by Connie Mason
Meg speared him with a suspicious look. "If you don't keep your word, I'll hunt you down and kill you. I can't make it any plainer than that. I'm an excellent tracker. I'm a professional bounty hunter, remember?"
Arlo swallowed convulsively. "How can I forget? Do your part and I'll keep my promise. The game begins at nine o'clock tomorrow night. Tonight, actually," he said. "It's nearly dawn."
Meg closed and locked the door behind Arlo. Though he'd given his promise, she didn't trust him. All she could do was make sure he won heavily tonight, enough to satisfy his greed and keep him from ruining Jess's life.
Nine o'clock came too early for Meg's peace of mind. But a promise was a promise. After tonight she'd be free to do as she pleased. Would she return to Cheyenne? Probably not. Without Arlo's interference, Jess held a secure place in Cheyenne society. She would only hinder his career. On the other hand, perhaps she and Jess could present a united front against the gossips if she returned. Lord knows she couldn't imagine living the rest of her life without Jess.
Would Jess welcome her back? Meg wondered. She'd left town with Arlo, without so much as a good-bye. Perhaps he wouldn't want anything more to do with her. She couldn't really blame him.
Later that evening, when Arlo knocked on the connecting door, Meg still hadn't decided whether she would return to Cheyenne and Jess.
"The men are here, Meg. It's time for you to join us."
Meg plastered a smile on her face and flung open the door. Arlo grasped her arms and hissed into her ear, "Remember why you're here. And keep that damn pistol I know you're carrying in your pocket."
Meg shrugged out of his grasp and walked over to meet the five men gathered around the makeshift bar. The evening went better for her than the previous one. The men seemed intent upon the game instead of her. Nevertheless she played the part expected of her, distracting the players when the stakes were high. She didn't enjoy it one darn bit for she knew Arlo was cheating. If she didn't think the five poker players could afford it, she would have felt more guilt than she actually did.
Meg was serving a man named Simon Pool whiskey when Arlo laid down his winning hand. A full house, aces over tens. As he raked in his winnings, including the deed to a valuable silver mine, Simon Pool leaped to his feet.
"Bastard! You cheated!" Pool charged. "I saw you deal yourself that ace from the bottom."
"You can't prove that, Pool," Arlo argued. "You're just sore because I won one of your silver mines. Cool down, you know damn well you can afford it."
"That's not the issue. A man doesn't enjoy being fleeced."
"I didn't cheat," Arlo maintained. He shoved the cards at Pool. "Your deal."
"I've had enough," Pool barked. "If I were you, Skully, I'd watch my back. Card sharks and cheaters aren't welcome in Denver. I thought you ran a clean game."
Meg watched with trepidation, her right hand hovering near her pocket so she could reach her pistol if it came to that. It didn't. Pool left in a huff, aiming a murderous look at Arlo before he charged out the door. At that precise moment Meg was glad she wasn't Arlo Skully. It was probably a good thing he was leaving town tomorrow.
The game broke up shortly after Pool stormed out. Only one other man besides Arlo, who had won heavily, came out ahead. The rest went home with empty pockets.
"That was a rewarding evening," Arlo said after the room had cleared of all but him and Meg. "I'm going out to look at my silver mine tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?"
"Not on your life. We're quits after tonight, Arlo. You got what you wanted. We had a deal, remember? I hope I never lay eyes on you again. Good night, Arlo, and good-bye."
His eyes narrowed, Arlo grasped her arm, obviously disliking her reply. "Maybe we aren't quits. You were damn good tonight. We're a team. You distracted the men to the point that my cheating wasn't apparent."
Meg shrugged off his hands. "Pool caught you red-handed. I fulfilled my part of the bargain. If I were you I'd take Mr. Pool seriously. I sensed a definite threat."
"He's harmless," Arlo said. "All bark and no bite. He was sore because he lost one of his mines."
Meg shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She turned to leave.
"One more thing, Meg," Arlo said in a voice that made her halt in mid-step.
She turned to face him. "What?"
"I lied."
Meg froze. "About what?"
"I'm not about to break a winning team. You'll travel with me as my partner or..."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll put your lover behind bars."
"Damn you! You promised."
"Not really. Good night, Meg."
He shut the connecting door in her face. Meg grasped the handle and tried to pull it open, but he had already shot the bolt. She pounded on the door a good five minutes before giving up. Things were getting out of hand. She had no choice now but to deal with Arlo in her own way.
Meg was rudely awakened from a deep sleep. She assumed it was Arlo beating on the door and told him to go away. But the pounding continued. Suddenly she was aware that someone was calling her Mrs. Skully and she recalled that Arlo had signed the hotel register as Mr. and Mrs. Arlo Skully. She dragged herself from bed, pulled a wrapper over her nightgown and opened the door.
Her eyes widened when she saw a man sporting a badge prominently on his chest standing on the threshold. What had Arlo done now?
"I'm Inspector Faulkner. Are you Mrs. Skully?"
Meg hesitated. She wasn't Arlo's wife. Yet something told her to skirt the issue until she learned more.
"What is this about, Inspector?"
"I regret to inform you that your husband's body was found in the alley beside the telegraph office this morning."
"He's dead?"
"That's right, ma'am. I need you to come with me to identify the body and collect his belongings. He carried a large sum of money on him."
Shock shuddered through Meg. "You found him this morning?" She glanced at the window and saw sunshine streaming through gaps in the closed drapes. "What time is it?"
"Just past noon."
"Where did you say he was found?"
"In the alley beside the telegraph office. He must have been out and about early this morning. Walter Harper said he was waiting for the office to open when he arrived for work. But Harper swore he didn't see or hear a thing after he sent Skully's telegram."
The telegraph office, Meg thought with alarm. "Do you know to whom he sent the telegram?"
"Yes, ma'am. He sent it to Sheriff Bufford in Cheyenne. Seems that Mr. Skully had information about an outlaw, which he passed on to the sheriff."
"I'll join you as soon as I dress, sheriff," Meg said.
"I'll wait in the hall," Faulkner said. "Take your time."
Meg couldn't move after she closed the door. Arlo was dead. It didn't seem possible. Someone had beat her to it. Someone who wanted him dead more than she did. Over the years Arlo had doubtlessly made enemies. Like Mr. Pool. Dishonest card sharks had few friends.
At length Meg forced herself to wash, dress and roll up her hair into a semblance of order. Fortunately she wasn't hungry so missing breakfast was no big thing. Some thirty minutes later she opened the door and stepped into the hall to join the inspector.
A short time later Faulkner ushered her into the funeral parlor. The stench of death hit Meg like a fist to the gut. All she could think of was getting out of there...fast.
"Where is he?" Meg asked.
"This way, Mrs. Skully," the undertaker said, showing her the way into a bare room that held a table with a body laid out upon it.
The body was covered with a sheet; all that was visible were bare feet protruding out one end. Faulkner grasped her elbow as the undertaker prepared to lift the sheet. "Are you all right, Mrs. Skully?"
"Yes, just get on with it."
The sheet was lowered and Meg stared into the lifeless face of Arlo Skully. She couldn't recall how many times she'd wished him dead over the years, but the r
eality was still stunning.
"How was he killed?"
"A knife through the heart. Neat and silent. The killer was obviously skilled. Have you seen enough?"
"Yes. That's Arlo Skully. Is there anything else you need to know?"
Faulkner guided her away from the body. "I have a few questions. Did your husband have enemies?"
"He was a professional gambler. Not a particularly honest one. Does that answer your question?"
"Can you name the people who attended the card games he held in his hotel room?"
"No," Meg lied. "I wanted no part of that life. We had separate rooms. If you must know, Inspector, I was going to leave Mr. Skully today. We both had agreed upon a separation. Anything else?"
"No, you're free to go. I doubt we'll ever find his killer."
The undertaker, bearing a bundle in his arms, came bustling over to them. "Here's Mr. Skully's belongings. Inspect them if you'd like. There's a great deal of money involved."
Meg dutifully untied the parcel of Arlo's clothing. Inside were his watch, various pieces of jewelry, and a purse containing all the money he'd won the last two nights. The deed to the silver mine was conspicuously missing.
"I'd like to pay for the burial now," Meg said. "I'm leaving Denver as soon as I can book passage. Maybe even today. There will be no formal funeral, Mr. Skully had no friends in town."
"I reckon that can be arranged," the undertaker said. "Thirty dollars should cover the pine box and burial fees."
Meg counted out the money into his hand and bundled the rest up inside Arlo's clothing. "Am I permitted to leave town, Inspector?"
"There's no reason for you to stay," Faulkner said. "Besides, it might be a good idea. Until your husband's killer is found, you could be in danger."
That notion, though it made sense, was not comforting. "Thank you. I agree wholeheartedly."
Meg hurried back to her hotel room and locked the door behind her. Then she entered Arlo's room through the connecting door and made a thorough search of his belongs. It was just as she thought, the deed to the silver mine was missing. The implication was startling. Mr. Pool was behind Arlo's murder and she could be the next victim.
Meg set the bundle of Arlo's clothing on the bed with the money intact and left the room. She wanted nothing to do with Arlo's ill-gotten gains. She packed her carpetbag, placed her guns inside, and left the hotel through the back door. She felt no guilt at skipping out without paying for she'd left a small fortune behind to cover the bill.
The moment Meg heard that Arlo had sent a telegram to Sheriff Bufford, she knew she had to return to Cheyenne. It didn't matter if Jess no longer wanted her, she had to be there to lend him support. It was her fault Arlo had exposed Jess, and she wasn't going to sit idly by while he was tried and convicted for a crime he didn't commit.
Meg learned that the train to Cheyenne was due in at six-thirty the following morning. Having nowhere else to go, she settled down on a bench in the depot to wait.
Chapter Fourteen
Cheyenne
Zach barged into Jess's office with an agenda. Jess knew it the moment he saw the mutinous expression on Zach's face. Fortunately his office was empty. Most the men in town had joined the posse after the recent back robbery and those who were left had other things on their mind besides visiting the doctor. Even the women and children seemed to be caught up in the excitement.
Jess was glad for the breather. Since Meg had left, it seemed as if the heart had gone out of him. Even his practice seemed dull, as if something vital had gone from his life. Yet he couldn't bring himself to react to Meg's disappearance with anything but anger and self pity.
Now here was Zach again, looking fully prepared to do battle on Meg's behalf. Jess knew that Zach was going to demand that he go to Denver after Meg and he was half convinced to do it. Especially after he'd received the envelope containing the pieces of his wanted poster. But his damn pride kept getting in the way.
"I expected to find you all packed and ready to board the next train to Denver," Zach said as he charged into the reception room.
"What good will it do? Obviously Meg prefers Arlo Skully."
"Damn fool," Zach muttered. "No help for it. I'll have to go myself. That little gal means the world to me. I won't let Skully hurt her again."
"You're not going," Jess argued. "I'll go. I don't want your death on my conscience. Stay here with Mary and plan your wedding."
"Can you be ready to leave on the train tomorrow?"
"I'll be ready, but don't expect miracles. I won't force Meg to leave if she wants to stay with Skully."
"Meg loathes Skully, trust me. Thanks, Doc, you won't regret this. I hate feeling helpless. I'm no longer the man I once was. But bad heart or not, I would have gone after Meggie if you had refused."
Meg stepped off the train and pulled the collar of her traveling jacket up over her ears to ward off the brisk wind blowing in from the north. Summer was coming to an end and there was a definite chill in the air. She paused on the platform, clutching her carpetbag and pondering her next move. She supposed she should go directly to the jailhouse to learn Jess's fate. Squaring her shoulders, she silently prepared herself to view Jess behind bars.
The streets seemed unusually crowded, Meg thought as she passed knots of people engaged in conversation. Something was afoot. Was it news of Jess's arrest?
Meg hurried down the sidewalk, her heels clicking a hallow tattoo against the wooden boards. When she reached her destination, she opened the door and stepped inside. Deputy Taylor was sitting in the sheriff's chair, resting his feet on the desk. His feet came down to the floor with a bang the moment he saw her.
"Miz Lincoln! I thought you left town."
"I came back. Where's the sheriff?"
"You haven't heard? Two masked men robbed the First Union Bank. The sheriff left with the posse after it happened and hasn't returned yet. He swore he wouldn't return without the men who shot and killed Bill Bicks over at the telegraph office. The poor bast...er man, caught a stray bullet as he stepped outside the Western Union office to investigate the ruckus. He died instantly."
"I didn't know," Meg said, stunned by the news. "I'm sorry about Bill Towers. Did he have a family?"
"No, he was a bachelor. What are you doing here? Doc Gentry and Zach Purdee have been worried sick about you."
"Zach's back?" Meg said, her face alight with genuine pleasure.
"Returned a few days ago. You probably haven't heard, but he inherited a small fortune. Him and Widow Dowling are planning a wedding."
That was indeed good news. "How...how is Doctor Gentry?"
"Haven't seen him since the robbery. He's kept to himself since you took off." He sent her a quizzical look. "Doc said you two were gonna get hitched. Congratulations."
"Yes, well..." She dropped the uncomfortable subject for she had no idea where she and Jess stood now. "How long has the sheriff been gone?"
She wanted to ask about the telegram but didn't dare. Had it gone astray?
"Four days now. His mail's been piling up. Some new wanted posters came in and a couple of telegrams. Didn't read them, thought they might be personal."
"New posters, you say?" Meg asked casually. "Mind if I have a look?"
"Sheriff Bufford never objected so I reckon it's all right with me. Sit here," he said, vacating the sheriff's chair. "The posters are all together in that packet. Look all you want, though I don't suppose it will make either old Zach or Doc Gentry happy to have you traipsing off after another outlaw."
Meg dropped her bag beside the door and took the chair Taylor had just vacated. She pulled the posters out of the packet and made a great show of studying each one, though what she was really interested in were the two telegrams lying beside the stack of posters. One consolation, however, was her failure to find a posters featuring the Gentry brothers among those she perused.
"Find anything interesting?" Taylor asked.
"I'm not sure," Meg hedged. "I need
a little more time."
As she spoke, she deliberately knocked the posters off the desk, along with the telegrams. "Oh, how clumsy of me."
Taylor sprang forward. "Here, let me help you."
Before Taylor reached her, she plucked the two telegrams from amid the scattered posters and stuck them down the top of her half boot.
"Thank you," Meg said, carefully stacking the posters she and Taylor had picked up. "I believe I have seen enough. Nothing here interests me. I appreciate your help."
"No problem, Miz Lincoln. Any time."
Meg retrieved her bag from where she'd left it beside the door and emerged from the office into the dying sun of late afternoon. She paused on the sidewalk as the tenseness left her body, breathing deeply to calm her frazzled nerves.
What if she'd been caught purloining those telegrams? What if Deputy Taylor associated her with their disappearance when it came time to give them to the sheriff? Too late for recriminations, the deed was already done.
Without conscience thought, Meg's feet carried her toward Jess's office. She had to see him, even though he might want nothing to do with her. She wanted to tell him his secret was safe. That she had removed the last incriminating piece of evidence. She felt sadness for Bill Towers, his death was tragic, but she couldn't help thinking that his demise severed the last link to Jess's past.
The reception room was empty when Meg entered Jess's office.
"I'll be out in a moment," Jess called from the examining room. "I was about to close up for the day."
A few moments later Jess walked into the reception room, spotted Meg, and stopped dead in his tracks. He had just finished putting away his instruments when he heard the bell above the door jangle. He thought Zach had returned to badger him and he really didn't want to see Zach again. Jess had already agreed to go to Denver to find out what the hell was going on with Meg, what more did he want? But it wasn't Zach, it was Meg, looking as beautiful as he remembered, and his anger exploded.
"What the hell did you come from?"
