’s going to take a lot more than a couple of hours to get him out, if I even can. And if it were just me who was affected, I’d go right away. But it’s not.”
“Who else would be affected?”
“The Rangers.”
A low rumble came from her throat. “The Rangers this. The Rangers that. I’m so sick and tired of your precious Rangers taking precedence over everything else. It was one thing when it was me. It’s quite another when its an innocent nine-year-old.” Whirling around, she began to stalk off. “Good night, Hunter. I hope your conscience keeps you awake for many a night to come.”
“Billy?”
Pausing, she looked over her shoulder.
“If you get yourself thrown in the pokey, I’m not coming for you, either, until I’ve finished this assignment.”
Black shadows were where her eyes should be, but he knew they were shooting holes in him. “At least I’ve been reminded that nothing and no one is more important than your job. And honestly, it’ll make getting over you much easier.” With a toss of her head, she sailed back across the bridge.
He pulled his hands from his pockets. “Well, if that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is!” His shout echoed around the clearing, across the lagoon, and, he felt sure, within Miss Doctor Cum Laude’s ears.
JANE ADDAMS34
“Where Colonel Rice and his captain demanded respect, Miss Addams inspired it.”
CHAPTER
39
Hunter hooked a thumb in the pocket of his denims, removed his Stetson, then looked Colonel Rice straight in the eye. “I’m not going to be able to start guard duty with the duke until tomorrow, sir.”
Setting his pen down, the commandant swept him with his gaze. “What are you talking about, Scott?”
“There’s a nine-year-old in the city jail I need to see to.”
Rice smoothed the mustache hairs beneath his nose. “Haven’t we been through this?”
“Yes, sir. But this is different. I know this boy.”
“And you didn’t know the last one?”
“No, sir.”
“What did this one do?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“What’s he been accused of?”
“Murder.”
A lively march tune from the bandstand outside filtered through the window. The incandescent bulb above them hissed.
“No.” Rice picked up his pen and began writing.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll report for duty first thing tomorrow. I’d like to say I’ll be back tonight, but I’m not sure how long everything’s going to take.”
The colonel lifted his gaze. “You’ll pick up the duke and his duchess at the terminal at ten fifty-three this morning and you’ll stick to their side until they leave next week.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t be available until first thing tomorrow.”
“I’m the commandant. You’re the soldier. I say where you’ll be today. You say, ‘Yes, sir.’ ”
“Actually, sir, I’m not a soldier. I’m a Texas Ranger. And an innocent boy has been put in the most detestable jail I’ve ever seen in all my days. I’ve not only a legal obligation to do something about that, I’ve a moral one.”
He put down his pen. “Under whose authority?”
“Under the authority of the gun tucked into my waistband, the rifle in my saddle boot, and the badge on my vest.”
Rice’s gaze dropped to Hunter’s waistband, but the gun and the badge were concealed beneath his jacket.
“You are not on the frontier, son. You are in the city of Chicago.”
“That doesn’t make me any less of a lawman. He’s nine, sir. Nine. He didn’t murder anybody. I just need to talk to the judge.”
Rice hardened his expression. “You either be at the terminal at ten fifty-three this morning or you’re discharged from the Columbian Guards.”
Hunter’s lungs quit working. He’d expected to lose his chance at the secret service position, but he’d not expected to be dismissed completely. “Sir, I understand you’re unhappy at having to find someone else today on such short notice, but I—”
“I’ve said what I have to say, Scott. The choice is yours.”
“Does it have to be all or nothing? Can’t you demote me to night shift again?”
The man’s face soured. “That would be a total waste of exceptional talent.”
“So would firing me, sir.”
A flush rose up Rice’s neck and spread to his bald head. “You’re perilously close to having no choice whatsoever, Scott.”
What the man didn’t understand was Hunter already didn’t have a choice. He’d wrestled with his conscience all night and if he had to help either Derry or the Rangers, he knew the Rangers were much better equipped to help themselves. Derry, however, had no man to step into the gap for him.
Looking at the shiny polished floor, Hunter tapped his hat against his leg. “I can’t leave the boy to wallow around in that cesspool, sir. Every minute he’s in there, he’s exposed to the worst kind of diseases and the worst kind of men.”
Rice said nothing.
Lifting his chin, Hunter drew a deep breath. “It’s been one of the greatest honors of my career to serve in your corps, sir. I’d like nothing more than to continue serving you, but that boy needs me. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“And your captain? What’s he going to have to say about this?”
“Plenty.” Hunter swallowed. “He’s going to have plenty to say. None of it good. He thinks you’re finer than frog hair and I’m going to get a good chewin’ about all this.”
After a slight hesitation, the colonel nodded. “I wish you luck then, son. And you’ll be missed. Soldier or no, you were an asset to the squad.”
He gave a nod. “Thank you, sir.”
After a tense moment, Rice picked up his pen. “Dismissed.”
Miss Weibel’s murder made the front page of Chicago’s newspapers. The citizens’ outrage was strong and vocal, many crying for the delinquents to be hanged. Derry’s age received a great deal of comment.
Children up to seven years old weren’t recognized by the law, but those eight and over were fully responsible for their actions and were treated just like any other criminal. As a result, many youths were at this very moment housed in adult prisons and many more had been sentenced to death.
Had it only been the teeners, the age of the boys might not have drawn much attention. But a nine-year-old was something different. And many were beginning to question the wisdom of holding Derry to the same standards as those of a fully grown man.
Owing to all the brouhaha, the jailer and the judge both refused to let Hunter see, much less question, Derry, Kruse, or any of the other boys. And since their crime could be punishable by death, there would be no bail.
“Can you at least separate him so he’s not sharing a cell with grown men and hardened criminals?” Hunter asked the judge.
The man, who looked like a short version of Abraham Lincoln, shook his head. “We don’t have the room, Scott. The cells are so crowded, the men have to take turns sleeping on the planks laid out for them.”
“When’s the last time you’ve been down there, sir? Have you seen the conditions?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“And you can, in all good conscience, leave a nine-year-old down there?”
“I have no choice. He was arrested for the murder of Miss Weibel. He’ll stay down there just like everybody else who’s awaiting trial.”
Hunter’s jaw began to tick. “Can you at least move the docket up so the trial starts right away?”
The judge tapped his pen on the desktop. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not making any promises.”
After leaving the courthouse, Hunter sent word to his captain about what was happening. The man would be displeased. Very displeased—on a lot of different levels. It would mean he’d have to use some other means to persuade the Texas politicians. And it could very well mean the difference in Hunter making captain.
As much as he coveted the position, he knew another one would come along. And he knew the Rangers wouldn’t go down without a fight. Their enemies were usually of a different stripe, but whatever form they took, the Rangers faced them head-on and came out on top.
He had to believe this time would be no different. He must. The alternative was too horrendous to even contemplate.
And once they’d quelled this enemy, maybe Hunter would still have a chance at promotion. Rangers were trained to make decisions without consulting their superiors. Heywood trusted Hunter’s judgment. The captain wouldn’t like Hunter’s current decision, but he wouldn’t make him return home until all had been resolved here to Hunter’s satisfaction.
Still, he wasn’t off to a good start. Not being able to talk to the accused would definitely hobble his horns. Never in his career had he been denied access to the suspects. It wouldn’t keep him from investigating, but it was going to limit his effectiveness and put him at a great disadvantage.
Before he could start to think about that, though, he needed to see if Miss Addams would let him have a room in a cottage on Polk that lodged Hull House’s male residents. For he was now homeless, and Chicago didn’t have a single place where a fellow could roll out his pack and use his saddle as a pillow.
Hunter sat up straight in his chair. Where Colonel Rice and his captain demanded respect, Miss Addams inspired it. The woman had celebrated her thirty-third birthday a few weeks earlier, and although her skin and figure were still plenty youthful, her demeanor was of a woman much older. One who’d seen a lot, experienced a lot, and garnered wisdom from it.
Moving a stack of mail to the side, she linked her hands and set them atop her desk. “Typically, those who want to live here must make a formal application and, if accepted, commit to staying on at least six months.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be here near that long. Only until Derry’s trial is over.”
Diplomas and a gallery of photographs graced the dark paneling that covered the walls of her octagonal office. Windows made from glass-bottle bottoms restricted the view while letting light filter in.
“Can you pay for your room?” she asked.
“For a while, yes, ma’am.” He knew those who couldn’t afford rent were supported by fellowships from wealthy donors. But he should be able to cover expenses until the trial had come and gone.
“One of the requirements for living here is devoting your spare time, including weekends, to working on Hull House programs and projects. For our male residents, we ask that your work be consistent with your profession.” She sat almost as erect as he did, her desk smack-dab in the middle of the room. “What would your offering be, Mr. Scott?”
He thought about the things he was good at. Shooting. Fast-drawing. Fighting. Riding. Hunting. Tracking. Investigating. He was also good at intercepting cattle rustlers, contending with marauders, and protecting unpopular fellows from lynch mobs. He rubbed his hands against his trousers. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am. Did you have any suggestions?”
The barest of sparks touched her eyes. “There is a most successful club that Miss Weibel formed for our boys called the Young Heroes Club. She read, in a most dramatic way, old chivalric tales, which taught the boys courage, valor, and loyalty. Can you read, Mr. Scott?”
“Yes, ma’am, though I’m not sure I’ve ever tried doing it in a ‘most dramatic’ way.” He couldn’t imagine sweet little Miss Weibel reading about bloodthirsty champions and gory battles, but he’d learned not to underestimate women of any sort.
“I see. And what grade did you make it to in school?”
“All of them, ma’am. I graduated from the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas.”
Picking up her pen, she began to make some notes. “And how did you do there?”
“I stayed on the north side of the grass, for the most part.”
She glanced up at him. “Where were you in the order of graduates?”
He shifted in his chair. “In the top ten percent.”
Nodding, she continued to write. “You graduated cum laude, then. Excellent. What number were you exactly?”
“One.”
Her pen stopped. She looked up again. “One? You were the top graduate of your class?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She leaned back, humor lighting her eyes. “Does Dr. Tate know about this?”
The question was so unexpected, it took him a moment to absorb it. Then he realized Miss Addams didn’t miss much. She was clearly just as aware as he was of the pride Billy girl felt over graduating cum laude. “I’ve led her to believe otherwise, ma’am, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to you.”
As she tapped a finger against her notes, a tiny grin began to form. “Out of respect for the other re
sidents, I need to receive their approval. But I think it safe to say you will be welcome to a room in the men’s cottage. It will include meals in the dining room and full use of the bathhouse.”
He let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, ma’am. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome, Mr. Scott. Come back later this evening and we’ll finalize all the details.”
He was heading out the front door just as Billy was approaching it. They both stopped and simply stood. Taking a moment to drink in the unexpected sight.
He recovered first and tugged on his hat, then began to pass.
She followed him with her gaze. “I thought you were on an assignment.”
He kept moving.
“Hunter?”
Taking a deep breath, he turned back around.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Applying for residency.”
“Applying for residency? Here? Why?”
“I lost my job.”
Her lips parted. “At the fair?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I refused to show up for work this morning. I had someplace else I needed to be.”
She placed a fist against her stomach. “You went to get Derry.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lit. “Oh, Hunter. Thank you. He’s out, then?”
“No. There’s too much attention about the case in the papers. They won’t release or even segregate him. I’ve asked the judge to speed up the docket.”
“What did he say?”
“That he wouldn’t make any promises.”
She fingered the belt at her waist. “How was Derry?”
“They wouldn’t let me see him.”
“Oh, no. I hate to think of him in there. And without any reassurance from one of us.”
“Same here.”
“And you were let go because of it?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip. “Are you sure Colonel Rice won’t take you back?”
“Yes.”
She took a step forward. “I’m so sorry, Hunter. What are you going to do?”
