Of course, the increase in robberies could simply mean that the gang had grown more confident with time and therefore more brazen. If that was the case, it could work in Brett’s favor. Confidence bred mistakes, and mistakes led to capture.
It was always the same story—the Ghost Riders robbed, ran, and vanished. There was no way of knowing when or where the gang would strike next.
The county had three main towns, including Haywire. Each town was separated by wild, untamed land that included rugged hills and granite domes. Rivers and streams were more of a hindrance to a posse than to outlaws, as were the caves and caverns hidden among the hills. It was nearly impossible for a handful of lawmen to cover such a wide and varied range. Just questioning one witness often took a full day in the saddle.
Even more puzzling was the way the Ghost Riders managed to stay one step ahead of the law. They somehow knew when gold would be transported by stage or private company.
So far, the thieves had avoided the traps set by lawmen, and there didn’t seem to be a blasted thing the town marshals or the county sheriff could do about it.
Keeler was every bit as frustrated as Brett and made no bones about it. As the county sheriff, he was under the most pressure to bring the outlaws to justice.
That explained why Brett found the sheriff in a foul mood that morning. For once, no pounding feet rattled the ceiling. Even the prisoners seemed reluctant to draw the sheriff’s ire.
Lucky Lou wasn’t so lucky. The sheriff was reading the riot act while his deputy watched quietly from the sidelines.
“Doggone it!” Keeler yelled, pounding his fist on his desk. “This is the third tag I’ve given you in less than a month. If I catch your dog running around loose again, it’ll be the last time!”
Beneath his fancy duds, Lucky Lou looked like he was sweating bullets. “I can’t help it if my dog keeps losing his collar. He hates leashes. And I don’t see why I have to pay a licensing fee again. I’ve already paid twice.”
“Don’t complain to me. Complain to your dog.”
As if he knew the discussion was about him, Ringo cocked an ear and wagged his tail.
Lucky Lou slapped the fee on the sheriff’s desk. He then grabbed the disk-shaped metal dog tag and slipped it on his finger. Giving his dog a stern look, he said, “I’m putting you on a bread-and-water diet if you lose this one, you hear?”
“Woof!”
“Nice grappling irons,” Brett said, looking down at Lucky Lou’s jingle-bob spurs. The nearly three-inch wheels and rowels suggested they were of Mexican descent.
“Thanks.”
“Got to git me some of those,” Deputy Sweeney said.
Tugging on his dog’s leash, Lucky Lou left the office, slamming the door shut behind him.
The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, where were we?”
Deputy Sweeney drew his chair closer to the sheriff’s desk. “We were blatherin’ about the Ghost Riders. The only thing they ’aven’t robbed is the train, but I wouldn’t put it past them.”
Brett nodded. “You could be right. That’s how the real money is transported these days.”
The sheriff shook his head. “Ain’t gonna happen. That’ll bring the Pinkertons, and no outlaw wants them on his tail.” He tapped his fingers on his desk and stared at his deputy. “I want you ridin’ herd on the stage that’s due in at noon.” He stood and reached for his gun belt hanging on the wall. “Meanwhile, I’ll ride out to Barterville. The marshal sent me a dispatch sayin’ their bank’s safe was blown two nights ago.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Brett said.
The sheriff glared at him. “I’m a big boy. I don’t need no escort.” With that, he shot out the door.
After the two lawmen had left, Brett reached into his pocket for the list Kate had given him. Thirty-nine names were on that list. Thirty-nine people had recently purchased peppermint candy. Thirty-nine potential suspects to check out…including Sheriff Keeler.
* * *
Kate filled a box with candy for the women’s book club. As she worked, she kept an anxious eye on Connie. It had been nearly a week since the dance, and Connie was obviously still upset.
She paced the floor with a glazed look of despair. “What would it have cost Harvey to ask me to dance at least once?” she railed and popped another chocolate in her mouth.
Kate dropped the last piece of taffy into the box and sealed it. “I’m sorry, Connie. I don’t know what to say. Harvey’s a fool not to see your fine qualities. But someone will. Trust me. It’s just a matter of time.”
Connie wiped chocolate from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have only one man vying for your attention,” she said, bursting into tears. “You have two.”
Kate stared at her. “What are you talking about? Two?”
“Don’t look so innocent. I saw you with that handsome Texas Ranger. What’s his name? Tucker?”
“Whatever you think you saw is wrong. He’s in town on business, nothing more. He has no interest in anything else. Nor do I.”
“That’s not how it looked to me,” Connie argued.
“Come on, Connie,” Kate said, feeling oddly defensive. “You know I need stability. That’s hardly the kind of life a Texas Ranger can offer. I need someone whose roots run deep. Who loves this town as much as I do. Who understands and knows my history.”
Connie took a deep breath. “Like Frank.”
“Like Frank,” Kate said. “He was there on the orphan train with me. He went through everything I went through. He left a perfectly good home in Missouri to track me down.”
No one was more surprised than she was the day he’d shown up on her uncle’s doorstep, demanding to know if she was being treated right. She was only seven at the time and Frank nearly ten.
Impressed that the boy had demonstrated such initiative, her uncle had talked Mr. Foster into taking Frank in. That had turned out to be a fortunate choice. Even after his first wife died, Howard Foster had provided Frank with a good home and seen that he stayed in school even while he worked as an apprentice in the leather shop.
“Frank’s always been there for me, Connie. He was only a child when he traveled nearly five hundred miles to find me. He walked me to school every day. Fought my battles.”
“You fought your own battles. All he did was cheer you on.”
“Maybe so,” Kate said, “but that was enough.”
Growing up, she’d been somewhat of a tomboy. Don’t mess with Kate, her uncle had said on more than one occasion. What no one knew, certainly not her uncle, was that her rough-and-tumble ways had been little more than bravado. She was like the sweet nougats her aunt made, with the hard crusts and soft centers. Underneath her brave front, she’d never strayed far from the frightened little girl on the orphan train.
Tucker had surprised her when he’d likened her to pure, rich chocolate, sweet and soft through and through. At first, she’d taken offense, but the more she’d thought about it, the more she realized that he’d known something about her that she hadn’t even known herself. She was no longer the little orphan with the tough skin, determined not to reveal a soft center.
What she had once mistaken for strength was really a lack of courage. It took mettle to reveal one’s vulnerable center.
Aware, suddenly, that Connie was staring at her, Kate shook away her thoughts.
“Kate, has it ever occurred to you that…maybe the man you once needed isn’t the same one you need now or will need in the future?”
Kate gaped at her friend and set the box of candy next to the others for delivery. When had Connie become such an expert on love? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Connie looked like she was searching for words. “I like Frank, I do,” she said. “He means well, and he’s trying to be
what you want him to be, but…”
Kate stiffened. What she wanted him to be? “Go on.”
“The other night at the dance, you—”
Kate gestured her impatience. “For goodness’ sake, Connie. Say what you want to say.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but when Frank and I were dancing, I noticed you were dancing with the Texas Ranger.”
“So?”
“It’s just that…” Connie hesitated. “You seemed…I don’t know…more…more—”
Kate tapped her fingers on the counter. “Would you stop beating around the bush? More what?”
Connie chewed on a nail. “More alive, somehow. More carefree. More…you.”
Kate stared at her friend, dumbfounded. She had enjoyed dancing with Brett. Enjoyed it more than words could say, but had it really been that obvious? And if so, why hadn’t Frank noticed? Or if he had, why hadn’t he said something?
“What you saw or think you saw was me simply having fun. It’s not every day that one gets to dance with a man who actually knows what to do with his feet.”
Connie’s gaze shot to the ceiling. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.” For some reason, it seemed imperative to convince Connie of the truth. Or maybe she just needed to convince herself. “Connie, listen to me—”
Before she had a chance to say more, the shop door flew open, and Frank stuck his head inside. “Kate, come quick. The bank. It’s your aunt!”
* * *
Skirts hiked to her knees, Kate raced down the center of Main and arrived at the bank ahead of Frank and Connie.
It was a madhouse. Aunt Letty was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, and everyone was talking at once. Doc Avery leaned over her aunt’s prone body, listening to her heart through his monaural stethoscope.
Kate dropped to her knees and took her aunt’s hand in her own. “What happened?” Aunt Letty looked pale and slightly dazed. Since she looked in no condition to answer, Kate directed her question to the doctor, but Frank answered instead.
“Bank robbery,” he said, squatting by her side.
Next to him, Hoot Owl Pete added, “Your aunt walked in just as the thieves ran out.”
Ironman Watkins nodded. “Yep, and one knocked her clear off her feet. Saw it with my own eyes.”
Kate gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth. “Oh no! Aunt Letty.”
“And he looked really mean,” a young messenger said, his eyes bulging like a beetle’s.
“How could you tell?” Lucky Lou asked, inching his way through the crowd. “He was wearing a flour sack.”
“I could tell!” the youth insisted.
“He was mean, all right,” a bank clerk concurred. “What kind of man would knock an old lady over and leave her?”
The dazed look suddenly left Aunt Letty’s face, and she shot upward like a broken spring. “Watch who you’re calling an old lady!”
Kate tried to hold her down. “Auntie, please…”
The doctor reached for his black case. He gave his patient a stern look. “Letty, I want you to take it easy for a day or two. And that’s an order.”
Aunt Letty brushed off his advice with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. You know what happened to Abigail Meyers when she decided to take it easy. She fell out of bed and broke her hip.” She struggled to stand, and it took Frank and a second man to help her to her feet. “I’ve got work to do,” she said, straightening her skirt. “The church fair is this weekend. Who do you think is gonna make the candy?”
Mrs. Cuttwell crossed her arms and peered down her beak-like nose. “I’m sure we can do without candy this one year. All that sugar is as bad for the body as those awful books of yours are for the mind.”
No one could get under her aunt’s skin faster than the dressmaker, and today was no different. “Harrumph! I don’t see that lack of sugar is doing any favors to your body.”
The seamstress’s face flared. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so!”
Not wanting the argument to escalate any further, Kate rested her hand on her aunt’s shoulder and glared at Mrs. Cuttwell. Couldn’t the woman see that her aunt was still in shock?
“Are you sure my aunt will be all right?” Kate asked the doctor, hoping the dressmaker would take the hint.
Doc Avery tucked his stethoscope into his bag. “She’s fine. Just have her get some rest.”
Her aunt rolled her eyes. “That’s your cure for everything.”
“Now, Aunt—”
“Forget it. Soon as I make my deposit, I’ll meet you back at the shop.”
Brett’s voice made Kate turn. He locked her in his gaze for a moment before directing his attention to her aunt. “Excuse me, Mrs. Denver. Do you feel up to answering a few questions? I won’t keep you but a moment.”
Kate placed her hand on his arm and felt him grow tense beneath her touch. “Perhaps this should wait till later,” she said, withdrawing her hand.
Aunt Letty pulled away from Frank and straightened her hat. “Would you all just quit fussing? I’m fine.” She turned to Brett. “If there are any questions, the sheriff knows where to find me.”
Brett refused to back down. “All I need is a description of the assailant, and I won’t bother you any further.”
Sensing her aunt’s reluctance to talk to Brett, Kate whispered in her aunt’s ear. “Remember, he saved my life.”
Aunt Letty lifted her chin, a sign Kate recognized as resignation. “All right, if you insist,” she said while she took a moment to collect her thoughts. “He stood about this tall.” She held her hand a few inches above her head. “He was dressed in black and wore a flour sack over his head.”
“Did he say anything?” Brett asked.
“Not a word.” Aunt Letty sniffed. “Didn’t even apologize for knocking me clear off my feet.” She thought for a moment. “All I heard were keys.”
Brett eyebrows knitted. “Keys?”
“Yes, you know…” She took her keys from her pocketbook and rattled them.
Kate could tell from Brett’s expression that he’d hoped for more. Nonetheless, he thanked her aunt. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stop by the shop in a day or two in case anything else occurs to you.”
“I’m sure my aunt won’t mind,” Kate hastened to say, and Brett left to question other witnesses.
Frank said something and, embarrassed to be caught staring after Brett, Kate tried to cover her lapse by pretending to look for someone. “Where’s the sheriff? Shouldn’t he be here?”
Frank gave her a funny look. “I heard someone say he was out of town. So, do you want me to?”
“Want you to what?”
“Take your aunt home.”
“Certainly not!” Aunt Letty said. She opened her purse and pulled out a thick envelope.
“Thank you, Frank,” Kate said. “I’ll handle it from here.” After Frank left, she turned to her aunt. “Give me the money, and I’ll make the deposit.”
“I can do it.” Her aunt started for the teller cage and stopped.
“What is it, Aunt Letty? What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that there was something familiar about the thief.”
Kate frowned. “Familiar? In what way?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just…something…” She shook her head. “Why can’t I remember?” Gasping, she pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh dear. You don’t think I’m losing my mind, do you? You know how Daisy Turnbull kept forgetting things before she was carted off to the loony bin.”
“Yes, but she had a history—”
“And Phyllis Moore. Remember her? She almost got shot when she forgot where she lived and walked into the wrong house.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your mind, Auntie. We all forget things from time to ti
me. Especially after something as traumatic as a bank robbery.”
Aunt Letty’s forehead creased. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“Positive. Now stop worrying. I won’t let anyone send you away. I promise.”
Aunt Letty forced a wan smile. “I just wish I could remember what it was about the man that makes me think I know him.”
“It’ll come to you,” Kate said. “You just need time.”
“I certainly hope you’re right. Because if you’re not…I have the strangest feeling that something awful will happen.”
17
The Feedbag Café was crowded, noisy conversation clashing with the sounds of silverware and dishes. Seated at a table by the window, Brett had spent the last hour and a half perusing his notes.
Sometimes the biggest and most important clues were the ones most easily missed or overlooked. Criminals sometimes made stupid or careless mistakes—mistakes that often escaped notice at first. Then suddenly something came to light. A clue. A lead. A sudden realization.
That’s how it was with the Ghost Riders. Their holdups all seemed to have been done at random. No one could guess when or where they would strike next. Brett had searched for a pattern; there was always a pattern. People, even those outside the law, were creatures of habit.
Then suddenly, the one thing he’d missed dawned on him. The one thing they’d all missed was that all four holdups in and around Haywire had occurred on a Thursday. The pattern didn’t hold true for the robberies throughout the rest of the county, only those taking place in Haywire.
Maybe it was only a coincidence, but somehow he doubted it. There had to be a reason why the Ghost Riders struck on that particular day of the week and no other.
He checked his watch. It was now one thirty in the afternoon. He had been sitting at the table since nearly noon.
“More coffee?” Mrs. Buffalo asked, filling his cup before he had a chance to reply.
“Much obliged,” he said.
She studied him a moment before moving away. A portly woman with frost-white hair, she nonetheless moved like someone half her age. No doubt she was curious why he had occupied a prime window table for so long.
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