A babble of frightened voices broke out. After admonishing them all to remain calm and think over what he said, the conductor returned to the car ahead. Belle turned to her seatmate. The older woman’s face had turned deadly pale. “They’re going to take my jewelry,” she cried.
“No, they won’t.” Belle made sure she sounded more confident than she felt. “Like the conductor said, there’s a good chance they’ll just take the Wells Fargo money and go.”
“But what if they want my pearls, my emerald earbobs? Oh, no, not my butterfly pin! I’ll die before I give it up.” Mrs. Hollister reached for the pin and tried to remove it, but her hands shook so much she couldn’t manage.
“Here, let me do it.” Belle reached to undo the pin. What a shame this woman placed such a high value on her jewelry. Didn’t she realize her life was in jeopardy? Still, this wasn’t a good time for a discussion on what one should value in life. She would do what she could to help. While she unfastened the butterfly pin and unhooked the string of pearls, her seatmate frantically stripped off her rings and removed the emerald and diamond earbobs. Soon a glittering pile of jewels from Tiffany’s lay in her lap. “What do you think is a good hiding place?” Mrs. Hollister asked.
“I really don’t know.”
“Think! You’ve got to help me.”
Belle was sorely tempted to say she couldn’t help, and furthermore, why should she be responsible for someone else’s jewelry? But somehow she couldn’t. The poor woman looked so distraught over her jewels, she might break into a full-blown case of hysterics at any moment. “I could put them in my handbag, I suppose.”
“No! That would be the first place they’d look.”
“Well, then, there’s my valise under the seat, but they’d probably look there, too.” Belle peered up and down the aisle. Some women were removing their jewelry, but not all. The firm-jawed, middle-aged lady across the aisle had left her necklace and rings in place. “Let them have what they want,” she called. “It’s not worth my life.”
Belle agreed. Her own jewelry couldn’t begin to match the magnificence of her seatmate’s, yet she treasured her gold locket that contained a strand of her mother’s hair, and her gold ring with a small diamond that her father gave her when she was a little girl. She wouldn’t hide them, though. Let the robbers take what they wanted and be gone.
Mrs. Hollister regarded her with accusing eyes. “So where are you going to hide them?”
Think, Belle, think! Not her handbag, not her valise, but somewhere on her person where the bandits wouldn’t look. Ah! The perfect hiding place. She looked around to make sure no gentleman was watching and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her jacket. She picked up the butterfly pin and thrust it down the front of her blouse, not stopping until she found the warm space formed between her breasts and the top of her corset. She let go of the pin. As she hoped, it nestled safely within the confines of her secret hiding spot. This wouldn’t be the first time. She’d used this place before, mainly for handkerchiefs but more than once for a note from an admirer, back in that long-ago time when she’d been the belle of the ball. But she’d certainly never used it for anything like this. She heard a gasp.
Her seatmate looked askance. “Miss Ainsworth! What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Can you think of a better place?” She scooped up the remaining jewels from her lap and quickly tucked them beside the pin. Giving them a pat, she remarked, “They fit.” She re-buttoned her jacket and looked down. No bulge, no nothing. “See? The perfect spot. They’ll never know.”
Mrs. Hollister could only sputter.
Belle patted her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.” Suddenly she remembered the two hundred dollars from Bridger she’d tucked in a side pocket of her valise. Good grief! That would be the first place they’d look. She leaped to her feet, grabbed up the valise, and pulled out the money. “Look the other way, Mrs. Hollister.” She yanked up her skirt and thrust the bills into her bloomers, clear down to where one leg gathered just below her left knee. She smoothed her skirt and sat down again. When Mrs. Hollister gave her a wide-eyed stare, Belle simply said, “It’s the safest place I could think of.”
Chapter 6
An eerie silence settled over the car. The passengers had made their choices. Some hid their valuables. Others did nothing, deciding their lives were more important than money or a piece of jewelry. Many fervent prayers were sent upward, including Belle’s. Please, God, make the bandits give up and leave. If you can’t do that, let them get hold of the Wells Fargo payroll and then leave. Make them happy with what they’ve got and decide not to rob the passengers.
From ahead, they heard a series of clanking sounds. “They’ve uncoupled the engine,” a man shouted. He was right. Looking ahead, Belle could see the engine slowly moving forward, but the rest of the train stayed as it was. She couldn’t take her eyes from the windows. So far, everything remained the same. Up ahead, the masked riders still milled about, ignoring the body of the fireman lying still on the ground. Tethered nearby, three riderless horses bolstered the conductor’s theory that part of the gang had sneaked aboard the train earlier and had either broken into the express car or were still trying to get in. As Belle sat waiting, she could feel the weight of the jewels pressing between her breasts. The diamond pin scratched a little, but not too bad. She heard the car door behind them open and soon sensed someone beside her.
“Miss Ainsworth?”
She pulled her gaze from the window. “Why, Mr. McLeish, I’m glad to see you.” And she was, maybe because he seemed so calm, as if nothing disastrous could possibly happen.
Yancy knelt in the aisle beside her. “How are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess. Will we be all right, do you think?”
“I can’t say for sure, but if you ask my brother, he’s expecting the worst.”
“He thinks they’re going to rob us?”
“You’ve noticed that big ruby ring of his? He’s been considering places where he could hide it”—a little smile crossed his face—“some of which are best left unsaid.”
He leaned across Belle toward Mrs. Hollister and earnestly inquired, “Are you doing all right, ma’am?”
The older woman grabbed his arm. “Oh, Mr. McLeish, do you think they’ll kill us all?”
“Not likely. They’re after the money, not your life.”
“You don’t think they’ll come after my jewels?”
Yancy’s gaze fell to her bare fingers, then to her shoulder where the butterfly pin once sat in all its sparkling magnificence. “You’ve hidden them?”
“If those bandits think they can steal from me, they have another think coming.”
“Where have you put them?”
Mrs. Hollister shifted her gaze to Belle, who lightly touched the front of her jacket. “They’re in here. Snug and safe where Jasper Cooper, or whoever he is, will never find them.”
Yancy rolled his eyes. “Not a good idea, Miss Ainsworth. This isn’t a game. These are ruthless men with nothing to lose. Why take a chance? Better to give them what they want.”
A knot of fear formed in her stomach, but she’d made her decision and wouldn’t change now. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not worried in the least.”
“But you…” He apparently thought better of what he was going to say, and his expression lightened. “Too late now. Be careful.” He rose to his feet. “Gotta get back. Ronald doesn’t do well in a crisis.”
He’d been gone less than a minute when the whole car shook, and the sound of an explosion split the air, followed shortly thereafter by the acrid smell of gunpowder. “My God, they’ve broken in and blown the safe,” someone shouted. A few women screamed, but many stayed silent, including Belle. She was beyond screaming. Like many others, she was ready—braced for the worst, praying for th
e best. She could not take her eyes from the window where the riders no longer were waiting, milling around. Now they had a purpose—catching bags marked “Wells Fargo” as they were tossed off the train, obviously from the safe they’d blown.
Everyone watched and waited. Soon what must have been the last bag was tossed and loaded onto the backs of the horses. A long pause followed. They seemed to be discussing something. In an agony of suspense, Belle waited. Please just take the money and go. Just go.
But they didn’t. Nearly all the bandits dismounted and fanned out, one or two to each of the cars. So they were coming. Belle braced herself and turned to her seatmate. “I’m afraid they’re going to rob us, but you have nothing to worry about. They’ll never find your jewels.”
The front door of the car burst open. Two masked men entered, each carrying a canvas bag in one hand, a pistol in the other. Belle cringed at the sight of the man in the lead, wearing a slouch hat, sack suit, heavy boots, all in black, and that included the black bandana that covered much of his face. His eyes made her blood run cold—flat and murderously hard, no trace of compassion in them. He pointed his pistol toward the ceiling and fired. As the deafening noise brought startled screams from the passengers, he yelled, “Throw up your hands. This is a robbery. As we pass down the aisle you will put your watches, jewelry, money, and anything else of value you’ve got into the bag. Is that clear?” He glanced at his companion behind him. “Go to the other end. We’ll meet in the middle.”
“Sure, Jasper.”
“Damn! What did I tell you about names?”
“Sorry.” The second robber hurried to the other end of the car.
“Oh, dear God,” Belle whispered, softly so her seatmate wouldn’t hear. Jasper was not a common name. This had to be the man who would just as soon kill you as look at you, like the conductor had said. Sick fear coiled in the pit of her stomach, but she couldn’t let it show. She gave Mrs. Hollister’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “we’re going to be fine.”
Jasper Cooper started down the aisle, stopping at each seat, bag outstretched while terrified passengers tossed in their contributions without a murmur of complaint. At the fourth seat back, he stopped and addressed a young man in his twenties sitting in the aisle seat. “You got nothing to contribute?”
“Nothing.”
“Stand up.”
Belle watched as the man stood, face twisted in defiance.
The bandit waved his pistol. “Step in the aisle.”
“Why? I don’t have any money.”
“We’ll see about that.” Using the butt of his gun, the bandit struck the passenger on the side of his head, swift and hard. He did it again, then again. Bleeding heavily, the man collapsed to the floor. The robber turned to the passengers. “See what happens when you don’t obey my orders?” He gave the bag a good shake. “Cough up all of it, ladies and gentlemen, or you’ll get the same.”
He stepped over the groaning man and continued down the aisle. As he moved ever closer, Belle felt the blood drain from her face. What had she done? She should never have tried to hide those jewels but too late now. At least she had her own jewelry to give him, plus all the cash in her handbag, and that should be enough. He would never find her secret hiding place.
What seemed an eternity passed before the robber approached her seat. When he arrived, and silently held out the bag, she was ready, holding her locket, ring, and cash in her hand. She uncurled her fingers long enough so he could see what she was giving and dropped them into the bag. Surely that would satisfy him and he would move on.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Yes, you have everything.”
His hard eyes shifted to her seatmate. “What about you, lady?”
“I… I…” Mrs. Hollister’s lips were moving but nothing was coming out.
Belle spoke up. “She doesn’t have anything. She doesn’t wear jewelry.”
“That right? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, little lady?”
Belle couldn’t see Jasper Cooper’s mouth but could tell from the way the corners of his eyes crinkled he was smiling, and not a friendly kind of smile. “No, sir, of course I wouldn’t lie. My friend here has nothing. I’ve given you my jewels and all the cash I have. There is no more.”
“Stand up.”
She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She pointed to herself. “You mean me?”
He loomed over her, dark and deadly. “I mean you.” With a sudden reach, he grabbed the front of her jacket and yanked her to her feet. His forehead creased. “What’s this lump here?” He pressed his big hand over the spot where she’d hidden the jewels.
She choked back a cry. “I… It’s…” She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding under there.” He gripped the top of her jacket and yanked with such force the buttons went flying. She looked down. Her jacket hung open. She let out a gasp and reached to close it, but before she could, he clasped her blouse at the neckline and ripped it all the way down.
The bandit’s eyes lit. Without warning, he plunged his hand down the top of her corset. The feel of his fingers on her bare skin made her want to scream, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent. “Well, lookee here,” he crowed. All she could do was stand there, watching in horror as he yanked his hand from the top of her corset, clutching all of Mrs. Hollister’s jewels. Without thinking, Belle grabbed at them, sending the pearls, rings, and butterfly pin flying to the floor where they lay at the feet of Jasper Cooper.
“So the little lady was lying.” A scornful laugh came from beneath the bandana. He pointed his pistol toward the diamond pin that lay beside his right shoe. “Pick it up. Pick it all up.”
A soft gasp escaped her. Not only was her corset exposed, he’d torn open her blouse to where the edges barely covered her breasts. Ignoring his command, she reached to cover herself, but the bandit grabbed her arm. “Do you want to get hurt? Pick them up.”
In her worst fears, she never thought he’d actually hurt her. She’d gone through life believing a gentleman would never strike a lady, much less do her injury. Even in the darkest days of the Union occupation, the Yankee soldiers had been cruel in many ways but never threatened bodily harm. Now she knew otherwise. Jasper Cooper was going to hurt her unless she picked up the jewelry.
Only the trouble was, she couldn’t do it. Call it pride, call it stupidity, or maybe she was simply petrified with fear, but she’d rather die than lower herself to obeying his command. “No,” she said.
His head jerked back as if she’d surprised him. He raised his pistol and pointed it directly into her face. “Pick them up.”
“No.”
His black eyes smoldered with fury. With a curse, he raised his arm, turning the pistol in his hand as he did so. Just as he’d done to the man up the aisle, he was going to strike her with the butt of his pistol.
She’d made her choice. Nothing she could do. She closed her eyes.
“No, you don’t.”
That voice! She recognized it. She opened her eyes in time to see Yancy McLeish appear directly behind the bandit. With a swift raise of his arm, he grabbed the pistol from Cooper’s hand. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Yancy had the bandit’s arm locked behind him. He’d knocked off the slouch hat and was pointing the pistol directly at Jasper Cooper’s head. “Drop the bag. You’re leaving now, and so is your friend.”
He spoke in a savagely gruff voice Belle hardly recognized. Gasping, she ducked out of the way as Yancy, pushing Jasper Cooper ahead of him, started down the aisle. “Any man with a gun?” Yancy called over his shoulder as they headed for the exit. “Could use some help here.”
At least three men eagerly leaped from their seats, drawing their up-to-now hidden weapons. Crowding behind Y
ancy, they followed as he shoved Jasper Cooper down the aisle toward the rear door. “What’ll I do?” the other bandit yelled.
Cooper snarled back. “Can’t you see he’s got the drop on me? You do what he says.”
Clutching the sides of her jacket together, Belle watched as Yancy shoved his captive clear down the aisle, gun to his head, the other bandit cringing along ahead of him. Three armed passengers followed close behind. The instant they disappeared out the rear door, she and every passenger in the car rushed to the windows.
“What’s he going to do?” Mrs. Hollister cried.
Belle couldn’t imagine. Yancy had cleared the car of the bandits, but the rest of the gang still controlled the train. She watched as the men got off the train, Yancy still holding a gun to the bandit’s head. Somewhere along the way, Cooper had lost his bandana. Belle could see his whole face now, with its black beard, hawkish nose, lips twisted like a snarling animal. Yancy’s expression hadn’t changed. He looked the same as he had last night when they were discussing mundane matters over dinner. He looked as if he knew exactly what he was going to do, although Belle couldn’t imagine what that might be.
* * * *
Yancy didn’t think about it. There wasn’t time, and even if there was, he knew what had to be done and didn’t hesitate. He glanced back at those brave fellow passengers close behind. “Look sharp now. Keep your guns drawn and follow me.” Pistol still pressed against Cooper’s head, Yancy marched the bandit and his cohort along the track toward the front of the train. By now, most of the gang had finished and mounted their horses. Twenty feet away, Yancy halted. “Hey, boys,” he called. “I’ve got your leader here. Drop the bags. If you’re not mounted and out of here by the time I count to ten, he’s dead.”
Bay City Belle Page 6
