by Lori Wick
In spite of such a dreadful start, the evening ended like a lovely dream. The meal at the Brown Palace was perfect, and with the stars bright overhead, the ride through the park in the open carriage set the mood for the rest of a lovely night.
As for Pup, she came home at the regular time, not quite as tired, and fixed herself a good meal. She gave Nick little thought. He had said he’d be by to see her on Monday or Tuesday, so his absence meant nothing. After dinner she read for a time and then began another letter to McKay, missing him more than ever. A walk in the park was tempting, but it was already dark. She turned in a little early and went back to the mansion first thing Tuesday morning.
Longmont
Jubal crossed the threshold of the Rocky Mountain Savings as if he’d lived in Longmont all his life. He had on a clean shirt and string tie and had taken time to have his jacket and pants pressed. Not one teller looked at him with suspicion. However, Richard Stuart’s face blanched white upon seeing him.
“Good morning, Mr. Stuart.” Jubal’s voice couldn’t have been more polite. “Mr. Phipps asked me to visit you. He sent you something.”
“Come into the office.” Richard’s voice was low, his eyes shifting to see if they’d been observed by any of the bank patrons or employees. All looked in order, and the banker led the way inside.
Once in the office, Jubal took a chair as if he had all the time in the world. He brought forth the envelope and placed it gently on the desk. For a moment Richard only stared at it.
“You do understand, Mr. Stuart,” Jubal continued, his voice polite if not mildly bored, “that it’s nothing personal. I have a job to do. Mr. Phipps would like to see you, and I simply can’t return and tell him that you didn’t want to come. You do understand, I’m sure.”
Richard Stuart licked his lips. He looked at Jubal and then at the letter before slowly picking it up. He swallowed hard, opened it, and read.
Greetings Richard:
I was surprised that you didn’t accept my offer to join me in Denver. I know it would be hotter here in the city, but you never know when the temperature might change in Longmont.
I’ve asked an associate of mine to come back with you as I understand your failure to join me might stem from a reluctance to travel alone. I’ll expect you here no later than Tuesday night. I look forward to seeing you, Richard. We have much to discuss.
It wasn’t signed, and without looking at Jubal, Richard felt a chill go down his back. He had been to see Duncan in Denver some time ago, but that was before he decided to branch out on his own. Things couldn’t have been friendlier. The Denver banker must now be on to him. Richard studied Jubal. There was nothing in his face or posture to indicate any threat of violence. He might have been a customer looking for a loan, but Richard believed any man Duncan sent to be capable of anything.
“I’ll have to talk with my wife,” he nearly whispered.
“Certainly.” Jubal managed to look compassionate. “I must gather my own things from the hotel. Shall we meet back here in, say, 30 minutes?”
Come to the bank with his traveling bag! Richard nearly panicked, and on the heels of this came anger. He knew he had to take back control, albeit slightly.
“No.” Richard felt relieved just saying the word. “I’ll meet you at the train station, and I need an hour.”
Jubal’s face was expressionless, but Richard didn’t care. He was angry enough right now to physically fight this man, but he wouldn’t. However, he wasn’t going to let him completely control his life. His wife was going to be upset enough to have him leaving so suddenly, let alone with a half hour’s notice. Not caring what Jubal thought, Richard took his jacket from the coat rack near his chair and slipped into it. He then slipped the letter into his shirt pocket. His briefcase was next. He picked it up and then looked expectantly at his visitor.
Only then did Jubal rise, and he did so slowly, still feeling he was in control. He motioned with a hand for Richard to precede him out the door, but the banker looked at him coldly.
“You may have a job to do, Mr. Hackett,” Richard said, keeping his voice low, “but this is my bank, and I am a respected citizen in this town. One call to my tellers explaining that you have threatened me, and you will be a hunted man in Longmont. Now you may still get your job done, but not without great delays and time spent behind bars. Indeed, I could probably keep you locked up for a very long time.”
Jubal’s respect for the man rose. He saw no harm in letting the banker think he was having his way. Seemingly in complete compliance, Jubal preceded the banker out the door. In truth he had nothing to pick up at the hotel; he always traveled light. He would let Mr. Stuart think he was going home and to the train station on his own, but Richard would never be out of Jubal’s sight.
“I’ve had him in my sight since six o’clock,” McKay told Trent.
“Did he go to the bank?”
“Yes.”
The men were walking the streets as if they had all the time in the world. It was a little trickier for McKay since he was known in this town, but so far few people had done more than nod and say good morning.
“My guess is that Stuart has gone home to pack his things.”
“So the train station will be next.”
“Exactly,” McKay affirmed.
“I’ll meet you there.”
Trent wandered from McKay’s side with the smoothest of moves, slipping into a shop, browsing for several minutes, and then exiting to head in the opposite direction—toward the train station. McKay continued his pursuit up the street, seeing that Jubal was trailing Richard. McKay wasn’t so foolish as to think that he wasn’t being watched as well, so he not only kept an eye on Jubal, but also on the happenings behind him. So far, so good. His palms began to sweat, which was always a good sign. The adrenaline rush of a near victory pumped through his veins. Jubal seemed completely under control. McKay knew he had him.
Denver
Gerard’s words had been, “Dust the hallway.”
Pup could have sang. No one was positioned outside the office door today, and things seemed a little quieter. She started out dusting, but not even ten minutes passed before she knocked softly on the door, her ear pressed against it. Nothing. No sound at all. A moment later she was inside, locking the door just as she’d found it.
The first thing she noticed were the drapes. They had been pulled over the windows, and the room was much darker than her last visit. She debated what to do. It was going to be hard enough to figure out the secret door, let alone do it in the dark. She could light a lantern, but it would be harder to get to and blow out if she was disturbed—the window covers wouldn’t be easy either.
She opted against both. Maybe her hands would tell her more than her eyes anyway. Feeling along the wall, she located the door right away. She fingered the entire seam, the inspection telling her it was a little narrower than normal. So far there was no hint of a hinge or handle. Trying to gauge which side would open, Pup moved her hand down to where a handle could be. Nothing. Not knowing how much time she had made it so hard. She would have to have some light and decided on the drapes.
Duncan Phipps, just coming from an early breakfast meeting, watched from outside as the curtains in his private office opened. Standing at his side, Nelson had seen the action as well. They couldn’t make out who was standing to the side of the window, but it looked like the blonde maid.
“She must be in there by mistake,” Nelson commented.
Duncan only grunted his agreement. One of the clients with whom he was supposed to meet, a Mr. Robinson, had not shown up. His mind was also still occupied with Richard Stuart and that banker’s mine stocks. Was Robinson involved? Duncan hated to be played for a fool.
“We’ll just tell her to get out when we get there,” Nelson said to comfort him.
“You do that” was the banker’s automatic reply. Duncan gave it no other thought. Nelson looked forward to throwing her out again. The men continued their almost lei
surely walk toward the house.
38
Longmont
“Mr. Stuart,” McKay approached the man and his companion, his voice almost gentle. “May I speak with you?”
Richard Stuart turned, his anxious face relaxing when he recognized McKay. After the inspection, he’d never heard back from the treasury man and assumed that he’d done a good job on the books.
“Hello, McKay.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to speak to you. Could you come into the railway office?”
“As a matter of fact—” Richard began. He was going to tell them he was headed out of town, but Jubal cut in smoothly.
“He’d like to, but something important has come up. We’re headed to Denver.” As always his voice was calm. Not above lying, he still believed in telling the truth for as long as possible. “Maybe when he returns you can see him about your loan or whatever you need.”
“I quite agree with you, Mr. Hackett; the two of you will be going to Denver, but not exactly the way you’d planned.”
The quiet sound of Jubal’s name coming from this man’s lips registered just a second too late. His hand was reaching for his inside coat pocket, but another voice spoke into his ear.
“Don’t even think about it,” Trent told him, a gun surreptitiously pressed into his side. “Just head to the railway office as you’ve been asked. That’s right; keep those hands where I can see them.”
McKay led the way and was not at all surprised to see Stuart’s expression showing his quandary: Had he been caught, or was this a rescue? Jubal’s face showed nothing at all. For a moment he had lost his calm, but he was now back under control, walking to the stage office as though he visited there often.
Denver
She had found the latch. She wouldn’t have found it without the light, but now her hand was on it. It was a narrow strip of wood so subtly put into the wall that it was nearly impossible to see. At the top was an opening. Pup put her finger inside the half-moon hole and pulled down. The door opened with a low groan, one that disguised the unlocking and opening of the outside door. She was in the process of pulling the paneled doorway open when Duncan spoke.
“Well, now—we thought you’d come to dust.”
Pup spun, her heart thudding in fear. She recovered swiftly, picking up the dust cloth at her feet, and began to babble in her Swedish accent.
“Inga broke, Inga sorry, so sorry,” and on she went, practically crying as she rubbed the cloth up and down the wall to show what she’d been doing. Amazingly her story worked. Eyeing her coldly, Duncan told Nelson to get her out.
Nelson came forward, more than happy to oblige, but in his enthusiasm he grabbed her arm and violently jerked her whole body forward. She felt her wig slip down onto her forehead and was afraid to touch it lest she draw attention. Pup didn’t think she would be spotted, but Duncan must have been looking directly at her. He raised his voice for the first time.
“Stop!”
Nelson turned, his hand still holding Pup. Pup kept her eyes toward the door so she knew exactly when they were joined by two other men. She didn’t have to feign fear as Duncan stepped in front of her. His eyes cold on her face, he reached up and removed the wig.
“Well, well,” he spoke, his voice little more than a whisper, “if it isn’t Bryan Daniels.”
Pup’s gaze was transformed in a moment. Composed, sure of herself, and even slightly amused, she looked boldly back at Duncan Phipps. Even if she were about to die, there was one comfort: She was not the criminal.
Duncan watched her for a moment and then jerked his head. The door was shut, and the two other men remained inside.
“I want your name, and I want it now.”
Pup hesitated without looking unsure. She wasn’t certain if he thought her a man or woman and wanted to figure which gender would be to her best advantage.
“I’m waiting.”
Pup’s brows rose. “Considering the fact that the last two names I’ve given haven’t been mine, how could you possibly know I’d be telling the truth?”
She was surprised when an admiring smile covered his mouth.
“Go ahead.” Genuinely amused, he liked anyone who could match wits with him—at least for a time—as long as he eventually gained the upper hand. “Tell me a name anyway.”
“And if I refuse?”
Duncan shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s not as if your grave will be marked.”
Pup now shrugged as well, impressing Duncan again because she showed no fear. He studied her some more.
“You’re good, but then you probably know that. When I think back on Bryan Daniels, I realize now that if I had really studied you, I’d have known your gender.” He paused and weighed her a little more. “You’re very good.”
Pup said nothing. She showed not one flicker of emotion.
“Show our mystery lady to an upstairs room,” Duncan ordered Nelson. “I’m sure she can tell us quite a lot.” He turned back to Pup. “You might not be so reluctant to talk in the future.”
“You’ve already stated your plans to kill me; why should I talk?”
“I may have spoken rashly.” He was the smoothest she had ever seen him. “Indeed, I think the two of us could get along very well together. I’m sure whomever you work for couldn’t possibly match the salary I’d be willing to pay you.”
Pup managed to look bored.
“Take her upstairs.” She hadn’t been impressed with his offer, and the frigid tone came back into his voice. “See to it that she doesn’t leave us anytime soon.”
Feeling she had nothing to lose, Pup boldly took the wig that still hung from Duncan’s fingers and put it back on her head. Again the banker was impressed but tried not to show it. A moment later she was taken away, each of the men at the door holding one of her arms. Escape was impossible. Nelson led them upstairs. He did nothing to disguise his loathing as he opened a bedroom door and watched her walk in. He slammed it a little too loudly, and Pup listened to the turn of the key. This was no time to lose her head, but her knees suddenly turned to water. She sank down on the nearest chair, her mind racing with what she should do next.
Longmont
“Hello, Mr. Stuart,” Happy Conway, the train station manager, greeted the men as they came in. “What’s up, McKay?”
“Hello, Happy. Could we use your back room for a few minutes?”
“Sure, help yourself,” he offered, his eyes frankly curious as they went in and shut the door. McKay wasted no time in taking Richard Stuart aside. Trent, his gun already out, dealt with Jubal.
Phipps’ man was completely searched and divested of a gun and two knives. Determined not to let Jubal get away or harm anyone, Trent went over him twice, even holding the gun on him while he asked Jubal to remove his shoes. While this was going on, Richard and McKay spoke.
“Does this have to do with your inspection?”
“Yes.”
Richard looked regretful. “When I didn’t hear back from you, I thought that things were all clear.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“How did you know that was Jubal Hackett?”
“We know a lot of things.”
The men stared at each other. “I need to search you and the case, sir.”
Richard nodded. It was humiliating, but it could have been on the platform; he had to thank McKay for that small courtesy at least. It didn’t take long to find him clean, and after giving the banker a measured look, McKay went to Trent and Jubal. Jubal was now cuffed from behind and sitting on a crate. The two treasury men spoke briefly, and then McKay exited. No one had to tell the apprehended men that he was going for two more train tickets. It was as McKay had said: They were headed to Denver all right, but not the way they’d planned.
Denver
The day was getting long. In fact, Carlyle was headed home very soon. He had a few more papers to clear from his desk and then he would leave. In the midst of deep concentration,
a messenger knocked. Carlyle tipped the lad, asked him to stay around outside, and opened the letter. He smiled at the words he read and made a call on the interoffice telephone. Nick answered almost immediately.
“Is Paine with you?”
“No.”
“Now might be a good time to send for him.”
“Give us five minutes.”
Both men hung up and, just as planned, Carlyle knocked on Nick’s door five minutes later.
“Come in,” the older man called. “What is it?”
Paine was in the chair in front of the desk, and Nick was in his seat. Carlyle shut the door and approached, reading as he went.
“News from McKay. He’s brought Stuart and Hackett back from Longmont. He’s waiting at the jail for word from us.”
“Excellent.” Nick held his hand out as if he wanted Carlyle to give him the note, but then he glanced at Paine.
“What is it, Paine? You look ill.”
Nick’s chief aide licked his lips.
“McKay has brought in Richard Stuart and Jubal Hackett?”
“Yes. Didn’t I tell you that he and Trent Adams were on the job?”
A sick smile crossed Paine’s face. “Of course,” he tried to bluff. “I must have forgotten.”
“All right. Well, let’s finish this letter,” Nick went on, business as usual. “Here, Paine, read Carlyle what we have.”
But he couldn’t do it. He stammered and began to sweat.
“I don’t think I feel well, Mr. Wallace,” he finally whispered and stood. “I think I’d better go home.”
“Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell us, Paine?” Carlyle now inserted, and the man really looked at both Nick’s and Carlyle’s faces.
