Trail of Aces (Hot on the Trail Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

“And I bet you know what you’d do with that money,” Chet went on. Even yards ahead of him, Charlie could see the familiar sparkle in his old friend’s eyes, the shiny white of his teeth, the way he brushed his jacket aside to show Rufus and Martin Hulse the shine of his gold pocket watch, as if they too could afford something like that. “Martin, I bet you would buy your lovely wife, Sarah, that fancy dress she’s always wanted, and Rufus, hasn’t your boy, Joseph, always wanted a set of hand-painted tin soldiers, complete with artillery and horses?”

  “He sure has.” Rufus brightened.

  Charlie scowled. He knew every move Chet was making. Zero in on your mark, learn everything you could about them, remember the names of their loved ones. How many times had Charlie done the same thing? He knew exactly why Chet had spent most of his time eating and chatting with the other members of the wagon train as though he were the one planning the con and not Chet.

  Not that he was any better. He was sitting idly by, lips zipped shut, unwilling to rat his friend out…yet.

  “A hundred dollars is a lot of money to pay for just a few shares in a timber business.” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, cautious, as he should be.

  “But a hundred dollars is nothing when you consider the rate of return,” Chet explained. “My partners in Olympia have already done most of the legal footwork. They have the perfect acreage picked out. It’s just lousy with trees. And with the railroad making plans to build a depot right there, in the middle of town, any day now, there’s no end to the profit that could be had.”

  “How do you know the railroad is coming?” Martin asked.

  “Good man,” Charlie mumbled, his frown as hard as ever.

  “Did you say something?” Olivia asked from her perch on the wagon’s bench.

  “I’ve got the newspaper articles to prove it,” Chet went on as Charlie raised a hand, telling Olivia to hold her thought. “Articles from Olympia to Oregon City to San Francisco. Everyone knows the railroad is making massive strides to connect the entire western coast. Although, all it really takes is one line heading to the ports of Seattle and the like.”

  Charlie was surprised Chet wasn’t trying to sell shares in shipbuilding schemes, although if the timber angle dried up, he was certain Chet would give ships a try.

  “And you say you already have sixty percent of the investment you need?” Rufus asked on.

  “Sixty percent,” Chet confirmed with a confident nod. Always make your mark believe that you not only knew what you were talking about, but that you were privy to information the other investors didn’t have. “But it’s for a limited time only,” Chet continued, right on cue. “By the time we reach Oregon City, the other forty percent may already be in place. You’re lucky, though. I’ve been given special authority to override any investments that come in after the deals we make on the trail. But you have to act fast. The offer won’t be there for long.”

  Yep. Act fast. Don’t think. Just hand over the money you’ve worked so hard to save before someone else gets the golden egg ahead of you. Charlie was so familiar with the course of the con that it turned his stomach. He’d played it out on enough people throughout the country—good, hard-working people, like Olivia—that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get his hands fully clean.

  “I’m still not certain,” Martin said. “I’ve got the hundred dollars, but not much more than that. It’s the money Sarah and I saved up over the past five years to buy a homestead in the Oregon Territory.”

  “But just think what a grand spread you’ll have when this investment pays out,” Chet argued, his smile as expansive and encouraging as ever. “Why, you’ll be able to buy acres and acres of land, subdivide it, and sell it to other pioneers heading this way after you. You’ll be looked up to and praised for generations as the man with the forethought to invest early. I bet they’ll even name a town after you—Martinsburg. It has a nice ring to it.”

  Playing to the mark’s vanity, painting the rosiest picture possible, appealing to posterity. Yep, Charlie had seen it all.

  “It sounds like a good deal, but I have to talk it over with Sarah,” Martin said.

  Charlie was close to sighing in relief when Rufus said, “To hell with the wife. Mildred will thank me a million times over when I buy her a diamond necklace.”

  That comment had Charlie cringing, particularly because a diamond necklace is exactly what he had given Olivia. And where had that bauble come from? What price had he paid for it?

  No, that was different. Josiah was different. He’d reached right past the con and touched Charlie’s heart.

  Which was exactly why Chet was here now.

  “Did you listened to that pitch that Chet gave earlier?” Olivia asked at the end of the day, after they’d crossed miles of Wyoming wilderness.

  “I wouldn’t worry your beautiful head over that, Sweet Pea,” he replied. “We’ll make our own plans when we reach the coast. How would you like to visit San Francisco?”

  His words were a distraction, another sort of con. They turned him right off of the delicious scents wafting up from the Dutch oven where Olivia worked. If Chet had brought old times back with him, was that the final word? Would he never be able to get away from the life he’d lived?

  “I suppose San Francisco would be nice to see someday,” Olivia answered him. She wore a distant frown as she worked, paused as if something had grabbed hold in her mind and wouldn’t let go, shook her head, then glanced sideways at him and said, “Of course, you could afford to invest in Mr. Devlin’s project a hundred times over.”

  Charlie blinked. His back prickled with tension. Was that some sort of a question? A suggestion that he go in on Chet’s scheme? Olivia’s expression was far too guarded for it to be a casual statement.

  “Why don’t we find our own business to invest in.” Once again, he attempted to divert the conversation. “If timber’s your passion, we can seek out our own trees. But I think you care much more for schools and the formation of young minds. Perhaps you’d like to open an orphanage in, say, Sacramento.” The farther away from Chet he could get the better.

  Olivia’s face lightened to a dreamy smile. “An orphanage. Someplace that could nurture and educate children. What a beautiful idea.”

  She returned to work, her smile staying with her. At last, Charlie was able to relax. He got up and walked to the back of his wagon, looking for something that would calm his rattled nerves. Under other circumstances, he would have gone down to the nearest saloon or pub for a whiskey. He didn’t dare do that under Olivia’s watchful eye, even if there had been a saloon around. He hadn’t taken up any hobbies, like Graham’s whittling or Gideon’s tinkering with scientific stuff. The only thing he knew how to do was cheat and manipulate.

  He snatched up his deck of cards and slumped back on his barrel as Olivia cooked. There wasn’t time to play a game before supper, so he contented himself with shuffling the cards…and practicing concealing one or two up his specially-sewn sleeves as he did.

  “Charlie, are you certain you don’t want to invest in Chet’s company?” Olivia stirred him from his thoughts ten minutes later. He’d been so lost in his own mental ruminations that he hadn’t noticed Olivia’s smile drift away. She looked downright sober now.

  “I’m absolutely certain, Sweet Pea.” He met her serious look with a wink. When she came near to hand him a plate of chops and pitiful-looking vegetables for supper, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

  Olivia blushed, but the grin he’d elicited didn’t last. “All right, so why don’t you want to rush into what, for all intents and purposes, sounds like a sure plan to make a big return on investment?”

  Charlie let go of her hand and rubbed his chin. “It doesn’t interest me.”

  He knew the second he peeked back up to see what she thought that he’d made a mistake. Olivia’s eyes were narrowed, the suspicion back. “It’s not as sure of a deal as Mr. Devlin claims, is it?”

  He swallowed, licked his lips to st
all the dread that crept up his spine. Olivia was too smart for a flippant answer. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t examined the particulars.”

  Again, it was the wrong move. Olivia’s frown deepened, and the intensity of her stare increased. It was almost as if he had a glaring tell that she’d picked up on. He couldn’t bluff with her, not anymore.

  “So if you don’t think it’s a good deal, should we dissuade others in the wagon train from getting involved?”

  The question felt like one that would be on a final examination given by a particularly harsh teacher. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Olivia rested her hands on her hips, biting her lip as she watched him. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

  That question shot straight beyond teacher and landed square on strict mother—the kind of mother who knew when her child was lying.

  “No need to worry, Sweet Pea.” He set his supper aside and stood to rest his arms around her. “I swear, if I have anything to do about it, you will never have to worry about anything ever again.”

  It would have been beautiful—and miraculous—if she had believed his words. Instead, her body tensed, even as she swayed closer to him. She moistened her lips, the gesture sending heat straight to his groin at the least convenient time.

  “Charlie, promise me you’ll never lie to me,” she said, just above a whisper.

  The prickling sensation that had started at the bottom of Charlie’s spine spread up through his shoulders and neck, sending his heart thundering. She would be so much better off, they could be so much happier, if he could let a few little lies slide in here and there. The truth was too painful for him to look square in the eyes.

  “I will never lie to you, Sweet Pea,” he said as earnestly as he could. At least not from that moment forward. Or rather, he would never lie to her about anything that happened from that moment forward. The past was a whole other story.

  Olivia took a deep breath, putting her whole effort into scrubbing Charlie’s shirt against the washboard. Days had passed since the conversation they’d had over supper, but that sliver of doubt at the back of her mind still hadn’t gone to rest. In fact, it was as loud as ever. Charlie had promised not to lie to her, but even the promise seemed like, well, a lie.

  She huffed her breath out through her nose and focused on the laundry. The wagon train was stopped for Sunday in the middle of the vastness of the Wyoming Territory. Lucy had chattered non-stop about how beautiful and blessed her home territory was, but now that Olivia was seeing it for herself, she truly believed it.

  Lucy is someone who tells the truth. The thought only frustrated her, and made her scrub harder. If she wasn’t careful, she would scrub a hole right through Charlie’s expensive shirt. Maybe it would serve him right.

  “It doesn’t seem fitting, somehow, to see a lady as fine as you up to her elbows in wash water.”

  Olivia gasped and backed away from the tub of soapy water as Chet sidled up to her. Charlie might not have told her much in her attempts to pry the story of his past out of him, but it was everything he hadn’t said that led her not to trust Chet Devlin as far as she could throw him.

  “Mr. Devlin, what can I do for you?” she asked, trying to smile.

  “Now, Olivia, how many times must I insist that you call me Chet?”

  As many times as it took for her to shake the impression that he was undressing her with his eyes. He was ten times worse than Silas. She sidestepped his question by thrusting her arms back into the tub of wash water and resuming her work on Charlie’s shirt. “I’ll try to remember for the future.”

  “Ah, the future.” Chet leaned against the opposite rim of her wash tub. “Have you given much thought to your and Charlie’s future once you reach the end of the trail?”

  Every warning bell Olivia had rang in chorus. It would have been easier to swallow if the same ringing didn’t come up every time she asked Charlie about his past.

  “I plan to teach, if and where I can.” She added a friendly smile to her words. No need to be rude, even if she didn’t trust him.

  “Teaching. I see.” He stood straight and nodded, as if considering. “I would think that a woman as beautiful and refined as you are would want something more from her life.”

  “More?” What was the man getting at?

  He grinned, oozing charm. “A woman like you, Mrs. Garrett, should be gracing the finest ballrooms in America. You should be hosting banquets and becoming the toast of the town.”

  “Hmm.” Clearly Chet didn’t know the first thing about her or what she wanted.

  Although it dawned on her that he knew quite a bit more than the first thing about Charlie. Was that the sort of woman he assumed Charlie would marry? Very likely.

  “A woman like you has class,” he went on. “And class brings with it a certain amount of style.”

  “I suppose.”

  For a brief moment, Chet’s handsome face dropped to a frown. He wasn’t getting what he wanted from her. Perhaps if she played along a little more, he would reveal what he wanted.

  “Have you ever been to San Francisco, Chet? Charlie and I have talked about going there.”

  His smile returned full force. “I adore San Francisco. Charlie and I took the long way around, through the Panama Canal, to play a tournament there several years ago.”

  “Did you?” That was a surprise. Although Charlie had hinted he’d been out west before.

  “We certainly did.” He leaned against her wash tub once more. “It takes quite a bit of money to do San Francisco in style. Then again, Charlie has never had trouble raking in the dough.”

  Olivia smiled, but kept her lips shut. Was that was Chet was after? Charlie’s money?

  As soon as the thought came to her, it took on a life of its own. Charlie’s money. Money and jewels. Things that her mysterious husband had plenty of. And where had he gotten all that money? In his past, obviously. A past Chet was a part of. Yes, Chet wanted the money, but why, apart from the obvious?

  All those thoughts zipped through her head in a flash before Chet asked, “Don’t you worry about how you’re going to pay for all those things? On a teacher’s salary? You can’t be making steady money while you’re on the trail, after all.”

  Olivia scrubbed Charlie’s shirt a few more times, then pulled it out of the water and wrung it by hand. The movement bought her time before answering. Her mind raced. Chet must know about the contents of the locked box. If he did, as like as not, that’s what he wanted. Could he know where all that cash and all those jewels came from?

  “I suppose Charlie will just have to enter a few more poker tournaments and win,” she said, asking a few covert questions of her own. “As I understand it, a man can make a fortune winning at cards, can’t he?” She raised her eyes to meet Chet’s, pinning him to his spot.

  Chet opened his mouth, but a moment later he stopped, shutting it again. His expression shifted to a wide, wicked smile. “You’re playing me for a fool, aren’t you, Mrs. Garrett.” His emphasis on her married name drew as bold a line from her to Charlie as anyone could draw.

  Olivia’s pulse raced. She was a humble teacher from Ohio, not a card player, used to intrigue. She’d stumbled on something far bigger than her experience, but at least she had half a brain to play whatever game Chet—and Charlie—were up to with. “I’m not doing anything but laundry, Mr. Devlin.” She gave Charlie’s shirt another tight wring, then draped it over the line she’d strung between her wagon and the train’s crew wagon parked behind it.

  Chet laughed, edging around the wash tub. When Olivia turned to grab another shirt, she was standing toe-to-toe with him.

  “Since you don’t play games, I won’t either.” His grin had a devilish quality that made Olivia’s skin crawl. There was no answer to his statement. Olivia blinked, crossing her arms. “Where did Charlie stash the loot?” he finished.

  One simple question, and a thousand explosions fired off in Olivia’s mind. Loot. It w
asn’t a pretty word, and yet it described the contents of Charlie’s locked box perfectly.

  Her eyes flickered down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes you do.”

  It was a simple statement of fact, one Olivia wasn’t prepared to deny.

  “I—”

  Chet inched closer to her, towering over her. His toothy smile filled with menace. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was weak and hoarse, but if it killed her, she wouldn’t break eye contact with him. What had she gotten herself into?

  As if to answer her unspoken question, Chet backed off a step and asked, “How long have you and my old buddy Charlie been married?”

  She shouldn’t answer him. She should walk away, find Charlie, tell him what was going on.

  “A few weeks.” She lowered her head and twisted her hands together in front of her.

  “A few weeks,” Chet repeated. “And Charlie told you that he earned all of his money playing cards?”

  She nodded. It was the best she could manage with the sinking sensation inside of her, pulling her down, as if she’d swallowed a lead weight.

  “That’s a lie, you know.”

  Olivia’s eyes snapped up to meet Chet’s. It couldn’t be. Charlie had promised—

  She couldn’t even finish the sentence before being hit with the thudding certainty that Charlie had not only lied to her when he made his promise, but that he’d been lying to her all along.

  “I bet I can tell you exactly what kind of wealth old Charlie boy has,” Chet went on. “Down to the last, pretty diamond bracelet.”

  Olivia swallowed, feeling her cheeks glow with shame. She tried to grab hold of the fleeting argument that anyone who had seen her wear the diamond and sapphire necklace to Josephine’s dinner party could have guessed that Charlie owned more jewels, but Chet hadn’t joined the wagon train until after that supper.

  “Oh, yes,” Chet went on. “Diamond bracelets. Necklaces and other gems too. Charlie’s got a whole mess of them. I bet he’s got bunches of cash on hand too.”