Lawman in Disguise

by Laurie Kingery

  “Glad the fellows were able to locate you, Dawson. Good to see you back.”

  Despite the fact that he used positive words like glad and good, not a flicker of emotion showed in Gordon Griggs’s gaze. His eyes reminded Thorn of those of a shark he’d seen a drawing of one once in a book—flat, black, cold and ruthless. The eyes of a merciless predator.

  “You shoulda seen where he was holed up, boss,” Zeke chortled. “In a barn, but safe and sound and bein’ waited on hand and foot by a purdy widow woman an’ a kid, three square meals a day, doctorin’...”

  Cold fingers of fear danced down Thorn’s spine. How did Zeke know all this? Sure, he’d seen Daisy, but how did he know about Billy Joe? Or the doctoring? Again Thorn wondered who had seen him “climbing on the barn roof like a monkey.”

  “Ain’t that nice...” Griggs muttered, but no warmth reached those suspicious, cold eyes. “How’s it happen a doctor tended to you, but not the sheriff? I hear the doc in this town is mighty respectable. Why didn’t he turn you in to the law? How come you weren’t being cared for inside a jail cell?”

  Apprehension did a lively two-step down Thorn’s backbone. A wrong answer now and he could end up dead at Griggs’s feet. By an effort of will, he kept his gaze away from the pistol always riding at Griggs’s hip.

  “Respectable ain’t the same as incorruptible,” he drawled. “I had some money to bribe the sawbones to keep quiet.”

  “And the widow woman? Did you bribe her, too? Otherwise, what was in it for her? Why would she want an outlaw around her kid?”

  Thorn forced himself to utter a suggestive chuckle despite the nausea that churned his stomach. “Let’s just say the widow and I reached a certain...understanding,” he said, and winked. “Amazing how a few kisses and sweet words will affect a lonely woman.”

  Guffaws and hoots from the outlaws scattered around the campfire greeted his announcement, but inwardly, Thorn apologized to the lovely image in his mind. I’m sorry, Daisy, you know I don’t mean it.

  Griggs snickered. “Good to know you have such romantic talent, Dawson. Maybe it’ll come in handy for the gang some other time.” There was an answering chorus of guffaws and grins around the campfire, but Griggs cut it short with a raised hand. “All right, now that you’re back, it’s gettin’ late and we could all use some shut-eye. Gotta be fresh for tomorrow—we’re hittin’ the Lampasas bank.”

  Griggs seemed to expect some response from him, so Thorn said, “That’s great, boss. Happy to get right back in the game.”

  Griggs simply nodded in acknowledgment before assigning some of the men to be on watch for the night, as he always did.

  While others spread out their bedrolls and pulled off their boots, Thorn unsaddled Ace and made sure he was securely hobbled before finding a place to sleep. His heart had sunk at the news of the upcoming robbery, for there would be no opportunity to tip off the law. Would he ever get enough advance notice of a planned heist that he could set up a trap and bring an end to the Griggs gang’s thieving ways? Why hadn’t he seen this weakness in the State Police’s plan? Was he doomed to attend an endless series of robberies, letting decent people get robbed and sometimes injured, and all the while taking the same risk of getting shot as the real outlaws, because he was indistinguishable from them? Would he be killed before he could ever collect the reward and return to Daisy and her son?

  But maybe Thorn wasn’t using all the weapons in his arsenal. He hadn’t tried praying about it. He’d already asked Daisy to pray for him, and surely she was already storming the gates of Heaven with her prayers on his behalf. As the snores of slumbering men rose around him, he sent up his own silent petition. Lord, I have no right to ask anything of You, but please protect me and help me succeed in bringing the Griggs gang to justice.

  * * *

  Daisy smothered a yawn as she turned the chicken parts frying on the restaurant stove, so that they would brown evenly. After watching from her darkened room as Thorn Dawson rode away with the outlaws who’d come to fetch him, she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Instead, she’d lain awake and prayed over and over again—for his safety, and that she would find the right words to tell Billy Joe why his hero had left without saying goodbye.

  She’d gone into her son’s room when she heard him stirring that morning, for she hadn’t wanted him to go out and find the stall empty before she could tell him what had happened. She stressed the fact that the outlaws had not been willing to wait for Thorn to make his farewells—that Thorn had not wanted or planned to leave them so abruptly.

  It made her heart ache to see how manfully Billy Joe had struggled to blink back his tears. “He promised to come back to us as soon as he can,” she’d told him, but her son had just shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

  “Who cares?” he’d said. “We got along without him before—I reckon we’ll get along without him now just fine. I’m here to protect you, Ma.”

  Remembering it now, in the restaurant kitchen, Daisy felt a tear streaking down her cheek before she realized it was there. She reached up with the edge of her work apron to catch it.

  “Best pay attention to what you’re doing, Daisy,” Tilly said, reaching past her with a long fork to turn a chicken leg that was getting overdone on one side. “We wouldn’t want to burn the mayor’s dinner, would we?”

  Daisy straightened, blinked and forced a chuckle. She hadn’t even seen Tilly entering the kitchen. “No, we certainly wouldn’t. It’s hot in here,” she added, hoping the woman would think the tear was a bead of perspiration.

  “So what else is new?” inquired Tilly, patting her own dewy forehead. She winked. “Besides the patched roof on your barn, and the fella doing the patching Sunday morning, that is.” She smirked at Daisy’s startled expression. “That’s right, your handsome workman was seen, Daisy Henderson,” Tilly announced, a look of triumph on her face. “Mrs. Donahue overslept and didn’t make it to church, but when she came in here for a late breakfast, she was quick to tell me she’d been awakened by the sound of someone poundin’ on your barn roof next door. She also said he was mighty good-looking, from what she could see from her upstairs window. So who is he, Daisy, dear? Do you suppose he might have some time to come down to the boardinghouse and do some odd jobs for Mrs. Meyers? Or does he solely work for you?”

  There was a wealth of wicked innuendo in the other woman’s tone and a gleam of mischief in her eyes that revealed she was only too glad to have this juicy bit of scandalous gossip to hold over Daisy’s head.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tilly. He was a traveling man looking for work. I’d saved some money to have the barn roof fixed and he offered to do it in return for a few dollars, a couple of meals and permission to sleep in my barn until he was ready to head back on his way. And I’m sure he’d have been happy to work for Mrs. Meyers at the boardinghouse, too, but unfortunately, he left for Austin this morning. Too bad,” she said, feigning regret. “I was very satisfied with the job he did.”

  But Tilly was not to be so easily vanquished. “And would this traveling workman be the same fellow you were out strolling with the other night? Saw you with my own eyes, I did. But you both looked so serious—what was that about?”

  Daisy froze at the thought of how much trouble Tilly could now make for her. It was true that there could be no secrets in a town the size of Simpson Creek. She’d been foolish to believe she could have Thorn stay with her and not have anyone notice.

  “And what were you doing out on the street at that hour, Tilly? As I recall, it was about midnight when I discovered Billy Joe was missing and Th—” she swallowed, realizing she’d almost said “Thorn” “—the workman heard me calling for him in the yard and offered to help me look for him. We found him swimming with his pals in the creek.”

  “Boys will be boys, I guess.” Tilly giggled. “
As for me, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a stroll. That boardinghouse can be so stuffy on summer nights,” she added with another elaborate wink. “But you know what a stickler our boss is for propriety in his employees. It wouldn’t do to have Mr. Prendergast catch wind of your midnight promenades with the handsome hired man, would it?”

  “Tilly—” Daisy began to remonstrate with her coworker, only to freeze in horror at the sight of the very man she had just named standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his cavernous chest and an expression of indignation on his face. When had he entered the kitchen? What had he heard?

  “Mr. Prendergast? Is there a problem?” she said, pretending to concentrate on the chicken parts she was turning once again.

  The proprietor harrumphed. “Only if you consider slow service a problem,” he pronounced in his pompous way. “I came through the dining room and found the mayor and his lady waiting on their dinners, and while they didn’t complain, it sounds to me as if they’d been waiting for a considerable while. And then I find the two of you back here gossiping—and I believe I heard my name mentioned, did I not, Miss Pridemore?” he said, addressing Tilly.

  As Daisy feared, the waitress had no scruples about throwing a coworker under the wagon wheels rather than herself.

  “Yes, Mr. Prendergast,” Tilly said, the picture of innocent virtue. “I was merely reminding Daisy that you insist on the highest standard of morality in everyone you employ—for your female staff in particular—and I pointed out that going out for a midnight walk with a traveling hired man was not, shall we say, consistent with that image, especially considering she is a widow with an impressionable son.”

  The proprietor glared at Daisy and wrinkled his nose as if he suddenly smelled a skunk, while Daisy fought down the urge to call Tilly out as the conniving schemer she was.

  “Indeed it is not,” he said. “Miss Pridemore, will you be so kind as to serve the mayor and his wife their meals, then come back and take over the cooking while I speak further with Mrs. Henderson about this matter?”

  “I’d be ever so happy to do that, Mr. Prendergast,” Tilly simpered, with much fluttering of her lashes. “You know my goal is always to serve the hotel in whatever way I can.” After plating the food, she flounced out of the kitchen after a last malice-filled, triumphant sneer at Daisy.

  With leaden feet, Daisy followed the hotel proprietor out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his office. This was it. Tilly’s scheming had succeeded at last. Daisy was about to be fired, and with Tilly and Mrs. Donahue blackening her name all over town, very soon no one would even let her do their laundry. She would be unable to earn any wages, and Billy Joe might well think his mother had earned her disgrace and the precarious situation it would put their family in.

  If only she hadn’t had to lie to Tilly about Thorn. She’d never been a liar before, but now she was stuck with the story that he was a traveling workman. Though perhaps in this situation, sticking with the false story would be wiser than telling the truth. She couldn’t very well tell Mr. Prendergast she’d been harboring a fugitive. That would hardly be—what was Tilly’s phrase?—consistent with the high standards of morality for the hotel’s employees. Daisy didn’t feel she’d done anything wrong, or compromised her morals by taking care of Thorn, and she couldn’t be sorry she’d helped save his life. But her own life would have certainly been easier if he hadn’t picked her barn to collapse in.

  Mr. Prendergast’s office was airless and stank of the cigars he favored. By the end of the grueling half hour she spent being interrogated—there was no other word for it—her clothing stuck to her damply, and she felt weak and defenseless as a newborn kitten. But through it all, she had stuck to the same explanation she had given Tilly, and at the end of it, she still had her job.

  “But mind your step,” Mr. Prendergast warned her when at last he told her she could resume her duties. “If there is any repetition of scandal connected with your name, Mrs. Henderson, you will be seeking employment elsewhere—at the saloon, perhaps.”

  It was all Daisy could do to smother her indignation. He hadn’t even questioned why Tilly had been a witness to her late-night walk down Simpson Creek’s main street with Thorn. He seemed to think his waitress could do no wrong.

  But at least Daisy had the pleasure of seeing the nonplussed look on Tilly’s face when she told the other woman she could resume to her waitressing duties, since Daisy was going back to work in the kitchen.

  By this time, however, the noon rush was over and the dining room all but empty. “You might as well take your break,” Tilly told her stiffly, when Daisy began to put her apron back on. “If I could handle both your job and mine at our busiest time, I can certainly do it now.”

  The events of the last half hour had left Daisy without an appetite, but while she’d been pinned to the chair in Mr. Prendergast’s office, she’d thought of an errand she’d better do.

  Sheriff Bishop needed to know that Thorn had gone back to the Griggs gang last night. Notifying him was the right thing to do, whether or not Thorn’s assertion that he wasn’t really an outlaw had been true. And while her short break didn’t give her time to walk down to the jail—nor did she want to create any speculation about why she’d be visiting such a place, especially when her reputation was already at risk—the back of the hotel was on Travis Street, just a few yards away from the Bishops’ house. Prissy, the sheriff’s wife, could notify her husband for Daisy, for the sheriff always kept his wife informed of what was going on in town.

  Prissy Bishop was one of the kindest women who’d ever breathed, and a fellow Spinsters’ Club member, though Daisy rarely had time to take part in any of the social club’s events. It had been far too long since she’d had a visit with a friend, and this afternoon she felt very much in need of one.

  Chapter Nine

  Prissy, with a bright-eyed baby on her hip and a small, yipping dog of mixed heritage dancing at her feet, welcomed her into her home. “Daisy, come in! It’s been too long! Houston, don’t jump on our visitor! Your timing is perfect, Daisy—I just took some blackberry muffins out of the oven. Can you sit down and sample them, and a glass of lemonade, with me?”

  “I can’t stay long, but a muffin and a cool drink would be very nice. I see little Samantha is teething,” she remarked, having caught sight of a single gleaming white nub of a front tooth as the baby seized on a biscuit Prissy handed her and started gumming it with enthusiasm.

  “Yes, and she’s been remarkably cheerful about it, as long as I keep her supplied with something to chew on,” Prissy said with a laugh. She poured lemonade from a tall jug and handed Daisy a glass. The muffins were already cooling on the kitchen table. The enticing smell of them made Daisy decide she hadn’t lost her appetite, after all.

  “You said you didn’t have long—are you on a break from the hotel kitchen?” Prissy asked, as both women settled into chairs.

  Daisy nodded. “I really should speak to the sheriff, but time is short and I was hoping you could give him a message for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “I imagine your husband has told you about the fact that one of the bank robbers has been recuperating from his wounds in my barn,” Daisy began, then stopped. What if Sam Bishop hadn’t confided in his wife as he usually did? What would Prissy think of her then? “Only, he’s not really an outlaw—I don’t know if Sam told you that...”

  Oh, why had she come and opened her mouth? What if she’d lost Prissy’s good opinion of her for nothing? What a mess this was turning into!

  “Yes, Sam told me about the man—his name is Thorn Dawson, I believe? Goodness, Daisy, how shocked you must have been to find a wounded man in your barn after that awful robbery,” her friend said. “Sam told me he’s really a Texas Ranger secretly working with the State Police to bring down the Griggs gang. How daring of him! I’m sure Billy Joe is over
the moon getting to talk to such a fellow. Sam says he seems a decent sort of man...”

  “Yes, he is, but I need to inform the sheriff that a couple of men from the gang showed up last night, and Th—Mr. Dawson—had no choice but to ride off with them. So he’s back with the Griggs gang. And if they’re gathering up their members, then they might be planning another raid or robbery. I thought Sheriff Bishop would want to know.”

  Prissy’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, dear, and after he fixed your barn roof and everything...”

  Now it was Daisy’s turn to be startled. “How did you know about that, Prissy?”

  Her friend’s expression was rueful. “I’m afraid Mrs. Donahue’s tongue has been wagging all over town, Daisy, after she saw him up there Sunday morning. And anyone she hadn’t told, Tilly has. I’m sorry... I’ve been trying to assure those who brought up the topic that there was more to it than what it appeared, though I could say no more for the sake of Mr. Dawson’s safety. But you and I both know that you’ve done nothing wrong by helping the man recover...”

  Daisy gave in to the urge to cover her face with her hands. She could imagine no one would listen to what Prissy had tried to say, after the titillating news they’d heard from Tilly and Mrs. Donahue. Daisy’s reputation was in ruins. Despite what Mr. Prendergast had said today, he’d never let her keep her job once he knew how widespread the scandal was. And there was nothing she could do to combat it. The only thing that would quiet the scandal would be if Thorn came forward himself to say that he had honorable intentions toward her, and that he meant to marry her. And he wouldn’t do that. Even if she could ask it of him, he was gone now—back with the Griggs gang. There was no safe way to get a message to him, and certainly no safe way for him to respond.

  Thorn’s safety, while he played this double role, depended on the Griggs gang believing he was as much a criminal as they were. If she tried to tell people in town the truth—that Thorn was planning to return to her, but had to finish his mission for the State Police first—there was too much of a risk that word might get back to Griggs and his men. If the gang somehow heard that their wounded cohort might not be a genuine outlaw at all, and they began to mistrust him, his life could be at risk. Could gossip put Thorn in danger much more serious than any harm it could do to her?