by C. A. Asbrey
Jake’s brow creased. "Why are you tellin’ me this? Surely, if we're competin’ with each other, it makes more sense for you to keep me in the dark?"
"Who else could you be here for? There ain't anyone else for miles around who's got a bigger bounty on their head, and you turn up right after the robbery."
Jake sat back and began to tap the arm of the plump chair with his long fingers. "Are you suggestin’ a partnership?"
"Could be. If you're interested?”
Jake nodded and leaned forward. "Or, are you tryin' to find out what I'm doin' and what I know?"
"No. There ain't no point in competin’, standin’ on each other's toes while we both miss out. It makes sense to pool our resources and get at least half each."
He sat back again and faced McCully with a grin. “Did you send the maid into my room?"
"No—”
Jake chuckled. "Yeah, right. If that's the standard of your work, I don't want nothin' to do with you."
"I didn't."
"She don't look like she'd be too hard to break. Do you want to reconsider your answer?"
McCully paused, assessing the hard eyes and understanding for the first time why Meg had been so afraid of him. "I wanted to know what you were doin’ here."
Jake’s mirthless laugh rang through the room. He stood, folding his newspaper and jamming it under his arm. "I guess that's the difference between a professional and a keen amateur. You ain't heard about me because I keep my head down and can blend in when I have to. Law enforcement and those in the know have heard all they need to about me. I don't care about anyone else, and I’m not interested in bein’ famous. Is that clear?"
"Maybe you'll reconsider when you've had time to think. It’s bad enough tryin' to bring in Quinn and Conroy without trying to duck each other, as well."
He turned as he reached the door. "You don't have to worry about tryin' to duck me. I ain't interested in Quinn and Conroy; leastways, not at the moment. They’re all yours. I got bigger fish to fry."
"Bigger?"
"Too big for you, sonny. All you need to worry about is keepin' on the right side of the law so I ain't involved in lookin' for you, too."
McCully's jaw firmed. "Some people might say that sounded like a threat."
Jake Conroy opened the door, the ghost of a smile playing around his lips. "Really? I must have said it wrong. I didn’t want to leave you in any doubt."
♦◊♦
Nat’s suppressed laughter gurgled against his closed lips, trying not to alert anyone to the presence of another occupant in the room. "You think he bought it?"
Jake shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe? One thing's for sure. He’s got no idea who either of us really are."
"Stage two?"
"Stage two. Shame. I've enjoyed sleepin’ in a real bed."
"True, but it's my turn for the bed tonight, Jake."
"Yeah. I ain't happy leavin' Abi, though. I don't think she's got any idea how dangerous he is. We all know McCully killed Seth Matthew's wife and kids, all the family killed the same way. A bullet to the brain before Seth’s body was turned in a week later."
Nat nodded, his face serious. "We can't control what she does, Jake, but at least we can distract him."
"I don't think that's enough." Jake’s eyes glittered like diamonds through the half-light of the room. "Seth was tryin' to go straight. He hadn't done a thing since he married Elizabeth." His mouth formed into a hard line “McCully's the most dangerous man either of us has ever faced, and I don't think she has the any idea what he's capable of."
Nat sighed and sat back against the metal bedstead. "That's her choice, Jake. All we can do is make her aware of everything we know about him so she can make an informed decision."
"We can't let a woman walk into that kind of danger, Nat. It ain't right."
"What do you suggest? We can't force her to do things our way. She won't have it. Besides, she’s not your usual woman."
"Nope, but I wouldn't let any law man walk into it either."
"She won't be there. Everything’s leading him away from here—away from her."
"Only if it all goes right, Nat."
"When have I ever let you down?"
Jake leaned forward to glare at his partner. "Don't get me started. What about that time you promised me, promised mind you, that we'd walk straight into the bank and there'd be a full safe sittin’ in there. Easy as pie, you said. Who did we find there instead?”
♦◊♦
Jake swallowed the last of his coffee before he stood, dropping his snowy napkin on the table. He paused to glare at a cringing Meg before stepping over to Mrs. MacPhee and handing her a wedge of notes.
"I'd like to pay for the next two weeks, if I may. I have business in the area, which means I will probably have to stay away, but things are—well, they’re a bit up in the air. I could be back at any time, and I would like to reserve the room, if that's all right?"
Mrs. MacPhee’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She had never been asked this before, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue to do business with such an irregular guest. The size of the sum he offered, however, was not to be scoffed at, so she swallowed her reservations and accepted the money.
"Will you need the room after that?"
"I doubt it, Mrs. MacPhee. I expect to finish my business here soon, maybe even tomorrow. I may need to finish paperwork and things in the area though, so I’d like to keep the room. I will recommend your accommodation to the Governor himself. He likes his men to stay in good, wholesome accommodation."
"The Governor? Of the state? This state?"
Jake winked. "The very same. The name Mrs. MacPhee will be on his lips before too long."
Her large cornflower blue eyes sparkled at him as she clasped her hands in delight. “Oooh, Mr. Black. Can you imagine him staying here?"
“I’ll be recommendin’ it in person soon enough. Until then, it might be best to keep quiet about my work here.”
He tapped the side of his nose, indicating he required her discretion, knowing all the while a snowball had more chance of surviving in the depths of hell than a delighted, posturing matron in a small town staying silent about an elevated social position for her business.
But then, he needed her to talk about his departure, his connections, and the importance of his business. He could rely on her to boost his status and reputation despite her complete ignorance of him and his vocation. The more McCully heard people talking about his competitor’s impending success and reputation, the more pressure he’d put on himself through injured vanity. She had to remind everyone he could be back at any time with his job concluded. The pressure was starting to show in McCully’s tense posture and pacing back and forth in the hallway.
"Will you be gone for long, Mr. Black?"
Jake turned at the sound of Violet Pickering’s voice. She was still as attractive as the first evening he had arrived with bright, glossy blonde hair and clear china blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face.
He turned on his most magnetic smile. "That depends, Miss Pickering."
"Oh? I was hoping you'd be back by the weekend." She blushed and fluttered coy lashes at him. "There's a dance."
Jake grinned. "I'd like that, ma'am. I'll see what I can do."
She flushed prettily, embarrassed by her obvious approach. "I don't make a habit of asking men to dances, you know. I'm sorry if I've been a bit distant, but you've grown on me. I thought we'd have more time together, so I could be more…subtle. It seems I was wrong."
He admired her porcelain skin and the pert, turned-up nose. "You don't look like a lady who needs to do the askin'. If I don't make it back, I'm sure there'll be plenty standin’ in line to take my place."
She turned her face to his, full of longing. "What does it matter if I don't want them?"
Jake Conroy smiled. "I'll do my best Miss Pickering."
"You promise?"
"I do. I promise to try. I can't promise when I'll be back. That ain't i
n my control."
"As long as you do your best, Mr. Black, That's all I ask. If you're not here, I won't go to the dance. It won't be worth it without you."
"I can promise that, Miss Pickering. I will do my best."
"Violet," she whispered as she stared intently into his eyes. "Call me Violet."
He nodded. "I'll do my best, Violet."
Chapter Seven
Jake lay back and placed his hat over his face and crossed his arms behind his head with a gaping yawn. "Remind me again why we have to sit on this hill, Nat? I ain't complainin’, but now the sun’s goin' down it's gettin' kinda borin’, especially when there's a hot blonde and a cool drink down there."
Nat lowered his brass telescope and raised his eyebrows.
"You know why. Abi won't speak to me. It’s the only way I can find out when she's meeting the Pinkertons who are pretending to be us. We’ve got to see who McCully's following."
"So you stay here. What does it matter if Abi’s not speakin’ to you? Violet's speakin’ to me, and sayin' real nice things, too."
Nat glowered at Jake's satisfied smirk. "Did the maid tell her you were rich?"
Jake lifted the brim and cast a cynical gaze in his direction. "That ain't gonna work, Nat. She was sweet before anyone found the fake bank book, she's just warmed more. Quite a bit, in fact. I think it was me goin’ away that did it. She started to miss me before I even went."
"It’ll soon be time to move nearer to watch the place. We can't watch it from here in the dark."
"What makes you think it'll be so soon?"
"’Cause you got McCully worried, Jake. He's going to rush this, so he'll make mistakes. We need to be ready for him. The minute you're out of there, he'll make a move to make sure he's clean away before you get back. He’ll want to get Quinn and Conroy before you do."
Jake pushed himself upright, leaving his hat on the grass. “How come it’s always Quinn and Conroy? Why ain’t it ever Conroy and Quinn?”
Nat shrugged. “I dunno. It’s how folks always say it. It’s easier to say, I guess.”
“I mean, it ain’t like it’s alphabetical,” said Jake. “It ain’t even as though you were famous first. I was runnin’ a gang long before you came along with all your safe crackin’ and schemes.”
“It flows better, like bread and butter; salt and pepper; smoke and mirrors; fire and brimstone; milk and honey.”
“More like ladies and gentlemen or Cain and Abel,” Jake answered.
“Pearls before swine?”
“A fool and his money?” Jake replied. He paused. "How’d you think we'd have done if we'd never been told McCully was after us?"
Nat shrugged. "Who knows? I don't want to find out, either. We know what he looks like, though, so it'd be hard to surprise us. Especially you."
They sat quietly on the hill until Nat spoke again. "Do you think I'm getting too involved?"
Jake threw a cheeky grin at his nephew. "Don't even try to tell me you treat Abi the same as a man. When did you last meet a hairy-assed sheriff in a summerhouse? This one’s down to me, though. I insisted on stickin’ around."
Nat chuckled as he turned twinkling dark eyes toward his partner. "She isn't even the same type of law man as a sheriff, but no. I wouldn't let a sheriff deal with McCully on his own, either. He’s a murderer. I think most men’d take the help, though. She's stubborn."
"Too stubborn, Nat." Jake shot a warning glance at his nephew. "We gotta get outta here as soon as we can."
His nephew nodded and threw a smile back. "As soon as we can, we head back to Ghost Canyon. Who’d have thought we'd feel safer on the run than in a boarding house with pretty women?"
"We took a real wrong turn somewhere, Nat."
"I guess we did.” Nat stood and threw the contents of the coffee pot over the smoldering flames of their fire, shaking off the pensive turn the conversation had taken.
"Well, I suppose that's a good start."
"What?"
The older man’s lips twitched into a grin. "Destroy the evidence of your last serious crime."
Jake Conroy ducked away with a laugh as Nat launched the pot at his head. "I swear, if you ever have a go at my coffee again—"
"I won’t. Sometimes poison’s as good a weapon as a gun."
♦◊♦
Quinn and Conroy lurked in the background and made sure they could see both front and rear access to the boarding house. It was their third night's vigil, sure any visitation would take place before the wee hours, as it was dressed up as an assignation with the fake outlaw.
They watched two mounted men leave from the rear of the building, followed within minutes by a lone horseman. Nat was about to emerge from his concealment when the rattle of a bridle made him dive for cover again, just making it before another mounted figure, smaller than the last, slipped by into the night.
Jake moved forward and hissed at the shadowy figure skulking against the shrubbery.
"Nat. We gotta move fast. Looks like there's more than one of them."
"Damn it! I thought this might happen. I think that was Abi. It looked like a woman." He strode into the center of the road and crouched, waiting for the wispy cloud to sail away from the silver face of the frail moon which hung in the sky above them. "I thought so," he murmured as his fingers trailed over the surface of the hoof print. "She hasn't got the sense she was born with."
"What?"
Nat’s eyes glinted from under the brim of his hat as he tilted his head up to his uncle. "It's Abi’s horse. I made sure I marked the hooves so I'd know by the tracks if she went out."
Jake snorted. "That woman don't know what's good for her."
"Bear her in mind if the shootin’ starts, Jake."
His face was obscured by darkness but Nat could hear the scorn in Jake’s voice as he barked his retort. "I came here to make sure she was safe because I owe her. Do you really think I'm gonna blow her head off?"
♦◊♦
They trailed the little party for about three miles, in a furtive game of tag, following their quarry, who was following McCully, who, in turn, was following the Pinkerton agents. The hooves and tack were wrapped to muffle against unnecessary noise as they used all the lessons they had learned over the years of felony to conceal their approach.
They knew it was unlikely McCully would try to corner the men on the road. He thought he was facing Quinn and Conroy, so only a fool would try to draw on them in an open road. He would follow them to ground and try to split them up and pick them off one at a time. That gave them the luxury of time, especially if McCully didn’t know he was being trailed.
After some time, they saw the warm glow of a light from a small cabin nestling amongst the trees. The smoke from the chimney billowed into the still night air like a malignant mushroom, telling them that the occupants had arrived home and had settled for the evening.
The light from the uncovered window also told them anyone inside could be easily targeted by a marksman hidden outside in the darkness. It was a fatal mistake, but it was also where McCully would be most likely to take position to pick off his victims.
But the real Quinn and Conroy would be waiting for him.
♦◊♦
It took hours before they saw a shadowy figure creep over by inches to the window shining out into the darkness.
They had pre-arranged their tactics. Nat was to take McCully, while Jake took care of the bigger picture, so they adopted the roles which were so well-arranged they were almost instinctive.
McCully crept from his crouching position and peered into the cabin through the corner of the window. He removed his gun from the holster and slowly raised his hand to the level of the window sill.
He matched the pistol’s sight to the back of the figure seated in front of the range. The man’s hat was pushed to the back of his head as he sat reading the newspaper spread out in front of him.
McCully’s pale blue eyes narrowed as he pulled the trigger, ready to blast the back of th
e man’s head clean away. The long finger curled around the trigger, retracting it as he squeezed, driving the metal back against the metal housing.
He bit his lip in frustration, nothing happened. Not even a click. What the hell was wrong with his gun? He was about to turn it up to examine it in the light from the window when a voice hissed in his ear.
"Drop that. Right now."
McCully's heart thumped as he complied with Nat’s demand, the weapon clattering on the gritty ground.
"Stand up. And keep your hands where I can see them."
The man stood, his hands raised. He was about two inches taller than Nat, and the light from the full moon lit the scene, cut with slashes of shadows from the surrounding trees.
"I guess your usual method of execution ain't gonna work this time, McCully. Now walk over to the well."
"Don't I even get to see who you are?"
"Why?” sneered Nat. “Elizabeth Matthews and her kids never got to see you coming, did they?"
The man stiffened before he replied. "You a friend of the family, then?"
Nat felt his distaste for the man slither down his spine as he narrowed his eyes. "You don't even try to deny it, do you?"
"What's the point? You’d never believe it wasn't me, would you?"
Disbelief dripped from every syllable as Nat spoke again. "You gonna tell me you're innocent? That you never killed anyone?"
McCully’s harsh snort of laughter cut through the night air. "Of course I killed! I ain't never killed a woman or a child, though. I ain't got the stomach for it."
"Now, why would you expect me to swallow that?"
Nat’s heart froze as he felt cold gunmetal against the back of his ear as a female voice caught him by surprise by her proximity. "Because I did it. Now drop that gun right now, or you'll get the same treatment."
Jake Conroy's voice cut across the woman’s as he stepped forward, his arm raised, aiming his weapon straight at her head. His anger at himself for allowing this situation to develop spilled over into his taught, harsh voice. When he had seen the figure lurking in the shadows he had assumed it was Abigail, not Violet Pickering, who now stood with her gun pointed straight at his nephew’s brain.
