Silken Promises

by Lisa Bingham

  Her eyes widened. “I’ve never shot one of these before.”

  “So wave it around and scare the living hell out of them. I don’t care. Just try not to kill me, Peebles, or the Beasleys.”

  He tucked one of the revolvers in the back waistband of his trousers, then checked the others for bullets. He nodded. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  “It’s time for a final bit of gambling, Fiona. Isn’t that why I hired you?” She had no time to assimilate his words. He turned his attention to the melee below and yelled, “You’re completely surrounded, Krupp. Give yourself up.” It was a daring lie, but hopefully the confusion would give credit to the claim.

  Krupp’s horse whirled in agitation as The Judge waved his weapon. searching for a target.

  “Dammit, Grey! There’s no one here. I dumped most of your men miles away.”

  “Did you really? Then who do you think caused this mess? A couple of guardian angels?”

  Growling, Krupp aimed in the general direction of Jacob’s voice. Jacob fired, then flattened himself against the grassy knoll as an answering shot rang out. When Fiona chanced to look at the scene below them, it was to find that Stone had fallen to the ground, clutching his chest.

  “Give yourself up, Judge.”

  Krupp scowled, gesturing for the few uninjured men who remained to assemble. “Never!”

  “None of you will be hanged. I’ll see to that. You’ll merely be returned to prison.”

  “Like hell. Do you think I believe such a worthless promise?”

  “I have connections with the governor. I can—”

  “Your so-called connections are nothing compared to my own. Why do you think Carruthers was so adamant that you take this train?”

  Jacob swore when he realized Krupp’s influence had spread so far, it included one of the governor’s aides. The Judge had been very thorough in building his trap. “You can’t escape, Krupp.”

  “I don’t give a damn. I won’t go back.”

  A stick of dynamite flew into the middle of the fray. The sod heaved. Several men screamed.

  “Your associates are being massacred!” Jacob shouted. “Is that what you want to happen?”

  “I don’t care. I’ll see you rot in hell, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “How, Krupp? You’re surrounded.”

  Krupp whirled his horse and galloped toward one of the few remaining boxcars. Sliding from the saddle, he yanked open the door. Darby Kensington knelt by the aperture, his eyes wide, his face pale. Pulling him to the ground, Krupp put a pistol to the man’s head.

  “Let us go. Let us go. or I’ll kill him.”

  “It won’t work, Krupp. We already know your connection to Kensington.”

  “He’s a passenger. An innocent bystander.”

  “He’s your son.”

  Krupp grinned, then threw back his head and chuckled. “I knew you would unravel the clues. I knew it!”

  “How did you get Darby to help you, Krupp? How did you get him to agree to spread counterfeit money? Did you tell him it was a trap meant to corner me? Or did you promise him it was just a scheme to make a little money?”

  Kensington stiffened even more in his father’s arms.

  “What else did you bother to say to him, Krupp? Did you explain how he’d unwittingly become an accessory to a brutal prison escape and the deaths of several lawmen? Or did you omit those points”—he paused for emphasis—“as well as the fact that you framed him for the murder of Mickaleen McFee?”

  Fiona gasped beside him. Krupp grew still, so still, his eyes narrowing.

  Slowly, carefully, Jacob rose to his feet and walked toward the man, holding him in his sights. “I’m right, aren’t I? You planted his fob at the scene, hoping that I would jump to the obvious conclusion. You wanted to corner me. You wanted to draw me into a situation I couldn’t resist. So you began simply at first: a little counterfeiting trouble that would demand my attention, then a tidal wave of phony bills. After I’d begun to investigate, it was only a matter of time before you could begin the final stages of your plot—to free yourself from prison and follow me on Kensington’s last voyage.”

  Krupp grinned. “How very clever, Grey.”

  “But you didn’t count on having Dub survive the breakout.”

  “He was supposed to die in that prison.”

  “So when he lived, you used that to your advantage. You arranged his death, leaving a note with the eight-pointed star.”

  “I knew it would distract you.”

  “You hoped I would grow careless.”

  “You must have thought you were so smart. That you knew my motives inside and out. All the while, I was merely leaving a trail of bread crumbs to lead you right to me.”

  “Hoping that in the process I would grow angry and therefore grow careless.”

  “I’ve been jerking you about on a string for months through the use of this fool.” He tightened his hold on Kensington, jerking him slightly.

  “Damn you!” Kensington wrenched free of Krupp’s grasp, tearing the revolver free and pointing it at his father’s head. “Damn you all to hell! You used me! You set me up as bait, knowing full well that I would be the one to take the fall.”

  Krupp lifted a calming hand, but Kensington drew the hammer of the pistol, far from pacified.

  “I’m your son—your son! But you never cared about me at all, did you? You retrieved me from the foundling home only after I threatened to become a political embarrassment. You sent me to boarding school, ignored me, abandoned me until I could prove useful again. You used me—I thought to spread your counterfeit bills. But now I know the truth. It was to catch this man. Then you set me up for murder!”

  “Shut up, boy.”

  “No!” He turned away, walking toward Jacob. “I’m surrendering to you. I’ll tell you everything he’s done from my end of the deal. I’ll show records, ticket stubs, and notes I took of the counterfeiting activities he masterminded.”

  “Shut up, you whelp!” Krupp lunged for the revolver, snatching it from his son’s hands. Startled, Kensington began to run. Krupp swore, then pulled the trigger and shot him in the back.

  Screaming, Kensington stumbled and fell against Jacob. He gripped the extra pistol tucked into Jacob’s trousers. Whirling, he shot once, twice.

  Krupp staggered, clutching the scarlet patches that bloomed on his chest. “Dar… by?” He fell to his knees, staring up at his son in genuine amazement. “But—”

  The word was only a puff of sound, then Krupp fell to his stomach, his hands curling into the dirt.

  Kensington lowered the pistol bit by bit. “You were right, Papa,” he declared softly. “Some things are worth waiting for.” Then he sobbed in pain, sinking to the ground.

  The night air was filled with a muted thundering. Acting instinctively, Jacob lifted his weapon in the direction of the noise, then squinted in disbelief. An engine had appeared on the horizon, one pushing the boxcar and caboose that had housed some of his men. As it rolled to a stop, a single man stepped from the locomotive.

  “Ethan?” Jacob called in disbelief.

  Ethan waved. “I found something of yours abandoned on the tracks and brought it along.”

  Within seconds, the area was swarming with deputies. Jacob gestured for one of the men to tend to the wounded gambler.

  “What the hell brought you here?”

  Ethan rubbed at a very noticeable lump on his forehead. “I was ambushed by a pair of old ladies at the last stop.”

  “The Beasleys?”

  He nodded. “When I woke up, I realized something was wrong, something more than just a wish to stow away. The Beasleys never do anything without a very good reason. So I charged into the railway office, bandied your name around a bit, hinted that one of their trains—as well as a few influential passengers—was about to be robbed, and hopped on one of their locomotives.”

  “Ladies!”
>
  The Beasleys, who had been standing a few feet away, eavesdropping, reluctantly stepped forward.

  “Don’t be angry, Jacob,” Amelia begged.

  “We saw Krupp at the station in Chicago.”

  “But we couldn’t be sure it was him.”

  “There wasn’t time to warn you.”

  “So we stowed away.”

  “For a time, at least.”

  Jacob opened his mouth, but they continued.

  “Amelia found the dynamite on the train.”

  Amelia touched his arm. “You really should warn your men about being so careless.”

  “So when trouble broke out, we had no alternative but to use it.”

  “Luckily, Mr. Peebles knew what to do.”

  When the women stopped for breath, he held up a hand. “Enough. Enough! Ladies, I… that is, you should have…”

  But there was nothing to say. He couldn’t scold them. They had literally saved his life. His and Fiona’s.

  “Thank you, ladies.”

  They beamed, coloring slightly.

  “Thank you for all your help—regardless of your rather unorthodox methods.”

  The next few minutes were spent battling the fires caused by the explosions. Those cars that had not caught fire were pulled free from the others. Then Jacob’s men rode in search of the rest of Krupp’s cohorts. Most had disappeared into the night, but those that remained were forced to march into the remaining boxcar. An iron padlock from one of Fiona’s trunks was threaded through the handle of the door, and Jacob put Mr. Peebles in place as a guard. As Jacob walked away, the man was pacing back and forth in front of the railway car while the Beasleys reviewed the events of the evening and probed him for details of his duties with the railroad.

  Not twenty minutes had passed before the deputies from the main portion of the train appeared, led by Rusty. They rode hell-bent over the horizon on mounts they’d borrowed from a farmer ten miles uptrack. After explaining the situation, Jacob sent them out again to hunt down the last few members of the Star Council who had managed to escape.

  As a last thought. Jacob called. “Rusty! Get hold of a telegraph and order the arrest of Carruthers. He’s an accessory to all this.”

  As the noise of their horses disappeared into the darkness, he turned to Fiona. The evening shadows echoed with a thousand thoughts, ideas, imaginings. She could see in his eyes the relief that they had survived, as well as the weariness and the disgust that so many lives had been wasted.

  “You should have that gash tended to as soon as possible,” she finally said. “It might need to be stitched.”

  He eyed her strangely, carefully, intently. “I’m horrible with a needle.”

  “Then maybe you should delegate the job to me.”

  Taking her hand, he walked with her to the private car where they had spent so much time over the past few days. They stepped into the shadowy interior, where she lit one of the lamps, illuminating the dusky textures of velvet and brocade.

  “Sit, please.” She gestured to one of the ottomans in front of the settee.

  “Fiona, I—”

  “Sit.” Brooking no refusal, she pushed him down, then gathered water and towels from the bathing room. Upon returning, she set the supplies on the small reading table at his elbow.

  “You are a very tricky man, Jacob Grey. You should have told me that you’d found the fob.”

  Jacob caught her hand. “I only found it today. I saw it on the bureau. All the little details suddenly seemed to fall into place. It didn’t make sense. Why would Kensington kill your father? He didn’t know anything about him. And why would he keep his appointment with that train if he knew we were following him? If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the man, it’s that he’s a bit of a coward. He’s not opposed to making a little money, skirting the edge of the law. But he doesn’t have what it takes to commit cold-blooded murder. I began to stew over the details of this assignment like a desperate man. Not because of all that had occurred. Not because of the threat Krupp presented. But because I was suddenly struck like a thunderbolt with an idea that seemed totally incredible.”

  His hand spread over her spine, testing the fragile line that—in the last few days—he had become accustomed to finding enshrouded in steel and canvas and silk. “Suddenly I broke out in an icy sweat. I went running to the parlor car, intent on dragging you off and sending you to safety. All because I’d finally admitted to myself that I’ve been a stubborn fool.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve allowed myself to be blinded to one of the basic realities of life.” His fingers crept up to tangle in her tousled hair. “Man was not meant to spend his life alone. Especially once he has found the other half of his heart.”

  She blinked at him in disbelief.

  “I couldn’t bear to think that anything could happen to you. I had to protect you at all costs. Because I love you, Fiona McFee,” he stated more clearly.

  To his surprise, she didn’t throw her arms around his neck or melt into his embrace. She jumped to her feet and began pacing the length of the car.

  “So what do we do now?”

  He stared at her in astonishment. “I thought a church wedding might be in order, then a house of some sort, and maybe a couple of kids, if you don’t mind.”

  Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “Jacob, we’ve already had this conversation. A relationship between us is impossible.”

  “Why? You love me too. I know you do.”

  “Yes, Jacob. I love you. But nothing has changed. You’re still a lawman. I’m still a woman with a past.”

  “Dammit, Fiona!” An increased commotion from outside signaled the return of the bulk of his men. Jacob stood up and took her wrist. “Come with me.”

  Allowing her no opportunity to protest, he dragged her to the landing outside the main door. As soon as they’d both stepped outside, he held his fingers to his teeth and whistled. Immediately, the deputies turned, some of them in the midst of leading their prisoners to the temporary holding cell made from the only surviving boxcar.

  “Men, I intend to marry this woman.”

  They offered no more reaction than if he’d announced the state of the weather.

  “She’s a criminal, you know. Soon to be pardoned by the governor, but a criminal nonetheless.”

  “Kiss her quick and get out here and help us!” one man shouted. The rest turned away to tend to their duties.

  Jacob gently pushed Fiona against the railing, bracing his hands on either side of her hips. “Satisfied? It may have taken overly long for me to recognize the fact, but no one cares about your past, Fiona. Heaven knows, I don’t.”

  At that, she did throw her arms around his neck to hug him tight. “Ye’d better not be forgettin’ yer promises, lawman,” she warned.

  “Your ribald ways will never be mentioned again.”

  “That’s not what I’m referrin’ to. Ye can mention me past as much as ye want. I’m not ashamed of what I am, what I’ve done. It’s the house I’m referrin’ to.”

  He laughed, hauling her close for a passionate kiss, one that displayed his delight and his adoration, his love and his total commitment. When he finally withdrew, there was the soft sound of applause from the opposite side of the track. Peering around the corner of the car, they saw the Beasley sisters grinning and waggling their fingers in greeting.

  “I thought I ordered you to go home,” Jacob called out.

  “We knew you’d be needing our help.”

  “So I did, ladies.”

  They blushed becomingly, demonstrating the coquettishness of a pair of young girls.

  “I told you he had an affection for her, Amelia.”

  “No, Sister, I told you.”

  Alma sighed. “It matters little who told whom.”

  “They are adorable together.”

  “They’ll have beautiful children.”

  Fiona laughed,
burying her face in Jacob’s chest in embarrassment. “Well, Jacob, I suppose there’s only one more question to be addressed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s obvious who my bridesmaids will be. But which of the Beasleys should walk in first during the church processional?”

  Epilogue

  Madison, Illinois

  Jacob Grey swung from his horse and took a moment to stop, close his eyes, and breathe deeply.

  A hint of fall tinged the air, although it was only mid-September. Somewhere, in the midst of the breeze, he sensed baking bread and something more—probably cookies or sweetbreads. He heard the high-pitched squeals of Jake and Celie running through the garden, Lettie’s calls of caution, Ethan’s murmured replies.

  His eyes opened and he stared up at the Grey family boarding house where he had been born, where he had grown up. So much had happened, he could scarcely credit how much his life had changed. After dealing with Krupp and his men, Jacob had brought Fiona here, to his birthplace, the little town of Madison, Illinois. They’d joined Lettie, arriving just in time for the birth of her third child. Then, within days, there had been a wedding.

  His and Fiona’s.

  He looped the reins of his mount around the hitching post, smiling in pleasure as the sun glinted on the gold band he wore on his left hand. Yes, so much had changed. All for the better.

  Walking up the cracked brick walk, he climbed the steps to the stoop, ignoring the front door and following the whitewashed boards of the porch to the side of the house, where a screened enclosure looked out toward the creek. He slipped inside, slowly, quietly, not wanting to startle the woman who sat in a rocking chair, crooning an Irish lullaby to the baby in her arms.

  “What did they say, Jacob?”

  He smiled, realizing that he needn’t have bothered to tiptoe. Fiona had known the moment he’d arrived.

  “They grumbled a bit, hemmed and hawed, but they finally accepted my resignation as U.S. marshal.”

  She glanced up from the bundle in her arms, little Phebe Fiona McGuire, her namesake and godchild. “I suppose that means you’re officially unemployed?”

  He grinned, shaking his head. “Not really. It seems that Madison’s sheriff intends to move to Kentucky to be closer to his family. They’ve offered the position to me.”