Читать книгу The Outlaw's Secret - Stacy Henrie - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTate slid from the saddle, casting a glance over his shoulder at Essie to see her doing the same. The smell of burned beans and smoke permeating the air around the camp wasn’t exactly appetizing, but he didn’t mind. He was starving and tired—and he couldn’t shake the wariness in his gut regarding Miss Vanderfair.
She’d remained surprisingly silent during the last thirty minutes or so of their ride. But Tate had the sense he’d awakened a sleeping bear with his vague answers earlier. Essie wouldn’t be thrown off easily, but then, neither would he.
“Welcome back, Miss Vanderfair,” Fletcher said, rising from his choice spot by the fire. “My apologies for the earlier misfortune. You can be assured if you’d been with me that you wouldn’t have been left behind.”
Essie looked at Tate, but he couldn’t read her expression. Was she still angry? He, for one, was glad she hadn’t ridden with Fletcher. He didn’t trust that man any further than he could throw him. And, anyway, it was easier to keep an eye on her when she was close by.
“As you can see,” she said, “no harm was done.”
She went to stand by the fire, her hands outstretched to the flames. While the day had been warm, the evening had brought a drop in temperature. He could see that she shivered beneath her dress jacket, but she still maintained a smile.
Annoyance rippled through him. Why couldn’t she just ask for a blanket if she needed one? No one was going to cater to her needs out here. Stalking to the edge of the camp where the saddlebags had been stowed, he yanked out a blanket.
Returning to the fire, he plopped the blanket around her shoulders. Her gaze jumped to his, her eyes wide. They weren’t dark green anymore, as they’d been at the end of her interview. Now they shone more brown. “Thank you.”
He nodded once then turned to Clem. “Any supper left?”
The outlaw dropped a helping of beans onto two tin plates along with some biscuits that looked anything but light and fluffy. He passed the food to Essie and Tate.
Graciously accepting hers, Essie took a seat on the ground. Tate selected a spot nearby. Fletcher and Jude wandered over to where Silas was seeing to the two horses. The three outlaws appeared to be in deep conversation, though they kept their voices low enough that Tate couldn’t discern their words. He’d have to learn at some point what they were discussing, but right now, he needed to satisfy his empty stomach.
The first mouthful of beans, with its scorched flavor, made him grimace, and yet he was too hungry to quit eating. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Essie take a bite. The moment the food hit her tongue a startled expression crossed her face, though, to her credit, she didn’t gag or cough. Instead she visibly swallowed and scooped up another spoonful.
“This is my first time having camp fare, Clem. Is this your usual cuisine?”
Tate stuffed a piece of tough biscuit into his mouth to keep from laughing. Especially when Clem scratched his head and looked confused. “What do you mean by...cuisine, ma’am?”
“She means is this the food you usually eat on the run,” Tate explained.
“Oh, that.” Clem rubbed a hand over the salt and pepper hairs covering his chin. “We have beans and biscuits, like this here meal, a fair amount of time. But also small game. Once we reach the hideout, the eatin’s better.”
Essie murmured acknowledgment. “And where is your hideout?”
Tate tensed at the question, though he forced himself to appear as if he wasn’t paying attention. So far Fletcher had dodged or outright refused to reveal the hideout’s location to Tate. But if Clem talked...
“It’s in Hole-in-the-Wall country, ma’am. But that’s still a long ride from here. At least a week.”
The desire to holler with victory nearly overpowered Tate. He’d suspected the gang of hiding out in northern Wyoming, somewhere quite remote. Now he knew the name. And over the next seven days he’d know exactly how to get there, too.
“What’s this hideout like?” Essie asked as she broke her biscuit into two and dipped one half into her beans.
Tate held his breath. Any minute now Clem would surely stop talking or Fletcher would march over and demand he shut up. But the outlaw didn’t even pause or look the least bit uncomfortable.
“It’s real rough country, ma’am.” He rested his arms on his knees and leaned slightly forward. “But there’s plenty of grass for the horses and a creek for water. There’s even some cabins for wintering over.”
Tate’s jaw went slack as he studied Essie and Clem in turn. What had made the man disclose so much to a complete stranger? He’d been trying to siphon information about their hideout ever since he’d joined up with Fletcher’s gang a few weeks ago. And yet, in the matter of a few minutes, Essie had drawn out details he hadn’t even come close to discovering for himself. Maybe having her along would actually prove helpful to his investigation.
The thought had barely registered in his head when she turned and smiled at him. Something in the smile obliterated his good mood. “Had you heard of the Texas Titan before you met him, Clem?” She posed the question to the other outlaw but kept her gaze locked on Tate.
“Well, sure, ma’am. I ’spect everybody has.”
“Tell me, then...” She cocked her head to one side as if in deep thought. “Does he fit the picture you imagined of him?”
Tate shifted on the hard ground, the meal in his stomach turning as ashy as it tasted. What was she doing?
“Don’t rightly know, ma’am. He looks like them Wanted posters all right.”
Essie finally returned her attention to her plate. Only then did Tate dare suck in a breath. “He does very much resemble his description in the posters and newspapers,” she agreed. “But no one has yet mentioned—”
“Food’s sure good tonight, Clem,” Tate interrupted, smacking his lips in an exaggerated fashion. He cringed at the way his voice carried loudly across the camp. “I’ll take another helping. What about you, Miss Vanderfair? Care for more food?” He leveled a hard look her way, though he didn’t miss Clem’s puzzled expression as the outlaw refilled his plate.
Essie pursed her mouth to the side, her eyes narrowed. If only he could decipher the thoughts inside that wily head of hers. “No, thank you. I find I’m quite done.” Tate sensed she was talking about more than just the meal.
Sure enough, after setting aside her empty plate, she swiveled to face him. “Remind me, Mr. Tex. What was the first crime you committed?”
“It was a bank robbery in Texas.” Tate shoved another spoonful of beans into his mouth, though he didn’t taste a thing this time.
The memory of seeing that first mention of his brother’s name and description in the newspaper still burned his gut with guilt every time he recalled it. He’d known Tex was angry and vengeful the last time they’d seen each other, but he hadn’t thought his twin would turn to a life of crime in retaliation. That first robbery led to others, each more daring than the last—more banks, then trains. All performed single-handedly and pulled off without a hitch.
Sometime around the fourth robbery, Tate had had enough. He’d sold the family farm and applied for a job with the Pinkertons. If he couldn’t help his brother, he could at least help others by bringing down other criminals.
“What was your last solo job?” Essie’s question cut into his thoughts.
He glanced at her and found that hard, emerald look in her eyes. Did she suspect something? “That would be a train robbery in Utah Territory.”
She nodded, though she didn’t drop the shrewd look. “How much did you take?”
“Six thousand dollars,” Tate said with a forced note of pride. In reality, disgust filled him at the thought of Tex taking even a dollar that didn’t belong to him.
Thankfully he’d kept abreast of Tex’s activities through the years. Not only did it afford him with the correct details to share with Essie, but it had also alerted him to the past four months of silence when it came to his brother’s criminal activities.
Tex had seemingly disappeared. Of course, Tate hoped the stop in robberies meant his brother had decided to change his ways. But, whatever the truth, he’d recognized a golden opportunity to bring in the Fletcher gang. With Tex out of the criminal scene, Tate could impersonate him as the notorious outlaw. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for the Texas Titan to have wandered as far north as Wyoming, either. Medicine Bow, the closest town to where they’d stopped the train, was well-known for falling victim to train robberies.
So far Tate’s cover had worked, getting him closer to taking down Fletcher than any other detective had ever come. And it would continue to work as long as he kept his wits about him, especially around Essie Vanderfair.
A flash of surprise—or was it disappointment?—crossed Essie’s face. Had she been trying to trap him with his own words? Then the emotion fled, replaced by a smile. “Thank you again for the supper, Clem. May I help with cleaning up?”
Clem’s face flushed, but he shook his head. “Ain’t much to clean. I’ll do it.”
“Very well. I believe I shall work some before turning in.”
“Work?” Tate echoed, setting aside his plate. He still had a lot left of his second helping, but he no longer felt hungry.
“Writing, Mr. Tex,” she said. She gathered her valise, while still holding the blanket around her shoulders, and retreated to a spot a little ways from the fire.
Clem looked toward Tate and chuckled. “She’s an interestin’ little thing, huh?”
“Something like that.” Tate eyed Essie as she began scribbling in a notebook. Satisfied she wasn’t going to engage Clem in any more conversation tonight, he stood and moved toward the others who were still in heated discussion. “Sounds serious over here,” he said as he joined the small group.
Fletcher shot him a glare and crossed his arms in a defensive stance, the saddlebag of cash from the train draped over his shoulder. “It is, but I don’t know that it’s any of your business.”
“Come on, Fletch,” Jude said. “Let’s see what Tex has to say.”
The outlaw leader studied Tate and then sniffed. “All right. We’ve been debating the merits of taking one more job before heading to the hideout.”
Tate struck a casual stance and kept a deadpan expression, trying to hide the alarm Fletcher’s words inspired. He’d been hoping the train robbery today would be his only criminal activity. “What’s the reason?”
“A little more cash and supplies to see us through the winter,” Jude volunteered when Fletcher didn’t jump in with an answer. “Once the snow hits around here and the temperature dips real low, we don’t do much traveling, especially not in a hurry.”
“So you’re wintering over now?” Again the news blindsided him. He’d hoped they’d leave for another job after they reached the hideout. Then he’d make up some excuse for staying behind before riding to the nearest town and rounding up the law. When Fletcher and the gang returned, it would be to a sheriff and his posse, all waiting eagerly for the outlaws’ arrest. But a decision to winter over now could jeopardize that plan.
“Got a problem with that, cowboy?” Fletcher watched him closely. “You don’t have to join us for the winter.”
And miss his chance at seeing them brought to justice? Not happening. Tate fought the urge to clench his jaw in determination; he had to appear affable. But he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity or leave Essie to fend for herself, either.
He chose his next words carefully. “I told you in the beginning I’m done with doing things on my own. Too many close calls. If you’re wintering over, then I aim to, as well. If you have another job planned, I’m in on that, too.”
For once Fletcher offered a smile that almost bordered on genuine. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“I still think that we ought to keep moving,” Silas said with surprising force. Tate had dubbed him “Silent Silas” in his head on account of the man’s quiet, non-talkative nature. “Today went well, but there’s nothing between here and Casper worth taking on. Besides, we got that girl’s ransom coming.”
Uncrossing his arms, Fletcher gazed across the campsite toward Essie. A feeling of unease crept over Tate. Did Fletcher plan to keep Essie around until the spring? There was no telling what the outlaw would do—he was as fickle as a woman with two beaus. But Tate would do all in his power to get Essie back on her merry way sooner than later. At least the forthcoming ransom seemed to be holding Fletcher in check as far as mistreating her.
“I get to say if we do another job or not,” Fletcher finally growled. “But since I ain’t made up my mind, we’ll continue on to the hideout as planned. Tex, you’re on guard duty tonight. Wake Jude up at two o’clock to switch places.” With that, he marched toward the fire.
Jude and Silas threw tight looks at one another then followed after their leader. Tate remained by the horses another minute, doing his best to rein in the annoyance rippling through him. He didn’t like having Fletcher order him around, but it was a necessary part of infiltrating the gang and getting the man to trust him.
Breathing out a heavy sigh, Tate collected his rifle from his saddle and returned to the campfire. The other four men had laid out their bedrolls. Fletcher was using the bag with the stolen money as a pillow. Essie, on the other hand, still sat with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, writing.
Tate grabbed the remaining blanket and sat beside her. She didn’t glance up. While guard duty meant little sleep, at least this way he could keep an eye on her during her first night with them. “Don’t you think you ought to get some rest?” he asked as he set his gun next to him on the ground. He left his revolver in the holster at his waist.
“A Winchester Model 1886,” she murmured.
“What?”
She lifted her chin and pointed with her pencil at his gun. “Your rifle is a Winchester, the 1886 model, correct?”
Tate nodded in disbelief. “How did you know that?”
A small but lovely smile lifted her lips. “As the authoress of dime novels set in the West,” she said, her gaze returning to her notebook, “I would be remiss in my research if I didn’t know a Winchester from a Sharps.”
He didn’t bother to swallow his startled laughter. There was clearly more to Miss Essie Vanderfair than he’d suspected. “Do you know how to shoot it?”
She shot him an arch look. “I was raised on a ranch. I can shoot anything with a trigger.”
Leaning back on his hands, Tate regarded her appreciatively. “Are you writing a story right now?”
The glint of steel fell from her face as she shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I’m merely getting down your answers from our interview earlier.”
The recollection of her nosy questions and keen discernment made his stomach twist with apprehension. “It’s been a while since your interview. How do I know you’re remembering my answers correctly?”
Essie shoved the notebook into his chest, making him wince. “Have a look yourself.”
He studied the page before him and the two columns of neat, looping writing penned there. Above one column, Essie had written “Questions.” The other column she’d labeled “Answers.” Tate read through several of her questions. Were you desperate for money? What drove you to such a life? Then he glanced at the second column for the answers. No. Anger, mostly. My parents. God. My girl... My brother.
Though he didn’t have a perfect memory, he remembered enough of his responses to know she’d penned them—word for word. “How did you remember these?” He handed her back the notebook but kept hold of his end when she reached for it. “You weren’t taking notes.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said, ducking her chin. The firelight revealed the blush on her cheeks. “But when I come up with things to write down for my stories, I can keep it all there in my mind until I can get to paper and a pencil. Then I just note it down, like reading a page out of a book.”
“Can you recall everything you hear?” Having her on this job was proving more and more useful. If she happened to overhear anything or if the outlaws kept babbling to her as Clem had done earlier...
But his hopefulness died when Essie shook her head. “I can’t recall everything. Usually it’s easiest with information relating to my work. Though even that, after a few hours, half a day at the most, gets blurred.”
Tate relinquished his hold on her notebook. Resting his arms on his knees, he threw a sideways glance at her as she began writing again. What was it Clem had said about her? She’s an interestin’ little thing. Tate had to agree.
Miss Essie Vanderfair surprised him and it had been some time since he’d been truly, and pleasantly, surprised. It hadn’t been an entire day since they’d met, and yet he found himself more and more intrigued by her as the hours passed. If only he weren’t on assignment, and a dangerous one at that, he might have invited her to dinner at a hotel restaurant and plied her with questions instead of the other way around.
But he was on an assignment, he reminded himself as he stared into the flames of the fire. And the fascinating woman seated beside him unknowingly held the key that could expose him for the detective he was and the renegade he wasn’t.
Frowning at the thought, he picked up his rifle and placed it across his knees. He’d have to keep his distance from her, while also doing his best to smooth over any more of her suspicion. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of either of them if his secret was revealed.
* * *
All done. Essie stuck her pencil in the center of her notebook and smiled tiredly at the filled page. She’d penned every question and cryptic answer of the Texas Titan’s as well as the novel scenes she’d composed in her head earlier. Stretching, she tried to release the kink in her neck from bending over.
You’ll be stooped and wearing spectacles if you keep up all that foolish writing. The remembered words erased the smile from her mouth. What would her family think of her being here, with these armed men?
She glanced at the Texan seated silently nearby, his rifle across his knees. He hadn’t said another word since discovering her unusual talent for remembering things she heard or wrote inside her head. What could he be thinking just now?
Lowering her gaze, she read the last few sentences she’d written. The outlaw stared morosely into the fire as if seeing the tortured memories of his past. Or was it the possibility of a bleak and lonely future that pilfered his smile? The heroine met his gaze across the flames and a jolt of tenderness ran through her as his haunted blue eyes beckoned to her. His masculine mouth held her attention next and she pondered for a moment what it might be like...
“You ready?”
Essie slammed her notebook shut, her cheeks burning. Had he seen what she’d written? Good thing she hadn’t begun penning any of her scene ideas when she’d shown him her notebook earlier. “What do you mean?”
The Texan regarded her with a glint of amusement in those haunted blue eyes of his. They certainly were beckoning when they watched her that way. Blinking, Essie glanced in the opposite direction. She wasn’t writing about him; she was writing about her own fictional hero. Though perhaps she ought to change the hero’s eye color...and hair color...and build. Oh, bother.
“Are you ready to turn in? If so, I’ll put out the fire.”
Glancing at the flames, she suddenly realized this was the reason she’d been able to write so long—the Texan had kept the fire burning so she could see. Her gaze jumped to his. This wasn’t the only chivalrous gesture he’d performed tonight. He’d given her the blanket that was keeping her warm, too. Perhaps she’d misjudged him earlier, thinking he wasn’t as much of a gentleman as the newspapers touted.
“Yes, I’m finished,” she answered quietly, not wishing to disturb the four outlaws who were sleeping. One of them more loudly than the others. “Thank you,” she added, waving a hand at the fire, “for not banking it sooner.”
He dipped his chin in response and set aside his gun to kneel by the fire. Essie slipped her notebook inside her valise and then positioned it to act as a pillow. Lying down, she shut her eyes and tried to relax. But the hard ground poked through her blanket and into her side. Sleep was likely to be a distant friend for a while longer.
At least her present discomfort wasn’t exacerbated by feelings of fear. She still had her small gun stowed in her boot, so she wasn’t afraid to fall asleep in her present company. Especially with the Texan nearby. Something more than the newspaper compliments made her feel safe in his presence.
And yet even his solid frame watching over everything and everyone couldn’t chase away the doubts that suddenly assailed her—now that the thrill of joining the outlaw group had faded.
What am I doing here? she asked herself for the first time since stepping off the train. Her family would be horrified if they could see her now. Though their shock would likely be followed by exclamations of self-satisfaction. Of course she’d ended up here—a lone woman among wanted thieves, so desperate to cling to her dream of publishing that she’d risk her reputation and her career on a chance. If her other interviews went anything like the one with the Texan had, her life as an author would truly be over.
Tears blurred her eyes as she watched him finish banking the fire. She couldn’t give up—not yet. Clem had been quite forthcoming at supper. Surely the rest of the outlaws weren’t as cryptic as the Texas Titan. Although she suspected Fletcher might be worse. Still, three good interviews and the opportunity to share in a real retreat to a hideout would provide her with more information than she’d ever dreamed of.
Certainly more than Victor Daley ever had.
“Can’t sleep?” The Texan returned to his spot, but instead of taking up his gun again, he pulled a pocket watch from his vest. After checking the time, he rested his elbows on his bent knees.
“Not yet,” Essie replied honestly. She dragged in a full breath of smoke-scented air and blew it out slowly. A few tears made their way down her cheeks, but she no longer felt the urge to give way to sobbing. Her family might not believe her to be strong—and maybe she wasn’t—but God had given her a talent for seeing the good. And that was what she would think about. The not-too-cold evening, a blanket to keep her warm, the brush she’d thrown into her valise that would come in handy tomorrow morning...
“You ever sleep out under the stars?”
She twisted her head to look up at him. “All the time in the summer. I was usually the first one out there, but eventually my brothers and sisters would pile outside to join me.”
He smiled, though even in the dying light, it appeared more sad than nostalgic. “My brother and I slept outside a lot, too.” He shifted his position, the heel of his boot digging into the ground. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Eight.”
His eyebrows shot upward. “Eight, huh? Are you close with any of them?”
Pain lodged inside her chest at the question. “My brother Nils. He’s a year older.”
“Where is he now?”
She turned her gaze to the stars overhead as bittersweet memories filled her thoughts. “He, um, died. Four years ago. He was thrown from his horse.” Her father had wanted to shoot the skittish animal, but Essie had pleaded with him not to exact revenge on the innocent creature. Even while her heart had ripped in two at the loss of her brother.
“I’m very sorry, Miss Vanderfair.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at him, but with his chin lowered, his face was shadowed by his hat. “You lost your mother. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
While her parents and the rest of her siblings hadn’t championed her dreams of writing as Nils always had, they were still alive and seemed concerned about her welfare. Letters came from the ranch nearly once a week, asking how she fared and when she might return home.
The Texan cleared his throat, though he didn’t lift his head. “It was a great loss. But we pulled through it. At least, one of us did.”
“Your brother didn’t feel her passing as keenly?”
“He did.” His chin rose and he leveled her with a look both intense and regretful. “But he felt like he had to...to...overcompensate. To be father and mother, even if there wasn’t much difference in our ages.”
Essie rose onto her elbow and rested her head in her palm. “I suppose most families have someone like that. Wanting so desperately to protect and care for the others, even if it stifles those they love.”
He frowned. “How does wanting to protect and care for someone stifle them?”
“It does so in many ways.” She sat up and faced him, eager to help him understand what she’d come to see the last three years on her own. “If one is never allowed to stumble about or tread down uncertain paths, that person will likely never reach his or her true potential. They’ll be perpetually stuck in a web of safekeeping that offers no growth because there is no opportunity to learn from trial and error.”
Her impassioned speech was met with stony silence. Essie fiddled with the edge of the blanket, embarrassed. Not for what she’d said but because she’d spoken it to a man she hardly knew.
“You are rather wise for someone so young.”
At that, she laughed outright, then clapped a hand to her mouth, afraid she’d wake the others. She was enjoying their open conversation and suspected it would come to an abrupt end if anyone stirred. “My sisters would be the first to point out that I am far from young. I turned twenty-three this summer.”
Even in the dim light, she caught sight of the full smile he threw her way. And it left her a bit breathless. “Twenty-three sounds young to someone who’s twenty-nine.”
She chuckled. “I’ll remember that.” A breeze swept over the camp, swirling the ash around the fire and shooting a chill up Essie’s spine. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she lay back down on her makeshift pillow.
“Cold?”
“A little. But it’ll pass soon enough.”
A jacket dropped onto her shoulders and back, bringing welcome warmth. “How are you going to keep out the cold?” she asked, peering up at him.
He settled on the ground once more and hoisted his blanket for her to see. “I’ve got this, when I need it.”
“Thank you.” Essie burrowed into the thick material. No longer as chilled or as uncomfortable as before, sleepiness began to creep over her, but she hoped to keep it at bay. At least for another minute or two. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Just one?” The teasing note in his deep voice made her smile. “For the rest of the trip?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “One more tonight.”
He pushed out a sigh, though he didn’t sound nearly as irritated as she’d expected. “All right, Miss Vanderfair. One more.”
“This is purely out of curiosity. Your answer won’t go into my book.”
She thought she heard him mutter, “That’s a relief.”
“They call you the Texas Titan, but what’s your real name?”
Tension, heavy and silent, radiated from him, erasing the companionship of moments ago. Essie gripped the edge of the blanket tighter, waiting. Would he answer her or not? She didn’t need the information, but for some inexplicable reason, she very much wanted to know.
The scraping of his heel against the dirt preceded his soft answer. “You can call me Tate.”
“Tate,” she whispered.
“But only out of earshot of the others. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Good night, then...Tate.”
“Good night, Miss Vanderfair.”
Her heart beat faster as she opened her mouth and said, “Call me Essie. It’s only fair.”
A low chuckle sounded in her ears. “Try to get some sleep, Essie. We’ve got another long ride tomorrow.”
Smiling in triumph, she closed her eyes, but it was still some time later before she could turn her thoughts from the silent figure guarding the camp. And from the memory of her name on those nice, masculine lips.
