by Ava Sinclair
Gage tried to keep the impatience out of his voice as he continued. “Yeah,” he said. “I need to see the paperwork on that sale.”
Mack grew serious. “Why, sheriff? Something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. Probably not. I just like to follow up when I have a hunch.”
“And you got one?”
Gage nodded and Mack walked over to worn leather satchel and leafed through receipts for what seemed like an excruciating amount of time before finally pulling one out.
“Here you go, sheriff,” he said.
Gage took the paper. “Wilhelmina? What kind of name is that?”
“New one on me,” Mack said. “Fancy.”
“Yeah, she’s fancy all right.” Gage glanced at her signature, neat and sprawling. Wilhelmina James. A woman, traveling alone. A woman with money, who not only wrote but signed her name with as bold a stroke as any man.
“She paid you cash?”
“She did. And she left orders to have the horse shipped to Texas by train. Paid for that, too.”
Gage handed the paper back to Mack and considered the situation. Red Horse Gulch wasn’t known for much, and wouldn’t be known for anything if it weren’t for Cliven Smith’s horse farm. His thoroughbred horses often ended up in racing stables, and the colt this woman bought had drawn the attention of locals and out-of-towners alike. In fact, Wilhelmina James’ new colt was one of the most expensive horses Cliven had ever produced. The fact that the horse was already broke to saddle made it all the more desirable.
“Did she say anything else? Like who she might be buying for?”
“Nope. All I know is that she’s taking the stage out in three days, and taking the horse with her to meet the train. From there, it seems they’re both heading to Texas.”
“Three days, huh?
“Yep.”
Gage glanced back toward the boardinghouse. He had a suspicious feeling about this little girl with the big name. He wasn’t sure why, but he planned to keep a sharp eye on Wilhelmina James until she left.
Chapter Three
Wilhelmina James stuffed the last of the cash she’d picked up from the table back into the carpetbag. She was furious with herself. What had she been thinking, opening the door with the money in plain sight? But then again, she’d been expecting Mrs. Crane, not some tall sheriff.
Sheriff Gage Chandler. He made her nervous as hell.
Keep your distance. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Tip generously and carefully; it will buy you protection. Avoid the law.
Hadn’t Simon made it clear to her? Her chest tightened in panic over what she would face if she returned having failed in her task. How long would it take for that sheriff to start nosing around? What if he was one of these corrupt lawmen who’d find an excuse to come in and seize the money? How long would it take before he caught on that it was counterfeit bills?
She’d paid for the horse with genuine money. Same for the board and train fare for the horse. Simon liked to launder money where he could, which is why he’d sent her here, to a hole-in-the-wall town known for horses and one decent bank. It was a win-win.
Simon’s other bit of advice? Trust your instincts. Wilhelmina paced the small room, remembering how the tall sheriff had looked past her to the table. Even shaded by his hat, his eyes had been sharp and inquisitive. This was no simple bumpkin. She’d seen him go back to the auction house. No doubt he was asking questions. No doubt he had her name by now.
It was time to accelerate her plan. There was a basin of water on the washstand. Wilhelmina quickly stripped herself of the blue gown and used the rough cloth in the basin to cleanse her face, arms, and legs. Next came a dusting of perfumed French powder. She donned stockings, thin cotton pantalets, and a linen dress with narrow beige pinstripes. A white bonnet followed over her neatly secured bun. Checking her reflection, she picked up the carpetbag and looked out the window. Her timing was perfect. Asa Pridgen, the banker, was walking to the saloon, just as he did every day at this time, leaving the operations to his less-than-sharp, bucktoothed son.
She’d have to act fast.
Lester greeted her as soon as she entered, slicking his greasy hair back as he smiled. Wilhelmina put aside her distaste for the ferret-like man and beamed her brightest smile in return.
“Miss… James, right?” Lester said, taking her hand in a limp, sweaty grasp. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, Mr. Pridgen…” Her voice quavered as she made her way to his office. “I’m so beside myself I can hardly stand it. As you know, I’ve recently arrived and had the pleasure of buying a beautiful horse in honor of my recently departed uncle, whose deathbed wish when he bequeathed me his farm was to acquire good breeding stock.” She dabbed her eyes. “But in my rush to get to my new home in Texas, I was rash. I thought I could carry all this cash. But now I see the folly of that decision. I am but a woman traveling alone, and think it best now to deposit it somewhere safe.”
“For withdrawal later when you are settled…?” Lester Pridgen sounded resigned to the promise of a short-term customer.
“Oh, no,” she said, laying a small hand on his. “I’m impressed by all the prime grazing I see around me. I may buy some land close to the other wonderful ranches here. So I plan to leave half of the sum in this bag…” she patted the satchel, “…which comes to this amount.” She jotted a number down on a piece of paper and Lester’s eyes grew wide. “The other half, of course, I’d like in the form of a registered bank note, to be carried ahead to my destination.”
“Of course. Of course!” The young man was breathless, both from her beauty and from the good fortune of having half her fortune in his keeping. “I can recommend investments,” he said hastily as he began to pull papers from the drawer of his desk, dropping some in his excitement. “Stocks, bonds, gold mines. It’s my specialty, making the wealthy even wealthier.”
She forced a smile. “And we shall talk at length about that. But if we could complete the paperwork. I’m afraid I am overly tired.”
An hour later, the well-counterfeited money was deposited and a very large bank note was on its way by courier to a bank in Texas. Wilhelmina walked to the stagecoach office and sent a telegram to Simon, announcing that all was in order. By noon on the next day, the money would be withdrawn from the Texas bank and she would be on her way out of Red Horse Gulch, leaving behind a nosy sheriff and a bank vault full of worthless paper.
But now she still had the matter of that nosy sheriff to deal with. Wilhelmina visited several shops, making sure to drop mention of her impending departure three days hence. She mentioned the excitement of riding on the stagecoach, and how she hoped the high-strung colt would make the journey tethered to the back.
She went back to her room then and watched from the window, smiling as Sheriff Chandler stopped at every shop she’d just visited. Just as she suspected, he’d been watching her, and was no doubt pressing the shopkeepers for information. Good. By now he was likely satisfied that he still had a few days to investigate her. It was with great satisfaction that she imagined his reaction when he got up the next morning to find her gone.
Chapter Four
She was up to something. Of that Gage was sure. Why else would this intensely private stranger suddenly flit around town telling everybody who’d listen about her plans?
He’s personally avoided going to the bank, although he knew that had been Wilhelmina James’ first stop. If she was laying a trail of lies, she was likely watching him just as he had been watching her. Also, Lester Pridgen was an imbecile. Gage waited until Asa Pridgen was back and then he entered the bank through the back, away from view from the street. No need to tip her off.
“Afternoon, sheriff.” Asa looked up from his ledger, peering at Gage through his round glasses. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s a town matter,” Gage said. “I’m here on a hunch.” He sat down in a chair across from Asa’s desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You ha
d a young woman come in today—that visitor from out of town.”
“Now, you know any business matters are private, Gage.” The banker dipped his quill in an inkwell and turned his attention back to the ledger.
“I think you might want to talk to me about this one,” Gage said. “Something’s up with that young lady.”
“Do you have proof of this?” Asa looked up at Gage, who realized that he was already protective of the money deposited in the bank, and didn’t want to rock the boat, even if the source was in doubt.
“No, like I said, it’s a hunch. But if I’m right, I’m going to save you a lot of headaches. Now, I’m not here to make trouble if none is warranted, but I need you to tell me exactly what kind of transaction was made.”
Asa fell silent for a moment, obviously contemplating the ramifications of refusing to cooperate. Then, with a heavy sigh, he explained the situation, telling Gage that the young woman had deposited half the money and had a note for the other half sent by courier to a bank further south.
Gage rubbed his chin. Why would she leave half her money at a little hole-in-the-wall town, unless…? His eyes widened.
“Asa, did you inspect that money?”
“Inspect it?”
“Listen.” Gage leaned forward. “You know I’m leaving here to join the U.S. marshal’s office. One of the things they told me when I got hired is that they were looking for a man with instinct, and that’s something I have that they like. I’m using it now, Asa. I need you to get a wad of those bills and bring them here.”
Asa looked dubious, but rose just the same. A moment later, he returned with a stack of cash and a jeweler’s scope. He grumbled something about ‘a lot of nonsense’ as he sat down. Gage watched him patiently, his chin resting on tented fingers. When he saw the banker’s shoulders suddenly stiffen a few moments later, he wasn’t surprised.
“Got something?” He leaned forward.
Asa didn’t respond. He grabbed another bill, then another, examining two places on each one.
“Son of a bitch.” He looked up at Gage. “You were right. Damn it all…” He stood, pulling on his coat. “And we’ve sent a note ahead to another bank, a small one in a town like this with no decent sheriff to speak of. Come noon tomorrow, somebody at the other end of the line can go withdraw every dime of those funds with nobody to stop them, and we’ll be on the hook for it.”
Gage rose to his feet, feeling sorry for the banker but vindicated in his conviction that something was wrong. Asa had already rushed over to the wire office, no doubt with the futile hope of sending a message that would make it to the bank before the money did.
Now there was only one other thing for the sheriff to do, but he had to think ahead. The stage wasn’t due for three more days. He went to the livery and asked if the pretty blond visitor had inquired about hiring a wagon to take her out of town. The livery owner said she had not. Gage didn’t believe him, and reminded the man that lying to the sheriff could land him in jail. But the livery owner stuck by the story and Gage felt himself back to square one.
He was on his way out of the livery when a soft whicker caught his attention. He turned to stare into a roomy stall at the thoroughbred colt Wilhelmina James had purchased. Gage walked over to the animal.
No… surely not…
He had another hunch. Turning, he informed the livery owner that the sheriff would be sleeping in the stable that night, but he expected that knowledge to be kept under wraps.
Chapter Five
She’d left an envelope at the front desk with stage fare for her luggage and instructions on where it should be sent. Wilhelmina packed what she thought she would need in a pair of saddlebags—some food, a jacket, and a pair of gloves in case the reins chafed her hands.
She’d donned boy’s clothing, and tied up her hair in a bandana before putting on a hat. In the looking glass, the image of an effeminate youth stared back at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d looked upon this reflection. Simon had taught her a thing or two about blending in, about adapting, about disguise. He’d trained cruelly, but he’d trained her well.
The door clicked softly behind her as she slung the saddlebags over her shoulder. In the lobby of the boardinghouse, a man who’d come in from the saloon and made it as far as an easy chair slouched, snoring loudly.
It was nearly a full moon. She’d have preferred a half moon, with just enough light to see by. But this was still better than no moon. She knew the prairie between here and the next town was probably riddled with gopher holes. She’d need to keep an eye out.
The livery was quiet. Wilhelmina clucked softly to the colt, which regarded her with curious eyes as she removed a saddle and bridle from racks on the wall. She’d grown up around horses, and knew all about them.
The thoroughbred wasn’t just well bred. He was also well trained, and stood quietly while Wilhelmina saddled him. Next came the bridle, and she had a little trouble getting the tall horse to drop his head, but finally managed to fit the back behind his ears. All she needed now was the saddlebags. She turned to pick them up and froze.
Gone. She was sure she’d laid them across the barrel just to her left. Her heart began to pound and she reached into the pocket of the light jacket she wore, but just as she did, she felt a strong arm around her body trapping her own arms.
“Hey! Let me go!”
Her captor ignored her, reaching down to wrench the gun out of her hand.
“Do you have any other weapons?”
She recognized that voice. Her heart pounded harder.
“Let me go! I’ve not done anything wrong!”
“Answer me! Do you have any other weapons?” Gage’s voice was stern.
She stomped down, the heel of her boot crunching the instep of his foot. The shock of it caused Gage to relax his grip just enough for her to bolt, but a long arm caught the back of her jacket and he hauled her back. Gage restrained her again and frisked her, his large, calloused hand roaming over her clothes.
“Is this how you get your kicks? Molesting little boys? Is that what you are? A boy lover?”
He ignored her taunts. “I knew you weren’t any boy when you walked in, Wilhelmina James,” he said. “Or should I call you Billy, given your mode of dress?”
“You can call me ‘gone,’ you sonofabitch!” She was losing her temper now. “Unless you’ve got a good reason to be manhandling me.” She kicked back at his leg and missed.
“I’ve got a few good reasons,” he said, putting an arm around her waist and dragging her toward the stall where the horse was tethered just outside the door. “We’ll start with counterfeiting and work our way back from there.” Wilhelmina, even more afraid now, continued to kick and struggle as he took her horse by the bridle and put him back in the stall. Then, throwing the young woman over his shoulder, he headed out.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“To the jailhouse,” he said.
“No!” She pounded on his back and twisted angrily to no avail, her trepidation increasing with every long stride he took. Her anxiety was only heightened when he took her not to a cell, but to a small room off to the side of the jailhouse. After dropping her to her feet, Gage locked the door behind him and spun to face her.
“There’s no way out,” he said as her eyes sought desperately for another door or a window. There wasn’t one, and 6′2″ of muscular sheriff stood between her and the only exit. “Start explaining yourself.”
“I don’t have to.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin to a defiant tilt.
“Oh?” Gage shrugged off his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Wilhelmina eyed him nervously.
“Getting ready to treat you like I’d treat any other boy I caught about to skip town after stealing.”
“Now, just wait,” she said, backing up. “First of all, I’m a woman…”
“Are you?” He quirked an eyebrow as he advanced on her, and for the first t
ime Wilhelmina realized how handsome the sheriff was, with his dark brown hair curling slightly at his collar, and the five o’clock shadow on his sturdy, square jaw.
She stood almost mesmerized as he continued to roll up his sleeves. “The way I see it, you’re Billy. I mean, that’s how you wanted people to see you, right? Just a young boy riding across the range, and not a young woman who just robbed a bank of several thousand dollars.” He grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to make her wince. “So who are you working for, Billy?”
It was, she realized, a reckless act of defiance. But Wilhelmina knew that it might be the last shot she’d get in before Sheriff Gage Chandler did whatever he was going to do. Later, she’d reflect on how literally spitting in that handsome face had only made things worse. But at the time, seeing his shocked expression had almost been worth it.
Almost.
It was his calm that terrified her, as Gage slowly wiped the spittle away and then sat down in a chair he pulled across the floor. He still had a grip on her arm and threw her across his lap with enough force to knock the wind out of her. The back of her jacket he flung up over her head, so she found herself looking down at the floor in near darkness. She still hadn’t comprehended that she was about to be spanked like a naughty child until she felt the first blow slam down across her tight buttocks.
Wilhelmina screamed. There was no other word for it. When Gage Chandler said he’d treat her like a boy, he’d meant it. He didn’t hold back as he began to thrash her bottom with his open hand.
* * *
“Who are you working for?” He spoke over her wails as he readjusted his grip and began to aim his swats on the lower portion of her buttocks. When she refused to answer, he began to jerk down her trousers, ignoring her sudden and fevered protestations.
“No, please…”
