Her father had witnessed the brutal murder of his own parents when he was six. It didn’t excuse what he did, of course, but it did make her wonder if there was a better way to make up for her father’s grisly deeds.
What if there was a way to help children at risk like Linc? Help them follow a godly path like that kindly minister had helped her? Garrett had once likened life to the game of chess, and he was right. Both needed a guiding hand.
Rikker nudged her arm and slanted his head toward the horse and wagon that had just driven up to the station. “There he is now.”
“It’s about time.” She could hardly wait to see Panhandle’s face when he realized the jig was up. Earlier she’d noticed the sheriff hidden behind a stack of crates. After delivering the boogeyman to him, her job would be done.
“You better get started, Duffy.” As an afterthought, he said, “And good luck.” Keeping his head bent, he rose and lumbered toward the ticket booth.
She said a quick prayer before leaving the bench and threading her way through the crowd. No one had been allowed to board the train, and all around her indignant passengers grumbled and complained.
“What’s going on?” someone asked.
“The engineer was taken ill,” a middle-aged woman answered.
Maggie walked down the platform steps, watching Panhandle from the corner of her eye. It was important not to be caught staring at him.
Rikker had checked to see that Garrett expected the delivery of supplies on today’s train. He did. As usual, it was Panhandle’s job to pick up any packages that arrived at the station.
She timed herself so that it would look like she had accidently “bumped” into him just before he reached the platform.
“Morning, Miss Taylor,” he said. “Heard you were leaving town today.”
“I was,” she said, feigning a sigh of annoyance.
Right on cue, a woman’s scream rose from the knot of passengers waiting to board the train. The sheriff had sounded the alarm as planned, and the platform shook with the pounding of running feet.
Panhandle shaded his eyes against the bright sun. “What’s going on? Why is everyone running?”
“I’m afraid there’s a problem.” She placed her hand on her chest. “The engineer is ill and there’s another train heading this way. If they don’t clear the tracks—” She shuddered.
He lowered his hand. “Another train, you say? Why don’t they just back this train onto the other track?”
“No one else knows how to move it,” she said.
He stared at her in disbelief. “That’s nonsense. There’s always someone else. The brakeman—”
She shook her head. “He’s new on the job and says he’s not qualified.”
“That’s… that’s just plain dumb.” He hesitated. “Maybe I can help.”
“Oh, if only you could. That would make you… a hero.”
He got all red in the face. “Don’t know about that, but if that freight train crashes into this one…” He shook his head. “Wish me luck.” Without another word he bounded across the street faster than she had ever seen him move and stepped onto the station platform.
“Oh, I do.” Maggie held her hands together in a silent prayer. “I do.”
By the time Panhandle reached the train, the station was deserted. She watched him board the engine with the ease of a spider climbing a wall. The man knew what he was doing.
Moments later, the train gave a long, low whistle. Smoke spiraled from the stack and steam shot out from the sides. The rods moved and the wheels turned with a clatter. The train slowly slithered backward like a metallic snake and made a gradual turn onto the second track.
Maggie couldn’t help but smile. Panhandle knew how to operate a train—no question. Still, that didn’t prove he was Cotton’s partner, but it was a start.
The crowd gathered on the street across from the station burst into applause. Some people started forward, but the dark-skinned porter held them back.
Panhandle joined her moments later on the still-deserted platform, grinning like a schoolboy.
“Excellent work,” Maggie said. “I didn’t know you were an experienced engineer.”
His grin grew broader and then suddenly died.
“Mr. James Walker,” the sheriff called as he advanced toward them, gun drawn. “Put your hands up.”
Panhandle’s eyes bulged. “What the—”
“We know you’re Cotton’s partner,” Maggie said.
An innocent man would have stood his ground, but Panhandle did exactly what they’d hoped; he panicked.
He took a flying leap off the platform and ran. Shouting for him to stop, the sheriff aimed his gun but didn’t fire. Panhandle had disappeared into the crowd.
“Stop that man!” Summerhay shouted.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and people quickly backed away. A horse hitched to a wagon whinnied and tried to pull free from its traces.
Only two people remained in the middle of the street: Panhandle and Aunt Hetty. A glint of steel sent a ripple of fear down Maggie’s spine.
Panhandle held the muzzle of his gun at Aunt Hetty’s neck.
Chapter 44
Stay back,” Panhandle yelled. “All of you.”
The color drained from Aunt Hetty’s face and her lips quivered. “B—be careful of my neck,” she pleaded.
“Oh, sorry,” Panhandle said. He adjusted his hold, but the gun stayed in place. “Is that better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Drop your weapon,” the sheriff shouted, his gun still aimed.
“Drop yours,” Panhandle called back. “Or Aunt Hetty’s neck will be the least of her worries.”
Aunt Hetty let out a funny sobbing sound, and he apologized again. “Sorry, but it’s either you or me.”
The sheriff laid his weapon down.
“That’s one,” Panhandle said, staring at Maggie.
“I’m not armed,” Maggie said.
“A detective without a gun, Miss Cartwright? Surely you jest.”
Grimacing she slipped her hand into her fake pocket and pulled the derringer from her leg holster. Now that her real identity had been revealed, she was at a disadvantage. She set her gun on the platform.
“You won’t get away with this,” Summerhay said.
“You’re wrong, Sheriff. Thanks to your thoughtfulness, I have an entire train at my disposal.” Dragging Aunt Hetty along with him, Panhandle worked his way toward the engine on the second track.
Still dressed as a woman, Rikker emerged from the crowd, hands up, and spoke in a crinkly high-pitched voice. “Leave Aunt Hetty here, and take me instead.” He looked and sounded every bit the old woman he purported to be.
“Stay back,” Panhandle warned, but Rikker kept advancing.
Rikker persisted. “She could die just like that. Her heart, you know.”
While Rikker kept up a litany of Aunt Hetty’s known ailments, Maggie inched sideways in an effort to position herself in such a way as to retrieve her gun. Who would have thought that Aunt Hetty’s tiresome health issues would one day come in handy?
“If you don’t want your hostage to drop dead, you better take me,” Rikker continued in his thin, feminine voice.
Panhandle gestured impatiently. “All right, then.” He glanced around. “But don’t try any funny business.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Rikker said. Head bent, he lumbered slowly toward Panhandle, purse swinging from his wrist.
“Hurry up!” Panhandle yelled. “And you!” He glared at Maggie. “Step away from your gun. I said move!”
Maggie did as she was told. She glanced at Summerhay, but he hadn’t moved from his spot. A big help he was.
Rikker said something that sounded like, “Hold your horses, big boy.”
The moment he reached his destination, Panhandle pushed Aunt Hetty away and pointed a gun at Rikker’s temple.
Maggie let out a sigh of relief. At least Aunt Hetty was safe.
Now if Rikker could distract Panhandle long enough for her to reach her gun… No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she heard something that shook her to the core. “Maggie!”
At the sound of Garrett’s voice, she gasped. Oh no! What was he doing here?
The porter tried to hold him back, but Garrett raced past him and jumped onto the platform.
Panhandle aimed his gun at Garrett, and Maggie yelled, “Watch out!”
Rikker tried grabbing his wrist, but Panhandle was too quick for him. He hit Rikker on the side of his head with his revolver, and just that quickly Rikker fell to the ground.
“Hold it, all of you,” Panhandle said, his weapon pointed. “Try another trick like that and you’ll all be dead.”
Maggie, Summerhay, and Garrett stood still as statues.
“You.” Panhandle gestured to Maggie with a shake of his head. “You come with me.”
She heard Garrett’s intake of breath. He looked completely baffled. “I don’t know what’s going on. Whatever it is I’m asking you not to do this, Panhandle.”
“Shut your trap!”
“I thought we were friends—”
Panhandle sneered. “Friends? We were never friends. Cotton was so sure you knew where the money was. That’s the only reason I worked for you. I figured eventually you’d get careless and lead me to it. Now you better tell your bride to get over here, or someone’s gonna pay.”
Garrett raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “Take me instead.”
Panhandle shook his head. “We tried that little trick.” He gestured with his gun for Maggie to hurry.
She moved forward, senses alert. When a plan went awry it was necessary to improvise. Rikker looked like he was out cold, but a slight movement of his pinkie told her otherwise.
“Make it quick!” Panhandle’s voice was thick with impatience.
He was so intent on watching the three of them, he seemingly forgot all about Aunt Hetty. That is, until she lifted her cane and clobbered him soundly on the head.
Just as quickly, Rikker grabbed his leg. Diving forward, Maggie knocked the gun from the dazed man’s hand. Before Panhandle could recover, the sheriff had already snapped on the handcuffs.
Maggie rushed to Aunt Hetty’s side, reaching her at the same time as Garrett.
“Are you all right?” they asked in unison.
Looking remarkably well following her ordeal, Aunt Hetty nodded. “Except for my neck and hip and…”
Maggie smiled. Never had Aunt Hetty’s recital of Gray’s Anatomy sounded more welcome.
“But not to worry. I’ll live to see another day.” Aunt Hetty leaned on her cane and glared at Panhandle, who was being led away by the sheriff. “No thanks to that awful man.” She regarded Rikker. “What you did was very nice. You could have been hurt.”
Rikker rubbed his chin. “Not me,” he said in his usual rough male voice. Abandoning his old lady walk, he then took off after Summerhay.
Aunt Hetty frowned. “What a strange woman.”
“What are you doing here?” Garrett asked.
“I heard Maggie was leaving today, and I came to say good-bye.” As she spoke Aunt Hetty afforded her nephew a meaningful look. “Why are you here?”
Maggie held her breath and waited for his reply.
“I… uh…” He slid a sideways glance at Maggie and quickly changed the subject. “I’m still confused,” he said. “What Panhandle said—”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Maggie explained. “He was Cotton’s partner and the second Whistle-Stop bandit.”
Garrett shook his head in disbelief. “How did you know?”
“Yes, how did you know?” Aunt Hetty asked.
“It was the bishop,” she said. “The day I came to your house I picked up the chessman, and that’s when I knew Panhandle was the boogeyman.”
“And you figured this out because of chess?” Aunt Hetty asked, incredulous.
“It sounds crazy, I know, but Toby and Elise described his hair as similar to yours.” She pointed to Aunt Hetty’s topknot. “I just happened to notice that the bishop’s ceremonial hat comes to a point just like Panhandle’s cap. The problem was, we had no proof. And we’d already made one mistake.” A mistake that could have been disastrous. She moistened her lips and continued.
“One of the thieves backed the train away from the station. Few people know how to operate a locomotive, so Rikker came up with a plan to see if Panhandle could do it.”
Garrett rubbed his forehead. “That still doesn’t explain why the witness described one of the thieves as having a scar.”
“That puzzled me, too.” The scar is what made Garrett their prime suspect. “Then I realized what the witness had seen was the rawhide straps from Panhandle’s hat. The robbery occurred as the sun was going down. I suspect the leather bands cast shadows on the side of his face that the witness mistook as a scar.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “And to think he’s been working with me all this time.”
“Like he said, he was keeping an eye on you.” It was easier to talk about the case than to give in to the confusing emotions whirling inside. “When those large bills showed up at the school fund-raiser, Panhandle contacted Cotton.”
“But how did he know about that?” Garrett asked. “I attended the fund-raiser and even I didn’t know.”
Maggie glanced at Aunt Hetty. “As you know, Panhandle and your gentleman friend played faro together. What I didn’t know until this morning is that Dinwiddie handled the school fund-raiser, and Panhandle helped him count the donations.” He must have suspected the hundred-dollar bills came from Garrett and notified Cotton. None of the other parents could afford such a large donation. She shuddered to think what might have happened had the men known the money came from Elise and Toby.
Aunt Hetty’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’re not saying that Oswald—”
“No,” Maggie assured her. “Oswald was visiting his ailing mother in Denver during the robbery.”
Aunt Hetty shuddered. “And here I thought all that talk about the boogeyman was only the children’s imagination.”
Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. “And to think we blamed Whitewash for all the holes.”
Rikker joined them, grinning from ear to ear. He was still dressed in his old lady outfit, but his wig was crooked and one bosom had fallen to his waist. “It’s over,” he announced. “Panhandle confessed to everything.”
Maggie grinned back at him. Neither one of them had been happy at the prospect of leaving town with so many unanswered questions.
Aunt Hetty stared at him. “Is that you, Mr. Greenwood?”
Rikker pulled off his gray wig. “It’s me, all right.”
“I should have known,” Aunt Hetty said and laughed. She suddenly looked tired, and Garrett slipped his arm around her waist.
“Come on, I’ll take you home.”
This time she didn’t push him away. Instead, she leaned on him, and relief crossed her face.
“When are you leaving town, Maggie?”
“Not till tomorrow,” Maggie said. Sensing Garrett’s gaze, her voice deserted her along with her smile. “I just have to tie up some loose ends.” She would have to write a full report to headquarters and convince her boss that the end justified both the means and added expense.
Aunt Hetty reached out to squeeze her hand. “Stop by and say good-bye to the children.”
Maggie glanced at Garrett, but the eyes boring into hers let nothing in and even less out. “I—I don’t know that I’ll have time,” she stammered. She was always happy to leave town once a job was complete. But not this time; this time she didn’t want to go.
“Let’s get you home,” Garrett said to his aunt.
Aunt Hetty stubbornly held her ground. “What did you want with Maggie?”
Garrett frowned. “What?”
“You came running up here like the cavalry calling her name. It must have been important.”<
br />
“I…” He hesitated. “Just wanted to say good-bye.”
Maggie started to say something, but already he had turned away.
“We did it, Duffy,” Rikker said cheerfully, slapping her on the back.
She watched Garrett escort his aunt to his wagon through a veil of tears. “Yes, we did.”
Chapter 45
Where was he? Maggie paced the station platform with increasing impatience. Rikker should have been here by now.
Earlier, as they’d left the hotel together, he said he had something to do and would catch up with her at the station. It wasn’t like him to be that mysterious, but she was too wrapped up in her misery to give the matter much thought until now. What was so important?
Whatever it was, he better hurry. The train was due to arrive in less than ten minutes.
She shaded her eyes against the sun and stared down the tracks. Sun glinted off the rails and the air shimmered with heat, but so far no sign of the train. Maybe it would be late.
People milled around her with an air of expectancy. Mindless chatter filled the air. A baby cried.
Then all at once she saw something that stopped her in her tracks. Crankshaw, the pickpocket, was at it again. As usual he made no effort to hide his dastardly deeds. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was purposely trying to get her attention.
She tried to ignore him, but when he stole a doll from a young child, her mouth dropped open. What was the matter with the man? The little girl screamed, and her mother tried calming her to no avail.
“I’ll get her doll back,” Maggie shouted and took off running.
Gawking over his shoulder Crankshaw jumped off the platform and ran along the tracks, dragging his foot. Maggie chased after him and quickly gained ground. This time she was careful not to trip on the rails.
“Come back, you scoundrel—”
Suddenly, Crankshaw did something totally unexpected. Tossing the doll on the ground, he mounted a handy horse and galloped away.
Maggie stopped running and stared after him. Maybe she was seeing things, but that sure did look like Garrett’s horse. It wasn’t bad enough that she imagined seeing Garrett in the moon and the stars and everywhere else. Now she even imagined seeing his horse.
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