Her body froze eventually and fell on him, his rapidly beating chest, rhyming with hers. She laid beside him seconds later, still unable to catch her breath. She snuggled in his arms, content and happy she had allowed the joining to happen. They lay in near silence for a time, the only sound the muted chopping of wood as Cruz labored in the back yard, before her thoughts returned to work.
“I need to tell you everything that is going on, Chris. I knew when we met that you were trustworthy and you need to know this. I’m on a special assignment from my uncle, Nathaniel Duvalier.”
His eyes flew open wide immediately as he said, “The governor of the territory?”
Cassandra paused and pushed herself up on her elbow, looking down at him besides her. “Yes, you see, I’m to investigate the death of a man known as Ted Samuels. His real name was Terry St. John, he was an undercover US Marshal, investigating illegal activity that is believed originating in Leland Gulch. I’m certain that Driscoll is the leader of this activity. Do you know anything about it?” she asked while stroking his arm, unable to stop herself.
“All I know about that he was found shot to death in the store room next to Driscoll’s office. Supposedly someone robbed him and fled unseen. Knowing him I’d say it was Driscoll that likely killed him and covered it up,” he said. “I wish I could be of more help,” he added.
“Thank you. You’re an amazing man. I need to get to the dance hall for my first shift or it will look suspicious. Will you do a thing for me, dear Chris?” She asked, looking over at him. His face was determined and lovely to her eyes.
“Yes, of course. I’m at your service,” he said.
She knew she could trust him with everything. His eyes went on looking intently at her as she finally told him what he had to do for her to help wrap up the investigation. A message needed to be sent and who better than a man she trusted.
“I can go to the county seat and give the sheriff your message,” he said after she was through, “I will be heading back directly, though. What about you, Cassandra?” he asked.
“I will be ready with evidence. I’m going to find some, I can guarantee you that, and I’ll have it in hand for when you return,” she told him, more determined than he was. After her experience with him, she felt ready for anything.
As he got up to get his clothes back on, she decided to go back to her hotel room first and get ready for the evening when she would bring justice in the name of the fallen marshal.
***
Once back at the hotel, she checked her guns, satisfied that she was ready. She stuck one of her the pistols at the small of her back, in the waistband of her dress. Then she put a silk wrap over her shoulders, letting it fall low enough to hide the weapons.
Cassandra’s gaze fell on the newspaper, and she remembered she had intended to read it at some point. Now was as good a time as any and she settled into a chair in the corner. Finding what she hoped to read took all of two seconds because the headline screamed SUNSET FOR DAYLIGHT DANDY OF DEATH. With interest and derision, she read about how his identity proved to be that of Seamus McFinn, a scion of one of the wealthiest men in town.
The McFinn family had relocated to the Southwest some years ago from Boston and had made a name for themselves in the land business. Her eyes rolled as the paper quoted Pinkerton Chief O’Connell expressing his theory that the late killer had purchased a racehorse purposely to allow his daring escapes, and the organization was continuing to investigate that angle.
Though he was taking credit for her theory, he actually earned some genuine credit for saying that the Pinkertons were dispatching agents in Boston to look at any unsolved murders of young women. As for the demise of McFinn, sure enough an unidentified woman was credited with shooting the man dead before disappearing on horseback. Who she was no one could say. Her identity and the motive behind the killings apparently would remain a mystery.
Over a hundred years into the future a well-known term would enter the vernacular for those who murdered in serial fashion, but for the Tucson residents they could only wonder what drove such a seemingly upstanding citizen like Seamus McFinn down the dark corridor he travelled.
Tossing the paper away Casandra left the hotel with a smile for Molly, the stocky redhead proprietress of the hotel she had been introduced to when she got back, and another one to herself.
If it was any news, she could feel her heart beating with excitement as she hurried towards the dance hall once more.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I am sorry if I was a bit forward with my admiration for your person, Kelly. I have a way I would like to make it up to you later?” Driscoll said as she entered the back door of the dance hall minutes later. She detected a faint leer in his expression. It was like he couldn’t help himself.
“Maybe, Mr. Driscoll, but it is about show time,” she told him, and he agreed with a grin and a dismissive wave.
Pushing all thoughts of his naked lust from her mind, she went into the dressing room to change back into her costume once more. She hid her guns in a clothes chest behind the screen and rushed out to the edge of the stage just as a man in a top hat and a violin announced her presence. She looked out on the sizable crowd in the room, secretly pleased she could put her love of singing towards helping solve a case.
“Good evening folks! We have a wonderful surprise for you tonight! Our new singer, Miss Kelly, will be treating you to her rendition of the “Lorena” that we all remember so well from that terrible war between our states. Welcome Miss Kelly!” The man in the top bellowed while waving his arms in a sweeping gesture in her direction.
Taking her cue Cassandra climbed the small riser onto the stage, a devilish smile plastered on her face. The audience, mostly men, began to whistle and hoot at her as she took her place. Everything was as she expected… except the sight of Driscoll heading towards the back offices as she began her set.
Strange he wasn’t sticking around for her first live performance, especially with her jammed into the dress he’d given her, she thought briefly before throwing herself into her performance. From her vantage point she could not see who was playing the piano below the stage but Driscoll had found a replacement.
It went well, and the enthusiastic crowd seemed to like her. Cassandra would wager a coin the admiration she got was more because she was tightly wrapped in the dress than her gift for song. She finished her set and curtsied eventually, before walking off stage with a last wave to the crowd.
As she did so, she silently gave thanks that she had inherited her mother’s singing voice, which her mother had honed as a young woman serving as an entertainer on her uncle’s gambling boat in the Hudson River Valley. The few vague memories Cassie had of the woman were when she sang her and Dutch to sleep at night. She often wished she could have gotten to know Kelly Wilde…she truly did.
Cassandra was snapped out of her reverie as the man in the top hat began a new announcement. This time, assuring everyone that it was time for the dancing. Several musicians started up immediately to join the piano player, getting the dance hall more alive than it already was. She took a moment to notice a young man who looked unsure of himself sitting at Chris’s piano when her attention was diverted by some rough looking characters cutting through the crowd. The way the revelers parted she knew the men commanded either respect or fear.
As they disappeared into the hallway leading to Driscoll’s office, she realized perhaps Driscoll had planned a meeting during the songs purposely so that the music was loud enough to drown out the conversation. Then again perhaps she was giving him more credit than he deserved, but those men had piqued her interest.
But her dressing room was next door. Maybe this is an opportunity, she thought. As she stood there by the piano another singer, a short brunette with a jealous scowl on her face, passed by her and took the center stage, she hastened off to her dressing room. Once inside, she went to the adjoining wall and could hear faint voices. She got a water glass from the dressing table immed
iately and pressed it to the wall. There was a loose board and the crack between was the perfect spot to listen through. She smiled as the voices were clear. Worked every time, she thought. Grudgingly she remembered it had been O’Connell that taught her the trick.
“It was a shame you had to kill that man, Samuels, boss. I heard they buried him today when nobody came for the body.” A rough voice was saying.
“I don’t like people snooping around my business, George. Wasn’t much choice when we caught him listening in. For all we know he could have been a lawman. No point in taking chances, I always say. Besides, I always find that when the rewards from our rustling are this high, I can sleep just fine. I am brilliant I must say. Stealing from our northern neighbors and selling them to southern neighbors keeps us free from the law. Each in a different county and the sheriffs don’t know a thing about it. As long as we keep moving them through at night, you hear me?” Driscoll said.
Cassandra nodded to herself. That was indeed clever.
“I hear ya, boss. When do we get paid? The men could use the coin.” George, the other man, said.
“Not yet. I want to make sure our partners in the south completed the last exchange securely beforehand. Don’t worry, it will be in the safe with the records of where we got the cattle from. We don’t want to hit the same ranches too close together to avoid causing too much ruckus.” Driscoll told his flunky.
“Good idea, boss. Keep the money safe. I am all for that!” George replied. “Hey, how about that new singer, boss? A nice kitten to be sure. You picked a good one. Did you notice the pair of…” George began to comment and Cassandra put the glass down. She didn’t need to hear the rest. She had the information she needed. Soon enough, she heard the door to the office next door clamping shut and peeked out of her dressing room to see a man, presumably George, going down the hall along with two other men who had remained silent during the meeting. Good, Driscoll was alone. Cassandra got her guns and her shawl and went to the office.
“Who’s that knocking? Name yourself or I’ll…” Driscoll began.
“It’s me, Kelly, Mr. Driscoll.” Cassandra called through the door. She thought the direct approach should work with him.
“Come in, come in!” He called. She went in and shut the door behind her. She had only a second to examine the room and decide that he wasn’t a man to have much furniture around him. Apart from the large office desk, there were only two other chairs apart from his—presumably for visitors. There wasn’t even a single painting or photograph on the wall.
“To make up for my actions earlier I have been thinking about what gift I might give you and…” he began to say as soon as she closed the door behind her.
“Something for me? Do you have it in the safe perhaps?” Cassandra interrupted him. “Because if you do it’s bound to be something good!”
He raised his brows and then smiled. He got up from his chair and it rolled back a foot to the wall next to the safe. It was an expensive chair with wheels on it. Driscoll went to the safe and bent over, working the lock. That was easy. He was a man effortlessly made foolish by the presence of a woman.
“Indeed, I do have something in the safe for you, Kelly. A necklace that will grace your already graceful neck. Consider it an apology for my behavior earlier. Here we go. I got her open.” he said, his voice light and bubbly.
He turned only to see Cassandra drawing her guns on him.
“Suppose you let me take what I want, Driscoll?” Cassandra said, cocking the pistols loudly to get his attention. He stiffened and slowly stood, shuffling back a step or two.
“You have records of your cattle rustling in there. Stealing from the northern counties and selling them in the south counties. I want them and I will ruin you,” she told him with a vicious pleasure. A man like him deserved to be taken down and she was glad she could do it.
“Turning hold-up. Are you? All right, go ahead and help yourself,” he said with his hands up, a dull look replacing the shine in his eyes. His shrewdness seemed to extend to knowing it was best not to argue at gunpoint. Driscoll stepped to the side near his chair as she went to the safe. As she bent down though, he kicked his chair, rolling it into her and knocking her over. She managed to take a shot as she fell, but it went by him as he dashed out the door. Damn it! She thought, regretting that she had missed even as she heard the rustling mastermind shouting commands.
“Quick, chase everyone out but our bunch! I don’t want that girl getting out alive!” Cassie sprang to her feet and threw open the door looking out, but had to quickly duck back inside as several bullets whizzed by her head. Driscoll was leading a group of men back down the hallway. She slammed the door immediately, locking it shut and quickly shoving the desk over to hold it closed.
“Open the door! Open it or we will smash it in, God damn you!” She heard Driscoll shout.
“Come on, all of you! I have enough hot lead to welcome you!” She shouted bravely back. Thinking quickly, Cassandra went to the window and threw it open planning to make her escape while they evaluated her threat. That plan died a quick death as she felt a heavy feeling in her stomach at the sight of more of Driscoll’s rustlers charging down the alley with guns drawn. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be the one to draw first blood and opened fire with both guns, winging one man while the rest dove for cover, shooting from behind old crates for protection.
The one she’d winged dropped and rolled behind the same crates where his companions were hiding. Driscoll, or one of his thugs, continued battering the barricaded door, threatening to distract her from the gunmen outside. Another man dared to stick his head up from behind the crates, and she fired off a shot at him. She saw his hat go flying, missing his skull. Lucky bastard, she hissed.
Another head popped up from behind the crates along with hands holding a rifle that delivered its lethal cargo into the window frame right beside Cassie’s head. She ducked back inside the room. She wondered how much more pounding the door would take before breaking down, desk or no desk.
She peered out the window again just in time to see the man whose hat she had shot off duck-walking in the area between the crates and an old, broken wagon wheel someone had left leaning against the wall of the neighboring building. Cassandra didn’t know what he was up to and didn’t care as she fired, and this time his luck ran out as her bullet made contact with flesh and he keeled over and lay unmoving. Should have quit while he was ahead, she thought clenching her teeth. One of the others stuck his head around the corner of a crate. Cassie presented him with a bullet right between the eyes. She could see the flash of surprise in those eyes before they went blank and he fell face down in the dirt.
Two down and one wounded, she thought to herself as she glanced back at the door that was shuddering from the vicious assault it was receiving from the other side.
Satisfied it was still holding she looked cautiously back out the window again and spotted the wounded man on his feet running for the open doorway in the building that made up the other side of the alley that was no more than twelve feet away. She took aim and dropped him just before he reached the safety of the building.
That’s the lot of those rogues, Lijuan would approve, she thought to herself with a silent chuckle. She was just ready to pull herself back into the room and figure out what to do about the angry men outside the door when she heard an odd rattling sound above her. Looking up, she saw a man leaning out of a window on the floor above her. He was flailing his arms at something that was fluttering about him. It took a second for Cassie to realize there were several bats flying here and there. Her sharp eyes noticed a shutter hanging at an odd angle and figured that the bats must have been behind the shutter. The man had apparently bumped the shutter and disturbed the bats.
I never thought I’d be glad for a bat, she thought with some relief and amusement as she realized they probably saved her from being shot from above. She thanked the Lord she wasn’t Honor though. As brave as her sister was, Honor El
izabeth was terrified the thought of a bat getting tangled up in the delicate ringlets of her hair. The man was still flailing, as only a couple of seconds had passed, so Cassie squeezed her triggers and blasted him with abandon. He hollered and plummeted with his body trailing blood as it passed before her vision before thudding to the ground, as dead as dead could be. Swearing drew her attention and she saw more men were hovering at both ends of the alley. They weren’t about to become part of her tally but there would be no escaping that way now.
That left her to revert her attention to the door now. She suddenly realized that the pounding on the door had ceased. That was even more unsettling, because now she didn’t know where the men had gone or what they were up to. Then she heard shouting that sounded as if it was coming from just down the hallway from the door. As silence settled momentarily over the room she took stock of her ammunition. One gun was now useless and the other with fewer than six shots. For a moment, she regretted just how much she had let loose on the man in the window, but it had irked her that she almost met her end in such a sneaky manner. She always figured she would go down in a face-to-face duel. Suddenly the stillness was broken from the other side of the door.
“Driscoll says she mustn’t escape. Set fire to that end of the dance hall. Burn it down with her in it. There will be no evidence of how she died!” came another voice.
Cassandra backed away from the window afterwards, thinking aloud.
“For once, they may be telling the truth.” she said, looking around the room for a way to escape. She went to the door, but could still hear men out there.
“If she pokes her head out, shoot it off. Once the fire is going, she is done for!” came a voice Cassandra recognized as George’s. Damn, she thought, as she looked around frantically. She raced to a fireplace along one wall and knelt before it and looked up the chimney. No way! Petite Lijuan was the only one of the sisters who would have had a chance trying to escape that way and even then, it would be a tight squeeze with the generous endowment Lijuan had like all the Wilde sisters.
In Danger's Shadow: Cassandra Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 2) Page 6
