Love in Disguise
Page 27
Ellie shook her head violently and choked back a sob. “I’m not who you think I am.”
She looked at him through a film of tears and tried to keep her voice steady. “My name is Ellie Moore, not Jessie Monroe. I was sent here by the Pinkerton Agency to find out who is behind the silver thefts.” She pressed her lips together, hating herself for causing the pain she saw in his eyes.
She stretched out her hand again, then let it fall to her side. “I have to go now. I’m sorry. So very sorry.” With that, she spun around and ran down the steps into the night.
Steven stood as though he’d been turned to stone and watched Jessie disappear into the darkness.
What just happened? Their evening had been going so well—perfectly, he’d thought. As far as he could tell, everything had been falling into place to begin a courtship with Jessie. Whatever happened to the Redemption, he harbored the hope that she was going to be a part of his future, and in the end, that was all that mattered.
Then the bottom had fallen out of his carefully laid plans. He felt as if he’d just seen his life caught up in a whirlwind.
He swung his head from side to side like a punch-drunk boxer, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. So Jessie had been paying her neighbor’s boy to spy on some of the local townspeople? That was hard enough to fathom, even without her cryptic parting statements.
If he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, maybe Lavinia could. He reached the door in two short strides and gave it a sharp rap. There was no answer.
She must not have heard him. He raised his hand again, ready to knock hard enough to rattle the door loose from its hinges, when a thought stopped him. It was late. Was she still awake?
Cupping his hands against the window, he peered into the parlor, where the low-burning oil lamp cast a dim glow around the room. No sign of movement, no indication that anyone stirred inside the house. Apparently, Lavinia had already retired.
Another parting comment filtered into his muddled thoughts. Had he understood correctly? Had Jessie really told him she was the Pinkerton agent?
And that led to another question: Had Lavinia been duped into coming to Pickford? Did she know her niece’s true purpose in coming to Arizona was to investigate the silver thefts?
If that was the case . . . His progression of thought knocked the wind right out of him.
If that was the case, then it followed that Marvin Long and Donald Tidwell had something to do with the robberies.
Which meant he’d just let the woman he hoped to eventually make his wife go haring off after a couple of criminals in the dark.
He leaped from the porch and set off toward the Constitution. Pinkerton or not, he loved her. They could sort the rest of it out later.
Right now, he knew only one thing—he had to go after her and do everything in his power to keep her safe.
28
Ellie hitched her skirts a little higher as she sped down Second Street. Steven couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d hit him between the eyes with a two-by-four.
But this was no time to dwell on the ruination of their evening. She needed to concentrate all her attention on the job before her.
Once again, she experienced the stab of betrayal she’d felt on hearing the news of Donald Tidwell’s treachery. She’d wanted to believe him innocent, had balked at even considering him as a suspect. Yet when all was said and done, he turned out to be every bit as guilty as she’d feared.
What could have possessed him to get involved with this dastardly gang? He had a solid standing in the community and a wife who depended on him. In turning his back on what was good and honest, he had let down Myra, the citizens of Pickford, and himself.
Ellie rounded the corner at Grant Street at a dead run, trying to push back the dark cloud of rage. She needed to keep her mind clear for the task ahead. She had no intention of bearding the thieves in their den—Gates and Fleming had been adamant about that. Her job was merely to identify the criminals and send word posthaste to the home office, who would notify the U.S. marshal in Tucson.
All she had to do was trail Marvin Long and Donald to the Constitution, make certain what they were up to, then slip back into town, where she would rout out Amos Crawford and have him send a wire to the Pinkertons.
A sense of exhilaration lent wings to her feet. It was almost over. She was coming down to the wire on her first investigation, almost ready to cross the finish line. By the time the night was over, her part would be completed, and she’d be free to return to Chicago, leaving constant quick changes, runaway horses, and amorous telegraphers behind.
A pang of anguish caused her steps to falter. There would be other things she’d leave behind, as well. Steven . . . and a part of her heart.
Ellie paused to get her bearings when she reached Mill Street. From that point on, her journey would take her across open country. Slowing her pace, she picked her way across the rough terrain in the moonlight, finding comfort in the reminder of the pistol in her reticule as it thumped against her side. She chafed at her slowness, but she didn’t dare risk turning her ankle—or worse, being seen—not when she was this close to her goal.
The scent of greasewood and creosote filled the night air. Spotting a clump of cactus, she skirted to the left to avoid its needlelike spines, then forged on, straining to detect any motion ahead of her and stopping every few yards to listen for footsteps. The only sound she heard was the soft scuff of her own padded footfalls.
Fifty feet ahead, something glinted in the silver light. Ellie froze, every sense alert. She stood rooted to the spot, hardly daring to breathe.
She waited an agonizingly long moment before she allowed herself to relax. It must have been her imagination.
She’d just lifted her foot to take a step forward when she saw it again, a brief flicker of movement. Every muscle in her body tensed.
Peering intently, Ellie made out the form of a man crouched next to a scrubby bush. She hesitated, not knowing what to do. She hadn’t planned on playing a nighttime game of cat and mouse.
What should her next move be? She’d intended only to identify the perpetrators and confirm their activities. She daren’t allow herself to be spotted. But it was vital to ascertain who she was looking at and find out what he was up to.
Ellie glanced to her right, where a large mesquite tree offered cover and a better viewing angle. If she could move over there, she might be able to see well enough to recognize her quarry. Scarcely daring to breathe, she drifted in that direction a few inches at a time, testing every step before putting her weight down.
Once in the shelter of the mesquite, she pressed against the trunk, trying to blend into its shadow. As she hoped, the viewing angle was much better from that vantage point. She leaned forward, willing the man to turn her way.
As if in response, he shifted position, and she saw his face clearly. An icy sickness coiled in the pit of her stomach.
She was looking straight at Donald Tidwell.
Despite Billy Taylor’s report, a small part of her had still harbored the hope that the boy had been wrong. Faced with the truth, Ellie found it impossible to keep her anger in check.
Stepping out from the shelter of the mesquite, she covered the distance between them with long strides, not bothering to take care with her footsteps. Just before she reached him, Donald jumped to his feet and whirled to face her.
“Miss Monroe? What are you doing here?”
The shock in his face would have drawn her sympathy under other circumstances. Instead, Ellie gave full vent to her wrath. “How could you be a part of this? I trusted you. Myra trusted you!”
She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out on an angry sob. “How could you betray her like this?”
He peered past Ellie as if expecting someone else to appear. Then his face lost its look of a cornered animal and took on a crafty smile. “What are you talking about? Can’t a man take a walk in the moonlight without being accused of something?”
Donald’s attempt at bluster crumbled. “You don’t understand.” He started walking toward her.
“Don’t take another step.” Ellie reached inside her reticule and drew out her pistol. Holding it in both hands, she pointed it at Donald, hoping he didn’t notice the way it trembled in her grip. “You can say anything you need to from right there.”
He stood like a statue and stared at the gun in her hands. “I won’t move an inch. Would you mind lowering that thing so it doesn’t go off by accident?”
Ellie shook her head slowly. “I trusted you once and found out I was wrong. I won’t make that mistake twice. Now, tell me what it is I don’t understand.”
A tear trickled down Donald’s cheek, glistening in the moonlight. “It was all for Myra. I can’t stand to see her so sick, but there’s nothing any of the docs out here can do for her. She needs to go someplace where she can get better treatment, but I don’t have the money to take her.”
Moved in spite of herself, Ellie allowed the pistol to droop slightly.
“They promised me a share of the silver if I helped them. I knew it was wrong, but it was the only way I knew to get Myra the help she needs.”
Ellie renewed her grip on the gun and brought the barrel back up level. “That’s a touching story, but it hardly explains what you’re doing here tonight.”
Donald stretched out his hands. “I came here to tell them I wanted out. I’m not going to claim my share.”
His hands trembled even more than Ellie’s. “There’s got to be a better way. I used to be a praying man. What I need to do is get back on my knees and see if God will forgive me, or at least make a way to help Myra—one that’s honorable.”
Ellie wavered a moment, then slipped the pistol back in her reticule. It hadn’t been an act, she was sure of it. Every word Donald spoke rang true. She felt a tug of compassion as she looked at the broken man before her. “I believe you.”
Donald had made mistakes, certainly, but in the end he wanted to clear his name and make amends. Surely that ought to count for something. And in this contrite mood, she felt sure he’d be willing to give her all the information she and the Pinkertons needed.
She pulled the ties of her reticule shut and took a step toward Donald. “Why don’t you come back to town with me? Maybe I can help you sort this out.”
He wiped his sleeve across his face. “If you can help me get rid of this load of guilt I’ve been carrying, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
The scrape of boots on gravel cut across his last words, followed by a metallic click Ellie recognized as the sound of a gun hammer slipping into place.
Behind her, a grating voice spoke from the shadows. “I don’t think so.”
Steven pounded down Second Street following the direction Jessie had taken. There was no point trying to catch up with her. He’d lost too much time with his dithering for that.
The Taylor kid said he’d followed Long out to the Constitution. Jessie would most likely get there by going through town to Fifth, as if heading to the Redemption. But he knew a shortcut.
Taking Second all the way to the south end of town, he cut across country toward the area where the mine headquarters was located. He topped a low rise and paused to catch his breath and scan the terrain before him.
A hundred yards ahead, he caught a hint of movement. Straining his eyes, he could make out Jessie’s slender figure in the moonlight, along with two stockier forms. She must have caught up with Long and Tidwell. The thought chilled him.
He cupped his hands around his mouth but stopped himself before he shouted her name. Had she caught up with the two men, or had they ambushed her? One of the men moved, and the glint of moonlight on the barrel of a gun gave him his answer.
“No, Lord! Don’t let anything happen to her.”
He patted the pockets of his frock coat and growled in frustration. Of course he didn’t have a pistol with him. He’d set out for Pickford Hall hoping to begin a courtship, not preparing for mayhem.
Steven looked around wildly. There was no time to get help. No time to retrieve a gun from his office. Throwing all thought of his own safety aside, he raced down the hill. The only weapons he had at his disposal were himself and the most fervent prayers he’d ever uttered.
“Please, God, let that be enough.”
The rasping voice spoke again. “What you’re going to do, Miss Monroe, is drop that bag and walk over there by Tidwell.”
Ellie let her reticule slip through numb fingers and forced her legs to carry her next to Donald. Even before she turned around, she knew who that grating voice belonged to.
Keeping a watchful eye—and a pistol that dwarfed her own—trained on them both, Marvin Long squatted down long enough to scoop up her reticule and loop the strings around his gun belt.
Donald stepped forward. “Glad you showed up. I was on my way to meet up with you when she held me up.”
“Nice try, Tidwell, but I heard the whole thing.” Long waved his gun to the side. “Now both of you walk ahead of me. No, not to the office,” he added when Donald started toward the wooden building twenty yards to their left. “We’re going down into the mine.”
A lighted lantern hung from a hook inside the mine entrance. Marvin Long picked it up with his left hand, then nodded to Donald and Ellie. “Keep moving.”
Ellie stumbled along behind Donald as Long brought up the rear. Once again, the warmth of the air inside the mine came as a surprising contrast to the cooler temperature outside. She took a deep breath, trying to overcome the feeling the walls might close in around her at any moment. Bits of rubble lay scattered across the walkway, making it hard to find her footing.
How deep were they going? With every step she took, Ellie felt less certain she would ever see the surface again. A sense of panic threatened to close off her airway, and she struggled to breathe. She had to keep her wits about her if she hoped to survive this nightmare.
She had to do something, take some kind of action. But what?
She eyed Donald, trudging along in front of her with his head bowed. She couldn’t count on him. And the man behind her held a gun, one she felt sure he wouldn’t hesitate to use if given the slightest provocation.
The narrow path opened into a large stope. “Bear to the right,” Long ordered.
Ellie and her fellow prisoner complied. They rounded a corner, where light filtered through a small opening near the floor.
“Through there.”
Ellie’s knees locked. Surely he wasn’t serious. “How?”
“Get down on your knees and crawl. Tidwell, show her how it’s done.”
Donald dropped on all fours as if he possessed no will of his own and proceeded to squeeze through the narrow hole.
Long prodded Ellie in the back with the barrel of his gun. “Your turn.”
Ellie lowered herself to her hands and knees. Dear God, what have I gotten myself into? It was one thing to walk upright through the mine’s dark corridors, but this felt more like entering a grave—her own.
She gathered up her skirt so it wouldn’t tangle around her legs. Gravel bit into her tender palms as she planted one hand ahead of the other, crawling toward the light.
Emerging from the short tunnel, she blinked in the sudden brightness. She scrambled to her feet and started to brush the dust off the skirt of the blue-gray silk gown she had chosen for the evening. Her hand froze when a noise caught her attention, and she realized she and Donald weren’t alone. Half a dozen lanterns hung around a cavernous room, and four or five men stood staring at them.
Misery engulfed Donald’s face. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Miss Monroe. It’s poor payment for what you did for my wife.”
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p; One of the men set down the crate he’d been carrying. The thump echoed throughout the cavern. “For the love of . . . What’s she doing here?” He straightened, bringing his face fully into the lantern’s glow.
Ellie’s head buzzed. “Jake Freeman?”
The muscular blacksmith avoided her glance as he dusted his hands against his pant legs and stalked over to stand nose to nose with Donald. “I asked you a question, Tidwell. What were you thinking of, bringing her in here?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Long’s idea.”
The rest of the men moved nearer, eyeing Ellie and Donald closely.
Jake shoved his hat back off his forehead and planted his hands on his hips. “Long? I don’t see him anywhere. What’s going on?”
The sound of cloth scraping against rock came from the passage Ellie had just come through. Donald gestured toward the hole. “I don’t know what took him so long. There he is now.”
A figure emerged from the tunnel, but the face she saw was not that of Marvin Long. She watched in horror as Steven crawled out of the opening and stood.
29
Ellie watched Steven close the distance between them, feeling as though she’d been caught up in a bad dream. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she stiffened and pulled away from the man she thought she knew.
Marvin Long clambered through the passageway and joined the group. Donald Tidwell and Jake Freeman were men she’d trusted. Men she now knew were part of the band of thieves. As much as she didn’t want to believe it of them, her mind accepted that truth.
But Steven?
Long’s face wore a grim expression. He looked around the group, then called out, “Hey, boss. We’ve got visitors.”
Footsteps crunched on gravel, drawing Ellie’s attention to a formation of rock near the other end of the massive room. A moment later, a man stepped into the light.
Ellie’s knees gave way, and she sagged against Steven.