Love in Disguise (36 page)

Then the bottom had fallen out of his carefully laid plans. He felt as if he’d just seen his life caught up in a whirlwind.

He swung his head from side to side like a punch-drunk boxer, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. So Jessie had been paying her neighbor’s boy to spy on some of the local townspeople? That was hard enough to fathom, even without her cryptic parting statements.

If he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, maybe Lavinia could. He reached the door in two short strides and gave it a sharp rap. There was no answer.

She must not have heard him. He raised his hand again, ready to knock hard enough to rattle the door loose from its hinges, when a thought stopped him. It was late. Was she still awake?

Cupping his hands against the window, he peered into the parlor, where the low-burning oil lamp cast a dim glow around the room. No sign of movement, no indication that anyone stirred inside the house. Apparently, Lavinia had already retired.

Another parting comment filtered into his muddled thoughts. Had he understood correctly? Had Jessie really told him she was the Pinkerton agent?

And that led to another question: Had Lavinia been duped into coming to Pickford? Did she know her niece’s true purpose in coming to Arizona was to investigate the silver thefts?

If that was the case . . . His progression of thought knocked the wind right out of him.

If that was the case, then it followed that Marvin Long and Donald Tidwell had something to do with the robberies.

Which meant he’d just let the woman he hoped to eventually make his wife go haring off after a couple of criminals in the dark.

He leaped from the porch and set off toward the Constitution. Pinkerton or not, he loved her. They could sort the rest of it out later.

Right now, he knew only one thing—he had to go after her and do everything in his power to keep her safe.

28

E
llie hitched her skirts a little higher as she sped down Second Street. Steven couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d hit him between the eyes with a two-by-four.

But this was no time to dwell on the ruination of their evening. She needed to concentrate all her attention on the job before her.

Once again, she experienced the stab of betrayal she’d felt on hearing the news of Donald Tidwell’s treachery. She’d wanted to believe him innocent, had balked at even considering him as a suspect. Yet when all was said and done, he turned out to be every bit as guilty as she’d feared.

What could have possessed him to get involved with this dastardly gang? He had a solid standing in the community and a wife who depended on him. In turning his back on what was good and honest, he had let down Myra, the citizens of Pickford, and himself.

Ellie rounded the corner at Grant Street at a dead run, trying to push back the dark cloud of rage. She needed to keep her mind clear for the task ahead. She had no intention of bearding the thieves in their den—Gates and Fleming had been adamant about that. Her job was merely to identify the criminals and send word posthaste to the home office, who would notify the U.S. marshal in Tucson.

All she had to do was trail Marvin Long and Donald to the Constitution, make certain what they were up to, then slip back into town, where she would rout out Amos Crawford and have him send a wire to the Pinkertons.

A sense of exhilaration lent wings to her feet. It was almost over. She was coming down to the wire on her first investigation, almost ready to cross the finish line. By the time the night was over, her part would be completed, and she’d be free to return to Chicago, leaving constant quick changes, runaway horses, and amorous telegraphers behind.

A pang of anguish caused her steps to falter. There would be other things she’d leave behind, as well. Steven . . . and a part of her heart.

Ellie paused to get her bearings when she reached Mill Street. From that point on, her journey would take her across open country. Slowing her pace, she picked her way across the rough terrain in the moonlight, finding comfort in the reminder of the pistol in her reticule as it thumped against her side. She chafed at her slowness, but she didn’t dare risk turning her ankle—or worse, being seen—not when she was this close to her goal.

The scent of greasewood and creosote filled the night air. Spotting a clump of cactus, she skirted to the left to avoid its needlelike spines, then forged on, straining to detect any motion ahead of her and stopping every few yards to listen for footsteps. The only sound she heard was the soft scuff of her own padded footfalls.

Fifty feet ahead, something glinted in the silver light. Ellie froze, every sense alert. She stood rooted to the spot, hardly daring to breathe.

She waited an agonizingly long moment before she allowed herself to relax. It must have been her imagination.

She’d just lifted her foot to take a step forward when she saw it again, a brief flicker of movement. Every muscle in her body tensed.

Peering intently, Ellie made out the form of a man crouched next to a scrubby bush. She hesitated, not knowing what to do. She hadn’t planned on playing a nighttime game of cat and mouse.

What should her next move be? She’d intended only to identify the perpetrators and confirm their activities. She daren’t allow herself to be spotted. But it was vital to ascertain who she was looking at and find out what he was up to.

Ellie glanced to her right, where a large mesquite tree offered cover and a better viewing angle. If she could move over there, she might be able to see well enough to recognize her quarry. Scarcely daring to breathe, she drifted in that direction a few inches at a time, testing every step before putting her weight down.

Once in the shelter of the mesquite, she pressed against the trunk, trying to blend into its shadow. As she hoped, the viewing angle was much better from that vantage point. She leaned forward, willing the man to turn her way.

As if in response, he shifted position, and she saw his face clearly. An icy sickness coiled in the pit of her stomach.

She was looking straight at Donald Tidwell.

Despite Billy Taylor’s report, a small part of her had still harbored the hope that the boy had been wrong. Faced with the truth, Ellie found it impossible to keep her anger in check.

Stepping out from the shelter of the mesquite, she covered the distance between them with long strides, not bothering to take care with her footsteps. Just before she reached him, Donald jumped to his feet and whirled to face her.

“Miss Monroe? What are you doing here?”

The shock in his face would have drawn her sympathy under other circumstances. Instead, Ellie gave full vent to her wrath. “How could you be a part of this? I trusted you.
Myra
trusted you!”

She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out on an angry sob. “How could you betray her like this?”

He peered past Ellie as if expecting someone else to appear. Then his face lost its look of a cornered animal and took on a crafty smile. “What are you talking about? Can’t a man take a walk in the moonlight without being accused of something?”

Ellie shook her head. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this. I know you’re in league with the robbers who’ve been stealing the mine owners blind. I . . . my aunt . . . overheard your plans to get together at the full moon. I didn’t want to believe it . . . but here you are.”

Donald’s attempt at bluster crumbled. “You don’t understand.” He started walking toward her.

“Don’t take another step.” Ellie reached inside her reticule and drew out her pistol. Holding it in both hands, she pointed it at Donald, hoping he didn’t notice the way it trembled in her grip. “You can say anything you need to from right there.”

He stood like a statue and stared at the gun in her hands. “I won’t move an inch. Would you mind lowering that thing so it doesn’t go off by accident?”

Ellie shook her head slowly. “I trusted you once and found out I was wrong. I won’t make that mistake twice. Now, tell me what it is I don’t understand.”

A tear trickled down Donald’s cheek, glistening in the moonlight. “It was all for Myra. I can’t stand to see her so sick, but there’s nothing any of the docs out here can do for her. She needs to go someplace where she can get better treatment, but I don’t have the money to take her.”

Moved in spite of herself, Ellie allowed the pistol to droop slightly.

“They promised me a share of the silver if I helped them. I knew it was wrong, but it was the only way I knew to get Myra the help she needs.”

Ellie renewed her grip on the gun and brought the barrel back up level. “That’s a touching story, but it hardly explains what you’re doing here tonight.”

Donald stretched out his hands. “I came here to tell them I wanted out. I’m not going to claim my share.”

His hands trembled even more than Ellie’s. “There’s got to be a better way. I used to be a praying man. What I need to do is get back on my knees and see if God will forgive me, or at least make a way to help Myra—one that’s honorable.”

Ellie wavered a moment, then slipped the pistol back in her reticule. It hadn’t been an act, she was sure of it. Every word Donald spoke rang true. She felt a tug of compassion as she looked at the broken man before her. “I believe you.”

Donald had made mistakes, certainly, but in the end he wanted to clear his name and make amends. Surely that ought to count for something. And in this contrite mood, she felt sure he’d be willing to give her all the information she and the Pinkertons needed.

She pulled the ties of her reticule shut and took a step toward Donald. “Why don’t you come back to town with me? Maybe I can help you sort this out.”

He wiped his sleeve across his face. “If you can help me get rid of this load of guilt I’ve been carrying, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

The scrape of boots on gravel cut across his last words, followed by a metallic click Ellie recognized as the sound of a gun hammer slipping into place.

Behind her, a grating voice spoke from the shadows. “I don’t think so.”

Steven pounded down Second Street following the direction Jessie had taken. There was no point trying to catch up with her. He’d lost too much time with his dithering for that.

The Taylor kid said he’d followed Long out to the Constitution. Jessie would most likely get there by going through town to Fifth, as if heading to the Redemption. But he knew a shortcut.

Taking Second all the way to the south end of town, he cut across country toward the area where the mine headquarters was located. He topped a low rise and paused to catch his breath and scan the terrain before him.

A hundred yards ahead, he caught a hint of movement. Straining his eyes, he could make out Jessie’s slender figure in the moonlight, along with two stockier forms. She must have caught up with Long and Tidwell. The thought chilled him.

He cupped his hands around his mouth but stopped himself before he shouted her name. Had she caught up with the two men, or had they ambushed her? One of the men moved, and the glint of moonlight on the barrel of a gun gave him his answer.

“No, Lord! Don’t let anything happen to her.”

He patted the pockets of his frock coat and growled in frustration. Of course he didn’t have a pistol with him. He’d set out for Pickford Hall hoping to begin a courtship, not preparing for mayhem.

Steven looked around wildly. There was no time to get help. No time to retrieve a gun from his office. Throwing all thought of his own safety aside, he raced down the hill. The only weapons he had at his disposal were himself and the most fervent prayers he’d ever uttered.

“Please, God, let that be enough.”

The rasping voice spoke again. “What you’re going to do, Miss Monroe, is drop that bag and walk over there by Tidwell.”

Ellie let her reticule slip through numb fingers and forced her legs to carry her next to Donald. Even before she turned around, she knew who that grating voice belonged to.

Keeping a watchful eye—and a pistol that dwarfed her own—trained on them both, Marvin Long squatted down long enough to scoop up her reticule and loop the strings around his gun belt.

Donald stepped forward. “Glad you showed up. I was on my way to meet up with you when she held me up.”