Silken Dreams (14 page)

Ethan’s heart nearly burst from his chest and his breathing became strident in the sudden silence of the night. Every able-bodied male within a twenty-mile radius would be on the lookout for anyone they considered suspicious. And nothing would arouse more suspicion than a lone man on foot heading north along the creek line, where his only possible destination could be the next whistle stop between Madison and Harrisburg.

Grimacing to himself, Ethan slapped the ground with an outstretched hand. Damn, damn, damn! He’d be lucky if he could even manage to return to the boardinghouse.

Lettie heard the men on horseback long before they ever appeared at the house. Her hands curled into tight fists and her breathing became labored. They’d caught him!

Dodging to the front porch, she flung open the door, ready to lash out at Jacob and his men for their injustices, but she hesitated when she found that the men rode toward the boardinghouse without the cumbersome addition of a prisoner.

When her brother guided his mount toward the front stoop, she took a hesitant step forward, trying to keep her features calm. She didn’t know how the posse had been informed of Ethan’s escape, but she wasn’t about to give anything away to them if they hadn’t found him yet.

“What’s happened?” she finally shouted, having to raise her voice to be heard above the din of the horses. As soon as the words had escaped from her mouth, the clamor of the warning bell could be heard in town.

Jacob edged his horse toward the portico. “Another robbery. This time on a freight train five miles out of town.”

A cold fist seemed to tighten around Lettie’s stomach. “And another man was hurt?” she asked, almost fearfully.

“Yeah. Jeb Clark. He was working as a guard on one of the gold shipments.” A fierce expression crossed his face. “He died, Lettie.”

Lettie gasped, feeling the color drain from her face. The Clarks lived just a few blocks away from the boardinghouse. Many years earlier, before he’d taken a job with the railroad security forces, Jeb Clark had been a marshal in Madison. It was Jeb who had introduced Jacob to the life of a lawman.

“This time we’re going to hang the bastard!” someone shouted from the back of the group.

Jacob turned to pin Lettie with a powerful stare that was rife with his own turbulent emotions, but when he spoke, his words were directed toward her safety. “Get into the house and bolt the doors and windows. I don’t want you or any of the other boarders outside until this is—”

“But the Grubers and Beasleys are in town, and Mr. Goldsmith and Ned haven’t come home.”

“Get in the house, Lettie! The other boarders can take care of themselves.” When she hesitated, he shouted, “Now!”

Whirling on her toes, Lettie ran into the house and slammed the door behind her, breathing heavily, her mind whirling.
Ethan!
She had to find him and bring him back to the boardinghouse. It was the only way to ensure his safety. If he stayed out in the dark in this manhunt, he’d be shot down like a dog in the street.

Pushing herself away from the door, Lettie ran up the stairs, quickly gathering a pillowslip and a few articles of clothing from the Beasleys’ rooms and ignoring the little voice within her that scolded her for entering without permission.

Darting back down the steps, she grasped a dark cloak from the closet under the stairs and raced through the kitchen.

The clamor of the bell in town had aroused many of the farmers from the outlying areas, and Lettie could hear the men’s curses in the darkness and the muffled stamp of their horses. Praying she could slip by them unnoticed, Lettie darted down the porch steps and ran into the night.

She didn’t know how she would find Ethan—she wasn’t sure she
could
find him. With all the noise, he wasn’t likely to approach anyone, especially someone who was stumbling through the bushes along the creek.

Despite all of the rational reasons why she should remain at the house, Lettie ran through the grass and dodged toward the tree line that marked the path of the creek. Judging by the amount of time that had passed, Ethan couldn’t have gone much more than a few hundred yards north—unless he’d veered away from the creek. If he’d headed away from the directions she’d outlined, Lettie would never find him.

Lettie firmly thrust her fears aside. She wouldn’t think of that right now. She had to pray that Ethan was safe and that she could find him before the men from town began riding in his direction. Judging from the noise being made, another posse was being formed and the men would begin sweeping the area around the rail lines, working their way toward the men who would join them from Harrisburg.

There wasn’t much time. There wasn’t much time.

Lettie’s heart pounded so hard in her throat she could barely hear, but slowly, steadily, she moved through the brush, following the directions she had given Ethan. Once or twice she paused, cocking her head to listen to the night. Although the shouts of the men from town grew closer, she heard nothing that could account for Ethan’s whereabouts. There was nothing but the gurgle of the creek.

A hand whipped around her mouth, stifling her instinctive scream, even as another arm snapped around her waist and drew her back into a copse of trees.

Lettie relaxed against the man who held her, recognizing that it was Ethan who had approached so noiselessly. When he released her, she uttered a soft cry, turning and throwing her arms around his neck.

“You’re safe!” she whispered into his neck. “I was so sure they’d found you, that somehow the Star knew you were escaping. Then I heard about the robbery just out of town.”

“Shh.” His fingers pressed against her mouth and he flashed her a quick smile of relief. He paused long enough to peer at her in welcome, then his gaze lifted to dart from shadow to shadow, searching for shapes that did not belong.

“We’ve got to get you back to the house,” Lettie whispered.

He nodded. “We’ll have to wait until most of the furor has passed.”

“A man was murdered tonight. His family lives here in Madison.”

He turned his head to gaze at her with solemn eyes.

“I don’t think the furor will die down this time,” she stated slowly.

Ethan’s hands tightened into rigid balls and he swung his arm, striking the tree behind him with the edge of his fist. “Dammit! Who is trying to do this to me?” he whispered fiercely.

Long moments passed before Lettie reluctantly added, “It appears you have more enemies on your list than just the Star Council of Justice.”

He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand it. This… person has copied my methods completely. Every move, every detail, is exactly the way I would have done it.” His expression grew fierce. “But I would never have killed anyone. Never!”

“I know.” She lay a calming hand on his sleeve and was not surprised when the muscles beneath her palm were tense with frustration and anger. “Someone is obviously trying to hurt you.”

“But who?”

She shook her head in mute commiseration.

The thunder of horses grew near and Ethan pulled her into the shadows against the tree as a trio of horses bolted across the opposite side of the creek and galloped toward Harrisburg.

As soon as the horsemen had gone, Lettie drew back, quickly reaching for the bundle that had dropped to the ground. “We’ve got to get you back to the boardinghouse.”

Ethan shook his head. “There’s no way possible. At least not until things die down.”

She shoved the bundle she’d formed of a pillowcase into his arms. “Change into these. They’ll disguise you long enough for us to get back. Now hurry!”

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he worked the knot loose until he could peer inside. “Lettie, these are—”

“Hurry, Ethan!”

Turning around, she presented her back to him, keeping a careful eye out for anyone who might come.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of bushes as Ethan began to change his clothing. When the noises stopped, she slowly turned to survey his new appearance. Inch by inch, her eyes regarded the heavy gabardine cape that covered him from ankle to chin, disguising the masculine square of his hips and the breadth of his chest and shoulders.

“They’re going to know I’m a stranger in Madison.”

“Nonsense. If you play your cards right, they’ll think you’re Alma Beasley. Everyone always remarks on her height.”

Reaching down, Lettie grasped the bonnet in the bottom of the pillowslip and jammed it over the top of his head before reaching to pull the mourning veil over his face. “As long as you let me do the talking and walk like a female, we can at least make it as far as the boardinghouse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

With a curt nod of approval, Lettie turned and led the way back to the house.

Jacob reined his horse to a stop beside the blasted hole in the back of the railroad car and grimaced against the rank smells of fire and death. Quickly, his eyes scanned the area, taking in the shards of wood that littered the area, as well as the twisted remains of the safe, which now lay on the side of the track.

This time the scene of the robbery held a much more personal impact, because a friend had died here. It was Jeb Clark who had introduced Jacob to his current position. In fact, Jeb had been his first employer. As a boy of ten, Jacob had been hired to post wanted signs about the town. Jeb could have done the job himself, but he’d understood the fact that Jacob had needed the job after the loss of his father—as much for his own sense of dignity as to provide more money for those at home.

Damn, Jeb, why did it have to be you?

The stench of powder and singed grass became almost overpowering, and Jacob felt a sting in his eyes that he quickly blinked away. His gaze swung to the gaping hole in the boxcar. Though the body of his friend had been taken away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the dark stains on the floor of the railway compartment. Some of the patches were still dark. Fresh.

“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”

Jacob started when Gerald Stone, deputy of Harrisburg, stopped his horse in front of him and watched Jacob with enigmatic eyes.

“Yeah.” The word was little more than a whisper.

“He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”

Jacob nodded. “Jeb… where—”

“They’ve taken his body into town to the funeral parlor. We figured it’d be better to take him to Harrisburg and let Mortie pretty him up a bit before his wife gets a look at him.”

Jacob swallowed, remembering the plump, boisterous woman who had been Jeb’s companion for as long as Jacob could remember. Abby Clark had been like an aunt through the years. And damn, if she didn’t think the world revolved around her husband’s shadow. What was she going to do?

“How…” Unable to continue without embarrassing himself in front of the other man, Jacob gestured in the direction of the railroad car.

Stone seemed to understand and said slowly, “Shot through the hip. Might’a made it if the explosion hadn’t finished the rest of the work.”

Once again, Jacob swallowed against the bile that rose within him, trying to keep his features outwardly unaffected and calm. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remember that he was in charge of his own group of men. “What was taken?”

“Five hundred dollars in gold and another thousand in bond certificates.”

Jacob peered at his companion in confusion. “Nothing else?”

Gerald Stone shook his head.

“But I thought the shipment contained another thousand in paper.”

“It did.” Gerald Stone shrugged. “ ’Bout eight hundred survived the blast; the rest was blown to bits. My men have been gathering scraps of it all night.”

Jacob’s brow creased. “He took the bonds, too?”

“Must have. We haven’t found any evidence of them in the rubble. They were in the same compartment as the gold. The bills were in a separate safe.”

Jacob glanced around Stone, surveying the scene with careful intent. A niggling sense of unease caused him to shift slightly in the saddle. In the past, the Gentleman had never taken stock and bond certificates. He always took the paper.

Gerald glanced around him, then edged his horse a little closer so that his mount stood nose to tail with Jacob’s horse. When he spoke again, his voice had grown low and harsh. “We’re going to get the bastard this time,” he rasped, then dug into his pocket and withdrew something that appeared to be a coin. He held it tightly in his hand a moment, studying Jacob with a careful regard. Then, as if satisfied with what he saw, he reached for Jacob’s hand and pressed the coin into his palm. “The old abandoned mill. Tonight—or, rather, this morning. Three o’clock.”

With that said, he grasped the reins of his horse and, issuing orders to his men, turned into the night.

Jacob watched him disappear around the rear of the train, a cold tension beginning to grip his body until he could barely move. Then, slowly, cautiously, he opened his fingers to stare at the object in his hand. It was not a coin, as he had first expected, but a brass token engraved with an eight-sided star.

His fingers began to shake so hard that he had to tighten his hand into a fist to keep the token from falling to the ground. He darted a quick glance around the area, but Gerald Stone had disappeared.

Jacob stiffened in his saddle, taking deep breaths to still the sudden pounding of his heart. For months he’d worked on the periphery of the Star Council, but his only contacts had been Rusty Janson, Jeb Clark, and the lightning-blasted oak tree. Now, however, he suspected he’d just been introduced to one of the governors of the Star.

But if that were true…

Then it meant the Star was about to open its ranks to Jacob Grey and he could become privy to all its secrets.

Jacob took a deep breath of the smoke-tainted air and swallowed against the tightness that once again gripped his throat. His fist grew more fierce until the brass token bit into his palm, and Jacob was sure that if he opened his fingers he would find an impression embedded in his hand. The impression of an eight-sided star.

Gerald Stone rode his mount into the screen of trees toward the pair of men who waited for him there.

“You gave him the message?” Judge Harry Krupp asked, staring through the network of branches at the men who scurried about the rubble like overprotective ants.

Gerald glanced at the tall, white-haired man who had served with him on the Star Council since the group’s conception. “Yep.”

“Think he’ll come?”

“Yep.”

“And will he join the governors of the Star?”

Gerald made a sound in his throat that was half laugh, half snort. “After Clark got killed in the blast? You know Grey. He would’ve walked barefoot through fire for that man when he was alive. He’ll walk barefoot through hell now the man’s dead.”