“No, enough about me. Let’s talk about something happy. Tell me about this whirlwind courtship.” Penny smiled. “And don’t leave anything out.”
****
The map covered Rand’s desk, and three heads pored over the topography pictured there.
“So you think the guns might be in Coyote Canyon?” Doubt filled the question that came from Captain Augustus Wallace. For the past hour or so, he had been tearing apart both Trace’s and Rand’s statements.
“That’s what we figure, Captain. I’ve got a few men checking the caves.” The sheriff pointed at the mark on the map.
“Why are you leading the investigation?”
“We’ve had a couple of incidents here in town, and we’d hoped to keep a watch and try to find out who the local contact is,” Trace explained.
“Yes,” the captain said, “it’s rather curious that she was the only one left alive, with the others being so savagely murdered.”
Trace stepped back. “What are you getting at?”
Captain Wallace stood up and arched a brow as if brushing off his next statement. “I’m not getting at anything, except for the fact her wound was apparently minor in contrast to the others. I can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, she was the orchestrator.”
Trace’s eyes turned murderously cold. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer.”
“I’ve been the sheriff here for the past seven years, and that little girl and her brother have been pillars of the community,” Rand added.
“There is always a first time.” The captain glared at them. "We all know the Irish are thieves and charlatans. All one must do is look to New York."
“She was not involved.” Trace’s voice crackled. “I found her hiding in the bushes along the pond. She was definitely scared, frightened.”
“It could have been an act,” Captain Wallace ventured.
Trace stepped forward. "And here I thought you were her friend."
Rand moved to block his way. Beneath his breath he mumbled, "Steady." Turning, he looked at Captain Wallace. “Look, this was an outside job. Neither Mary Rose nor her brother had anything to do with the attack or the missing rifles,” Rand stated.
“You willing to bet your badge on that? Both of you?” the captain scoffed.
“Damn right,” Trace hissed. “Mary Rose couldn’t kill her own brother. Let alone bash his brains out and then sit there for twenty-four hours hoping someone would come by.”
“You’d be surprised what people can do when they are desperate.”
Trace’s eyes narrowed. “You speaking from experience, Captain?”
The captain shot him an equally dark glance. “No, Marshal, I’m not.”
Slipping past the edge of Rand’s desk, Trace snarled back, “Who made you holier than thou, Captain? Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out.”
“As a representative of the government, it is within my authority to issue a statement of negligence. This was federal government property, and if it is not found, Thornton’s Freight will be held responsible.”
“You sit there, taking her kindness and hospitality, and in the next breath you are so ready to accuse her of wrongdoing?” Trace growled.
“We all know how the Irish are,” Captain Wallace sneered.
“Why you yel—”
Rand stepped in and grabbed Trace’s arm, pulling him back. “Look. This arguing is getting us nowhere. I’ll make a copy of the statements this evening and bring them over to Mary Rose’s place.”
“Yes, do. I wish to speak to this Caleb Gentry. Where can I find him?”
“Probably over at the freight office. I’ll walk you over,” Rand offered, pushing Trace back with a shove of his hand and a warning glance. The clock on the wall struck five, and the captain turned to look.
“I think perhaps I’ll save that for another day. Since dinner will be soon, I’d like to go freshen up.” One side of the captain’s mouth lifted in a scornful smile. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner, Marshal.” Turning then, he walked out.
Trace wanted to spit fire. His hands ached to plant themselves in the middle of that man’s face, regardless of the consequences.
“Look at me.” Rand’s voice blared in his ear.
He turned his gaze from the figure beyond the door to his friend’s face.
“You gotta get your anger under control. For God’s sake, you are supposed to be a U.S. Marshal. He’s baiting you.”
“You were not so good at it yourself,” Trace snapped.
Rand ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “No, you’re right, I wasn’t. Look, maybe it’s not a good time for you to have dinner with her. At least not until we get some answers from your wire.”
“I’m going there for dinner and to make sure she’s safe.”
“I got some business down near the saloon. I’m sending another patrol out. I’ll come by later on tonight to make sure you haven’t killed each other.”
Trace nodded.
“Oh, and there’s a bottle in the bottom drawer. One glass won’t kill ya before you go.”
Trace watched Rand walk out the door and disappear from view. With a groan, he sat down heavily in the sheriff’s chair, pulled open the bottom drawer, looked down at the bottle and glass, and took them from the shadows. He poured a neat two fingers’ worth and held it up to the lamp, studying the refraction of the light as it bent through the liquid.
He couldn’t dispel the feeling that the captain seemed too eager to place the blame on Mary Rose. Why did everyone feel the Thorntons were the perfect scapegoats? He brought the glass to his lips and drank. Having the captain as the army’s representative, given his negative feeling, did not bode well when it came to releasing her funds at the bank. Why did the captain feel the need to persecute her?
Trace shifted in the chair and felt something hard roll under his hip. He grimaced and shifted his weight to the other leg, then sent his hand into his pocket to retrieve the offending object. Opening his hand, he gazed down at the gold button found in Moe’s box. “You’re my key. If only you’d speak louder.”
****
Captain Wallace moved through the street in the direction of the Thornton home. Once past the general store, he paused and, finding no one around him, ducked into the back alleyway. His steps hurried, he crossed the darkening streets toward the freight office. Standing in the shadows, he waited.
Behind the glass, he made out the dim shadows of a man moving against the light. A wicked smirk bent the edges of his lips, and he moved unheard to the porch. Sticking to the darker patches away from the light, he approached the doorway. Close enough to see inside, he took a moment to watch the clerk make an entry into a ledger book. Then, seeing the yawning gap of the loading dock doors as an easy entryway, he entered.
All those years of chasing rebels had taught him the use of stealth. Keeping his weight carefully on the balls of his feet, he managed to move without a sound to the back entrance of the office area. From this vantage point, he could see Gentry stood alone. His hand reached to slide the leather cap from the handle of his service revolver and pull the weapon into his hand.
“Hello, Gentry,” he called out softly.
He watched the man’s shoulders flinch. His head rose, and the papers he’d been holding fluttered down.
“Turn around, and do it slowly.”
The freight clerk raised his arms and began to circle. “Augustus,” he hissed. “I didn’t expect you.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t,” he sneered, moving closer.
Caleb’s eyes rounded and focused on the gun that never wavered in its aim.
“Now, just calm down, Augustus.”
“Calm down?” The words hissed from the captain’s mouth like steam from a kettle. “Your bungling has cost us dearly.”
Caleb licked his lips nervously. Wallace took satisfaction in the fine sheen of perspiration dotting the clerk’s upper lip.
“You were supposed to kill them all, incl
uding the girl,” Caleb reminded him. “If anyone messed up, it was you.”
Wallace’s lips pulled back, revealing his white teeth like those of a rabid wolf. “You find that coin?”
He shook his head. “I-I’ve searched the office. She must have found it and taken it home.”
“Yes, that makes sense.” Wallace lowered his weapon, and Caleb breathed a sigh of relief—until Wallace’s hand reached out and snared the fullness of his shirt, gathering the material and yanking him close. “I am through with your groveling. I’ve already taken care of two loose ends, Daniel Thornton and my brother. All you had to do was find that damn coin you let get away. But no, you let a snip of a girl get in your way, and now some U.S. Marshal’s come in like a knight on a white horse. I’m through groveling to some wet-nosed, untried officer. I’m getting out, and you’re going to help me,” he snarled.
Gentry sputtered. “You killed your own brother, not me.”
“I’d think that would make you a bit more frightened, Gentry. You’re just another bump in my road to freedom.”
The clerk swallowed hard. “Daniel has a study. I saw her in there the other night.”
“Did you see the coin?”
“No, but it must have been there. I tried to get it, but the box was empty. She must have it on her.”
Wallace let go of the clerk’s shirt and shoved him back. “You’d best be telling the truth. I will have that house turned inside out tonight. You bring two horses to the Thornton house after sundown. I’ll have that coin, even if it means the death of a woman or a marshal.”
****
“Really, Mary Rose, he’s crazy about you,” Penny confided. “You can see it when he enters the room. The way he looks at you!” She sighed. “Why, it’s as if you’re a piece of pie and he can’t wait to take a bite.”
“If only…if only he would say he loved me.”
“My dear friend, words are just words,” Penny replied, a sadness in her voice Mary Rose hadn’t heard before. “But actions,” she continued, blinking back the raw emotion that rocked her voice, “say it all.”
Mary Rose swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “Penny—” The front door opened, and she didn’t finish her question.
Her friend turned and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Oh, that must be the captain now.” She stood and composed her face. “Take a few moments, won’t you, Mary Rose, and think about what is in your heart?”
As her footsteps faded into the other room, Mary Rose stared at the grain of the wood in the table and concentrated on the words her friend had spoken: “…actions say it all.” Trace had shown her nothing but unconditional consideration, even if the word “love” was missing from his vocabulary. She closed her eyes, and the image of his face when they were together filled her vision.
Even the demand that they marry seemed to make sense. He cared so deeply that he would not allow her to go through life with the stigma of being a fallen woman. Yes, it is enough to build a lifetime on, because I will make it up to him, she vowed. I will love him until he is so satisfied he will never leave my bed.
Opening her eyes, she glanced down at the ring he’d placed on her finger. The gold band had never looked so bright, just like her future. She stood and felt excitement and purpose filling the empty space in her heart left by Daniel’s passing. Yes, to be with Trace, I’d give up the business. She’d give up anything to be held in his arms.
“Mary Rose?” Penny called out.
Her brow furrowed, for her friend’s voice sounded odd.
“Could you come in here, please?”
The tension behind the words hurried her steps, but as she entered the parlor, she could see the captain standing beside his bride. Her face brightened, then fell as she took in Penny’s pale color and the gun Captain Augustus Wallace held to her temple.
“Such a pleasure for you to join us, my dear,” he sneered.
****
“You can’t do this.” She tried to reason with the man as he bound his wife’s arms to the dining room chair.
“Actually, I can,” he snapped as he took the folded handkerchief and placed it over Penny’s mouth. “I can’t have you screaming out, my dear, while I interrogate your young friend.”
Tears rolled down Penny’s cheeks, and Mary Rose felt helpless to stop him. “What do you want?” Like Penny, she was tied to a chair, only Captain Wallace had bound her hands behind her instead of to the chair arms.
“Your brother found something that belongs to me, and I mean to have it,” he told her in a cold and chilling voice.
“Daniel?”
Captain Wallace walked around the table, coming to a stop beside her. “Oh, yes, Daniel. You see, his actions are stopping me from completing a lucrative business deal. My associate lost something most valuable. A coin. That coin is my ticket to a life of luxury.”
Suddenly she knew. The image of the Mexican coin from Daniel’s desk flowed into her mind. She swallowed down the fears that welled up inside her. “I, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
The peal of laughter that spilled from his lips chilled her blood. Watching out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bring up the hand holding the gun. She flinched as he brought the cold steel to her face and stroked its length down her cheek.
“You are not a convincing liar,” he remarked. Laying the gun down, he leaned close to her ear. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or you can make it very hard on yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated.
His hand swept across her cheek in a stinging slap that rocked the chair. “Wrong answer.”
She felt the warm taste of blood from the corner of her mouth and concentrated on Penny’s face. She tried to use her eyes to tell her to hold on until help arrived.
“Where is the coin?”
She turned and glowered at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As she watched, his face turned an ugly molten red.
“You think you’re brave, don’t you? Or perhaps you’re holding out for your friend, the marshal, to get here.”
She took a deep breath and felt the frantic beat of her heart. Behind him, she could see the hands of the clock inch beyond six p.m. Within the hour, Trace would arrive.
“Do you think I care? It won’t matter to me if I shoot him or not. I’ve killed more men in battle than I care to remember. One more won’t hurt my conscience.”
She followed him with her eyes as he stood and picked up his weapon to walk around behind her to the other side.
“Hm. I hear friendship is a strong bond. Perhaps I’m going about this the wrong way.”
To her horror, she watched as he moved to stand beside Penny.
“How many blows will you take, my dear, before your friend comes around?”
Penny’s eyes widened with a knowing fear. Suddenly Mary Rose understood what her friend had been unable to say. Her face blanched as he drew back his hand and Penny shrank against the chair.
“No!” Mary Rose screamed out. “I, I’ll show you.”
Augustus Wallace walked back toward the chair, snatched the ropes from her arms, and yanked her to her feet, putting his snarling lips within inches of her face. She did her best to stare him down.
“If you even try to stall or not tell me the truth, your friend will have a terrible accident. Such a shame for her to trip and fall down your stairs.”
She glanced across the table. Penny’s frightened mumbles behind the cloth were no doubt telling her not to do it. Yet there was an innocent child to protect. Mary Rose looked back at the demon-red eyes. A sick feeling filled her stomach; she could tell Augustus Wallace did not give empty threats.
“It’s in Daniel’s desk, locked in the strongbox.”
“Let’s get it.”
As he shoved her before him, Mary Rose stumbled over her own feet on the way toward the study.
“You killed my brother?”
“Yes, he kept get
ting in the way, just like you’re doing now.” His hand upon her back pushed her toward the doorway.
“And Moe, was he part of the deal?”
“My simple-minded brother?” Wallace scoffed. “He was a liability to be taken care of.” He shoved her behind the desk. “Your trip to the fort was a stroke of luck. Which drawer?”
“You killed your own brother?” she whispered. “How could you?”
“Bottom?” Wrenching the bottom desk drawer open, Captain Wallace found the strongbox and placed it on top of the desk. “It was quite easy. Open it.”
“It’s locked.”
“Key, woman.”
“Upstairs in my jewelry box.”
A string of curses poured from his lips as he hauled her to her feet and pushed her up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mack Taylor stumbled away from the freight office. It was Friday, the end of a good work week, and like always he’d bought himself a little bottle from the saloon. It had been his intention to go behind the freight office and celebrate his liberty. He hadn’t expected to hear the exchange between Gentry and the army officer. His hands were shaking. Popping the top off the bottle, he raised it to his lips and drank a few gulps of liquid courage, then wiped his hand across his mouth.
He’d never been a hero. Never wanted to stand out in a crowd, but he had to tell somebody. He thought about Rand Weston, but he’d ridden out about a half hour ago, something about an urgent telegram. That left only one other person, Marshal Castillo. Turning the bottle upside down, he closed his eyes and let the rest of the contents drain down his throat.
Crossing away from the freight office, he moved behind the corral, keeping to the shadows and making a beeline for the sheriff’s office.
****
Trace adjusted his tie in the small mirror over the dresser. Elaine had brought him a telegram from the marshal in San Antonio. It seemed the captain had served with the cavalry during the late war with his half-brother, Moe. That connection fit well. Another telegram to the fort confirmed his suspicions that the officer did not get along well with his superior. “All good reasons to want to leave,” he mumbled, as his fingers finished with the tie. Downstairs, he heard the door to the sheriff’s office open and close.
Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose Page 23
