Love in Disguise

by Carol Cox

  Behind them, Donald cleared his throat. “Maybe we won’t have to.”

  30

  Ellie and Steven spun around to see Donald staring at a spindly formation that looked like a cluster of jackstraws.

  “What do you mean?” Steven demanded.

  Donald reached out his hand. “Can I see the candle for a minute?”

  Steven stepped to his side and raised his improvised candleholder. “Why don’t you show me what it is you want us to look at?”

  Donald indicated a point beyond the feeble gleam. “We can get out that way. If we hurry, we can make it before we lose our light.”

  Steven eyed him skeptically. “What makes you so sure there’s a way out?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Do you want to stand here arguing or get out while we still can?” Donald stood up as straight as his round shoulders would allow, and his voice held an assertive tone Ellie hadn’t heard before.

  Steven turned toward her, looking as surprised as she felt by Donald’s sudden show of confidence. “What do you think?”

  She looked from the flickering candle flame to the newfound assurance on Donald’s face. “Let’s try it.”

  Steven handed the candle to Donald and let the older man take the lead past the jackstraws and into the unknown. Their path zigzagged upward before it led them to a dark opening in the cave wall.

  Ellie scrambled after the men, struggling to commit each twist and turn in the path to memory. If Donald’s promised exit failed, perhaps they could still find their way back in the dark.

  “Through here.” Donald held the light for them to pass through the fissure and into a small room. A wooden ladder leaned against one wall, leading to another hole in the ceiling.

  Steven stared around him. “What is this place? It can’t be part of another mine.”

  Donald ignored the question and held the candle out to Steven. “I’ll go up first. You can hand the candle up to me once I reach the top.”

  Steven kept his hands at his sides. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I go up first, and you hand me the candle?”

  Donald accepted Steven’s suggestion without argument. “Fine. You go on ahead.”

  Steven clambered up the ladder and disappeared over the edge of the hole. The next moment, his hand reached back over the opening. “All right, I’m up. Give me the candle.”

  Donald handed him the rock with its precious blob of wax. Ellie saw the light move around before Steven’s head popped over the edge again.

  “It’s all right. Come on up.”

  Donald helped her step onto the first rung of the ladder. Clutching the ladder with one hand and her voluminous skirts with the other, she made her way up as quickly as the yards of fabric would allow. Once at the top, Steven pulled her the rest of the way over the ledge. Donald followed an instant later.

  Steven held the candle up. “You want to tell us where we are?”

  The dim glow illuminated another small room containing a broken chair, several pieces of tattered luggage, and a heap of empty crates. Blackened timbers hung from the ceiling at a crazy angle, and an acrid stench permeated the air.

  The pungent smell and the sight of the timbers stirred Ellie’s memory. She gasped and turned to look at Donald. “The hotel?”

  He gave a short nod. “What’s left of it. This is the storeroom in the basement.”

  Steven walked over to a charred set of stairs that slid to one side the moment he laid his hand on one of the steps. “We’re not going to make it up that way.”

  Donald gestured toward the hole in the floor. “Give me a hand with this ladder.”

  Steven handed the candle to Ellie. She held it while the two men hauled the ladder up through the floor, unable to tear her focus from its sputtering flame.

  Steven set the ladder in what remained of the stairwell and shook it to make sure it was secure. He turned to Ellie with a broad smile just as the candle flickered and died.

  Ellie sucked in a panicked breath, then realized she could still make out Steven’s form through the gloom. Looking up, she saw moonlight filtering in through the latticework of charred beams.

  Thank you, God.

  She wanted to grab Steven’s hands and spin around in a jubilant dance, but that would have to wait. They weren’t out of danger yet.

  They ascended the ladder in the same order as before. Steven cautioned her to keep her head low when she reached the top. “Be careful up here. Some of the walls have already fallen, and the rest could go at any minute.”

  Once out of the storeroom, they made their way across the rubble and ash that littered the main floor of the hotel, testing every step along the way.

  They didn’t reach the street outside a moment too soon for Ellie. That section of Grant Street lay deserted in the waning moonlight, with distant sounds of laughter and tinny piano music drifting in from the east.

  The silver glow showed clear evidence of their rugged trek. Smudges of charcoal streaked both men’s faces, and clumps of gray, powdery ash clung to clothing already coated with dust from the mine.

  They looked as if they’d just climbed out of a grave. Ellie felt sure she looked rather like Banquo’s ghost herself. But at that moment, only one thing mattered.

  “We’re alive,” she said softly.

  Steven responded with a triumphant smile, which faded the next instant. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and started in the direction of Second Street. “We have to make sure your aunt is all right.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  He stopped short and stared at her as though she were crazy. “What are you talking about? You heard what Tom said.”

  “There isn’t any Lavinia.”

  “You mean she really isn’t your aunt. But what does that matter? Whoever she is, she’s in danger, and we have to help.”

  Ellie dug in her heels and stood firm. “I mean there is no Lavinia Stewart, period. No Jessie, no Lavinia, just me.”

  She watched him struggle to work out what she meant, recognizing the moment he understood her double deception.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” Donald’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “I finally got up the nerve to call it quits tonight, but that doesn’t take away the wrong of what I’ve done. But I can’t bear the thought of them taking me away from Myra. Who’ll take care of her if I’m not around?”

  “That isn’t for me to decide,” Steven said. “But I’d say your decision to quit them and the way you helped us escape ought to count for something. I’ll be glad to put in a good word for you with Judge Spicer. If you’re willing to testify against the others, that should go in your favor, as well.”

  Donald clasped his hands together. “I’ll tell them everything I know. The devil led me down the wrong path, but I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “In that case, let’s go wake up Marshal Bascomb. We’ve got some thieves to catch.”

  “Bascomb?” Ellie stiffened at the mention of the lawman’s name. “What makes you think we can trust him?”

  Steven’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and his smile told Ellie he was recovering from the double blow he’d received. “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d share your doubts. However, I happen to know that Tom Sullivan did everything he could to block Bascomb’s appointment as marshal. Believe me, there is no love lost between those two. Bascomb will go after Tom like a cat after a mouse.”

  “Tom didn’t act alone,” Ellie said. “What about the others?”

  Steven chuckled. “Unless I’m sadly mistaken, Tom will turn on the rest of his gang and sing like a canary. Especially if he thinks it will make him look better in the judge’s eyes.”

  He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to his side. “This nightmare is finally over. Do you want to go with Donald and me while we talk to Bascomb, or would you rather I see you home first?”

  No sooner had he spoken the words than his expression changed. He loosened his arm and drew back, looking a
t Ellie as if trying to bring her into focus. “Wait a minute. What you said earlier . . .”

  Ellie’s mouth went dry.

  “You’re the Pinkerton agent?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as a barely audible sigh.

  He moved away another step, sending her fragile hope plummeting again. “In that case, I guess this is your show now. You have even more right to get the law involved than I do.”

  Ellie stared at him across what seemed like a great chasm, although only a few feet separated them.

  Steven was right. The case was over, the mystery solved. She had finished the job she had come to do.

  His nightmare had finally ended.

  And hers had begun.

  31

  Steven stood beside his foreman and watched a small procession of heavily loaded wagons start off toward Benson, flanked by a contingent of armed men.

  Milt Strickland tipped his hat down over his eyes to block the noonday sun. “Do you think they’ll have any trouble getting through this time, boss?”

  “I think we’re past our problems on that score.” Steven looked around at the other mine owners assembled nearby. The hope on their faces reflected his own. “But I know I’ll breathe easier once I’m sure it’s on the train bound for New Orleans.”

  They watched a few minutes more, then turned back toward the mine. It didn’t take them long to reach the south edge of town and walk to the Redemption.

  Steven stopped at the door to his office while Milt headed for the mine entrance. “Make sure the men know we won’t be scrimping on supplies anymore. I’ll be ordering new drill steels and stocking up on plenty of candles and dynamite before the day is out. We ought to be back up to full production in no time.”

  Milt grinned. “It’ll be good to see things get back to normal.”

  Steven went inside his office, where a stack of paperwork awaited him. He sank into his chair, ignoring the pile of papers on his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Normal” had a nice sound to it. It was a shame he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

  Nothing had seemed normal since the silver thefts began. Since financial troubles started keeping him awake at night.

  Since Jessie Monroe walked into his life and turned it upside down.

  He shoved the papers to one side and rested his forehead on the heels of his hands. If the weeks of frustration and worry seemed chaotic, the past two days had turned his life into a whirlwind with Steven caught squarely in its vortex. Jessie’s revelation about being a Pinkerton agent had been stunning enough, but her insistence that she wasn’t even the woman he knew as Jessie Monroe had knocked the props right out from under him.

  Did it matter if she used a different name? “A rose by any other name . . .” The line from Shakespeare brought a slight smile to his lips. Why did she seem to think the use of an alias amounted to so much? She had already stolen his heart. What she called herself didn’t make one bit of difference to him.

  Pushing away from the desk, he got to his feet and paced the office floor. If only he could talk to her, he knew they could work out whatever problems she thought existed between them. But he hadn’t seen a trace of her since the night of their narrow escape.

  He paused at the window and looked back toward Pickford. After filling Bascomb in on what had happened, he’d escorted Jessie home before setting out with the lawman to confront Tom Sullivan. True to his prediction, the gang’s ringleader named every one of his confederates in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the law. Several others had already been caught, Marvin Long among them, and Bascomb expected to have the rest in custody within the week.

  Recovering the silver and knowing his financial troubles were over should have left him riding high on elation instead of fighting the sense of emptiness that gnawed at him.

  In between parceling the silver out to the rightful owners and arranging for it to be shipped to New Orleans, he’d gone to the house at the corner of Charles and Second to straighten things out. But no one responded to his knocks on the door, or to the heavy hammering he’d employed when polite taps didn’t work.

  And that left him with a new worry. Jessie—Ellie, he reminded himself—planned to go back to Chicago. Had she already left, without a word of good-bye? When he approached Brent Howard, the station agent told him she hadn’t left town on the stage. So where could she be?

  Steven pounded his fist against the wall, wishing the pain in his knuckles could take away the ache in his heart. He had his silver back, but she was gone. After all was said and done, it astonished him how little the recovery of the silver mattered in comparison to losing the woman he loved.

  Another thought occurred to him, one that filled him with dread. She had shown herself to be a highly skilled actress, convincing him and everyone else in Pickford she was a high-spirited young woman—and an aged woman— rather than a skilled detective.

  Had the connection between them been a part of the act, as well?

  She had avoided him after the fire, when he’d brushed her lips with his. Now it seemed she was avoiding him again. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Maybe her attraction to him had been an act.

  Pulling his wayward emotions under control, he returned to his desk and squared the papers into a neat pile. He looked at the top sheet and reached for his pen. It was time to stop acting like an infatuated schoolboy.

  Ellie looked around the parlor of her little house, ticking items off her mental checklist. Had she missed anything? Her trunk sat open near the front door, with the wicker costume hamper alongside. The hamper and its contents had served her well during her stay in Pickford. There were still more items in its depths that she hadn’t had occasion to use yet, but they might come in handy in her future cases.

  After her telegram informing the Pinkertons that the gang of robbers had been identified and the leader was already in the custody of the law, a flurry of jubilant wires ensued, giving Amos Crawford enough fodder to keep the town gossip mill churning away for the next six months.

  Along with their hearty congratulations, Gates and Fleming made it clear that her future employment was assured for as long as she wanted to remain with the agency. Ellie’s lips twisted in a wry smile. At least she had that bittersweet victory for comfort.

  She had packed her bags and tidied the house in preparation for catching the afternoon stage to Benson. There she would board the train for Chicago, where—judging from Fleming’s response—she could expect a hero’s welcome when she reached the home office.

  Her time in Pickford had taught her one important thing. On future cases, she would be sure to keep her affections firmly under control. From this day forth, she would focus every bit of her attention on the case at hand and not let herself get caught up in the people involved. Losing Steven was the most painful thing she’d ever had to endure. Her heart would never bear that a second time.

  She picked up her Bible from the marble-top table and laid it in the open trunk with care. Then she shut the lid and fastened the latch. One good thing that had come out of this tumultuous period in her life—her renewed relationship with God. No matter what she faced in the future, He would be there to strengthen her.

  And wrestle with her from time to time when her will didn’t agree with His.

  After the bouts they’d already had over the past day and a half, she felt sympathy for what Jacob must have gone through, grappling with that angel. As exhausted as she’d been when she arrived home in the wee hours following the ordeal in the cave, she found herself unable to sleep. Instead, she’d divided her time between making preparations for her departure and spending time on her knees, thanking God for leading her to the thieves.

  For getting them out of the cave without mishap.

  For the capture of Tom Sullivan and most of his gang.

  She’d thought her outpouring of thanks would have been sufficient for the Almighty, but no—apparently there was something else He wa
nted of her, and that was when their wrestling match had commenced in earnest. After hours of arguing—and losing—her case, she rose from her knees, as stiff as Lavinia had ever been, knowing what she had to do.

  It wasn’t enough that she’d brought Tom Sullivan’s thieving days to an end. Now it seemed God had one more thing for her to accomplish before she left Pickford. She had to make her peace with Steven Pierce. And not as Jessie or Lavinia this time.

  Ellie still didn’t understand that part of the Lord’s directive, but she suspected it had something to do with the importance of integrity that Pastor Blaylock kept harping on. She supposed it only made sense. Going about in disguise seemed perfectly reasonable when it came to carrying out an investigation. She didn’t sense the Lord taking any exception to that.

  The point where she’d gotten herself into trouble was when she let her character become entangled with Steven. She had played with fire, and they’d both been burned. She had no right to trifle with his emotions that way.

  The man had fallen in love with a woman who didn’t exist. It was only right that she face him and try to make amends before she left. Much as she dreaded shattering his image of beautiful Jessie, he deserved to know the truth. Even if that meant seeing the disappointment in his eyes when he beheld her as herself.

  She walked back into her bedroom and checked her appearance in the dressing table mirror. It seemed odd to see her own bland features looking back at her instead of Lavinia’s or Jessie’s. She poked at her mousy brown hair, wishing there was something she could do to make it more like Jessie’s copper ringlets.

  Ellie wrinkled her nose at the reflection. Her features were regular enough, but they held nothing of Jessie’s sparkle and verve. She pinched her cheeks to bring out a bit of color and watched the pink tinge fade almost as quickly as it appeared. A sigh escaped her lips. She would just have to go the way she was.

  She walked out to the front porch and shut the door behind her, ready to step out onto the streets of Pickford as Ellie Moore for the very first time.