Love in Disguise (21 page)

Milt shook his head and glanced toward the mine entrance. “Best we talk about it outside. You don’t want one of the men to overhear this and wind up losing your whole crew.”

Back in his office, Steven closed the door and stared at Milt. “Okay, I’m asking again: Who would want to sabotage the Redemption?”

Milt shrugged. “Hard to tell. I can’t see any reason for it myself, but evidently someone could. Everything was fine in there when we cleared out Saturday night. You were in there with Mrs. Stewart yesterday afternoon, so it had to be set up late Saturday or early Sunday.”

Steven groaned. Of all the days, they had to pick the one his would-be investor chose for her tour. He leaned back against one corner of the desk. “It doesn’t make sense. Unless it hit a person directly, that beam wouldn’t finish anyone off. And the trap they set wasn’t big enough to cause a cave-in.”

Milt pursed his lips. “Maybe what we ought to be lookin’ at is the
why
. Once we get that figured out, we might have a better chance at working out the
who
.”

Steven nodded. He knew that question would be gnawing at him day and night until he found an answer.

“We can’t wait any longer. We have to do something now!” Steven’s palm smacked the polished surface of Tom Sullivan’s desk.

Tom pushed his chair back and stared as if having misgivings about Steven’s sanity.

Steven couldn’t blame him. Bursting into a man’s office with wild-eyed demands to take action wasn’t the best way to convince anyone to take him seriously. He smoothed his hair back with both hands and waited until his breathing steadied.

Tom rose and circled the desk. “I thought we agreed the Pinkertons were our best option.”

Steven caught himself before he whacked the desk again. “Don’t you understand? I just finished telling you what happened at the Redemption on Sunday afternoon. They’re not just going after our silver anymore—it’s getting personal. What are they going to do, try to pick us off one by one and get the mines for themselves as well as the silver they’ve already stolen? To make matters worse, Mrs. Stewart was there with me. She could have been killed.”

Tom’s silvery eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “Your investor? What were you thinking, taking a woman her age underground?”

“You can’t call me a worse fool than I’ve already called myself. I should never have agreed to do it. The point is, nobody is safe while this group is in operation. Think about it, Tom. You could be next.”

Tom’s head drew back, and his chest heaved. “All right, you’ve convinced me. What do you think we should do?”

“I’ve already questioned Brent Howard and Amos Crawford. Both of them swear they never let anything slip about our plans to ship the silver.”

Tom studied him closely. “And you believe them?”

“At this point, it’s hard to know who to believe.”

Tom nodded. “It’s sad, but that’s probably a wise attitude to take. Who do you plan to question next?”

“I thought I’d go into the mercantile and the saloons and try to get people talking, see if anyone has been spending more money than they should.”

Tom reached for his hat. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll go with you.”

Thirty minutes later, they left the mercantile with no more information than they had when they entered.

“Do you have time to make the rounds of the saloons with me?” Steven asked. Getting a nod from his companion, he started east on Grant Street.

“What about Bascomb?” Tom asked as they strode along. “Do you think he might be on the take?”

Steven slowed, wrinkling his nose against the sharp smell of coal smoke emanating from the smithy across the road. Even though he disliked Bascomb on principle, especially after witnessing the attention he paid Jessie, he didn’t want to cast suspicion on anyone without solid evidence.

“I’m not sure—” he began.

A familiar laugh made him jerk his head to the right in time to see Jessie step out of the smithy, followed by Jake Freeman. The dark-haired blacksmith said something, but they were too far away to hear what he said. Jessie let out another tinkling laugh and waggled her fingers in farewell as she sashayed west along the opposite side of the street. Jake followed her every movement with an utterly smitten expression on his face.

“You were saying . . . ?” Tom prompted.

“What?”

Tom followed his gaze and chuckled. “She’s quite a looker, isn’t she? Ah, youth.”

“That was a complete waste,” Tom grumbled after they’d visited every saloon Pickford had to offer. “If we don’t figure something out soon, I may have to pack it in and start over again at that new silver strike in New Mexico.”

Steven let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t know which way to turn next. I guess the best we can do is keep our guard up at all times.”

Tom grunted assent, then glanced across the street with an intensity that directed Steven’s attention toward the Cosmopolitan Bar, where Alfred Clay and Gilbert Owens were entering through the swinging doors.

“What’s the matter?”

Tom yanked his gaze away. “Nothing, I suppose. It just seems like an odd time of day to see the two of them going into a saloon.”

One corner of Steven’s mouth quirked up. “If they’d been following us this morning, they could say the same thing. Maybe they’re trying to find some answers, too.”

“Maybe.” Tom’s brow furrowed. “On the other hand . . .”

Steven looked at him questioningly.

“Alfred and Gilbert were the ones who resisted my suggestion that we stockpile our silver together.”

Steven stopped dead in the middle of the boardwalk. “What are you saying?”

“It probably doesn’t mean anything. But it makes me wonder why they don’t want any of us knowing how much silver they have.” Tom’s expression grew somber. “I’m afraid you’re right. At a time like this, we can’t afford to trust anyone.”

17

G
ood morning, Mrs. Stewart.” Gertie Johnson’s broad face beamed as she waved across the sanctuary.

Ellie ducked her head in greeting and moved along to her usual spot in the third row. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Steven entering the building as she settled into her seat. Turning back toward the front of the room, she focused her attention on the cross that hung on the front wall.

“Good morning.”

Ellie allowed herself to look startled when Steven appeared at the end of her pew. She gave him a pleasant smile.

His fingers worked around the brim of the hat he held in his hands. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Of course not.” Ellie felt her smile broaden until it reached ridiculous proportions, and she tried to compose her features before he noticed. She pressed her fingers to her throat, willing herself to breathe. What was the unsettling effect this man had on her? She still hadn’t gotten over the memory of his strong arms wrapped around her—or rather, Lavinia—a week before.

Steven hesitated and looked around the sanctuary. “Is your niece sitting with you? I wouldn’t want to take her place.”

It cost Ellie an effort, but she managed to keep her smile intact. “She’s a little under the weather this morning, so she decided to stay home.” She watched a shadow of disappointment flicker across his face and braced herself for a spate of questions.

“I’m sorry to hear she isn’t feeling well. Please pass along my wishes for a speedy recovery.”

Ellie drew a sigh of relief when he slid onto the bench beside her without further comment. His query about Jessie brought up another issue she hadn’t taken into consideration. The more people got to know both Lavinia and Jessie, the more they expected to see the two of them together. That was clear enough now, but she hadn’t thought that part through when she’d first hatched her scheme to bring Jessie on board.

Lavinia’s age gave her a built-in excuse—an older lady could always call on some physical ailment to keep her under wraps when the need arose—but she would have to come up with equally plausible excuses whenever she had to explain Jessie’s absence. Her being conveniently ill whenever her absence needed to be explained away wasn’t going to work for much longer.

The music leader stood to begin the service, curtailing the possibility of more awkward questions. Ellie rose with the others and joined in the singing more smoothly than she had on her first visit. The hymns were becoming more familiar with every passing week.

So were the sermons, she realized when Pastor Blaylock directed the congregation to turn to the eleventh chapter of Proverbs and started off on yet another discourse on the importance of living a life of integrity.

Again?
Ellie folded her arms and glared at the minister over the top of her spectacles. If the man was going to keep his flock’s attention, he simply had to come up with fresh material. During her Bible readings, she had rediscovered a number of stories she remembered from her childhood, stories of slaying giants and miracles in the wilderness. Why didn’t he use some of those?

Without moving her head, she stole a peek at the people sitting ahead of her and on the opposite side of the aisle. Every face wore an expression of interest. Ellie narrowed her eyes. What was wrong with these people? Didn’t they tire of a steady diet of the same topic over and over again? Did they really need these constant reminders?

Take her own situation, for instance. She had plenty of acquaintance with letting truth rule in her life. Wasn’t she in Pickford for that very reason, to bring evildoers to justice by ferreting out the truth? She sniffed her displeasure.

Steven turned to look at her, and Ellie felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Pulling her handkerchief from the pleated cuff at her wrist, she used it to dab at her nose, hoping he would mistake her irritation for hay fever. Tamping down her annoyance, she squared her shoulders and focused her attention on the minister with the same polite interest Lavinia Stewart would give him.

If she existed.

By the time the sermon wound to a close, Ellie felt as if she had been listening to Pastor Blaylock’s sermon for an eternity. At long last, he bowed his head for the final prayer, and Ellie joined the rest of the congregation with an amen that might have sounded a bit too heartfelt. She rose with alacrity, prepared to exit the sanctuary as quickly as decency would allow.

Steven, however, had other plans. It seemed every person in the church wanted to speak to him, and he showed no sign of being in any hurry to leave. Finally they made their way to the door, where she shook Pastor Blaylock’s hand before stepping out into a crisp, sunny day. Escape at last! She wasn’t sure she could continue coming every week if it meant listening to the same topic over and over again.

She joined Steven at the edge of the boardwalk, suddenly feeling nervous at the thought of what she should say if he asked to accompany her home and she was forced to find a way to keep him from entering the house.

“Hellooo!”

Ellie whirled at the piercing call behind her and found herself face-to-face with Althea Baldwin.

“Good morning, good morning!” The older woman fairly crackled with energy. “Someone pointed out your niece to me this week, and I hoped I might be able to speak with her this morning.”