Last Chance

by Jill Marie Landis

  "I didn't. We've got an operative here."

  "In Last Chance?"

  Boyd's gaze appeared out of focus as it wandered around the room, but he was as alert and wary as Lane. The skinny, raven-haired girl had arrived with two whiskeys on a stained tray.

  "Sometimes things are right under your nose," Boyd told him as he reached for a whiskey and artfully sloshed most of it over the rim of the glass before he brought it to his lips.

  Lane jerked his gaze up to the barmaid and tried to remember if she'd told him her name when she had propositioned him on the Fourth. The girl winked, slipped her tray under her arm and flounced away without asking for a dime.

  "Her?"

  Boyd nodded. "Erlene's one of the best field agents we have."

  "I'll be damned."

  "Probably. I have my suspicions, but would you mind tellin' me what you're doing here?"

  "A long-overdue homecoming," Lane said caustically. "I grew up around here." He fought down the ugly memories that always surfaced when he thought of his youth. "Thought I'd ride through and see how things were in these parts. Try to see if I could pick up anything that might lead to the Gentleman Bandit."

  "You're on suspension."

  "Without pay. You don't need to remind me. I've had to dip into my savings."

  "Sometimes that's the only way to teach you boys a lesson."

  Lane downed the drink. "I learned my lesson the hard way."

  Boyd sobered and turned to look him in the eye. The feigned drunkenness had left his gaze. Empathy had replaced it. "I know you didn't mean for the ambush in Tulsa to go wrong, but it did, Lane, and it was your impulsiveness that caused an innocent man to lose his life."

  Lane bit back a wave of nausea. He thought the two men had only been hurt. "Which one died?"

  "The old man."

  Lane shoved his hat back onto the crown of his head and sprawled back in the chair. He was silent for a time, then waited until one of the bartenders walked past and went through the door beside them into the back room.

  "I hate to hear it, but given the circumstances, I don't know as I would have done anything different."

  "That's your problem, Lane. You don't have any idea what it means to control yourself. Impulsiveness and detective work don't mix."

  Lane knew damn well he'd been in full control of his emotions last night. If he hadn't, one thing would have led to another and he might have pressed Rachel to let him make love to her right there on her own settee.

  "Been out to see your uncle?" Boyd said, calling him back from his dark thoughts, letting Lane know he was well aware of the reason behind his trip to Montana.

  "If you knew why I came back here, why did you let me go right on jawin' about it?"

  "We know everything there is to know about you, boy. Thought I told you that years ago."

  "I haven't seen Chase," Lane finally admitted. "He's in California with his family."

  "Convenient. The Bandit struck the Burlington Line late yesterday afternoon somewhere between Cheyenne and Helena. The guards said he posed as a conductor, walked right into the payroll car, held up the one guard inside and left him gagged and bound to the safe handle. Strolled out right under their noses. Had plenty of time to change clothes, mingle with the passengers and disembark before they knew what happened.

  "Back in Denver we checked through the prison records and came to a conclusion about your uncle." Boyd slumped farther down in his chair.

  Lane toyed with his glass, his stomach in a coil. "I know. I read through the reports and decided to come out here."

  "Denver has come up with another suspect. Nothing solid. You know Robert McKenna?"

  "I know who he is."

  "As long as you're unofficially looking into the case, you might want to see what you can find on him."

  Boyd looked around to make certain no one was listening in and took another sip of whiskey. "Would you bring your uncle in if he were guilty?"

  Lane paused. Sighed. His gaze cut across the room to the shaft of light streaming in through the transom above the swinging doors. "He's not."

  "But if he was?"

  "I'd do my job."

  "Stay in contact with Erlene. She draws a lot less attention than you do around here." Neither of them had missed the curious stares that had come Lane's way.

  "So I'm on the case?"

  Boyd smiled. "As I said before, unofficially."

  "What does that mean?"

  "That means that as long as you're here, you may as well find out what you can. If your uncle is guilty, it'll go easier for him if you can convince him to turn himself in. I'm going back to try to get you off suspension, but you ought to know that until I do, your work will be unsanctioned by the Pinkertons. We'll take no responsibility for you or your actions. You're on your own."

  Lane straightened and rubbed his forehead with his open palm before he shoved his hat down again.

  "We could both lose our jobs if you don't play this one exactly by the book, Cassidy. I'm counting on you to make sure I collect my pension."

  "What now?"

  "I'm leaving town on the next train to Denver. You stay out of trouble—of all kinds."

  Lane pushed back his chair and stood up. "I hear you."

  As Lane started through the room, Boyd followed close behind, boisterously begging for another round.

  They hit the doors at the same time. Lane shoved one open as Johnson lunged out the other.

  "Thanks for the drink, young fella," Boyd slurred as he staggered into Lane and began pounding him on the back with overzealous goodwill. He smacked his lips together. "Let's do it again somp'time soon."

  Lane gave him a nudge that sent him listing down the block. Since it looked like he would be staying a while longer, Lane became intent on gathering enough supplies to tide him over at the line shack. He spun around to head back to Carberry's, and found himself toe to toe with Rachel. She had a death grip on Ty's hand and was staring up at Lane with undisguised censure in her eyes.

  "Friend of yours?" she asked coolly.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Lane ignored the stares of onlookers and hurried after Rachel. With a shopping basket in one hand, she clung to Ty with the other and fairly dragged the child down the street to escape. But he wasn't about to let her storm off without at least listening to an explanation.

  He caught up with her in a few strides, took her by the arm and abruptly halted her forward motion. She swung around and glowered up at him from beneath the brim of a stylish straw boater banded with navy-blue ribbon.

  "Let go of me," she ordered.

  "Hi, Lane," Ty chirped.

  "Hi, Ty." Lane concentrated on Rachel. "What are you in such a fine pucker about?"

  She glanced down at his fingers. He gripped her arm so hard he was wrinkling the sleeve of her smoke gray blouse. She froze him with a glacial stare. "Let me go."

  "Not until you let me explain."

  Foot traffic ebbed and flowed around them as they stood planted directly in the middle of the block in front of Carberry's. Lane had a glimpse of Millie Carberry peering out from behind the window display, and when he caught her eye over Rachel's shoulder, the woman reached for a canister of gumdrops but continued to stare.

  "Do I have a choice?"

  Lane let go of her arm. "Rachel, I literally ran into that old drunk on the street. I felt bad about the way I shoved him and took him in to buy him a drink. That's it."

  "Whiskey at eleven in the morning? I can smell it on your breath." Shocked and disgusted, she looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, and stared off down the street, her toe tapping furiously.

  Ty stood perfectly still between them, alternately looking up at Lane and then his mother. Lane glanced down at Ty, who rolled his eyes and shrugged in silent camaraderie.

  "You've got no call to talk to me like a school-marm," Lane reminded her unnecessarily, his voice low enough so that only she could hear.

  Rachel s
tarted off down the street again.

  He grabbed her before she was three strides away and pulled her up short. Her shopping basket fell to the walk. Reluctant to make more of a scene, he hoped she would stand there without fighting his hold as he retrieved her basket.

  "Look, I'm sorry for that remark," he said, handing it over to her.

  "You should be." She jerked the basket out of his hands and crossed her arms.

  "He's really sorry, Mama," Ty added as he slipped his hand into Lane's.

  Lane closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to five. He was slowly losing control of his life. First Boyd, and now this. The afternoon was sweltering. Wagons and horses moving up and down Main made the hot air heavy with dust. He needed to get out of town, away from all these prying eyes. And he imagined Rachel could use a good dose of relaxation herself.

  "Why don't we all go riding?" he suggested, anxious to get them off the street. "We'll find a stream and go wading. Sit in the shade." He met Rachel's furious glare. "We'll all calm down."

  "Say yes, Mama!" Ty began jumping up and down.

  "I can't do that," Rachel balked, daring to quickly glance around. "I have things to do this afternoon. I promised Delphie—"

  "I can go," Ty assured Lane.

  "No you can't," Rachel said.

  Lane could tell that she was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. They clearly were the object of scrutiny from all sides. He could see Rachel wasn't about to give in and go riding. The smartest thing for him to do, he realized, would be to get them off the street.

  "How about if you finish your errands while I take Ty for a short ride? I'll have him back in time for dinner."

  Rachel glanced around before looking down at Ty. She straightened her straw hat, then shifted the shopping basket on her arm.

  As she wiped Ty's sweaty brow and smoothed his hair back off his forehead, the boy looked up at her with such shining hope in his eyes that she realized she couldn't fight them both. She surprised Lane by slowly nodding.

  "That would probably be good for him," she conceded.

  "It would be good for you, too, Rachel. Come with us."

  With resignation in her eyes, she met his gaze and shook her head. "I can't, Lane. We've made enough of a scene. I'll go on about my errands and see you both later."

  "Let's go, Lane." Ty tugged on his hand.

  "You're sure you won't go with us?" Lane asked.

  She shook her head and smiled, leaned down and kissed Ty on the cheek. "Be careful."

  "Aw, Ma." He groaned and swiped at the kiss, embarrassed by the open show of affection.

  "See you later," Lane promised. "And don't worry about Ty."

  Lane watched her walk away with her head high and shoulders set to do battle as she entered Carberry's. Within seconds she had disappeared into the dark recesses of the store.

  "Where we going?" Ty asked as they walked hand in hand down the boardwalk.

  "To get my horse and then we'll head out to a secret swimmin' hole I used to use when I was a kid."

  "A kid like me?"

  Lane glanced down at the child beside him. The hero worship in Ty's eyes weighed heavily on Lane's shoulders. What would Ty think of him after he rode out of his life?

  "I was never as good a kid as you are."

  Ty beamed. "Really?"

  If he was, Lane didn't remember that far back. "Really."

  Lane retrieved Shield from a hitching post down the street. Then he took off Ty's coat, unbuttoned his collar and cuffs and rolled up the boy's sleeves. When they were both mounted up, Lane nudged Shield into a walk, and they ambled down the street, headed for the outskirts of town. Lane cut through the alley behind Carberry's and the Slippery Saloon, and as he passed by the back door of the saloon, he drew up and dismounted.

  "Can you hold him?" he asked Ty.

  "Yep." The boy sounded far more certain than he looked, with his reed-thin legs sticking out at right angles to the horse. Lane ducked inside long enough to catch Erlene's eye. He stepped back out and waited for the barmaid, holding Shield by the bit as Ty chatted about the heat and informed Lane that he couldn't swim yet, but that he was sure he would learn real fast.

  Erlene slipped outside. Her showy black and aqua corset and black net stockings, set against her pale skin, looked garish in the sunlight. Her breasts were almost completely exposed. Ty stopped talking the minute she appeared and stared unabashedly at her.

  "Cassidy." She eyed Ty curiously for a moment. "Looks like you've picked up some extra baggage."

  "Nothing permanent." Lane felt as if he had betrayed the boy the minute the words were spoken. "I'll be out at the Trail's End Ranch for the time being. If you need me, the foreman can get word to me."

  "You going to keep an eye on your uncle, see what you can come up with?"

  Lane shook his head as he remounted. "My uncle isn't guilty. I don't have anything but gut instinct to back that up, though. What about you?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing concrete. Just his record, the traveling and the endless supply of money he seems to have. The Agency thought it was enough and they're pressing for more information. Chase rarely comes into town. Good luck. Thanks for letting me know where you'll be. I've got to get back."

  She peered up and down the alley, anxious to step back inside as quickly as possible. When she opened the door, music, laughter and the smell of stale cigar smoke filtered outside. She slipped in and closed the door behind her, shutting in the noise.

  Ty produced a wavering, broken whistle. "Boy, she's some pumpkins."

  Lane laughed aloud at the boy's observation. He slipped his arm around Ty's middle and held on tight as he kicked Shield into a trot.

  "Hang on, kid. We'll be swimming in no time."

  Five and a half hours later, Rachel stood at her back door pinning Lane with a furious stare. Ty looked exhausted but happy, his hair still damp, his fair cheeks crimsoned by too much sun. He was smiling up at Lane as if the man were a god, not a gunslinger. As she stared down into her son's upturned face, she realized she was playing a dangerous game with his heart.

  "Go on in, Ty. Delphie has dinner ready."

  "Can Lane stay?"

  Lane couldn't believe she was still upset at him for having had a drink or two at eleven in the morning, but something had her out of sorts.

  "I can't stay," Lane said, hoping to avoid an awkward situation. "I've got to get back to the ranch before dark."

  Relieved, Rachel sensed he'd read her mood and was making an excuse. She felt like a fraud, torn between wanting him to stay and her common sense. She found him too attractive, and too entirely wrong for her. She was angry at Lane for being who he was, and just as angry at herself for needing to be near him.

  "Looks like you haven't cooled off yet."

  "I've had a lot to think about," she told him.

  "I hope you mean me."

  "I don't," she said much too quickly.

  That was her problem. She had thought too much about him. Thought about what he did to her last night, how he had made her feel. She had nearly lost control in his arms and now, looking back, that frightened her more than the consequences of what might have happened.

  As she moved through her errands that afternoon she had been forced to endure the sidelong glances and whispers that met her wherever she went. The passion she experienced in Lane's arms could not outweigh the realities of his life and reputation. She had even wondered if she might not be using him to infuriate the McKennas, using him as a catalyst in her fight to reestablish her independence.

  "I'll see you tomorrow." He reached out to touch her cheek.

  Rachel stiffened. His hand fell away.

  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

  She could see by his cool response that she had offended him.

  "Fine. Then I'll come by in a day or two."

  He walked away before she could tell him no. It was impossible to miss the anger in his long strides before he mounted up and rode o
ff without looking back.

  "How come you didn't talk Lane into staying for supper?" Ty asked later that evening as Rachel sat beside him on his bed to read him a bedtime story.

  Rachel pulled the edges of a full-sleeved cotton housecoat closed over her corset and fluffed the pillow she had rested against the cherry-wood headboard. His favorite storybook lay open on her lap.

  "Mr. Cassidy is a busy man."

  "He said we can call him Lane. At the swimming hole he said I'll make a good swimmer someday."

  "He said you two were going wading, not swimming."

  Ty shook his head. "Wading is for girls and women. We went swimmin'. Found Lane's old secret swimmin' hole and took off our clothes and jumped in."

  "You took off—"

  "It was way over my head, but Lane said he wouldn't dare let me drown or you'd skin him alive and Delphie would pound him flatter than a veal steak and broil him for dinner."

  Rachel couldn't help but smile, although her heart remained heavy. All Ty had talked about since his return was Lane. Lane this and Lane that. Lane let him fire off a round of bullets—but held his hand over Ty's the whole time. Lane let him guide Shield. Lane could swim faster than a fish. A stark-naked fish.

  Lane, Lane, Lane.

  She was afraid that Ty had already become so attached to Lane that when the man rode out of their lives the boy's heart would break.

  Rachel read a chapter and then closed the book. It was dark outside, but the rooms upstairs held the heat of the day. Ty kicked off his sheet and snuggled down against his pillow, watching her as she picked up the lamp.

  When her robe gaped open Ty asked innocently, "Mama, how come you don't wear one of those fancy little corsets?"

  "What fancy little corsets?"

  "You know. One of the lacy ones that show off lots of your bosoms. You could get one of the black and blue ones like that lady at the saloon wears."

  She felt her face flame, more with anger than embarrassment, and carefully set the lamp down on the bedside table again.

  "What lady at the saloon?"

  "Lane's friend. She's some pumpkins."

  Holding on to her temper by a slim thread, she sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to sound mildly curious instead of wildly furious. "When did you see this lady?"