Gunslinger: A Six Guns and Prairie Roses Novel

by Cynthia Breeding

  Then she frowned as she remembered the barrels in the last wagon. They were smaller than the pickle and grain barrels used in the store. And lighter in color, although she supposed if they were coming from the Orient, they might be bamboo. Still, she’d never seen them on the floor. Was John possibly purchasing some goods that weren’t used in the store, but they were being charged for?

  She began to pace. Both Luke and Ben had agreed it would be easier—or at least justifiable—if they could find something fraudulent with how John ran the store. Ben had already started double-checking past invoices against inventory. Luke was going to request copies of the bills-of-lading the Neptune Maiden’s captain would have given the shipper in India, but that would take a little time.

  Maybe the shipment of barrels was listed on the new invoice. John would have it and she could look tomorrow. But before they could accuse John of anything, they needed physical evidence. That meant they needed to take a look at those barrels. What was in them?

  The more she thought about it, the more inquisitive she became. And the more restless. She doubted she’d be getting any sleep. Abby eyed the cape she’d left lying on the chair. She had a set of Ben’s clothing in her trunk. It had come in handy at times in the Bowery when she wanted to move about unnoticed. Maybe she should go to the store now, in the wee hours when no one was about, and see for herself what the contents were. That way, she’d know if they had any evidence of wrongdoing before talking to John.

  She changed into the clothes and put on sturdy walking shoes. For a moment she contemplated waking her brother, then decided against it. He was like a bear awakened during hibernation, if his sleep was disturbed. She could go, check out the barrels, and be back in less than an hour. Having made up her mind, she pulled the cape over her shoulders and slipped out.

  From living in the Bowery, she knew that this late—or early—the drunks would be sleeping off the effects, the street gangs would be home and the streets clear, so she was surprised to see a horse and small, open cart in front of the store at this hour. Abby glanced in the display window, but all was dark within. She didn’t see anyone near the horse, and the cart was empty. Who in the world would be parked here? And why?

  She inched closer to the side of the building, then flattened herself against the wood as she spotted movement. It took only a moment before John walked out of the shadows, carrying one of the barrels from the ship. Another man that she’d never seen followed him with a second barrel to place in the cart. She moved quickly to stand behind a tree so they wouldn’t see her when they turned around. It looked like John was, indeed, stealing part of the inventory that had been brought in this afternoon. It seemed she had the proof she needed.

  Suddenly, she heard a footstep crunch on the gravel behind her. She turned, just in time to see a cloaked figure step from the shadows. Something was thrown over her head. And then, she couldn’t breathe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luke was jarred awake from a wonderful dream of having just thrust his cock inside Abby’s hot, wet sheath and having her writhing beneath him by a banging on his hotel door. Lucifer’s horns! Whoever it was would break the hinges in another minute. He grabbed the six-shooter he kept by his bed, even though his still dream-logged brain was telling him an assassin would hardly bother to knock.

  Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around himself and unlocked the door.

  “Where is she?” Ben pushed past him, fists clenched as he glanced at the slept-in empty bed. Then he looked around. “Where is she?”

  Luke blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t think you can hide what you’re doing from me. I ought to kill you right now.”

  Luke looked at his gun. “I think I have the advantage on you.”

  Ben ignored him as he walked to the wardrobe and threw the double doors open. Then he glared at Luke. “Abby’s not here.”

  “Of course she’s not…” His addled, still-lust-filled mind finally cleared. “Abby’s missing?”

  Ben gave him a suspicious look. “You really don’t know where she is?”

  “No.” He reached for his jeans and started dressing. “When did you find out?”

  “Less than a half-hour ago. I knocked on her door and there was no answer. When I opened it, the room was empty. I came right over here.”

  Luke finished buttoning his shirt and picked up his pocket fob. Half-past seven o’clock. He willed himself to remain calm, like he did when facing down an outlaw. “Is there any possibility she went to the store early?”

  “At this hour?” Ben shook his head. “We always have breakfast together first.”

  His senses sharpened, instinct telling him something was very wrong. Somehow, he managed to remain rational. “Was there any sign of a struggle?”

  “No. Her bed was unmade, but her night rail was lying across it.” Ben’s eyes widened. “You think she was abducted?”

  Luke considered. “Doubtful, if she’d gotten dressed. Someone bent on snatching her wouldn’t have given her the time.”

  For a moment, relief flickered over Ben’s face, then was gone. “Then where could she be?”

  “I suggest we start at the store, even if it is early.” He doubted she was there, but they had to start somewhere. “Just one more thing before we go.”

  Ben paused mid-stride to the door. “What? We’re wasting time.”

  “I love your sister.”

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “Does she know?”

  Luke nodded. “She feels the same. We’re going to get married.”

  “We can discuss that later.”

  “We can, and will.” Luke moved toward the door, his face grim. “But first, we have to find her.”

  ♦◊♦

  Abby slowly awakened to near darkness and complete disorientation. She was lying on a narrow cot, but it was moving, rocking gently like a cradle. Her throat hurt. She put a hand up to touch her neck, then winced at the pain. Had someone tried to strangle her? Her mind began to clear, and she remembered going to the store, watching John take barrels from the basement and load them in the cart. Then, someone had attacked her from behind and covered her head with some kind of sack. She must have lost consciousness.

  She sat up, fighting a wave of dizziness, then realized it was the small room—hardly the size of a closet—that was moving. It swayed from side to side and she heard boards creaking. It took another moment to realize she must be on a ship. Was it the Neptune Maiden? The schooner had brought in the barrels that John had taken from the basement. Was it possible the crew or even the captain was involved? It didn’t make sense. They surely wouldn’t be taking back inventory they’d already unloaded. The ship would probably be sailing at next tide to return to the Orient.

  And she would be on it.

  The thought made her blood chill, and then a second thought made it freeze. She remembered Luke telling her that San Francisco’s Barbary Coast shared a horrible history with the pirates of the infamous north African coast…and that sultans preferred blondes.

  She was blonde.

  And the Neptune Maiden traded in the Orient.

  Abby jumped up and reached the door in three strides. And found it locked. Not that she’d expected it to be open, but she had to try. She sank back down on the cot and tried to gather her wits. Dear Lord! She couldn’t be a captive!

  She had no idea of what time it was or how long she had been on board. She stilled, straining her ears for any sounds of activity that would indicate they were making ready to be under way. She could hear no shouts nor the sound of men moving about, but she didn’t know how far below deck she was.

  And how long did she have before the ship sailed?

  ♦◊♦

  Luke wasn’t particularly surprised that all was quiet when they arrived at the store. It was barely eight o’clock and not much stirred in San Francisco before mid-morning. But at least John was not here, either, so it would give them time to search without being watched.

>   He let them inside with his key. Ben looked around. “Everything seems in order here.”

  “I’ll check the office,” Luke said, but he hardly expected to find Abby sitting at the desk. She wasn’t.

  “Do you think she actually came here?” Ben asked.

  “Where else would she have gone?” Luke responded.

  “I don’t know. We all agreed we suspect John had something to do with the accidents and that he doesn’t want Abby running the store for some reason. It seems reasonable that Abby would want to investigate when he wasn’t around.”

  “Reasonable? Without telling you?”

  “My sister has an independent streak. Once her mind’s set…” Ben half-quirked his mouth. “She’s stubborn. If you’re serious about marrying her, you’d better get used to it.”

  As if Luke hadn’t already noticed her willfulness. Secretly, he thought it a good quality. At least, to a point. Right now, he wished he’d stayed at the boarding house and guarded her door. She would have been furious finding him there, but at least she wouldn’t be missing. Damn it.

  “Let’s take a look in the basement before we leave.” He kept his tone neutral, but anxiety flared in Ben’s eyes.

  “You think she might be…hurt?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he hurried outside to the side where the cellar door was. Luke was on his heels.

  “It’s locked. From the outside.” Ben said, prodding the padlock holding the doors shut. “I guess she didn’t go down there.”

  “Since we’re here, we might as well check it out.” Luke produced a second key he’d recently had made. “If nothing’s amiss, we’ll go report Abby missing to the authorities.”

  Throwing the doors open, they descended the stone steps into the earth cellar and he lit an oil lamp that hung from a hook. Everything seemed to be in order. Shelves held a variety of dry goods. Workman tools were neatly stacked in one corner. Barrels had been stored on wooden pallets to keep rot away.

  “Nothing seems to be disturbed,” Luke said, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

  Ben glanced around, then frowned. “I wonder where the small barrels are.”

  Luke gave him a questioning look. “Small barrels? There’s only one size.”

  “No. Abby and I watched the shipment being unloaded yesterday. There were six smaller, lighter-colored barrels that were put into one of the wagons. John rode in that wagon as they drove here.” Ben looked around again. “I don’t see them anywhere.”

  Luke took the lamp off the wall and started inspecting. He stopped near the area next to the tools. “Looks like the dirt here was scraped. This is probably where they were put down.”

  Ben came over. “But why would they disappear? If it’s part of our inventory—”

  “Maybe it’s not.” Luke frowned. “Maybe John was bringing something in that we didn’t know about.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…” Luke knelt and sifted the loosened dirt with his fingers. As he did, he unearthed a sliver of wood. Holding it up to the light, he ran his thumb along one edge. “This is fresh wood. It must have broken off one of the barrels.”

  “Here’s another piece.” Ben pushed it with his boot and then pointed. “And what is that over there?”

  Luke looked to where Ben had gestured. Something greenish-gray that looked like a small ball had rolled against the wall. He moved to pick it up, then stood so they could both get a better look. “It looks like part of a plant.”

  Ben put a finger to a crack on the ball and pressed. A sticky fluid oozed out. He rubbed his fingers together, then his eyes widened. “This is a poppy pod.”

  Luke drew his brows together. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” Ben answered. “We had a lot of unsavory types in the Bowery. Some of them dealt in opium. When the homeless drunks couldn’t get any alcohol, they’d raid the trash for the empty pods and suck on them. They looked just like this one.”

  “Damnation!” Luke grimaced. “There are opium dens all over Chinatown. I should have suspected something before.”

  “Opium isn’t illegal, though,” Ben said.

  “But smuggling it in to avoid paying taxes is,” Luke answered. “And the Neptune Maiden makes frequent trips to the Orient.”

  “You think the captain of the ship is aware?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on what the bill-of-lading said was in the barrels,” Luke replied, “but the ship puts into Victoria first, where they don’t have to pay taxes. Smuggling goods in from Canada is big business here.”

  “I guess that answers the question about what John’s been up to and why he doesn’t want Abby to find out,” Ben said.

  “But it doesn’t answer what happened to Abby.” Luke’s gut burned suddenly. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “You think something’s happened to Abby.” Ben made it sound more like a statement than a question.

  Luke nodded. “I think we’d better have another look around outside.”

  It didn’t take very long for them to notice where the gravel had been disturbed near the oak tree in front of the store, like there might have been some kind of scuffle. Then Luke’s eye caught a piece of plaid fabric stuck to the rough trunk. He pulled it loose.

  “Abby’s shirt. Mine, actually.” Ben said numbly. “She wears it when she disguises herself as a boy.”

  He didn’t have time to ask what that meant. She’d been abducted. Luke pulled the watch fob out of his pocket. “High tide is one hour.”

  “You think she’s been taken to the schooner?” Ben asked.

  “It stands to reason. If she caught John removing the barrels…if the captain is in cahoots…” He thrust the bit of fabric at Ben. “Take this to the constable and bring him—and as many men as are available—to the docks. We need to inspect the Neptune Maiden before she leaves.”

  Ben took it. “You’re going to the ship?”

  Luke nodded grimly. “I’m going to the ship. She isn’t sailing without me.”

  ♦◊♦

  Abby was frantic. She could now hear the sounds for departure. There was no mistaking the clanking and the sounds of metal chain being hauled onboard or the running footsteps above deck and the shouting of orders. They were getting ready to leave.

  A key turned in the lock to the cabin. The bright light from the outside as the door opened nearly blinded her. A young sailor stood in the doorway with a loaf of bread and what looked like a wrapped hunk of cheese. “Captain said to bring you this.”

  “Thank you.” She placed the food on the cot and eyed the sailor. He couldn’t be much older that herself. “Where is the ship going?”

  “Can’t say.”

  Couldn’t or wouldn’t? She’d have to resort to something else. Abby gave him a smile. “Do you suppose the captain would allow me on deck to watch the ship leaving?”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous for a lady. Especially one as pretty as you.”

  She kept her smile pasted on her face as she rose and took the two steps that put her inches away from him. “I’d be safe if you escorted me.” He seemed intrigued. “I’d really like to see what is going on.”

  He shook his head again. “Captain said you were to stay in the cabin.”

  She managed to feign innocence. “Am I a prisoner, then?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “Can’t say.”

  “Well, I mean, the door was locked.” Abby moved slightly closer and rested one hand on the sailor’s shoulder. His eyes widened at her touch. “Won’t you please let me out for just a few minutes?” She trailed her fingers along the collar of his shirt. “I promise to behave.”

  He was clearly distracted. For a moment, Abby thought he might even give in. If she could just get on deck… She could pretend to twist an ankle and ask him to go for help. Then she’d make a dash for the gangplank. It was the last thing to be lifted since all sailors had to be accounted for before a ship left port. And—she’d thought th
e procedure terrible when she’d first heard it—ships often took on “unwilling” sailors at the last minute if they needed more crew or if some unscrupulous person wanted to get rid of an enemy. Shanghaied, they called it.

  She’d never in the world thought she’d be one of those enslaved captives. Abby squelched the rising panic and leaned forward until she was just brushing against him. “Please? Just five minutes.” She gave him the seductive look she’d seen Delia use. At least, she hoped it was seductive. Prayed that it was. “Then you can bring me back here.”

  His eyes darkened. She held her smile in place along with her breath. Would the ruse work? His raised his hand to touch her and then it dropped. He stepped back.

  “I’ll get in trouble.” Without another word, he turned and practically stumbled out of the cabin. A moment later, she heard the key turn in the lock.

  She sagged against the door to collect her thoughts. Then, she looked down at her hand. The one that hadn’t been stroking his collar. In it lay the small dagger all sailors carried.

  Ben would have been proud that she hadn’t lost her skill. She pushed the thought aside. Hopefully, her ability to pick a lock was just as good.

  She knelt beside the door and stuck the tip of the knife into the lock. Thankfully, it was a standard type that used the old skeleton keys. It didn’t take but minutes to finally get the thing to click open.

  She paused, tuning her ears like a terrier to pick up any noise nearby. Hearing only the sounds up on deck, she picked up the cap the sailor, in his hurry to exit the cabin, had dropped. Stuffing her hair under it, she opened the door and slipped out.

  Freedom was close. Abby stood for a moment to get her bearings. There was a door that appeared to be another cabin beside hers along with two more across. A ladder led to an open hatch at the end of the narrow passageway which meant she was probably near the captain’s quarters in the stern of the boat. Cautiously, she climbed up and poked her head over the ledge. Just as she thought, sailors and dockhands were moving about, stowing anything loose and securing what needed to stay on deck. She flattened herself against a bulkhead and started to edge to midship where the gangplank was. At least, her men’s clothing would let her blend in the short distance where she could be spotted once she left the shadows and crossed to the gangplank. She hoped.