by C. A. Asbrey
It had been at least half-an-hour since Abigail thought she had heard the faint crack of a twig, but she continued to sit, waiting for her cautious tryst to be kept. A slight rustle off to her left indicated the visitor had arrived at last. “Good evening, Mr. Quinn. I take it you've ascertained I'm on my own at last."
A shadowy figure in the darkness drifted forward through the gloom until it became close enough to transform into a human shape. Nat stepped into the summer house and leaned forward to drop a light kiss on the top of her head before he sat beside her.
"Where's Jake?"
"He's around," he answered, the moonlight catching a flash of white as he grinned through the darkness. "So? How’ve you been?"
"I've been well, thanks. You?"
“Fine. How did you get on after our last meeting? What did Pinkerton say when you went back empty-handed?"
"I didn't go back empty-handed. I returned with two murderers. It went well."
"But not with Quinn and Conroy. How did you explain that? What did you say to Pinkerton?"
"I told him the truth.” Her soft laugh tinkled. “He's not the type of man you lie to."
Nat sucked in a breath. "The whole truth?"
She tilted her head in equivocation. "Most of it. You came out of it nobly enough, if that’s what you’re worried about." He chuckled as she continued. “I told him I had been injured by the Pattersons and you rescued me and nursed me through my fever."
"The truth, so far."
"Then I had to abandon the pursuit of Nat Quinn and Jake Conroy as you two knew what I looked like, so I pursued a different case, instead. That’s also fundamentally true."
"True, but he didn’t send you for anyone else."
"I had sent to Boston for information, so he already knew what I was doing. It’s good publicity for the agency with the motto, ‘We Never Sleep’. When unable to deal with one case, I went on and caught two murderers and acted in the public interest. I’ll have to explain the robbery today, though. He’ll know you would have recognized me, even if you aren't supposed to have found out I'm a Pinkerton."
"What are you goin' to tell him?"
"Again, a version of the truth. You recognized me and I convinced you I had become engaged. The fact you kept me back to question me should corroborate it. You didn't have to know I'm using another name."
"Abigail Ansell."
"How did you know?"
His voice chimed with laughter. “You aren't the only one who can ask questions, Abi."
He knew of her engagement to the bank manager, so it took little skill to find out about what part she was playing this time. “Yes, servants are always ready to talk to a handsome stranger.”
“Handsome?” He lit with delight. “I’m at your disposal anytime, Abi. All you’ve got to do is ask real nice. Even a smile will do. I’m not fussy.”
"How much do you know?"
"You're supposed to be the daughter of an Eastern gentleman. You came to research the dime novels you write. You’ve been here for four months and been engaged to Robert Metcalf for a month." He shook his head. “What are you playing at, Abi? That’s plain cruel if you're playing a part. I hadn't marked you down as that sort of woman. You don’t play those games."
She slammed him with angry eyes. “How I conduct myself is none of your business."
"He doesn’t know, does he?" Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, her refusal to answer telling him everything he needed to know. "He cares for you. He was worried sick about you in that bank. I felt real bad for him, knowing you’re in complete control."
"I know he does. He’s sweet, and he cares for me." She dropped her head, her voice laden with guilt. “I hate it.”
"Abi, you could have refused him, or put him off. You don't return those feelings." He paused. “Or do you?”
"He’s kind, that’s all. I couldn’t put him off. I really couldn’t. I had my reasons, but I wouldn't go as far as saying I was in complete control. Not with you two around. "
He sighed. “So? What now? You stick around and marry him?"
"Mr. Quinn, I can't see what difference it would make to you if I did."
"I'll take that as a no. At least you got the sense not to go that far." He sat back and stretched out his long legs. "He has no idea? Your kisses must be the most potent lies you tell."
"I don't usually reveal myself, and Mr. Metcalf doesn’t have your powers of persuasion." She snorted, remembering that night at the cabin. "But then, not many men do."
"Mr. Metcalf. Is that what you call him?"
"I call him Robert. Why?"
He moved closer and slipped an arm through hers. "Good. I don't want you calling just anyone ‘mister’. It’s our thing."
"Why are you here, Mr. Quinn? This is none of your concern."
He turned his head and looked deep into her eyes. "I wanted to see you again. That's not a crime, is it?"
"It depends on what else you're doing while you're around."
She felt the rumble of his laughter against the arm he held. "I'm a bad man, Abi. Want to find out how bad? I wish I’d known back at the cabin how far you were prepared to go to get a job done. We’d have had a lot more fun.”
“I do not lead men on for fun.” She shrugged him off and stood. "Mr. Quinn, what do you want? I have a job to do."
“I’m joking, Abi. I guess that means I’m different, since you didn’t play those games with me. You know I find you attractive.” He sat back and folded his arms, his broad smile catching the moonlight. "I want to make sure you're safe. You tend to take risks I don't think are acceptable. I also just wanted to see you for old time’s sake."
She closed her eyes as her stomach sank, guilt closing in. "I'm protecting someone's life. That’s all you have to know. I have to stick around, no matter what, until I'm told otherwise. I’ll do what it takes to get it done." She paused. “To a point. There are lines I never cross.”
"A guard? You?"
She bristled at his disbelief. "Don’t start. Just because I'm a woman."
"And what a woman." He leaned forward and fixed her with a determined stare. "Just how good are you with a gun?"
"That's none of your business, Mr. Quinn. In any case, I'm not that sort of bodyguard."
He shook his head and stood too. "Madness. I don't know what the world’s coming to. I need to go, but can I see you again? Dinner, perhaps?”
"I can’t. I agreed to meet you once. That’s it."
“No, it’s not.” He walked over and stroked her cheek as his intense eyes burned into her. "I'll be in touch."
Her eyes fixed on him, genuine desperation floating in the depths of the blackness. "Please. Don’t. I really mean this. You have to keep away. Stay as far away as possible. Go anywhere else but here, and lie low for at least three months." He grinned at her, but she grabbed onto his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Promise me. You must keep away! I’ve never been more serious in my life. If you ever believed in me at all, listen to this warning and leave here. Now!"
He gathered her face in both hands dropped a kiss on her lips. "Goodnight, Abi.” Nat stared into her eyes before he sighed and stepped back. In less than a few seconds, he disappeared into the enveloping darkness.
♦◊♦
Abigail walked back into the house with a knot of angst forming in her stomach. She had sworn to do her job to the best of her ability, but she hated duplicity and double dealing.
"How did it go?"
She looked at the tall blond man who stood in the kitchen, his strange, pale blue eyes appraising her. She nodded at Frank McCully, holding the thick-necked man’s cold gaze. "Just as expected, Frank. He wants to see me again."
He nodded and smiled. "Good. I guess Jake was around, too, for protection, but after a few dates, neither of them will suspect what they're walking into. With men like Conroy, it's always better to catch them unawares. The longer Quinn and Conroy think you're emotionally involved, the more they'll be lulled into a false s
ense of security. This makes the whole thing even smoother. Meet Quinn a few more times and let Conroy drop his guard. Then, we’ll strike."
She dropped her head. "I hate this. They saved my life, you know."
The bounty hunter stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"I know. You got a rotten job, here. You have to string the bank manager and Quinn along at the same time, but if anyone can do it, you can. I trust you."
"I'll do my job, don't worry about that," she answered. "I know they’re criminals."
"I know you will. Are you sure they don't suspect?"
"Would you? All I've done is try to avoid them and put them off because I know they can't resist a challenge. There’s no way they suspect this whole thing’s a set up. After all, put a successful bank with a large payroll coming in this close to The Innocents main area of operation, it's only a matter of time before Quinn and Conroy walk into this trap."
Frank McCully drained the last of his coffee and put his cup on the table with a clatter characteristic of his overall roughness.
"A good night's work. Not long now. I’m turning in. It’s not going to be long before we snare two of the most wanted men in the country."
Abigail smiled at him before her face dropped into a blank expressionless mask, her eyes almost black in the lamp light. "Yes. Not long now," she murmured.
♦◊♦
"What's so fascinatin’ about those bank books, Nat? You’ve been examinin’ them for almost a week."
Nat sighed and shut the ledger with a snap. "They don't add up, Jake. They look real good, but they aren’t right. Not against the amount of cash we took from the vault. The bank’s holdings are almost double those declared in the books. In any case, I always get suspicious when there's another set of books. I took these from the vault after I saw a full set in Metcalf’s office. I think we got to the money before he did. "
Jake grinned. “He's a thief? As bad as us?"
"Looks like it."
"I guess that's what she's doin' there."
Nat shook his head. “She says she’s guarding someone."
Jake Conroy snorted with laughter. “And you believed her? Does she look like a bodyguard to you?"
Nat sat back, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Nope, but she never struck me as looking like a sixty-year-old woman, either."
Jake flicked up a questioning eyebrow. "Do you think she can shoot?"
"I've no idea but I don't think we can dismiss it."
"I don't want you seein' her again, Nat. It's too risky. I like her, but I don't trust her an inch."
Nat smiled. "I'm with you there, partner, but have you ever been fascinated by somebody who isn't good for you?"
Jake’s eyes reflected the pensive memories of his lost love. ”Yeah, the girl from St. Louis with hair like gold, eyes like diamonds, and a heart of solid ice. I guess you warned me. I didn't want to hear it. I was too wrapped up in what she had to offer. I just don’t want you makin’ the same mistakes as me.”
Nat eyes danced with mischief. "I'm gonna take her these books, Jake. Are you coming?"
"Why can’t you just leave it?" Jake groaned.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.” Nat collected his hat. “I guess this is my last chance before she moves to another job.”
"It's gotta be on my terms. I don't trust her. I want to know more about what she’s doin’ here."
Nat sighed. "Sure, Jake. There’s no point in arguing with you when you’re like this. You check what you’ve gotta check. Your caution is what keeps us alive."
♦◊♦
Jake Conroy watched Mrs. MacPhee’s boarding house from the shrubbery for four hours noting everyone who came and went. He’d been a cautious man at the best of times, but when his nephew took stupid risks like this, he went the extra mile. He was able to place the people coming and going against the names he had extracted from the maid—a young girl who’d been happy to talk to the tall, handsome stranger who had carried her basket back from the store.
He found her an irritating, shallow girl with a habit of giggling at nothing in particular, but he personified charm itself, and by the time he handed over the basket of provisions at the back gate, he knew the names of everyone in the boarding house along with a their descriptions and a rough idea of where their rooms were.
He had seen everyone except for the female Pinkerton, who occupied a room in the upper floor, and the someone named ‘Frankie’ who stayed in the right-hand back bedroom—and who had business with Abigail. His vigil paid off at last when a six-foot tall man with cropped, white-blond hair stopped at the gate. He tipped his hat to a woman passing in the street, pushing her child in the perambulator for the world to see.
Jake’s breath stilled in horror. He knew that man; Frank McCully was the bounty hunter who never brought anyone in alive. Carcasses are the only ones that can be transported without escape attempts was his motto. He only went after those wanted dead or alive. One shot through the head, and it was money in the bank until the next job.
Wanted men’s wives and children had been found killed by a single shot to their heads after bodies were turned in because it was easier for the ruthless bounty hunter to transport cadavers than prisoners, and witnesses got in the way. All the while, random people in towns, farms, and homesteads were found murdered in the same arbitrary fashion wherever McCully made arrests. Inconvenient people got slaughtered wherever McCully worked. Never had a more selfish, venal, and ruthless man worked in what passed for law enforcement, and if Abigail had gotten involved with him, she had serious questions to answer.
Jake Conroy’s determination to get those answers hardened. His breathing quickened, and a familiar tingling feeling crept from his numb fingers until it branched through his arms and into his chest. Cold sweat pricked at his skin as a familiar ball of leaden nausea firmed in his belly.
Nat always called it his red mist, but Jake’s vision remained unaffected. Instead, it impacted his ability to reason and process. Past and present blurred as his mind filled with the sights and sounds of long-ago horrors, forcing him to re-live the worst moments of his life. He usually kept them at bay by being the best with a gun. It made him feel more confident about keeping loved ones safe, but the prospect of another loss could cause the attacks to surge to the forefront and play a frantic loop in his brain. These horrors went with him everywhere, rising unbidden at times of trouble. That poisoned prism now distorted the way he saw Abigail.
Chapter Three
It took another half-hour before Jake saw her neat, feminine figure approaching, her light blue dress standing out against the sun-parched dust of the streets. By this time, his breath came in rapid, shallow pants until his fingers prickled and his head spun. The everyday sounds of the town swamped his senses until they crashed around his skull in an echoing cacophony. Her voice reverberated, unusually strident and harsh, echoing between the screaming and shouting from years ago in his head.
"Jake?" Abigail's eyes darted around drinking in the surroundings, looking for danger. Why greet her openly in the street, near her gate? His glazed eyes sparkled and the pupils looked enormous, but he didn’t seem drunk.
"Abi, come with me. It's urgent."
Her dark eyes were pools of worry as she gazed into his, unaware of the danger lurking in their depths. "Why? What's happened?"
"It's Nat. He needs you."
Jake Conroy watched her blanch as a delicate hand reached out to him."Oh, my goodness! What happened? Is he hurt?"
He steered her toward the tethering post where he had left his mount, trying not to sneer at her concern as they walked. "We need to ride two-up. Time’s short."
Abigail's hung back, obviously not trusting Jake’s words. "Do we need a doctor? Or a lawyer, maybe?"
"We ain't got time. We need to go." He checked the girth strap on his saddle and led the animal out.
"What do you mean we haven't got time? What’s wrong?"
He sa
w the determination in her face and snapped at her. "Are you comin’ or not?"
He threw his long leg over his mount and stretched out an arm to draw her up behind him.
Abigail paused. “If Nat’s hurt, or in jail, he needs professional help more than a visit from me.” She tensed. “If it’s gun power, why choose a woman with a Derringer? What’s wrong, Jake? Where is he?" She stepped back and she refused to take his hand, her breathing quickening.
"A cabin near here."
"Why me? Why would you bring me? Why not a doctor or a lawyer? You need real help."
Jake Conroy let out a snort of impatience and leaned over, wrapping a long arm around her waist. He lifted her, dropping her in front of him on the saddle as though she weighed next to nothing.
She bucked in his arms. "What are you doing?"
Abigail felt the hard, unmistakable butt of a gun barrel in her ribs as his rasping voice whispered in her ear. “Lady, I ain't got the patience for this. If you want to do it the hard way, it'll be real hard. I’d keep my voice down if I were you unless want innocent bystanders involved in this."
She sat stung into silence as she sensed the menace in his words, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. "You wouldn't, Jake. It’s me. Tell me what’s wrong. I can help."
"You?" he snarled. "What if I tell you who I saw at your boardin’ house? I know the murderin’ scum you brought lookin’ for us? Explain why I shouldn’t play by the same rules."
He felt her take a sharp intake of breath as his words landed. She knew. The certainty hardened his resolved. "Looks like you’re mixin’ with folks who don’t care much for our welfare, so I guess it works both ways."
"Jake—”
"Save it. I don't want to hear it. It’ll all be lies and manipulation." He kicked his horse into action. "You got time to think of somethin’ good before we get where we’re goin’. It's a shame for you I'm in no mood for listenin’."
♦◊♦
The maid stopped halfway down the path, disappointed to see the attentive, handsome, blond man walk off with Miss Ansell. She thought he’d come to see her when she’d seem him loitering around the gate, but she was nothing if not fickle, and was mollified to see a stunning man with auburn highlights in his brown hair walking straight toward her.
