Marblestone Mansion, Book 6

by Marti Talbott

  “You have seen his picture?” Leesil asked.

  “Often,” Abigail answered. “He is a U.S. Marshal of considerable fame.”

  “Not any more, Mrs. Whitfield,” Masterson argued. “My days as a lawman are far behind me now. Lately, I divide my time between mining and prize fighting.”

  “Mining?” Abigail asked. “You must talk to Mr. Whitfield about mining, he knows practically everything. Unfortunately, he has gone fishing. He goes fishing quite regularly these days, but now that Hannish is back, I expect he shall not get the chance of it often. I think…”

  “Building what?” Masterson interrupted.

  “Houses,” Hannish managed to say before Abigail could get going again.

  Abigail had plenty more to say, and several questions to ask – the kind Masterson was not fond of answering. Occasionally, she simply ate while the men discussed mining, house building, the weather and automobiles, one of which Bat Masterson had just recently seen.

  Tom continued to serve them as though nothing was wrong, and was beginning to think the subject of his past wasn’t going to come up after all – until he suddenly heard his name.

  “Tom, how is Rose these days?” Masterson asked.

  “You know Mr. Masterson?” a surprised Abigail asked.

  “Not well,” Tom answered, offing a tray of dessert pastries to Abigail. She shook her head, so he offered them to Leesil next.

  “Who is Rose?” Hannish asked.

  Tom did his best to hide his alarm, but his heart was in his throat, and he was forced to clear it before he answered. “Rose is my cousin, Mr. Hannish, and was quite well the last I saw of her.”

  “His cousin is called The Rose of Cimarron,” Masterson added, “and quite a rose she is.”

  “The Rose of Cimarron,” Abigail gasped. She put her hand over her heart and took two deep breaths. “Oh my.”

  For Tom, nothing could have been worse than for Mrs. Whitfield, the town gossip to be there, but he was determined not to let his horror show.

  “Did Rose of Cimarron not ride with the Dalton gang?” Prescot asked.

  “Right up to the end, the way I hear it,” answered Masterson.

  “The end of what?” Leesil asked.

  “Who is the Dalton gang?” Hannish asked.

  “The Dalton Gang,” Masterson answered, taking a pastry off the platter Tom offered him, “decided they could make more money robbing banks and trains than doing their share of hard work. Rose was one of them.” He paused to see if Tom would react, but Tom simply set the tray of pastries on the running board, and began to load the dirty plates on the large silver trays. “Most of the Dalton Gang died in a shootout, oh, must be ten years or so ago. One got away and two more were shot, but they survived. The gang was down to three – Bittercreek Newcomb, Rose, and Charlie Pierce.”

  Leesil giggled, “Bittercreek? What sort of name is that?”

  “A nickname, I wager,” said Hannish.

  “You are right,” Masterson said. “After the shootout, a bounty was put on Bittercreek Newcomb and Charlie Pierce’s head, dead or alive.”

  “And not on Rose?” Abigail asked. For once, she was listening more than she was talking.

  “Not that I know if,” Masterson answered. “The Rose of Cimarron’s bounty hunter brothers killed the last two members of the Dalton Gang and left her alive. Her brothers collected $5,000 each.”

  “Five thousand dollars,” Leesil gasped. “A fortune such as that for killin’ a man?”

  “Five thousand was the usual bounty and some men got rich that way,” Masterson answered. “Tom…you knew Bittercreek well, I believe.”

  At last, Tom turned away from his duties and looked Masterson in the eye. “He taught me how to play billiards.”

  Masterson smiled and nodded. “He was good at it, I hear. Did Rose set him up?”

  “I wouldn’t know firsthand, Marshal.”

  “What do you know firsthand?” Masterson insisted.

  Tom stared into Masterson’s eyes for a long moment before he answered. “I know Rose was too young to know what she was in for when she ran off with Bittercreek. I know they used her to go to town for supplies, and I know her mother cried when she ran off. That’s all I need to know.”

  That answer didn’t satisfy Masterson. “You do not know what happened at the Ingalls shootout either, I suppose.”

  “I was not there, if that is what you mean, Marshal.”

  “But you did ride with the gang…in the beginning, perhaps?”

  Tom wasn’t about to back down or even look away. “I wanted to, it sounded exciting to a boy my age, but Bittercreek said I was too young and couldn’t shoot straight enough. No, Marshal, I never rode with them; I never took part in a robbery and to this day, I’ve never killed a man. Can you say the same?”

  Masterson blinked twice, finally lowered his stern eyes, noticed everyone was staring at him and nervously smiled. “Forgive me, Mrs. MacGreagor, being a lawman gets in a lad’s veins.”

  Leesil didn’t answer and her silence filled the room with tension. She kept her eyes lowered and although she could not quite grasp what had just happened, she was not at all pleased with the way Tom was being questioned. Forgive him, no, but she owed it to her husband and to Prescot to be cordial to their guest.

  At length, Leesil asked, “Do many lasses attend your prize fights, Mr. Masterson?”

  “Some, but most women are a bit too fainthearted.”

  “I believe I am of the fainthearted sort myself, but my husband enjoys a good fight now and then.”

  Masterson smiled, “A lad his size would do very well in the ring.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and then laid it on the table. “You’ve not changed your mind, have you Prescot?”

  “Not if I value my life. I fear that pretty little wife of mine far more than Big Blue Carter.”

  “I understand. I too have a wife now to keep me on the straight and narrow. Well, I best be heading back to Denver, if I do not want to miss tonight’s fight myself.” He was almost to the dining room door when he remembered something and turned back. “Tom, you ever meet Slippery Jack Walker?”

  “No, Marshal,” Tom answered.

  “I thought I saw him as I came through town.”

  Tom’s mouth dropped. “Here?”

  “Who is Slippery Jack Walker?” Hannish asked.

  “He is a ruthless bounty hunter,” Masterson answered, “and not a man you’d want to challenge, Mr. MacGreagor. If you make him mad enough, he’s liable to burn your house down. We tried to put him in prison back east, but the Judge said we had no real proof and set him free. The next day, half the town was on fire and Jack Walker was gone. Five died in the fire, and three were children.”

  “What does he look like?” Hannish asked.

  “Some call him unusually handsome. He has blond hair, blue eyes and carries a cane gun wherever he goes. He has impeccable manners, but do not let that fool you; he’s the most dangerous man I know.” Masterson put his rounded top hat on and nodded to Prescot. “No need to show me out. I know the way.”

  Almost immediately, Abigail started to rise. “Mercy me, I must get home, for I have much to do this afternoon.” When she stood, so did all the men, and in a flash, she was gone.

  Prescot looked at Hannish and shrugged. There was no use trying to beat Abigail to the door.

  *

  Everyone was staring at him and there was no mistaking the distress Tom could see in Leesil’s eyes. He sank into one of the empty chairs, put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands.

  “The Dalton Gang?” asked Prescot, “You might have warned us.” He sat down beside Tom and put a hand on the footman’s shoulder. “I believe you, but you might have warned us.”

  At length, Tom took his hands away from his face. “Prescot, half of Kansas and Missouri are related to the Daltons and the Youngers, I just happened to be first cousin to Rose, and very few know that…except Bat Masterson. Just like he
said, he never forgets a face. I couldn’t have been more than fourteen the one and only time I saw the Marshal. I just never thought anyone would find me here.” He glanced at Leesil, but she was staring at the table and would not look at him. “I hated the way Bittercreek treated Rose. I tried to get her to leave him, but she thought she was in love. It wasn’t love and Rose finally figured that out.”

  “You have been hidin’ here?” Hannish asked.

  “I suppose you could look at it like that,” Tom answered, “but not because I have done anything wrong. I didn’t think anyone would…I meant no harm, Mr. Hannish.” He finally got up and scooted the chair back in place. “I have no choice but to leave and I best do it quickly.”

  “Does Madeline know?” Leesil asked without looking at him.

  “No one knows, and no one will until Mrs. Whitfield makes it to a telephone. Then it shall begin again.”

  “What shall begin again?” Hannish asked.

  “The reporters, Mr. Hannish. By morning, one or perhaps more will be on your doorstep wanting an exclusive story. I have brought certain misery upon all the people I love, and I regret it more than you can possibly know.” He turned and headed out the door.

  “Nay, Tom, wait,” Leesil shouted too late. She listened as Tom ran up the back stairs.

  *

  By the time Hannish calmed an upset Leesil down and got to the corral, Tom had already saddled his horse and was tying on two saddle bags filled with his belongings. “I am truly sorry, Mr. Hannish. I never meant to bring harm to your family.”

  Hannish grabbed hold of the horse’s halter to steady him. “You have not harmed us, Tom. Will you not stay for Madeline’s sake?”

  “And see the hurt in her eyes I saw just now in Miss Leesil’s? I cannot bear it. If I could undo what is done, I would, but the first reporter will be just the beginning. I have seen it before – they think I am the one that got away, and they’ll come from St. Louis, Chicago, New York and even San Francisco to get a story about the Dalton Gang.”

  “What about Madeline?”

  He checked the saddle cinch and tightened it a little more. “Keep the reporters away from her if you can.”

  “I shall, but what do I tell her.”

  Tom looked up at the mansion’s top floor windows and was relieved to find that Madeline was not watching him. He might have changed his mind if she had been. “I intended to ask her to marry me next week, but it was foolhardy, Mr. Hannish. I know now I could never do that to her. What kind of life can a man like me give a good woman like Madeline? Do I ask her to hide with me for the rest of her life?”

  “You love her, I know you do. At least explain it to her.”

  Tom scoffed, “Mrs. Whitfield will be happy to do it.”

  He was right and Hannish closed his eyes for a moment. “Where will you go?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps I shall see if there is any gold still to be had in Alaska.”

  “You could come back…after the reporters have all given up.”

  “They’ll never give up, not until Rose and I are dead.”

  “Do you need money?”

  “No, Sir, I have my pay and all that I have saved.” He finished cinching his saddle, mounted, and then nodded to the man he had come to greatly admire.

  “Come back to us, Tom, you shall always be welcome here.”

  With a lump in his throat, Tom nodded once more, nudged his horse forward, rode down the lane, and then turned on the road toward town.

  *

  Watching from the study window, Leesil had tears in her eyes when Hannish came back inside and put his arms around her. “You could not stop him?”

  “Nay, he thinks he has shamed us.”

  “What do we tell Madeline and the others?”

  “The truth. I must leave that to you, my love. Just now I am far more concerned about Loretta Swinton.”

  Leesil sighed and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “You think the same as I. Swinton is Slippery Jack, he must be.”

  “We know no one else who fits the description and carries a cane gun?”

  “So that’s how he made his money,” she whispered. “Do be careful.”

  “I shall bring Loretta back with me. Have the servants prepare a room for her.”

  Leesil lightly kissed him on the lips. “What do you mean to tell her?”

  “As little as I can until I get her safely away.”

  “Tell her I am unwell and bids her to come to me.”

  “I shall and if that is not enough, I shall kidnap her.” He kissed his wife passionately, and then went to saddle his horse.

  *

  Abigail hurried home, rushed to her sitting room, pulled off her gloves and picked up the telephone. “Mable, connect me with Pearl…you know Pearl who…Mable, you have her number, just connect me. This is of the upmost importance.”

  Abigail told Pearl all about Tom and the Dalton Gang, and of course, Mable listened in. Mable told her best friend, Clair, and Mrs. Grantham happened to be listening in. Mrs. Grantham told Mrs. Able, and Mrs. Able promptly called her cousin, Chris Moore, who just happened to be a reporter for the local newspaper.

  Chris Moore whistled through his teeth, “A member of the Dalton Gang…right here in Colorado Springs? Hiding out at Marblestone Mansion? You don’t say.”

  Abigail made several more calls before she realized, she forgot to mention what Bat Masterson said about Slippery Jack Walker, and had to start her calls all over again. This time, she called Mrs. Maps first, and Mr. Lucas happened to pick up the telephone and listen. Concerned, he called Doc Parker, who called his sister and Mrs. Garth was listening in. Alarmed, Mrs. Garth, whose husband worked for Mr. Swinton, called her friend, and…

  *

  “‘Tis with a heavy heart I must tell you this, Madeline.”

  Madeline sat on the edge of a chair opposite Leesil in the upstairs sitting room with her hands folded in her lap. “Have I done something wrong, Miss Leesil?”

  “Good heavens no. We adore you and hope you shall stay with us forever. ‘Tis about Tom.”

  “Tom? Is he ill?”

  “Nay, he is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “We know not where. Perhaps you heard we had a guest for lunch today. His name is…” Leesil explained it as best she could, trying not to leave anything out. Madeline seemed to be hanging on her every word, and at last, there was nothing more to tell her.

  “He has gone for good, then?” Madeline asked.

  “I hope he shall come back to us someday.”

  “Someday?” Madeline repeated. “I see.”

  “Madeline, I wish very much that there was somethin’ I could say to ease your pain. Perhaps you should keep the rest of the day to yourself.”

  “I would rather work, Miss Leesil. Will that be all?”

  “Aye.” Leesil tried to think of a chore for her to do. “I have been thinkin’, ‘tis time to clean the closet in my bedroom. Would you mind doin’ it for me?”

  “Of course not. Should I start now?”

  “Please.” Leesil led the way out of the sitting room, down the hall and then into her bedroom. She opened the closet door and then stepped aside. Nothing looked out of order, nevertheless, Madeline began to take the clothes out and lay them on the bed. She seemed not to notice her, so Leesil slipped back out the door and went to find Dugan.

  A few minutes later, Leesil came back with two glasses and a bottle of rum. She set them on her dressing table, pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured both of them a drink. Madeline had already taken everything out of the closet, and was pondering the best way to put them back when Leesil handed her a glass. “Drink it quickly.”

  Madeline nodded and brought the glass up to her quivering lips. A tear rolled down her cheek and she could hardly breathe, but she forced herself to drink all of it anyway and handed the glass back.

  With tears in her own eyes, Leesil said, “I shall miss him too. No better friend have I ever had. He will co
me back someday, I am sure of it.” She set the glass down, put her arms around Madeline, held her and sobbed with her.

  A knock on the door made Leesil move away and quickly wipe her tears. “Come in.”

  “Miss Leesil, there is a call for you,” said Prescot.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. Maps.”

  “I suspect we know what that is about. Please make my excuses. I do not wish to speak to anyone just now. And Prescot, gather the servants in the parlor so we may tell them what is happenin’. Hannish has gone to fetch Mrs. Swinton and we must prepare a room for her.”

  “Yes, Miss Leesil.”

  “Oh, and Madeline can take all the time she needs to…”

  “I am fine, Miss Leesil. There is no need.” She lifted her apron and wiped her tears away. “I shall just put these things away while you explain everything to the others.”

  “Very well then.”

  CHAPTER 10

  It took a few minutes to round them all up, but as soon as Leesil went outside to watch the children, the servants had finally gathered in the parlor. When they quieted, Prescot cleared his throat and began. “Tom is gone.”

  “Gone where?” Dugan asked.

  “Have patience, I shall explain it.” Prescot told them as much as he thought they needed to know, and ended with, “If Tom is right, we can expect reporters at our door. You are not to let them in, nor are you to speak to them when you are in town. In time, this shall blow over and we can live in peace again.”

  “The Dalton Gang?” American cook Halen muttered. “The Dalton Gang? I never would have guessed that of Tom.”

  “Halen, he swears he never rode with the gang and I believe him,” said Prescot.

  “So do I,” said Dugan. “He’s not got a crooked bone in his body.”

  “If you believe him, then so do I,” cook Jessie said.

  “Me too,” Gretchen added. “If there was something wrong with him, I would have spotted it right off.”

  “I believe you would,” Shepard agreed, “you know more about uncivil men, than men do.”