He pointed his gun in the direction of the cemetery. “Move, and don’t try any funny business.”
Just as she started toward the iron gate, something whizzed by, missing her head by barely an inch. It struck the church wall hard and bounced back to hit Studebaker on the temple.
“Ow!”
All at once a barrage of objects flew out of nowhere. He fought them off with frantic thrusts of his arms. Dodging low, Amy grabbed his wrist and they wrestled for the gun. She kneed him where it counted, and he loosened his hold.
“Drop the gun!” Tom’s voice was music to her ears.
Still smarting from the low blow, Studebaker let his gun fall to the ground. Blood trickled from his forehead where he’d been hit by flying items.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she said.
Tom moved into the moonlight. “Sorry, I was what you might call occupied.” He gave her a crooked grin.
The marshal hobbled up behind him, his arm in a makeshift sling. “Here.” He tossed a pair of handcuffs to Tom with his one good arm. Tom snapped them around Studebaker’s wrists.
Miss Lillian limped toward them followed by her girls and the three churchwomen, all in stocking feet.
“We got him!” Miss Lillian cried.
Amy handed the marshal his firearm and picked a velvet slipper off the ground. “Shoes? You threw shoes?”
The madam shrugged. “The marshal said no guns.”
Mrs. Givings giggled and glanced around. “Anyone see a pair of high-button boots?”
“Over here,” Mrs. Albright called from behind a bush.
Tom holstered his gun and cupped Amy’s elbow in his hand. “You all right?”
She grinned up at him. “I’m fine. You?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Except for a couple of bruises, I couldn’t be better.” He picked up the gunnysack that Studebaker had dropped. “Look a here.” He held up a packet of banknotes.
Mrs. Givings clucked her tongue. “Just think what the church could do with that much money.”
Checkers limped up looking bedraggled. His suit coat was torn and his bow tie askew. “Does this mean I have to share the reward?”
Coral glared at him. “What are you talking about, reward? I don’t see any of your shoes here.”
“I’ll decide who gets the reward,” Flood said.
Polly walked up to the captive. “I hope you hang for what you did to Rose.” She shoved him on the chest. “And even that will be too good for you.”
Studebaker glowered but said nothing.
Polly stepped back and glanced at the others. “Why are you all staring at me?”
Amy squeezed her arm. “It’s because you didn’t stutter.”
Polly’s hands flew to her mouth. “I didn’t, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” Buttercup said, and she threw her arms around her. Even Coral gave Polly a quick pat on the back.
“I’ll take it from here,” Flood said. He gave Amy a sheepish look. “If you ever get tired of working for Pinkerton, I could use someone like you.”
It was probably as close to a compliment as he was likely to give, but that was okay. They caught the Gunnysack Bandit, and Tom’s brother was now off the hook. That was enough for her.
“You better have the doctor look at that shoulder of yours,” Miss Lillian said.
Flood nodded. “I will, just as soon as Studebaker here is behind bars.” It was probably the most civil conversation he and the madam ever exchanged.
Amy helped the others find their shoes. She handed Coral a velvet slipper. “Thank you for your help.”
Coral took the shoe without so much as a thank-you.
Buttercup hopped on one foot while she slipped on a satin slipper. “We were glad to help.”
“That’s what sisters are for,” Polly said. “To help each other.”
Amy felt a lump form in her throat. She never thought to call anyone sister again, and now suddenly she had a pack of them. God sure did have a funny sense of humor.
Moving away from the cemetery gate, the women formed a circle. Coral looked momentarily startled when Polly reached for her hand.
Smiling, Amy stepped forward to join them. Grasping Mrs. Albright’s hand on one side and Miss Lillian’s on the other, she closed the circle.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Albright said. “What would the church deacons say if they saw us now?”
“Don’t worry,” Polly said. “We’re the sole of discretion.” She laughed at her own joke.
Amy’s gaze traveled around the circle with a thankful heart. The show of solidarity was not only surprising but significant.
Reaching out to one another could very well be the first step to reaching out to God. For the first time since coming to Miss Lillian’s Parlor House, Amy felt hope for the women who worked there.
“Any room for a brother?” Tom asked.
The women laughed as he broke the link between Amy and Miss Lillian and took both their hands in his. For once, Miss Lillian didn’t try to sell him anything.
The grasp of Tom’s hand sent warm tremors up her arm. He winked at her and she smiled back.
Checkers threw up his arms. “Oh, why not?” Sniffling, he took his place between Coral and Buttercup and sneezed.
“What about you, Tin Star,” Miss Lillian called. “Would you care to join us?”
“I don’t need no more family. I’ve enough troubles of me own,” Marshal Flood grumbled. Holding his Peacemaker in one hand, he tossed a nod in the direction of the jailhouse and ordered his prisoner to move.
After Flood hauled Studebaker away, Miss Lillian and Mrs. Givings left together, chatting away like two old friends. The others also drifted away, leaving Tom and Amy alone.
Unexpectedly, he put his hands at her waist and spun her about. She threw back her head and laughed, releasing all the worry and tension of the last few hours.
With a grin as wide as Texas, he lowered her to the ground, but his hands remained on her waist. “You did it.”
She blushed. “We all did it.”
“Just so you know, I don’t think of you as a sister.”
His heated gaze held her still. “And I don’t think of you as a brother.”
“I can’t believe it’s over,” he said. “To think that Studebaker is the Gunnysack Bandit and Dave—”
“Really did turn over a new leaf.” She gave him a teasing look. “I guess you could say it was a shoe-in.”
He laughed. “Well, look a there.” His face grew serious and his gaze locked with hers. The promise of a kiss hung between them, but just as he was about to capture her lips with his own, a horseman rode by, and he released her.
“I can’t wait till you break the news to your nephew,” she said to relieve the sudden tension between them.
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Now we can give his pa a proper burial in the family plot.” He pulled a derringer out of his pocket. “I think this is yours.”
She took it from him and slid it into her own pocket. “I—I guess I should start back. It’s late.”
He hesitated. “In my Ranger days, me and the boys celebrated whenever we captured a bad guy. So are you up for some coffee ice cream? I happen to know my way around the hotel kitchen.”
The vision of him sneaking around the hotel kitchen in the middle of the night made her smile. “I’m always up for ice cream,” she said, “but it’s too soon to celebrate. Studebaker killed your brother, but he didn’t kill Rose.”
He frowned and drew back. “How do you know that?”
“Something he said.”
His gaze sharpened. “If he didn’t kill her, then who did?”
She raised up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “Hummingbird.”
Chapter 40
Jennifer sat at the old piano in Miss Lillian’s parlor and the rippling tune of “Für Elise” filled the air. Her secret was out so there was no reason to pretend. Amy Gardner no longer existed.
Her fingers mov
ing lightly up and down the keys belied the heaviness in her heart. Memories of her sister accompanied each note.
Her sister had explained that the trick to playing the piece correctly was to rotate the fingers up. That’s not all her sister said.
“I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Mama.”
There were many reasons why someone might want to keep news of an upcoming wedding secret. There were probably even more reasons to keep quiet about expecting a child, and Rose’s baby was the one loose end that bothered her.
A footstep sounded behind her. The mirror over the piano told her who had entered the room, but she forced herself to play the piece to the end. She then scooted on the stool until her back faced the piano.
The housekeeper’s feather duster stilled. “Want me to come back later?” she asked, her expression bland beneath a starched cap.
“No, that’s all right, Beatrice. I’ve finished practicing.” She watched the woman work her way around the room, flicking her feather duster this way and that, like a hummingbird darting from flower to flower.
“I suppose you heard. Mr. Studebaker is in jail.”
She couldn’t see Beatrice’s face, but her hand stilled for an instant before she continued dusting. “So I heard.”
“He confessed to everything except one thing … Rose’s murder.”
Beatrice kept dusting.
“Isn’t it strange how little things can nag at a person?” Beatrice made no response so Jennifer continued. “Take for example Rose’s baby. No one but Coffey knew she was with child, and she swore she told no one else. So the question is, how did Studebaker find out?”
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder but said nothing, and Jennifer continued.
“My guess is that you found her journal one day while cleaning her room and read it.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Oh, but you would and you did. That’s how you knew about the baby. I thought it was odd that Rose didn’t write about being with child and hardly mentioned the man she hoped to marry. Then I remembered that some of the pages were missing from the journal. Pages you tore out.”
Rose must have decided to write in code after she discovered pages of her diary missing. From that moment on, her unborn child was referred to as “Chickadee.” It was actually quite a clever ruse.
“Rose’s journal contained her suspicions about Studebaker, and you saw this as an opportunity. You decided to feed Studebaker information, provided he pay you. That’s how he knew Colton was onto him. It’s also how he knew about Rose’s baby.”
Beatrice kept dusting and Jennifer continued. “It worked, but not for long. After the Hampton bank fiasco, Studebaker decided to call it quits. That meant no more money for you. That’s when you decided to look for Rose’s diary again. You hoped to use it to blackmail Studebaker into paying you more.
“So you sneaked into Rose’s room. She caught you, and you hit her over the head.”
Beatrice swiped her feather duster over a tabletop.
“After killing Rose, you couldn’t find the journal, at least not that night. It didn’t show up until later when you were cleaning Rose’s room. Miss Lillian was with you so you had no choice but to turn it over to her. What you didn’t know at the time is that it wouldn’t have done you any good. Rose wrote in code, and the birds represented real people. You were the hummingbird. You’re also the person who hit me over the head in the cellar.”
She should have known it was Beatrice by the lack of fragrance in the cellar that night. Beatrice and Coffey were the only two women in the house who didn’t drench themselves with perfume—and Coffey always smelled of onions and vanilla.
“The morning after you assaulted me I saw you in the kitchen, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. I thought it was gunfire that scared you, but it wasn’t, was it? It was seeing me.”
Beatrice spun around, her face an ugly mask. “You can’t prove any of this.”
“I don’t have to. As you know, Mr. Studebaker enjoys singing, and I can’t tell you how much we’ve enjoyed his recent song.”
“Why, that no good, double-crossing—”
Realizing what she’d said, a panicked look crossed Beatrice’s face. Dropping her feather duster she ran, but Tom and the marshal blocked her way. Standing next to the two men were Miss Lillian, Coral, Polly, and Buttercup. Each held a shoe over her head ready to throw.
Flood unclipped the handcuffs from his belt and snapped them around Beatrice’s wrists. “I said no weapons.”
Buttercup slipped her foot into her shoe. “You said no guns.”
Miss Lillian glared at her housekeeper and looked about to clobber her with the heel of her shoe. “I can’t believe that you killed Rose.”
“She killed her all right,” Jennifer said. “She’s the one Rose called Hummingbird.”
“Not any longer.” Tom gave a grim nod. “From now on she’ll be known as jailbird.”
“Are we done now?” Flood asked. “Or is there someone else I need to arrest?”
“I think that’ll do it,” Jennifer said. “For now.”
Miss Lillian’s expression dropped along with her shoe. “There must be someone else. Otherwise, what will I do with my newfound detective skills?”
“What I don’t understand,” Tom said later as Jennifer sat with him in the hotel dining room sharing a dish of coffee ice cream, “is why Studebaker took singing lessons. It’s obvious he can’t sing. So what was he doing? Keeping an eye on Beatrice?”
“Perhaps. But I also think he was worried that Rose might have confided her suspicions to someone else,” she said. “Dave was a problem and had to be stopped. Rose, too. Her death must have been a great relief to him.”
“Except that still left Beatrice.”
“Yes, but he must have known she killed Rose, so he had something to hold over her head.”
“He could have just gotten rid of her like he did Dave,” Tom said.
“Yes, but don’t forget she was a housekeeper. Her death would have carried more weight than a mere harlot’s and was bound to gain more attention. That’s the last thing Studebaker wanted.”
“And the typed note found on my brother?”
“Typed on the typewriter found in Studebaker’s home.”
Tom blew out his breath. “Thank God it’s over. Now the town can rest easy.”
She sighed. Funny, but it didn’t feel like it was over. It felt like there was still work to be done—God’s work. “I just wish—”
He studied her. “Go on.”
“I wish there was something I could do to persuade my adopted sisters to quit what they’re doing and follow the Lord.” Some madams managed to retire and go on to live respectable lives, but most good-time girls fell into poverty and despair. Some even took their own lives.
Tom studied her. “People can’t change unless they want to change.”
She set her spoon down and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “That’s just it. I believe they do want to change but don’t know how. It’s not easy for a woman to earn an honest living. Even secretary jobs are almost always held by men.”
“So what’s the answer?” he asked.
“Education. But it may be too late for them. Coral and Buttercup don’t even know how to read.” She would never forget the joyful expressions on the women’s faces the night they captured Studebaker. They even walked and talked with more confidence. Polly had mostly stopped stuttering, and on that glorious night her words had flowed like music.
Tom set his spoon down. “Times are changing. More women are getting educated. There’s even a female ranch owner in Texas.”
“A ranch owner? How do you feel about that?” People often resented women horning in on what was traditionally a man’s job.”
“Don’t bother me none, long as her cattle don’t bring in more than mine at market time.”
“And women detectives?” she couldn’t help but ask. “How do you f
eel about them?”
A faint twinkle glimmered in his eyes. “I’m willing to admit that women detectives have a few advantages over a man. For one thing, men look terrible in skirts.”
She laughed. “Women are also more observant.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”
She glanced around the dining room. No sign of Checkers, but the battling couple was at it again. “He forgot her birthday,” she said, indicating the intense man and woman three tables away.
“How do you know?”
She smiled mysteriously. “A woman knows these things. And look over there. That drummer is unable to convince his companion to buy his product. That’s because he’s totally incompetent as a salesman.”
Tom followed her gaze. “What makes you think that?”
“He’s eating fruit pie without ice cream.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “A sure sign he couldn’t sell water to a thirsty man.”
She indicated another table with her spoon. “See that man and woman over there? I’m telling you, it won’t work. Love is supposed to suppress the appetite, but she’s already on her third dish of ice cream.”
“What about the other couple?” he asked. “My guess is that he wants to lasso in a partner, but he’s not sure if the lady wants to be roped.”
“What?” Her gaze swung around the room. “Where?” Her eyes met his and she caught her breath. “You don’t mean … You’re not—”
He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You once asked me why I cared. I didn’t have the answer then, but I do now. The moment I saw Studebaker’s gun pointed at you was the moment I knew how much you meant to me.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.
“Then I’ll make it easy for you. Say you’ll marry me, Jennifer.”
Her heart squeezed tight and it was all she could do to breathe. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She pulled her hand away and laid it on her lap. “So much has happened.”
“Your sister?” He sat back and his eyes brimmed with concern.
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