“Well?”
“Grey is balking at the idea of releasing McGuire.”
Krupp scowled and tipped his head to glare at the harsh summer haze coating the sky. He had to see to it that McGuire was executed. Soon. Otherwise, there was too much of a risk that the true circumstances surrounding Gruber’s murder could be exposed. “Exert a little pressure.”
“He’s not taking too kindly to threats.”
“If Grey won’t release the man, we’ll simply have to arrange another ‘escape’ like we did in Dewey and kill the man when he tries to run.”
“When?”
“We’ll wait until tomorrow morning, when everyone will be distracted with Clark’s funeral.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Go ahead with the original plan. At dawn, we’ll escort McGuire to the farmhouse and shoot him.” He turned to spear Stone with a stern glance. “Then see to it that Grey meets with the same fate—some unfortunate accident occurring in the line of duty. I don’t want someone on the Star Council who won’t take orders from his betters.”
Stone grinned and touched a finger to his hat in a mocking salute. “Yes, sir.”
Jacob took a set of keys from his top desk drawer and held them tightly in his hand for a moment.
“Rusty, I’m going up to the cells for a minute. Once I come down, why don’t you go grab yourself a bite to eat? I’ll go later.”
“Sure thing, Jacob.”
Stepping to the back of the office, Jacob unlocked the heavy oak door at the foot of the staircase, then climbed the worn stone steps to the top floor.
As jailhouses went, Madison’s was one of the securest in the area. Built entirely of stone, the two-story dwelling had no full-length windows except those on the main floor. Above, in the portion containing the prisoners’ cells, smaller windows had been cut into the rock high above eye level, allowing light and ventilation but no view of the street below.
Pausing to open the door at the top of the steps, Jacob stepped inside. A large open area led into two separate cells, each big enough to hold a pair of men comfortably—four uncomfortably.
Crossing the room to the last cell, Jacob found Ethan sitting upon one of the bunks, his back propped against the wall. Though he’d no doubt heard Jacob arrive, the other man waited a moment before turning his head to meet Jacob’s gaze.
McGuire’s eyes were dark, his expression calm but wary. Finally, he said, “You’re on the Star, aren’t you, Grey?”
Jacob didn’t speak. He measured the man before him, wondering if Ethan McGuire were aware of all the forces that had brought the two of them face-to-face after so many years.
“Have you come to kill me?”
“Not yet.”
Jacob stared at his long-time nemesis through the iron slats of the jail cell, his body filling with a thousand conflicting emotions: triumph, frustration, self-righteousness—even a little pity.
Ethan endured his gaze for a moment before slowly stating, “I didn’t kill Gruber or empty his safe.”
Jacob gave a snort of sarcastic humor. “And you expect me to believe that fact just because you say so?”
Ethan scowled. “No. I expect you to believe me because it’s true. Gruber was all but dead long before I ever stepped into the bank.”
“And what were you doing in the bank?”
“Waiting for the thief.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’m tired of running for something I haven’t done.”
“So the rumors of a pardon were true?”
“Yeah.”
“And what were the conditions?”
“Other than restoration of property, five years within the law.”
Jacob became quiet, and some of the pieces of the puzzle in his head began to shift into place.
“You’ve been with my sister, haven’t you?”
Ethan opened his mouth to deny it, then met the other man’s quiet gaze. “Yeah.”
“You were at the boardinghouse all this time.”
Though it wasn’t a question, Ethan nodded.
“And you were there that day we broke into the garret?”
“On the roof.”
“My sister is responsible, isn’t she?”
“Don’t blame her for this!”
“I don’t blame her for anything.” Jacob’s eyes grew quiet and dark. “She’s in love with you, isn’t she?”
Ethan turned away, denying the heavy regret that settled in his own stomach. “Yeah.”
“And you? Do you love her?”
Ethan swiveled his head to glare at the other man. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business. You’re going to make sure I swing for the crimes I may or may not have committed.”
Jacob’s hand tightened into angry fists. “Dammit! She’s my sister. I have a right to know whether or not you really love her, or whether you’re merely playing her for the fool!”
The stone walls echoed his words, and Ethan sighed, plunging his fingers through his hair.
“I love her,” he admitted, though it seemed a crime to be saying the words to anyone but Lettie. “If I knew a way, I’d show her just how much. I’d take her away from here, see to it that she had the kind of life she deserves.” His voice betrayed him by becoming slightly husky. “But that’s not going to happen, is it? You’re going to see to it that I never touch her again. Aren’t you?”
“I love my sister. I won’t see her hurt.”
“And you think I’ve hurt her.” Ethan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I suppose you’re right. But I never meant to hurt her at all. She’s so sweet and kind.” He swallowed past the tightness gathering in his throat. “She was the first person who accepted me—flaws and all—and believed me when I told her the truth. I never thought I’d meet a woman like that.” He glanced at Jacob, and his lips quirked in an unwilling smile. “I certainly never thought I’d fall in love with your little sister.” His eyes met Jacob’s. “But I did. And now I suppose you’re going to have to decide whether to believe in your sister’s judgment or continue a five-year vendetta.”
Jacob didn’t speak. He merely studied Ethan with narrowed eyes, then backed away. He was nearly to the doorway that led to the staircase before Ethan’s voice stopped him.
“Will you do me a favor? For old times’ sake?”
Jacob turned to find Ethan watching him through the iron slats.
“Old times? We were never friends.”
“You’ve been after my tail for so long, Grey, we’re more than mere acquaintances.”
Jacob hesitated, then nodded, realizing he knew as much about Ethan as he did about some of his oldest friends. “What do you want?” he asked, less than graciously.
“I need to talk to Lettie.”
“No.”
Ethan’s jaw became hard, but other than that he didn’t react. “Then can I talk with the Beasleys and a preacher?”
“The Beasleys?” Jacob repeated in disbelief.
“Surely two old harmless women wouldn’t jeopardize your reputation as a strict upholder of the law. I’ll need someone to send word to my family. I’d rather it were the Beasleys who did it.”
Jacob opened his mouth to refuse, then finally shrugged. “Fine. I’ll see if Rusty can’t round ‘em up somewhere.”
“Thanks.”
Once again he turned to walk away but was halted by Ethan’s voice.
“Oh, and Jacob?”
He glanced behind him in impatience. “What?”
“Take care of Lettie for me, will you?”
“She’s my little sister.”
“Yeah. But she’s my woman.”
Although it seemed like hours to Ethan, in reality it was only a few minutes before the door at the top of the steps opened and the Beasley sisters peeked around the edge. They stepped hesitantly inside, and Jacob trailed behind them. He gave Ethan a stern look, then offered one to the ladies that was a little kinder but forbidding nonetheless.
“Five minu
tes,” he stated bluntly. “And I don’t want any talk passing between you except for a message to his folks.” He turned and closed the door behind him and walked down the steps.
Ethan waited until the heavy thump of the other man’s boots disappeared before standing up and walking toward the door to his cell. His fingers curled around the iron slats and he smiled in what he hoped was a congenial manner, knowing that if he were to set things to rights, he would need the help of these two women.
“Ladies,” he began. “I know you don’t know me, but—”
“We know you,” Alma inserted.
“You’re Lettie’s beau,” Amelia added.
“You know?”
“We’ve known for days,” Alma retorted.
Ethan frowned, amazed that the women had kept such a secret. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“Indeed not!” both women exclaimed at once.
Ethan took a step forward, and his voice dropped to a confidential murmur. His palms grew slightly sweaty, knowing that the next few minutes would probably prove to be some of the most important in his life. “Ladies, since you know about … us, can I trust you to do a favor for me?”
Both Alma and Amelia moved closer, glancing over their shoulders as if someone were listening.
“Do you want us to break you out?” Amelia whispered.
Despite his predicament, Ethan’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “No. That won’t be necessary. I need you to send some messages to my family.”
Amelia’s features creased in distress. “Oh, Alma!” she breathed, turning toward her sister. “He has family.”
“Well of course he has family! Did you think he sprouted from a cabbage patch?”
“Alma, I never—”
“Ladies, please,” Ethan interrupted quickly, knowing that if the women got too deep into their argument, his time with them would run out.
At the sound of his voice, both women turned toward him, their faces settling into apple-withered masks of contrition.
“Do you have a scrap of paper? I need to send a telegram to my family and another note to my brother, Ned. Ned Abernathy.”
“Ned? I never would have thought it,” Amelia muttered as she scrambled in her reticule and removed her diary and a pencil. “If you would simply be so kind as to skip some of the more… personal pages in the front, Mr.—”
“McGuire. Ethan McGuire.”
Ethan grinned at her and selected a page in the back. He quickly wrote the necessary information, then ripped the page free. “This will inform my mother what has happened and notify her that I’ll need a lawyer. It also instructs her to change my will, naming Lettie as my beneficiary should anything… happen. At the bottom, there’s a personal item that I’d like my mother to send as soon as possible. When the package arrives, I’d appreciate it if you’d see to it that Lettie gets it right away.”
Amelia reached for the notes, but Alma slapped her hand and took them instead. “We’ll send this immediately. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat and glanced down at his feet. “There’s one last thing I’d like you to arrange, if you don’t mind. Before long, it will be common knowledge to everyone that Lettie has hidden me in the boardinghouse for two weeks.”
“Oh my, yes,” Amelia inserted. “Her reputation will be in shreds after staying in the garret with a man for over—ouch!” She glared at her older sister, who had reached out and pinched her arm.
“Amelia, hush up!”
“No, she’s right. And that’s exactly what I’m afraid will happen.” Ethan allowed his facade of calm control to drop for a moment and a small measure of his frustration and fear—not so much for himself, but for Lettie—to show through. He’d opened her up to a situation worse than any he’d ever dreamed of, and all because he’d thought he could resolve things himself.
“I’ve arranged for a minister to visit me at two. I need you to see that Lettie is here as well. Can you do that for me? I’d like to see us married before the day is out.”
The two women gasped in delight, but when they looked at Ethan, they suddenly seemed to realize the seriousness of their errand, and their pleasure faded.
“We’ll do whatever we can,” Amelia whispered when they heard the thump of Jacob’s feet on the stairs.
Alma quickly folded the note in half and slipped it down the front of her bodice, then patted the voluminous expanse of her bosom. “You can count on us, Mr. McGuire.”
“Ethan.”
The two elderly women straightened a little after being granted the unexpected pleasure of using his first name upon such a short acquaintance. However, when Amelia opened her mouth, Alma held her sister’s arm to keep her from speaking. “Yes, Ethan. We’ll see to it that all of the arrangements are made. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
The door opened, and Jacob stepped inside. His eyes darted from Ethan to the Beasleys, but he obviously couldn’t tell much by their expressions.
“Your time is up.”
The Beasleys nodded, glared at him, and brushed past, carefully holding their skirts so they wouldn’t lap against Jacob’s boots.
“What did you tell them?” Jacob asked, turning toward Ethan.
“Nothing you need to know. Just tying up some personal business.”
“You know I’ll have them followed.”
“I figured that.”
“It won’t do you any good to try and escape. There’s a crowd of men waiting to catch a glimpse of you. They’d fill you full of holes the minute you stepped out the door.”
“Like I said before, Grey, I’m not about to run from something I didn’t do. And if you shoot me, my blood will be on your hands.”
Jacob’s jaw remained hard, his eyes dark. Without another word, he turned and closed the door behind him. Once in his office again, he stood for a moment, battling the feelings swarming within him. So much had happened in the last few hours: reading Jeb’s clippings, then coming face-to-face with Ethan McGuire after all these years.
And now I suppose you’re going to have to decide whether to believe in your sister’s judgment or continue a five-year vendetta.
But his conscience wouldn’t let him rest.
Very deliberately, Jacob turned to Rusty Janson and said, “Find Gerald Stone and tell him that the prisoner will be delivered into his custody at nine tomorrow morning.”
Rusty evidently understood the import of the message, because he nodded and strode from the office, slamming the front door behind him.
Stepping to the window, Jacob watched his deputy disappear down the boardwalk. Although he tried to control the tension seeping into his body, he could not control the heavy sickness that seemed to settle into his stomach for the duration.
Jacob moved back to his desk and sank into his chair, grasping the long iron key to Ethan’s jail cell. He stared at the front door, waiting for his deputy to return. His only company was the pounding of his heart and the restless tic, tic, tic of the key as he tapped it against the desk and formulated his plans.
Chapter 20
Before going in search of Lettie, the Beasley sisters made a slight detour down the alley beside the jailhouse. They waited in the shadows of the alley until Rusty had returned and Jacob slipped outside, intent upon reaching the small house behind the marshal’s office, where Jacob’s living quarters were situated.
Alma had earlier outlined a plan of action—one that would keep Jacob out of the office for at least a few hours. Now they could only hope it would work.
“Ready, Sister?”
“Of course, Alma.”
The two of them glanced at each other, half in fear, half in worry, then stepped out of the alley and moved through the grass toward Jacob’s house. They stopped at the door, took a deep breath, and then Amelia began to gasp and cry as if she were on the verge of hysterics. Alma knocked, waited for Jacob’s response, then flung open the door, helping her sister inside.
Jacob gla
nced up from the plate of food in front of him, rising in concern.
“Ladies, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Amelia. You know how susceptible to a shock she can be.”
Immediately concerned, Jacob rushed to take Amelia by the shoulders and guide her into the room. “You sit down here and tell me what’s happened.”
“If … if you could just fetch me a g-glass of water first.”
Jacob nodded, clearly uncomfortable with a near-hysterical woman on his hands, and dodged outside to the pump. As soon as he’d disappeared, the Beasleys took their positions on either side of the doorway.
“Now remember, Sister,” Alma whispered, “when he comes through the door, hit him over the head enough to stun him. Then we’ll tie him up until morning.”
Amelia nodded in understanding and took her place.
“Ladies, I hope you don’t—”
Jacob stepped through the door, and Alma crashed him over the top of the head with her book-laden purse.
“What the—”
“Hit him, Amelia. Mine didn’t take!”
Before Jacob knew what was happening, Amelia had struck him on the top of his head with her purse. There was a muffled clang, then Jacob’s eyes widened in surprise, rolled back in his head, and he crashed to the floor. Amelia’s bag fell onto the floor beside him with a loud clank.
Alma gazed in surprise at the fallen man, then at her sister. “Well done, Amelia!”
“Why thank you, Sister.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Amelia straightened with pride.
Alma moved to grasp her sister’s voluminous reticule then frowned when she picked it up. “What in the world have you got in here?”
Amelia’s features creased into a network of worried lines. “I couldn’t find any books that would fit in my bag.”
“So what did you use?”
“Jacob’s cast-iron paperweight.”
Alma gazed in amazement at her sister, then at the figure spread-eagled at their feet. “Somehow I don’t think it will prove necessary to tie the man up.”
Lettie stormed through the jailhouse door, and when Rusty Janson tried to escort her outside again, she dodged his grip and whirled away. She immediately rued the action when her head pounded and her stomach churned. Though she’d awakened nearly an hour before, the effects of the drug Ethan had given her the night before still clouded her mind—but not her purpose.
Silken Dreams Page 29
