A Touch of Camelot (27 page)

"Let them stare! I hate you!"

Cole's patience snapped. "That's it."

As he snatched one of Arthur's arms, the boy sprang at him, fists flying. Cole's quick reflexes permitted him to sidestep but not in time to fully avoid being clipped in the jaw by a solid punch. Cole's teeth clapped together, barely missing his tongue. Otherwise, he was uninjured by a blinding right cross that would someday pack a wallop.

The boy's cap flew off as he swung again. Cole blocked the second punch and snagged one of Arthur’s elbows. He yanked the boy off balance and dragged him in close enough to pin both arms. Furious, Arthur kicked Cole in the shin.

"Ouch!" Cole had to struggle to contain the kid without hurting him.

Arthur soon gave up and craned his neck to glare at Cole. "You may be bigger than me, but I'm not scared of you."

"I noticed. Now, will you calm down and act like a man, or will I have to drag you back to the room?"

"If I were a man, you'd be laid out on that sidewalk."

Sensing that all of the fight had left him, at least for the moment, Cole released him. "You're probably right about that."

A moment of silence crept by. Many of the passersby who had stopped to gawk lost interest and moved on.

"I think we need to talk about this." Cole scooped up the boy's cap and steered him toward the corner of a nearby millinery shop. He waited, giving them both a chance to calm down, before handing Arthur his cap. "You pack a heck of a punch for a kid."

Arthur set the cap on his head. "You deserved it. You disgraced my sister."

"It wasn't like that, Arthur."

"Am I going to be an uncle?"

Cole was caught short by the bluntness of the question. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know?"

"It's not something you can know right away."

Arthur's fists clenched and Cole wondered if the kid might attack him again. "Didn't you have a watch?"

Cole was flummoxed. "A watch? What are you talking about?"

"You told me it had to do with timing, didn’t you?"

Cole remembered their birds and bees conversation. Timing. The boy had taken him literally. "That's not the kind of timing I was talking about."

"Ah, geeez!" Arthur dropped his head and shoved his fists deep into his pockets. "What's she gonna do?"

"Listen, Arthur, if it comes to that, I'll stand by her. You know I wouldn't go back on my word, don't you?"

"But do you love her?"

Again, his question caught Cole by surprise, but it forced him to think. He tried to picture Gwin's face, and the first image that sprang to mind was that of her sitting at that candlelit dinner table in Virginia City. She'd looked beautiful that night.

Maybe he
was
falling in love with her. And, if so, why should he be surprised? She was lovely, she was smart, and, although she did her darnedest to hide it, she had a good heart. He imagined for a moment that his father was alive and what it might be like to take Gwin home to meet him.
Well, Pa, it's true, she's a cardsharp, a horse thief, and a thimble-rigger, but, other than that, I really think you'll like her.
Cole smiled at the thought.

 "What's so funny?" Arthur demanded.

Funny? It was funny, all right. Downright crazy, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of having Gwin around to talk to, to laugh with, and, yes, even to argue with. He liked still better the idea of not having to return to an empty apartment when he came home at the end of a long assignment.

"Hey! I asked you a question!"

Cole focused on Arthur's upturned face. Maybe he
was
in love with Gwin, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say it, not yet. The revelation was still too new and fragile to utter aloud. He needed to ponder it and to keep it to himself a little while longer.

"Never mind," he said, taking Arthur by the arm. "We can have this out later. Right now, we've got work to do."

Chapter Twenty-One

The bespectacled clerk in the business office of the
San Francisco Chronicle
was a callow youth in rolled-up shirtsleeves and vest. Arthur stood with Cole as the young man arose from behind a rolltop desk and strode forward to shake hands.

"Pinkerton Detective Agency, you say? Hey, I heard of you fellows. I've even got a couple of Mr. Pinkerton's books. Say, you don’t happen to know him personally, do you?"

Cole smiled politely. "Actually, yes. I work out of the Chicago office."

"So, what brings you all the way to San Francisco? Working on a big case?"

"Not exactly, Mr....?"

"Oh, sorry. The sandy-haired clerk pushed absently at his spectacles and grinned. "Warren Besecker is my name. What can I do for you, Mr. Shepherd?"

"Are you a reporter, Mr. Besecker?"

"Call me Warren, please. No, not yet, but I sure will be one of these days."

"I'm glad to hear it Maybe you can help me with something."

Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, no longer paying attention to their small talk. Deep in one pocket, he felt a handful of walnut-sized rocks, leftovers from the day before when he had spent the afternoon target-shooting with his slingshot. He had killed three rats, each in one shot, right between the eyes, but even that hadn't helped to dispel the anger inside of him.

Now, he wasn't feeling so mad anymore, but he still felt pretty miserable. He had said some mean things to Gwinnie, and now Cole's words haunted him.
"No one's perfect, no matter how much you want them to be."
It was true. Silas hadn't been perfect. Why did he expect so much more of Gwinnie? Because she was all that he had left? Maybe, deep down, he was afraid she would leave him, too.

Cole interrupted Arthur's gloomy musings. "Arthur, do you have any idea of the date of the issue we're looking for?"

Arthur wasn’t quite ready to forgive Cole. Not just yet. He kept his reply frosty. "I didn't read the date."

Arthur was glad to see the look of mild irritation that flitted across Cole's face. "Do you think it was early June?"

"Perhaps."

Cole turned back to the clerk. "Warren, could we have a look at the first two weeks in June?"

"Certainly. Won't take but a minute. Wait right here."

Warren disappeared behind a door in the back, leaving Arthur and Cole to stand in awkward silence. Cole folded his arms and stared at the print of a clipper ship that hung on one wall. Arthur could tell by the look on his face that he was already a million miles away. That suited Arthur just fine. He didn't have much to say to Cole right now.

Warren soon appeared with a collection of newspapers tucked under one arm. "Here you go."

Cole walked over to the desk as Warren put down the newspapers. "Come here a minute, Arthur."

Arthur moved reluctantly to Cole's side as Cole began to thumb through each edition. "Which one was it?" Cole asked.

Arthur shook his head at each one as it passed. "No, no, no, no, no ... wait." He tapped one. A column heading had caught his eye:
Taylor Likely Draft for Mayoral Race.
"That's it."

He remembered that headline. Heck, he remembered every article on the front page. This one had begun:
As keynote speaker, Phineas Taylor once again enthralled members of the Pacific Club last evening with his new ideas on ...

Cole slipped the paper from the stack and began to scan it with interest.

Warren spoke up. "Find what you're looking for?"

"Maybe I have ..."

Arthur frowned. What was Cole talking about? There hadn't been anything in that paper about Sidney Pierce. He had read it over twice and found nothing. Bored, Arthur turned to Mr. Besecker. "Mark Twain ever work here?"

The young man looked thoughtful. "Mark Twain? No, I don't think so. He reported for the
Morning Call
, I think."

Cole spoke up. "Warren, how much do you know about this Phineas Taylor?"

"He's running for mayor. What do you want to know?"

"I've heard he's wealthy. Is that right?"

Warren snorted. "Wealthy? That's an understatement. He lives up on the hill with the railroad and silver tycoons."

"Got a pretty fair chance at winning?"

Warren nudged his spectacles up. "I think he's got a good shot at it. There's a lot of money behind him, and he's gaining some popularity with the working folks."

Cole folded the paper and handed it back to Warren. "Where did you say he lives?"

"Washington Street. Up near the top of the hill."

Arthur observed Cole as he listened closely to the newspaperman's street directions. Cole was on to something, and Arthur frowned. He was beginning to think maybe he had missed something important in that newspaper after all.

Warren strolled with Cole to the door. "Take Kearney up to Washington and catch a cable car up to ..."

Arthur listened to Warren’s directions even as he contemplated the issue of the
Chronicle
.
Taylor Likely Draft for Mayoral Race.
He still didn't see what this Taylor fellow had to do with anything. Nevertheless, he threw a glance at Cole and Warren to make sure they were occupied before he snatched the paper. He turned his back, folding the paper and sliding it neatly behind the front bib of his overalls. When he turned again to face them, he wore a studiously innocent expression.

Cole motioned. "Come on, Arthur. Let's go."

Arthur joined Cole as Warren shook Cole's hand for the second time. "Say, you wouldn't be working on a case that has something to do with Mr. Taylor, would you? Now, that could be big news."

Cole laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry, Warren."

"Well, if you stumble onto anything interesting, you just remember good old Warren at the
Chronicle
, all right?"

Cole winked as he rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, urging him toward the door. "You’ve got a deal."

*

At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, Gwin jumped up from her bed and flew to the door, remembering only at the last second to throw back the bolt on the lock Cole had insisted the landlord fix only the day before. As soon as she caught sight of them approaching she knew just by the look on Cole's face that he'd found something.

She accosted him before he could reach the doorway. "What did you find?"

Cole motioned to her to be quiet as he ushered Arthur and her ahead of him into the room. "Shut the door."

Gwin did as he instructed, throwing the bolt for good measure. "All right, Shepherd, spill it."

He looked amused. "Spill what?"

Gwin wasn't so amused. "Is Sidney in San Francisco?"

"I don't know. There's one more thing I have to do."

Gwin was losing patience. "Is Sidney here or isn't he?"

Cole took her gently by the shoulders. "I'll explain everything tonight over dinner."

"I can't wait that long."

Still, he wore that indecipherable smile. "If this pans out, I'll take you and Arthur to Delmonico's."

Gwin frowned. Delmonico's was one of the most expensive restaurants in San Francisco. Why, he
had
come up with something, and he was deliberately holding it back from her. Before she could protest, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

And that wasn't all.

Gwin's mouth fell open in shock as he took her full into his arms and kissed her again, much more thoroughly this time. Despite herself, Gwin melted against him, reveling in the feel of his lips moving warmly and persuasively over hers. Being in his arms felt like coming home again, and this to a girl who had once thought she would never know what a real home felt like.

When he finally pulled away, he grinned. "Now, I want you to stay put."

Gwin had to struggle with an annoying combination of giddy elation and righteous indignation. "But—"

"Trust me," Cole said, moving for the door and throwing the bolt. "I've got to check something out. When I get back, I'll explain everything. Promise you'll stay put?" He opened the door and paused. "Promise me, Gwin."

She wanted to say no, but she had little choice as far as she could see. "All right."

Cole winked and then he was gone.

"He kissed you." Arthur's voice was flat and indignant from across the room.

"He kissed me," Gwin echoed.

"Right smack on the mouth! If he doesn't quit that stuff, I'm going have to punch him again!"

Punch him? Again?
Gwin noticed that her brother's tone, while distinctly annoyed, no longer seemed to hold the hostility it had earlier this morning. He was finally thawing.

"Arthur," she ventured cautiously, "you didn't ...?"

"I sure as heck did!"

Gwin fought to control a sudden swell of affection for her brother. What she wouldn't have given to have been there when those two ... She shook off the thought and turned to stare again at the closed door. "I sure would give just about anything to have a look at that newspaper."

Arthur cleared his throat, prompting her to look at him. She was surprised to see that, for the first time in almost two days, he wore just the hint of his familiar bright smile. "Anything?"

And it was then that her little brother, bless his sneaky heart, pulled a folded copy of the
San Francisco Chronicle
from beneath the bib of his overalls.

*

Cole stood on the front porch steps to the boardinghouse, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He had one stop to make before visiting his agency's mysterious client, Phineas Taylor. That stop was the telegraph office. It was time to bring Fritz up to date.

The moment Cole had spotted Phineas Taylor's name on the front page of the
Chronicle
, another yellow flag had risen in his mind. Arthur was correct that Sidney Pierce's name didn't appear anywhere on that page, and Cole had no doubt that Arthur was also correct when he insisted that it didn't appear anywhere else in that day's edition. But that didn't matter. What, after all, was in a name? Silas Pierce had taken a number of aliases during his colorful career. Why expect his brother to be any different? Especially if he had a public reputation to maintain, a reputation that depended on his past remaining a secret.