Last Chance Cowboys: The Outlaw

by Anna Schmidt

  While Amanda and the girl sat on a banco outside the kitchen door, Eli threw pitches to Seth, who sometimes gave him a pointer on making it more effective, and sometimes received the pitch with a grin before lobbing it back.

  After about half an hour, the housekeeper emerged with a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “Come have something cold to drink,” Amanda called.

  Seth walked to the makeshift pitcher’s mound on the pretense of handing Eli his glove and ball. “We need to talk,” he said softly. “I need to know what you mean by that latest note you left me.” It was a shot in the dark, but he saw by the way the boy’s eyes widened in surprise that he’d guessed right. “You’re playing a dangerous game, kid. Let me help you.”

  “You can’t,” Eli said. “Nobody can.” And with that, he stalked off toward the house. Without breaking stride, he said something to Amanda and his sister as he passed them and entered the back door.

  “What happened between the two of you?” Amanda demanded after she’d sent Ellie back into the kitchen for napkins.

  “Leave it be, Amanda.” Seth pasted on a grin as Ellie emerged from the shadows of the house and placed a stack of cloth napkins on the table next to the plate of cookies the housekeeper had left.

  “Mrs. Caldwell said Eli was upstairs lying down—too much sun. She was fixing him some ice water.”

  Amanda filled and distributed glasses of lemonade. “I expect we could all use something cold to drink.”

  Seth drained his glass in one action. “Well, ladies, it’s been fun, but I have work to do. Ellie, be sure and tell your brother I hope he gets to feeling better. I look forward to seeing him again soon.” He tipped his fingers to his hat. “Miss Porterfield,” he said by way of parting.

  The fact that she wanted to question him further was written all over her face, but until he’d had time to sort things out with Eli, he had no answers to give.

  * * *

  Amanda didn’t have much time to ponder what might have transpired between Eli and Seth. After she sent Ellie to her room to get her bonnet and gloves with a promise of visiting some of the local shops that afternoon, Kitty cornered her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Don’t play dumb, Amanda. You and the mister had a serious talk this morning, and before that he told me to prepare for a large party he wants to host on Saturday—he’s invited a bunch of important people, from the district attorney to Judge Ellis himself. Their wives as well. That man hasn’t hosted so much as a Sunday dinner since his wife died, and when I suggested such a gathering could get expensive, he said—and I quote—‘Spare no expense.’ Now you tell me, is that not strange?”

  “Very strange.” Amanda’s first thought was that Ezra had been so confident she would accept his proposal that he had gotten the cart well before the horse. No wonder he had been so upset. “He may change his mind.”

  “Not likely. He hired the Tucker boy to hand-deliver invitations yesterday. So far, there have been no regrets. Everybody’s coming—including James Matthews and his daughter. You coulda knocked me over with a feather when I heard that one. If there’s one person Mr. Baxter has butted heads with in this town, that would be Jim Matthews. He can’t stand the man, especially the way he built that business of his even after Mr. Baxter turned him down for a loan.”

  Amanda’s head was spinning. This was a disaster in the making, and she felt compelled to put a stop to it. “Kitty, would you tell Ellie to meet me at the millinery in half an hour? I forgot an appointment I need to keep.” She didn’t really wait for the housekeeper to agree, but ran across the yard and into the boardinghouse instead.

  From her room she grabbed her satchel and then hurried to the bank. Ezra’s secretary, Mr. Fitzhugh, looked up in surprise at her entrance.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Baxter has requested no appointments today, Miss Porterfield. Is there some way I might be of service?”

  “Oh, Mr. Fitzhugh, this is about the children, and I’m quite sure Mr. Baxter will want to see me.” Before the little man could protest—or indeed, move from behind his desk—she had swept past him, and opened, then immediately shut, Ezra’s office door.

  Ezra stood and glared at her. “This is not the time—”

  “Kitty has told me about the party,” she interrupted. “Forgive me for presuming that you planned that as an event to announce our…”

  She saw by the way he slumped into his chair that not only had she guessed right, but also that he had completely forgotten about the party.

  “I can’t cancel,” he mumbled. “It will ruin everything.”

  “What if I have a plan so the party can go forward, and you will not lose face?”

  He straightened and scowled. “I’m listening.”

  “Have the party be a celebration of the children—the work they have accomplished.”

  The scowl changed to a frown of concentration, but he was definitely listening.

  “Over the next couple of days, I could have Eli and Ellie prepare a little program. Ellie could read one of her stories or poems, and Eli could explain the geology project he’s been working on. Think how impressed everyone would be that you were able to bring your children through their grief for their mother to become the model students they were when she was alive.”

  “And you would attend as well?”

  “Of course. I am their teacher.” She placed her satchel on a chair and removed some papers. “Just look at what your daughter has written, Mr. Baxter.”

  He waved the papers away as he stood and paced from one side of the room to the other. “It might work,” he said, more to himself than to her. “And with the children providing the evening’s program, I could cancel the musicians I hired.” He paused and pivoted to fix his gaze on her. “There can be no mistakes,” he told her. “I’ll need a program that entertains our guests for at least half an hour.”

  “I’m certain that the twins and I can easily—”

  “I suppose you expect extra wages for this.”

  She was insulted that he thought for one minute money might be her motive. She was saving the man from embarrassment, after all. “I am delighted to have Eli and Ellie receive the praise and credit they deserve. This party is the perfect opportunity. And that is remuneration enough.” She glanced at the wall clock above his office door. “And now, if you will excuse me, I promised Ellie I would meet her at the milliner’s.”

  “Just a minute more, Amanda.” To her astonishment, Ezra Baxter opened a small safe and removed an envelope. “Buy Ellie something she can wear to the party, and get a new shirt and a vest for Eli as well.” He pressed the envelope into her hands. “If you have anything left, buy something for yourself—perhaps something for your lovely hair.”

  Amanda glanced at the envelope so stuffed with money it would not close properly. “Thank you, but I cannot accept that. If there is anything left, I can give it to Mrs. Caldwell to pay the expenses for the party.”

  “Do as you like,” he said gruffly, and turned his back to her.

  “We won’t disappoint you, sir—the children and I,” she assured him as she gathered her things and opened the door. “I’ll keep you informed on the progress.”

  Outside the bank she realized she was still clutching the money. She decided to return to the boardinghouse before meeting Ellie. Tomorrow she would take the twins shopping. The one thing—perhaps the only thing—she felt sure of was that she was not about to allow Ezra Baxter to use his money to buy her something pretty for her hair.

  * * *

  The party Ezra Baxter was hosting was the talk of the town. Certainly, the residents of the boardinghouse seemed incapable of discussing anything else, whether or not they had received an invitation, although only Ollie had been left off the list. To no one’s surprise, Seth was also not invited, and that would
work to his advantage. The party was the same evening he was supposed to get to the roof of the bank for the mysterious meeting.

  Eli Baxter continued to deny that he had written the note, although he did finally admit to delivering it. Seth had confronted him one night when the boy made one of his midnight rides to the abandoned ranch. “You need to stop doing this, kid. You have no idea what these men are capable of, if they have reason to believe you’ve crossed them.”

  “So don’t put me in that position by talking to me and coming to the house to play baseball, mister. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Let me help you. Tell me what’s going on. Do you know where the Stock boys and their gang are hiding?”

  The kid’s reaction had told Seth he’d guessed right. It was dark, but there was no denying the way Eli tensed at the mention of the gang. “I gotta go.” He turned his horse away from Seth, but Seth reached out and took hold of the bridle.

  “The old prospector got shot in broad daylight. He died. Do you think they would hesitate for a second to do the same to you?”

  “And what’s it to you? Everybody in town thinks you’re up to no good. How do I know you’re not in cahoots with the gang, spying on me? I heard Sheriff Richter tell Judge Ellis he was pretty sure you were on the wrong side of the law.”

  Seth took this as good news. If people with power thought he was an outlaw, then his cover was protected. If anybody thought he was working the other side of the fence with a plan to prevent a robbery, he might as well pack up and leave Tucson. “Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why your mysterious note sender told me to meet him there—maybe we’re in cahoots.”

  “I gotta go,” Eli said again, and this time Seth released his hold on the horse.

  “Stay away from this, kid.”

  Eli snorted with derision. “Who’s gonna stop me?” He rode off.

  Seth watched him go. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t his only concern. Eli Baxter was in this thing up to his neck.

  Seth fingered the note in his pocket. Maybe he was being lured to the meeting. They were on to him and intended to eliminate him. The party the banker was throwing would be the perfect cover—the saloons would be as rowdy as ever, and in addition, most decent citizens would be at the Baxter house. In effect, the town would be deserted.

  Later that evening, he waited until everyone had left the boardinghouse, Ollie for his shift at the Blue Parrot and all the women for the Baxter house. Admittedly, he had lingered near the window, waiting to see Amanda. She wore a modest, pale-blue gown, a dress appropriate for a teacher. From talk at the boardinghouse, he knew the party was a celebration of the progress the Baxter twins had made in their studies. The others, however—Mrs. Rosewood, Miss Jensen, and their landlady—had apparently decided to take full advantage of a social outing. They were dressed in finery suitable for a ball.

  He watched the four women make their way along the path from the boardinghouse to the Baxters’ front gate. Other guests arrived by carriage. Ezra Baxter and his children were at the gate to greet them all. Seth cringed when he saw Baxter place a proprietary hand on Amanda’s waist as he introduced her to Judge Ellis, and then was clearly taken aback when Ellis apparently let the banker know he and Amanda had already met.

  Seth waited for the last guest to arrive and for the Baxter family to enter the house and close the door before making his move. His plan was to be on that roof well ahead of whomever he was supposedly meeting. He would lie in wait for his attacker—or attackers.

  Making certain he was not followed, he made his way down the alley, past the drugstore and Miss Jensen’s millinery shop. He checked all side lanes and doorways—anywhere an attacker might hide—and saw no one. At one end of the street, he could hear the honky-tonk piano from the Blue Parrot. At the opposite end, he was aware that the Baxter party had spilled into the courtyard because the weather was so fine. He glanced up. The sky was full of stars and a sliver of a moon. With any luck, tonight would mark the completion of his final assignment for Wells Fargo. He would foil the Stock brothers and be free at last to begin a proper courtship of Miss Amanda Porterfield.

  When he reached the bank, it occurred to him that with the place closed, he had no way of reaching the roof. Why had his mysterious confidant designated this as their meeting place? That was a sure sign something wasn’t right, but he didn’t have a choice. He hesitated, then ducked between the bank and the mercantile next door. As he headed for the street, he noticed a side door to the bank ajar—a door that should have been closed tight and locked.

  Because he was early, he decided to take a chance and step inside, where he found himself at the foot of a steep, narrow stairway. It had to go to the roof. He closed the door that led to the street, but did not secure it. Whoever was coming would find it unlocked as expected, and Seth would hear the door open and shut again. He would be ready.

  He started up the steps, keeping close to the wall, his hand on his gun. The steps were iron, and it was hard to keep from making a sound as his leather bootheels connected with metal. The door at the top of the stairway had been blocked open, allowing light from the street and surrounding buildings to filter into the confines of the dark corridor. He listened for footsteps and watched for shadows, but other than distant music from the saloon, all was still and silent.

  He waited for several seconds once he reached the top step before slipping over the threshold and onto the flat surface of the roof. His senses were on high alert, and he immediately picked up the scent of sweat and—of all things—oranges. Somebody had gotten there ahead of him, and when he heard the slurp of somebody eating the orange, he knew he had the advantage.

  Turning toward the direction of the scent, he stepped onto the roof, gun drawn. He heard a scrambling, like a rat scuttling across a floor, and saw a shadowy figure struggle to his feet. “Jeezel Pete, Seth, you’re early. Put that thing away.”

  It was a voice he knew, but had almost given up ever hearing again. “Sam?”

  His mind raced with a myriad of thoughts—he had found his brother and had the urge to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. It would embarrass them both, but the feeling was still there.

  He took a step forward, lowering his pistol as he did, but stopping short of returning the weapon to its holster. “What going on, Sam?”

  “They’re gonna rob the bank tonight.” Apparently oblivious to his older brother’s wariness, Sam stepped closer and offered Seth a section of an orange. The sweet, tangy smell hung in the air between them, but Seth waved him away.

  “Talk to me, Sam.”

  “I’ve been on the inside now for the last several weeks.”

  “You sent the notes?”

  “Yeah, the kid was like a regular carrier pigeon. I figured, why not get a couple of messages to you?”

  “Eli?”

  Sam shrugged. “Don’t know his given name, just that he’s the banker’s kid.”

  “Where did the prospector fit into all this?”

  “He was the one supposed to be getting information about what was going on at the fort and the movement of the payroll. But then the brothers got suspicious about him after somebody saw him talking to that marshal there in Whitman Falls. They thought he was setting them up, so Rudy Stock—he’s a hothead if ever one walked the earth—just took off to find him. That’s when they changed the plan from robbing the payroll for the fort to robbing the bank. Orson Stock and the banker grew up together, so he went into town one day and had a little talk with his old friend. Pointed out to Baxter that his bank was up to its eyeballs in trouble. I guess he’s been borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, as Ma would say. Anyway, Orson told him that as an old friend, he’d be willing to help him out.”

  “Okay, this is making no sense,” Seth said as he put away his gun. “If the bank’s in trouble, then what makes it worth robbing?”

  Sam sighed and stuffed a quarter of the orange
between his lips, sucking the juice free. He spit out the seeds. “It’s complicated, but they stand to make a huge haul, if they pull it off. Yesterday, the sheriff persuaded the captain at the fort that the payroll wagon was going to be hit, but if he would let him store the actual money in the bank and replace it with cut up paper and rocks, they could catch the gang and not lose the money.”

  “You’re telling me that the money meant for the fort is in this bank?”

  Sam grinned. “On its way, I reckon. The colonel agreed to send the money here tonight, so Rudy and Orson figured while they wait for the payload to show up, they might as well help themselves to what’s already in the bank. Pretty brilliant, right?”

  “And you’re saying the sheriff had a part in this?”

  “Has a part. The sheriff and the banker—they were promised their cut, of course.”

  “And the messages Eli has been carrying were instructions for his father?”

  “Nope. For the sheriff. The kid didn’t know nothing about his pa—he thinks he’s saving his pa. The sheriff needed a courier. The kid’s part was to deliver the messages to that lady at the boardinghouse, so she could get word to the sheriff. Not the notes I sent you, of course. I sort of snuck those in there when I thought it was safe and paid him extra to slip them under your door.”

  “What woman?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that she’s related to Orson and Rudy somehow.”

  Seth thought of the women in the house—the widow lady? Could be an aunt or even the Stock boys’ mother. Same with his landlady. But both were so proper that he had a hard time imagining either being part of something so sordid. Of course, the milliner could be a sister or girlfriend, but then why not deliver the messages to the shop? That left Amanda.

  Sam was still talking. “I knew we had to meet up tonight if we were gonna have any chance of stopping this. The Stock boys have got this thing planned out down to the minute. They’re gonna hit while the banker’s party is going on and then ride hard all night for the border. You ask me, they’ve got no intention of paying anything to the banker or the sheriff.” He polished off the rest of his orange and licked his fingers.