by C. A. Asbrey
She nodded as she dragged her legs out of the bed, pulling the covers back over them as she realized for the first time she wore nothing but a man’s shirt. “Who undressed me?”
He twinkled with mischief. “Does it matter? You were a mess. You’d been in there for two days in a fever, you’d been sick, covered in blood, and left lying in your own waste. You’ve been washed, and the vomit and God only knows what else cleaned from that thin hair of yours. Your clothes were burned. It would have been stupid to do anything else with them.”
“It matters to me,” the words were tempered by her growing weakness as the daunting prospect of these men tending to her overwhelmed her. Her cheeks burned with indignation but her eyes flashed in naked challenge. “Why didn’t you send me to town with the outlaws? There would have been women to care for me, unless—” she glowered at him. “They didn’t go to town. Perhaps you killed them?”
His smile warmed. “Nope. We didn’t kill them, and when you get to town, you’ll find out we left them for the law to find with evidence from the killing. It was important for the authorities to see we weren’t responsible for the death and that we made no money from it. We’ll have no connection to a hanging offence attached to our names. It’s good to see there’s a real woman in there though, under all that front.”
He turned to walk out of the cabin. “I can spot a player at a thousand paces, and you’re one as sure as I stand here. Let me break it down for you. You squashed a potato into me at Webberville. On the train at Hillside Bend you were dressed too expensively to end up working as a maid at Pearl’s. You turn up in Valleymount, wandering about in the dark with a shovel—”
She cut him off. “That voice! It was you.”
“Damn right it was,” he grinned. “I saw you, and if it hadn’t been about that idiot with a gun you’d never have seen me either.” The smile dropped from his eyes. “Then you lie about why you were following the Pattersons, you have a disguise, and put on an accent. You claim to have run away, but you took nothing with you. A woman poor enough to work as a maid in a brothel wouldn’t do that. She’d take what little she had, because that little bundle would be all she had in the world. You might not know many people like that, but I spent my life among them,” he pulled the door open a crack. “Then, you pretend not to know who we were. You’ve got an unhealthy interest in outlaws, Abigail, if that is your name. I’ll leave you to use the chamber pot, then we’ll make breakfast.”
His eyes glittered with danger as he paused and then continued. “We got a lot to find out about you girl, and I’m going to make sure there’s nothing else out there ready to bite us on the backside. But one thing’s for sure, you’re more than an innocent bystander, and you know something about the men asking questions about us. I’m gonna find out what that is before you go anywhere.”
She tilted her head in defiance, accepting she’d been rumbled in her moment of weakness. “I don’t like being patronized. I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, not a child. And don’t you forget it.”
He looked her up and down before he fixed with the intense certainty. “I’m not likely to, ma’am. Not while you’re wearing nothing but my shirt.”
♦◊♦
The rope squeaked on the spindle as Jake turned the handle, watching the dripping bucket rise from the dank, echoing depths of the well. He reached out and grabbed the wooden pail, poured the contents into his own receptacle, and swung the rope back out over the void.
His nephew clattered down the step of the porch and Jake turned to face him, his bright blue eyes alight with questions and concerns. “So she’s fully awake. Did you get anythin’?”
Nat shook his head, the thin winter sun warming his brown hair with a bloom of chestnut. “Nope. She’s a clever one. Even though she’s still weak, she can twist words like a veteran politician.” Nat frowned, his brown eyes meeting his uncle’s. “We need to find out what she knows. Smitty was prepared to have innocent bystanders killed just to fit us up for a capital charge and she’s in this up to her lying neck.”
Jake put his bucket on the ground and ran a distracted hand through his tousled, sandy hair. He stared at his nephew, so like him with the square face set with high cheekbones, but where Jake’s pale-brown hair ran to the dirty blond, Nat’s tended to be darker and streaked with the red of his Conroy mother. The dark brown eyes and dimples were most definitely from Nat’s dark father. All the Conroys were known for their piercing blue eyes back in Ireland. At times like this, Jake wished his folks had never left. Disquiet bubbled deep in Jake’s guts. “We ain’t kidnappers, Nat. She’s gotta go.”
“As soon as she’s told me everything she knows. She knows who we are, so we’ll be accused of kidnap whenever we let her go.”
“Not if we do it now. Her fever broke. She couldn’t travel,” Jake’s jaw firmed. “We steal money, not people.”
“She’s not only working with a man who’s prepared to kill to bring us down, she knows what we look like. I need to know more about Smitty,” Nat’s face darkened with a grim scowl. “I can’t have someone that ruthless out there who can identify us when we don’t have a clue who he is.”
“Dammit! Why don’t we just lay low for a while? A year, maybe two?”
“And live on what? We make decent money, but we spend it like water. We wouldn’t last more than six months before we had to pull another job. We’d have to plan something like that.”
Jake sighed and leaned on the well. “We ain’t hurtin’ a woman. I know I raised you all wrong, but I still taught you better’n that.”
His nephew’s eye glittered with indignation. “Of course I’m not going to hurt her. What do you think I am?”
“Since you ask—a lyin’, cheatin’, thievin’, genius. You’re better than this. You’re a decent man with a lick of larceny and mind like a machine. You’re like your pa. He could read anythin’ and understand it,” Jake cast a hand toward the cabin, “but it doesn’t do any harm to remind you there’s a helpless woman laid in there. She’ll be scared. You can be too clever for your own good, and sometimes, it’s better to choose your battles. Why not let her go and watch who she contacts?”
“Why? Because she knows us. We’d be spotted in a second. Our best hope is to get as much as we can before we let her go.
“I don’t know about this –”
“Then leave here and let me deal with her, Jake. I’ll get the information I want outta her.”
Jake shook his head. “No way, she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger in days. I saw the way you looked at her when she mushed that potato into your belly. If I’d done that to your good suit you’d have cracked me on the jaw.”
“They got the stain out,” Nat grinned, “and you don’t have eyes like a baby deer.”
“No. I’ve got a nephew who’s as stubborn as an ox, though and I’m used to cuttin’ through his crap.” Jake folded his arms. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You need protectin’ from her as much as she does from you.”
Indignation burst over Nat’s face. “Hey, I’ve never hurt a woman in my life,” an eyebrow arched in response to his uncle’s lips parting to respond. “I mean physically. Sure I broke a few hearts, but that doesn’t count. You’ve got a track record of your own to be ashamed of.”
“Leave Jess outta this. She’s the mother of my children and she’s moved on. That’s my fault. If this woman is mixed up with someone ruthless enough to kill to bring us down, she could be clever enough to manipulate you.”
Nat’s cheeks dimpled. “Manipulate me? Hell’ll freeze over first. This questioning will be like a game of chess. She’ll have to work hard to keep up.”
“Or maybe it’ll be more like her throwin’ a stick for a dog? I’m stayin’ to make sure everythin’s above board,” Jake lifted the bucket of water and headed over to the horse trough, “for both of you.”
♦◊♦
It took a few more days before she was well enough to get out of bed, but her strength and stamina gr
ew daily. She still feigned weakness and sleep though, avoiding questioning as much as she could. It wasn’t a great strategy, but she held onto the hope they’d have to move on. It was becoming clear that would not happen anytime soon.
Most of her time was spent staring around the cabin. She occupied the brass bed while the men slept on bedrolls on the floor. There were shelves filled with supplies and dried goods with a brick chimney breast and open fire facing the door. Two rocking chairs sat either side of the fire. It was very modern, given that an iron range sat against the wall, where most similar habitations still used only the hooks and spits still attached to the open fire. The owner had spent some money on this place.
The table and chairs sat between the bed and the range, and a colorful rag rug covered the hearth. It wasn’t exactly homey, but it wasn’t completely basic, either
It was breakfast time, and Jake helped her over to the table, supporting her against her unsteady gait as she tied a sheet around herself to protect her modesty. “So you use a nickname?”
He turned in surprise. “My name’s Jake Conroy. You know that.”
She shook her dark head, her wild curly hair cascading to an untamed jumble of corkscrews to her thighs since its release from restraining grips and clasps. “And that’s your real name?”
“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jake.”
“Is that what your family calls you? Nobody knows where you two grew up.”
His glare was a stiletto of ice. “My family ain’t your business, lady.”
The abrupt chill in his eyes shocked her. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
He plunked her on a chair. “You say too much. The sooner we get you out of here, the better.”
“What? What did I do?”
“Leave him be. You keep our family out of this and we’ll do for the same for you.” Nat put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her with a clatter and fixed her with a meaningful stare. “Trust me. It’s a damned good deal.”
She glowered at both of them, unsure what she had done to provoke the blond man. She picked up the tin mug. “Urgh! Who made this coffee? It’s horrible.”
Nat raised a brow. “What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s in here?”
“Coffee and water. What do you think?”
“No old socks?”
He glared at her while Jake stopped playing with his food and shoveled a forkful into his mouth with a smirk at his nephew. “I told you, Nat. Your coffee is terrible.”
Nat forked at his breakfast. “Don’t push it, Abigail, or whoever you are…”
She fixed him with a steady stare. “My name is Abigail. Abi to my friends.” She pursed her lips. “You can call me Miss Ross.”
“Are you sure it isn’t Albert Ross?” quipped Nat. “It sure feels like we’ve got a burden to carry with you,” he stared at the uncomprehending eyes of both table companions and felt forced to explain further. “Albert Ross. Albatross – an albatross around your neck. Get it?”
“Oh, I got it,” Abigail responded. “It just wasn’t very funny.”
Nat rolled his eyes and assessed her, looking for tells and clues in her body language. “I’m not sure about the surname, Abi.”
She gave an impatient snort. “When are you going to give me some clothes? I can’t keep sitting around half naked.”
“We ain’t got any women’s clothes,” Jake snapped. “Just count yourself lucky we found you at all.”
She sighed and ate her eggs, dropping her fork about halfway through. Her pensive dark eyes stared off into nowhere. Nat narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong now? Food not good enough, either?”
“It’s fine, thanks. I’ve had enough.”
“Got a name yet?” Nat pushed.
She paused. This couldn’t go on. “It’s Abigail. Abigail MacKay.”
Nat darted a glance at Jake. “Why’d you lie?”
She looked from one to the other, her chest heaving with indecision before she spoke again. “It’s time to come clean. I’m a Pinkerton Detective.”
Jake bellowed with laughter. “Now you’re just bein’ stupid!”
Her eyes widened with indignation. “I am?”
“You’re a woman.”
“You noticed?” she barked.
“Sure did. No doubt that saved you from a barrel load of trouble, if not your life,” Jake returned to his eggs.
“Look. My name’s Abigail MacKay and I’m a Pinkerton Detective. I was following the fake Innocents to find out where they were hiding.” She dropped her head in shame. “I got careless. They moved out before I was ready, and I had to get closer than I wanted. You found me. That’s about it.”
Nat leaned on the table and fixed her with a mean glower. “You were already out here when they started working this area. You were at Pearl’s place. We checked. The Pinkertons are based in Chicago. No Eastern detective would have had time to get involved in the hunt for the fake Innocents that fast.”
“I was already here.” She narrowed her eyes and held his gaze. “I was sent for you.”
Nat wasn’t so easily put off. “You were in Valleymount at the same time as us before you worked for Pearl. You were following us?”
“No, I wasn’t. I had no idea it was you. If I had I’d have pulled a gun on you, not a spade.”
Jake snorted with contempt. “Stupid. Just stupid. A woman detective? How are you supposed to bring us in? You expect us to believe this trash?”
“Yes, because it’s true. I went after the fake gang because they were killers. You could wait. It was no accident I was on the train at Hillside Bend. I travelled with payrolls for weeks, but I had to prioritize the worst crime when it presented itself.”
“And the men asking questions about us all over the county?”
“I can only guess the regional commander flooded the place to make sure a man got you rather than a woman. He was very unhappy Alan Pinkerton sent me in.”
The men exchanged a silent conversation in a glance of derision as they stood and cleared the plates. “There are no female Pinkertons,” Nat reached over to take hers.
“You mean, there weren’t.” Her mouth firmed into a line. “There have been female Pinkertons since the war. Women even guarded President Lincoln.”
“Yeah, well, that figures. He got shot. She could be right.” Jake shook his head. “Lord. What is the world comin’ to where that could even be considered?”
“If you are a Pinkerton, why are you telling us this now?” Nat demanded.
“I thought I could lie to you but you weren’t buying it. You’re holding a law officer against their will and you need to know that. You need to take me to a town. There’s nothing else for you to understand or do.”
She spoke with great authority and maintained a steady tone against the gaze of two of the most notorious outlaws in the West. Whoever she was, she was gutsy, but the men’s skeptical faces betrayed their incredulity.
Nat walked over to the door and darted a glance at his partner. “Whatever we’re doing, we aren’t holding you against your will. You’re free to leave anytime, but you’re not well enough to travel yet; not to mention the fact you haven’t got a horse, or clothes, or shoes. We’ll take you back when we’re all good and ready. In the meantime, we’ve saved your life and we’re keeping you safe and well. You’d do well to remember that, Miss MacKay. Now, do you want help to get back to bed or can you walk?”
The last comment drove home her vulnerability at their hands so she stood in a great show of obstinacy and wobbled her way to the bed, despite having been helped to the table in the first place. A Gaelic curse rang around the room as her legs gave way beneath her.
Jake caught her before one arm wound around her waist.
“Seems like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, Miss MacKay. Let’s hope you can swallow the consequences.”
She looked into the burning blue eyes and gulped down a knot of helplessness as her impotence sank in. Whatever they intended
to do with her she was not going anywhere soon, but surely she would be fine? They treated people well and behaved honorably toward women, didn’t they? A worm of worry niggled at the back of her mind; those rules applied to the public during robberies and were strategic. What did they do to their enemies when nobody else was around?
Chapter Six
“Out of bed?” Nat appeared at the door, the light highlighting his tawny hair. “Looking for something?”
She paused, guilty eyes dropping along with the hand trailing along the shelf. “Yes. Something to read.”
“A book?” his eyes scanned the room, checking to see if anything which could be used as a weapon had gone missing. “You should’ve said.”
“All I can find are a few science books. Whose cabin is this? A doctor’s?”
“The owner was a prospector. Those books are mine.”
Her brows arched in surprise, and she turned and picked one up. “‘Carl Friederich Peschel’s Textbook of Physics.’” She continued along the spines. “‘Ganot’s Elementary Treatise on Experimental And Applied Physics’, ‘Balfour Stewart, An Elementary Treatise On Heat.’”
“So?” Nat’s jaw firmed in challenge. “Have you got anything against a man who wants to improve his mind?”
“Physics? You?”
His brow furrowed. “I’m supposed to believe you’re a Pinkerton and you can’t believe I’m interested in science? I like to learn all kinds of things. Something wrong with that?”
“But you?” She stared at him incredulously. “You’re a common criminal.”
His brows met. “Really, Miss MacKay? There’s nothing common about me. I’m particular about being about as uncommon a criminal as you’ll ever meet. I’ve got a Dickens if you want something simpler, but no women’s stuff. I prefer my heaving bosoms to be tangible.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Who wants imaginary bosoms?”
She huffed in exasperation. “Can we forget about the bosoms?”
His dark eyes twinkled with devilment. “I wish I could, but men are kinda made that way.”
