An Untimely Frost (24 page)

“Actually, it's only been about half an hour. I've been playing cat and mouse with the missus ever since she used that fancy little derringer on me.”

“She shot you?” Lilly asked, wide eyed.

“She tried.” Offering her another of those grim smiles, he poked his forefinger into a hole in the sleeve of his tweed jacket. “Ruined a perfectly good coat,” he grumbled as he shoved his handkerchief in his breast pocket.

He met her gaze with a puzzled expression. “Do you have any idea how many hiding places there are in a house this size? It took me a bit to find her.” Then as if he felt he'd done enough explaining, he asked, “Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk,” Lilly snapped. She took a step and stumbled.

“Of course you can,” he mocked, and without another word, he swung her into his arms and carried her out of the attic room and down the stairs. Despite her ungrateful attitude, which she knew was rooted in the fact that William had sent McShane to keep an eye on her, she was thankful he'd found her. She wasn't sure she'd have had the guts to leap out that window, or even if she'd have been able to do so. His arms, the first to hold her since Timothy left her, cradled her securely; their strength inspired confidence and hope.

She stared up at his hard jaw and the nose with the bump. He must have felt her stare, since he turned his head to look at her. He scowled. Grudgingly, she admitted that she had been a bit hard on him, but this had been a day like no other.

For the first time since he'd come through the door she was aware of her state of undress. “My skirt and petticoats!” she cried. “They're in the kitchen.”

“It's a bit too late for modesty,” he said. “Besides, you're not the first colleen I've seen in bloomers.”

The calm statement and his calling her by Timothy's harlot's name hardened Lilly's yielding heart. Of course she was not the first! With his looks and charming manner, Andrew Cadence McShane could have any woman he wanted. She'd be a fool not to remember that.

She saw that he'd tethered his mount to the back of the wagon. As he settled her into the seat, Lilly found it hard to ignore the malevolent gaze of Prudence Purcell, who was tied, gagged, and lying in the back. Turning away from the horrible woman, she watched as her rescuer drew a blanket from a wooden box beneath the seat and flung it over her shoulders. Without a word, he headed back inside and returned a few moments later with her clothing, which he tossed into the back. Then he untied the buggy and climbed in beside her. She had questions for Cadence McShane, but they could wait until she was not in so much pain and her weary mind could process his answers.

As he turned the wagon toward the lane, Lilly looked back at the house. She remembered her feelings the first time she'd seen it and how she'd sensed that the dwelling secluded in the woods held darkness and secrets. Now it was just an abandoned house. She looked up at the wrought-iron entry.

 

 

All who stepped through that entrance should have found peace and hope and love. Instead, they had crossed the threshold leading to their own private hell.

E
PILOGUE

“T
hat went better than I expected,” Lilly confessed to Cadence McShane as they stepped out of Eloise Mercer's shabby little house.

The evening before, he'd taken Lilly to the Holbrook Hotel, carried her to her room, and instructed one of the Holbrook boys to bring hot water for her bath, the other to fetch the doctor. Then he told her he'd be there to buy her breakfast the next morning at eight, and bade her good night.

“Where are you going?” she'd asked.

“It crossed my mind that perhaps I should take our captive to the jail and let the sheriff know what happened.” Once again, his tone held a derisive note. “I realize she tried to kill us both, but it seems wrong for a couple of Pinkerton agents to leave the poor barmy woman in the back of a buggy overnight.”

“Oh,” Lilly said. “I suppose you're right, though she wants a madhouse, not a jail cell.”

“Which she'll probably get before this is over.”

“Is the telegraph office open?” she asked. “I really need to report back to William.”

“I'll see. If it is, I'll be sure'n let him know how things stand.” Seeing the look on her face, he said, “Have no fear, colleen. I've no need to hang on to a woman's coattails for recognition. I'll make certain he knows this all came about because of you.”

“Thank you,” she'd said grudgingly. “And stop calling me colleen.”

Cadence McShane had only smiled that infuriating half smile and arched one heavy eyebrow in question.

* * *

McShane had gone to the sheriff's office and watched as the sheriff put Prudence in a cell and questioned her, learning that she'd left Harold alone in their Springfield house while she'd come to dispose of the bodies of her daughter and grandson. Finding Lilly there had been a surprise, but she'd decided to deal with her as well, securing her future. McShane had asked if she knew anything about a rig that had almost run Lilly down in front of Chatterton's Opera House, and Prudence confessed that she had been the one driving the carriage.

Sheriff Mayhew had telegraphed the law officials in Springfield and told them to make certain that someone checked on Harold Purcell. If he was still alive, he would be sent to an institution somewhere until he died, as hopefully would Prudence.

After breakfast this morning, the sheriff and a group of men had ridden out to Heaven's Gate to see the evidence of the Purcells' crimes for themselves. Lilly and her associate had declined the invitation to accompany them. Though they'd said they would like to talk to Lilly before she left town, the case was closed for all intents and purposes.

While the sheriff and his men were at Heaven's Gate, Cadence and Lilly had gone to visit Virginia Holbrook, where Lilly made her apologies for disrupting her life and told her what had happened the day before at Heaven's Gate.

“I was furious with you when you first came around asking questions,” Virginia said, “but after everything was out in the open, I felt really free for the first time since I was seventeen. David and the boys have been wonderful, and Helen has taken the news better than I expected. She isn't thrilled about Harold Purcell being her father, but she knows it was none of my doing.”

“That's very good news,” Lilly told her. “Mr. McShane and I plan to speak to Eloise and Mr. Townsend this morning.”

Lilly was surprised when, upon leaving, Virginia Holbrook hugged her and once more expressed her gratitude.

To Lilly's further surprise, Eloise Mercer burst into tears when told the Purcell tale of horror. “How could they have done those terrible things to their own daughter?” she'd cried.

“I don't know,” Lilly confessed.

“Sarah was kindhearted, but very quiet. Now I know why. She and her mother couldn't get close to anyone for fear of their secret getting out somehow.” She dried her eyes on the hem of her scruffy dressing gown and thanked Lilly. “I know it makes no sense, and I'm sorry for what happened to Sarah, but just knowing that this is all out in the open and that the Purcells have suffered, too, makes me feel a whole lot better. Their misery these last twenty years is at least some sort of vindication for what he did to us.”

Now, back out in the fresh spring air, McShane asked, “Where to next?”

“Phillip Townsend's office. His daughter, Rachel, was another victim.”

As they relayed their tale for the third time that morning, Phillip Townsend just listened and nodded a time or two.

“When Helen Holbrook gave me the names of the other two victims, I thought I had everything figured out,” Lilly told him. “I knew Rachel had left town late in her pregnancy and that she'd never come back. No one mentioned her—not even you, so it made sense to me that she was the one killed in that bed and her body done away with. When I found the grave empty, I felt I was missing something, and finally found the room in the attic.”

She told him of Sarah's circumstance, how Prudence had known of Harold's sins and covered up for him, and of the strokes that had mercifully ended his activities.

“Knowing I would tell the truth of what happened, she locked me in the room and left me for dead. I was trying to escape when Mr. McShane found me. I'm lucky to have been spared the same fate as Sarah.”

Phillip Townsend made no comments as Lilly spoke, but his face wore an enigmatic smile throughout the telling of the tale.

“It's a blessing for this town that you survived,” Townsend said when she finished. He regarded Lilly for a moment, his eyes seeming to hold a secret he wished to impart, his mouth curved in a slight smile.

“It is no secret that James, Asa, and I have been upset with you for coming back and stirring up the whole sad affair. We truly meant you no harm. We just wanted you to go away so that those we loved wouldn't be hurt anymore. But now I thank you for listening to your instincts and seeing this case through. It's high time to put this whole sordid mess behind us.”

Lilly smiled and nodded. “I agree.”

“Since there are no Purcell heirs, it will take a while for the state to decide how to handle their assets, but it would seem that the house will be for sale after all, which will make my daughter very happy.”

“Your daughter?” Lilly repeated, not understanding.

The smile he'd been holding back blossomed. “Yes, my daughter. Rachel. She and her husband are the couple who approached William Pinkerton about finding Harold Purcell.”

“You knew who I was and why I was here all the time?”

“Actually, I didn't find out until a few days ago, when I received a letter from Rachel telling me of her plans. Then I put it all together. You didn't know that my Rachel was the woman looking for Purcell?”

“No,” Lilly said in dazed disbelief. “I have a journal with all the case information in it, but I never made the connection that Rachel Stephens was Rachel Townsend.”

“Understandable, since Rachel is a common name,” Townsend said. “When she left here, she went to live with a relative in Arkansas, where she had my granddaughter, Annabelle. She met Noah there, and they've been happily married for sixteen years.”

This time Lilly answered the attorney's smile with one of her own. There were at least two happy endings from this unholy mess, and at least two more good men in the world than she'd known about—David Holbrook and Noah Stephens. “If you don't mind my asking, why would Rachel ever want to move back here, and especially to Heaven's Gate?”

Phillip Townsend's face wore a look of pride. “Rachel explained in the letter that time has dimmed the horror of what happened. It's evident that my daughter has grown into a very strong woman, perhaps because she has gone through so much herself. She believes that by turning that place into one of comfort and hope, she can help heal not only herself but the community and all the young women who find themselves in a delicate position, whether they're partly responsible or not. She believes people who make mistakes need encouragement, not censure.”

Lilly thought about that for a moment. It seemed right somehow. After all, it was not the house that was evil, just the people who'd lived in it. “She sounds like a wonderful woman,” Lilly said at last.

“She is.”

After saying their farewells, she and her companion stepped out into the warm spring day. Lilly turned her face skyward and smiled, clutching her reticule in her clasped hands; Cadence McShane stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her. Neither spoke.

She was filled with a feeling of accomplishment for having completed her assignment so successfully. She'd done what she'd set out to do and more.

She'd remembered everything about her mother's death. Someday she would return to Springfield and visit Kate's grave, and she would query Mr. Chester Carpenter about men who might have frequented the theater there and who might possibly be her mother's killer. There would be other opportunities, other lines of investigation as well. She was equally certain that someday she would pick up Timothy's trail and find him. For now, it was enough that she had helped bring peace to three ill-treated women and justice to a dead girl and her baby.

Finally, she turned to the man standing next to her. “Thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday, Mr. McShane,” she said at last, uncertain if she'd have had the courage to jump onto the steep dormer roof or not, and vowing he would never know how hard the apology was to speak.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Long,” he said formally, “but I've no doubt you'd have climbed out that window somehow if I hadn't come along. Townsend's daughter isn't the only strong woman, you know.”

Lilly felt a flush of pleasure at the praise. “Thank you for that.” She released a deep breath. “There were times I wanted to quit, when I wondered if I could do it,” she confessed and wondered why she'd done so.

“There are times we all feel that way.”

There were shadows in his eyes she didn't dare ask about. “Even you?”

His smile was derisive. “Especially me.”

Deciding things were getting far too personal, she asked, “Did you notify William?”

“I did.”

“I imagine he was disappointed in me to say the least.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn't return to Chicago when I completed the task he assigned to me.”

“On the contrary. You brought justice to a killer. In fact, William said I should tell you that Allan said he was proud of you and that you'd done a fine job. An extremely fine job.”

Lilly couldn't help smiling. Despite her concerns about her abilities, she'd finished her first assignment. She was a Pinkerton agent in the truest sense of the word.

“Thank you, Mr. McShane,” she said again.

“My fellow workers all call me Cadence or Cade,” he told her.

Cadence McShane. Cade. It was a nice name, and fit him somehow. Why not humor him? she thought. He was a fellow operative, and she'd probably never set eyes on him again. She managed a small smile. “Certainly, Cade. I'm Lilly.”

“I knew that, colleen.”

Before she could take him to task for calling her by that wretched name, he tipped his hat, turned, and strolled down the busy street, disappearing in the crowd.