Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5)

by Vikki Kestell

  “Nothing to report. The queen and pawn are well guarded and never leave the castle with less than two knights in attendance,” Morgan growled. “Nothing yet has changed.”

  He hung up and Barnes, who had listened in as usual, placed his call to Mrs. Gooding. Morgan idly leaned against the wall and picked at the crease in his immaculate trouser legs while he waited for Barnes to report “No instructions from Madam Chen.” Instead, Barnes turned pale and handed the phone to Morgan.

  “It’s her,” he breathed, eyes wide.

  Her? Fang-Hua! She had come to the mysterious “Mrs. Gooding’s” location to speak to him? Morgan gathered himself and lifted the receiver to his ear.

  “Reggie, are you there, dear?” Fang-Hua’s disembodied voice floated over the wires to him and Morgan’s throat closed up. He had to swallow twice before he could answer.

  “Yes. I am here.”

  “Oh, Reggie,” she breathed. “I am growing . . . concerned. You promised me so much, if you recall, but five long months have passed. Can you sense my disappointment?”

  What Morgan sensed was a noose tightening about his neck.

  He fixed a wary eye on Barnes, waved him back several feet, and nonchalantly slipped his hand into his coat pocket. Morgan placed no confidence in Barnes; he was well aware that Fang-Hua, given her mercurial temperament, might easily order Barnes to dispose of Morgan. The cold steel of the revolver in his pocket was reassuring.

  Morgan’s eyes never left the other man. “Madam Chen, the weather in Denver is still contrary to our purposes. No mother takes her infant child out in winter weather. If you recall our conversations, I expressed my concern on this point, and I did suggest that the ideal opportunity to fulfill our mission would arrive with spring weather. I assure you: I have had our objective under continual surveillance, and warmer weather is very close now.”

  Fang-Hua was silent on the other end for so long that Morgan feared she had hung up. He kept Barnes in view, just in case. At last, however, Fang-Hua spoke, her words chilling him.

  “Dear, dear Reggie. I have never known you to be, shall we say, unresourceful. Perhaps the ideal opportunity is less than expedient in this situation. I do count on you for a certain measure of ingenuity, of initiative, after all. Please think on that, dear Reggie, and on . . . other eventualities should the cleverness I ascribe to you prove to be . . . misplaced.”

  Blast the witch! Blast her to— Morgan cursed. His eyes flicked back to Barnes.

  Morgan calmed himself and replied, forcing himself to speak words that were oily and ingratiating. “Do not fret yourself, madam. I will secure your grandchild as promised; in fact, I suggest that now is the time to secure the services of a wet nurse. You may send her along as soon has she has been hired.”

  Another long pause followed before, “Very well, Reggie. I expect to hear news of your success soon, then.”

  A loud clack in Morgan’s ear signaled that Fang-Hua had hung up. Morgan replaced the receiver and again leaned against the wall.

  I am running out of time.

  He dredged up the idea he had turned over in his mind many times, ill-advised as it might be: On any weekday, we could ambush Mei-Xing on her way from the house to the car.

  He arrived at the same conclusion he had each previous time: Against four guards (the night shift did not leave until Mei-Xing was safely away) and in broad daylight, too, the odds were decidedly against them. Even if they somehow managed to pull it off, getting the child clear of Denver before the law caught up to them would be difficult.

  A second approach seemed too far-fetched: Given enough men and the element of surprise, we could take Palmer House at night, kill everyone in the house except the child, burn the house to the ground, and be gone before anyone was the wiser.

  He always returned to the same conclusion. Be patient. The right opportunity will present itself. It is only a matter of time.

  But an abundance of time was what Morgan did not have.

  “Oh! What wonderful news! Tabitha has done well on her exams and will be allowed to come home for a week between terms!” Rose looked up from the letter she was reading to share the news with Grant and Joy. “It is a reward only granted the top students!”

  Grant sat behind Rose’s little desk, adding recent expenses to the house’s ledger; Joy nursed Edmund from the comfort of her favorite overstuffed great room chair.

  “When will she come? We will all be so glad to see her,” Joy said with enthusiasm.

  “Her train will arrive this Friday, April seventh! We must arrange to be there to greet her.”

  “Yes, certainly. What an unexpected blessing!”

  That evening, Rose shared the news. Mei-Xing offered to ask one of Gresham’s men to drive the welcoming party to Union Station to fetch her; Rose and Breona were the most available to meet her on a weekday and planned to do so.

  Friday arrived, and so did Tabitha. Everyone who had not seen her for six months observed a calm assurance in her manner. She carried herself with this newfound confidence, still her old, sometimes passionate self, but with less of the stormy toss-and-turn of emotions.

  Tabitha was allowed to stay only a week, but she effortlessly entered into the routines of the house again, assisting Breona with the housekeeping duties and doting on the babies and Will. The rigorous training nursing students underwent had strengthened her physically and mentally. She was a breath of fresh air and a whirlwind of energy and goodwill rolled into one.

  “I like this new, mature Tabitha,” Rose whispered to her the next morning.

  Tabitha blushed. “I love the school, Miss Rose. I am learning so much!”

  “You will make a fine nurse,” Rose enthused. “Why, anyone can see it!”

  She caressed Tabitha’s face. “Flinty would be so proud. I can just hear him telling you: That’s th’ ticket, Red! Yer jist what th’ doctor ordered, I’m thinkin’!”

  Morgan addressed Barnes and the men around the table in the hideaway house’s kitchen. He had finished his latest telephone report to Clemmins.

  “The weather is beginning to improve,” Morgan said. “I think we can expect to see the child being taken out of doors soon. We have been quite careful; the guards have not had even a whiff of me watching the house.

  “But,” he punctuated his words and drilled a look of emphasis into each man’s eyes as he spoke, “when you receive my call, you may have mere minutes to act. If you are not vigilant and ready, we will miss our opportunity—and trust me, we will have only one such opportunity.

  “The men guarding Mei-Xing and the baby are professionals. Do not underestimate the situation or the opposition. If you do not move quickly and decisively, you will fail.”

  Barnes squirmed under Morgan’s lecture. “I think we all get the idea. No need to rub it in like we ain’t never done this before.”

  The other men muttered in agreement, but not one met Morgan’s icy gaze or spoke loud enough to be heard. Their dark expressions told Morgan that they resented his calling the shots.

  “You don’t care for my precautions. You feel I am overstating the obvious,” Morgan snarled, “But I will remind you: If you botch this, you will not answer to me; you will answer to Madam Chen.”

  No one made a sound as Morgan finished. He stood up and left through the back without a parting word.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 19

  April

  “I am the most blessed grandmother in the world,” Rose declared. In one arm Edmund slept soundly; in the other arm Shan-Rose wriggled and reached for baby Edmund’s face.

  “Let me take Shan-Rose before she wakes up little Edmund.” Mei-Xing laughed and raised her chubby girl into the air. Shan-Rose giggled in delight.

  After an absence of more than two-months, Joy had returned to the shop that morning. She would see to the inventory and gauge how Sarah was faring as the interim store manager.

  “Are you sure it is all right to leave Edmund with you? If all is well at the stor
e, I hope to be back early this afternoon, Mama,” she had told Rose.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Rose had laughed. “I am greedy to have this baby boy all to myself for hours today!”

  Now Mei-Xing was echoing Joy’s question.

  “Are you sure I can leave Shan-Rose with you, too?” Mei-Xing asked yet again. Two of Mrs. Palmer’s maids had come down with colds, and Mrs. Palmer had called suggesting that Mei-Xing not come to work today, “just to be on the safe side.”

  Instead, Rose had insisted that Mei-Xing leave Shan-Rose with her so that Mei-Xing could attend Mrs. Palmer as usual.

  “Just as sure as I was when you asked five minutes ago,” Rose chuckled. “I thought I would take them both out in the pram for some fresh air.”

  Mei-Xing peered out the great room windows. “But the sky looks rather gloomy, don’t you think?”

  “Goodness; it is spring, you know! And even with snow still hanging about, the almanac calls for sunshine midday,” Rose laughed.

  “I daresay the air will do them good.” These words came from Tabitha. “Breona and I will certainly take advantage of the nice weather to do all the marketing.”

  “Yes, indeed. My poor bones have had no sunshine for weeks now, and these children will love an outing. Mr. Rawley and Mr. Hicks will accompany us, so do not worry, my dear. Grandma Rose will bundle her babies up and we will all enjoy a brisk walk.”

  Gresham, on hearing that Mei-Xing would be going to work but leaving her baby home, had added Hicks to the day’s roster: Betts would escort Mei-Xing to work and remain on watch; Hicks and Rawley would stand guard over the child.

  “All right then. I know Shan-Rose will enjoy the fresh air.” Mei-Xing slipped on gloves and her long coat. When she nodded at Betts, he escorted her to the waiting automobile and drove her to work.

  Rose had a delightful—but busy—morning with the babies. After lunch, while she readied the pram, she studied the sky. The sun was boring its way through the grey gloom and sparkling off snowy drifts.

  I am more than ready for spring. Perhaps I will just bring along my journal, she decided. If, as the almanac predicts, the skies clear and the temperature warms a bit, we will stop in the park and I will sit on a bench and catch up on my entries.

  She picked up her Bible and the little book bound in wine-colored leather and put them in the corner of the pram.

  Grant had just settled on a couch in the parlor for a nap when Rose wheeled the ornate buggy—another gift from Martha Palmer—out the front door. Hicks and Rawley, one in front and one behind her, lifted the pram as if it were made of cotton balls, carried it down the steps, and set it on the walkway.

  Rose took hold of the buggy handle and strode down the walk. The two guards followed not far behind her, scanning for danger in all directions. A park Rose particularly enjoyed was about four blocks away. It was planted with beautiful pine trees and had several park benches along a meandering path. Rose relished a slow, winding stroll through the trees.

  Before she set off, Rose checked on the babies. She heard Shan-Rose gurgling to herself and Rose smiled down at her. Shan-Rose beamed back, two tiny teeth peeping from between her lips. Edmund stared at the sky, his little forehead puckered, fascinated by the lights and trees overhead.

  Satisfied, Rose hummed to herself as she pushed the buggy ahead of her. When she reached the gate to Palmer House, she turned right, toward the park.

  Snow still covered most yards and mounded more deeply in the shadows of trees and houses, but the sidewalk was dry. Rose breathed in the crisp air and walked on. Hicks and Rawley, ever vigilant, followed close behind.

  Morgan leapt from his chair, tipping it over in his haste. He grabbed up the binoculars and stared at the little procession coming out of the gate to Palmer House.

  Finally! Not Mei-Xing . . . but certainly her child!

  He hesitated only a few seconds. Fang-Hua would not get everything she wanted today—the child, yes, but not Mei-Xing. However, once the child was gone, wouldn’t those who watched over it relax their guard over its mother? He noted the two men who trailed after the woman pushing the baby buggy.

  Only two guards. Barnes and his crew will take them by surprise and finish them and the woman, leaving no witnesses. After we have delivered the child to Fang-Hua, she can order her men to lie in wait for the Little Plum Blossom. They will be able to finish the task—after I have already gone.

  He unlocked and opened the door to his room, tiptoed down the stairs, and used the telephone hanging on the wall. Just as discreetly, he went in search of Miss DeWitt.

  I am sorry, my dear, he mocked her in his thoughts. You have outlived your usefulness.

  But Miss DeWitt was not to be found. Morgan called to her, and the empty house echoed back. Morgan mentally thumbed through Miss DeWitt’s activities and realized the woman was at her club meeting and would not return for at least two hours.

  He stood in the woman’s kitchen pondering the ramifications of leaving this loose end undone. And yet, he could not afford to wait for her—the deed would be done within the hour. Morgan needed to send Mei-Xing’s child on its way to Fang-Hua immediately and, by nightfall, he needed to be as far from both Denver and Fang-Hua’s clutches as he could possibly be.

  Morgan returned to his room. Throwing a suitcase onto the bed, he tossed into it only what he needed for the journey ahead.

  Once at the park, Rose slowed her pace and did what the path encouraged: She wandered along as it wended through the trees, thoroughly relishing the pine-scented air. Hicks and Rawley followed at a judicious distance.

  The almanac had been right—the overcast sky burned away as the sun rose toward its zenith. Near the boundary of the park Rose found a bench in the sunshine and sat with her face turned toward the bright warmth.

  O Lord, she worshipped. What a day to be alive! What great blessings you have given me in my latter years! I am so content.

  She stood and checked on the babies. Both were tightly swaddled, and over them Rose had tucked the heavy, white afghan Mrs. Palmer had given Shan-Rose. She made sure it was tucked around them. Edmund’s head was covered in a baby-blue knit cap; Shan-Rose wore a matching pearl-pink knit hat. They had succumbed to the gentle sway of the buggy and were sleeping. Their heads were just touching, their chubby faces barely visible.

  Rose retrieved her Bible and journal from under the afghan. She returned to the bench and began writing in her journal.

  (Journal Entry, April 12, 1911)

  Father God, it has been a year since Mei-Xing came home, and life here in Denver has taken on a rhythm and a cadence that I have missed. The happy years with Jan were, in the most part, predictable, perhaps even boring by someone else’s measure, but not to me, Lord. No, when I think back, those years were filled with contentment and peace, something for which my soul has been sorely longing.

  It seems that from the time Jan passed and I joined Joy in this endeavor, she and I have moved from crisis to crisis—until now. Thank you, Father, for bringing us into this place of rest, even as we continue to labor for you. Thank you for the blessing of these two grandchildren.

  I know hard times will come our way again. It is the way of life upon this earth, until we reach you in eternity. But right here, in this moment, I thank you. I thank you for contentment and rest from our enemies.

  Thank you, too, for allowing Tabitha to come home to us. We have missed her so.

  She wrote on until she had finished journaling her thoughts and prayers. Then she laid aside her journal and picked up her Bible. Soon she was engrossed in a passage in Romans.

  A while later Rose shivered. With a start, she realized how much time had passed. The sky had again clouded over and temperatures were dropping. In fact, the air was filling with a fine snow.

  “Time to go home, my baby chicks!” she whispered. Hurrying, she picked up both books and folded them under the afghan. She saw Hicks standing watch not far away and nodded to him.

  A moment
later she was pushing the buggy out of the park and onto the sidewalk. Hicks and Rawley followed close behind. Beautifully trimmed hedges bordered the park here. Their glossy green leaves sparkled as snow floated from the sky onto their branches.

  Rose hummed as she walked and she lifted her face to the fine snow falling around them. She did not notice a motorcar as it glided alongside the curb behind them.

  A sharp report echoed against the snowy hedges. Rose flinched and snapped out of her reverie. Another shot! And another! She jerked around to see Hicks crumple to the sidewalk. Again! Rawley, his gun drawn, facing the threat, sank onto the snowy grass. Crimson stained the snow where he fell.

  Rose could not comprehend what was happening even as three men rushed from the motor car toward her—toward the pram! She grabbed hold of the handle and ran, pushing it ahead of her. But before she had gone many steps, rough hands seized her.

  No! The babies!

  Rose fought with all the strength she had, clawing and screaming, until the man grappling with her threw her to the ground. Even then, Rose grabbed at his trouser leg and held on—until the full force of his boot landed on the side of her head and she fell backwards, the back of her head striking the stone walkway.

  She could not breathe; the fall had stunned her, knocking the air from her lungs. She managed to turn her head and catch a glimpse of two men carrying the buggy in much the same manner Hicks and Rawley had toted it down the porch steps of Palmer House.

  Hicks! Rawley! Save the babies! But the two men did not stir.

  “No! Please, no!” Rose pushed herself to sitting to plead with those taking the pram but she had little air to voice her pleas. Her cries were not much more than choked whispers.

  The men reached their automobile and dropped the buggy near the curb. One man reached inside and then paused. He shouted something to the others and beckoned them toward the pram.