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Beth’s face relaxed and a smile toyed with the corners of her full lips. He was as close to a father as she had ever known. “You are impossible.”
Howard nodded. “I hope this time you haven’t taken on more than you can handle, Priss.” He set the glass of whiskey on the mantel.
“What do you think? Can he show me everything I want to see?”
“I have a strong hunch you’ve met your match with our Mr. Wagner. But to answer your question, I have no idea what the man can or cannot do. Maybe we’ll know more after supper.” Oddly, it flashed through Howard’s mind that he had been watching over Beth for nearly ten years and it was time for someone else to take over the task.
Beth decided to change the subject. “Esther is still in bed, but I thought you’d like to know that color has returned to her cheeks.”
“I never expected it not to.” Howard finished his drink. “Don’t blame yourself for her sickness. You had no way of knowing the Missouri River would be so choppy.”
“You’re right, of course, but I hated seeing her so miserable.”
“I’ll see you at supper, Priss.” Howard left, feeling uneasy. Over the years he’d known a lot of men. Some good, some dangerous. Which was Cole Wagner? He still wished he had been able to talk Beth out of this foolish trip.
With Howard gone, Beth suddenly felt alone. It was a familiar feeling. She’d known it for so many years it had almost become a friend. Howard had said she needed to find a good man to marry. One she couldn’t order about. Esther had said the feeling was caused from never really knowing her parents. Her uncle had taken on the responsibility of raising her when her parents had died somewhere in Europe, but Uncle Oliver bore her no true affection. She smiled faintly. Howard and Esther were her family. Frank had joined them a little later. He was just a boy then.
Beth glanced at the wag clock, then quickly stood. She had to meet Mr. Smyth downstairs in fifteen minutes. She wanted to be sure all final arrangements had been completed—something she could have let Howard take care of, but she needed to be busy instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She also wanted to tell Mr. Smyth how disappointed she was in the outlaw he’d selected. Other than his size, Cole Wagner seemed more like a domestic cat than a lion. And it wasn’t right that he should be on the handsome side. He was supposed to appear villainous.
Chapter Two
Not until Cole was ready to sit at the supper table did Howard remove the handcuffs. Cole rubbed his wrists, noticing the red abrasions. The deputy had locked them too tight.
From the moment Cole had entered the room, his eyes had not left the beauty already seated across from him. The bodice of her green grown dipped low enough to allow him an ample view of full, creamy breasts, waiting to be released from their confinement. Her hair hung in soft, copper ringlets and the green bows at each side of her face matched her gown. It had been a good three years since he’d formally dined with a lady of such absolute loveliness.
“Please be seated, Cole,” Howard said. “I’m sure you could use a meal under your belt.”
The moment Cole was settled, a parade of servants appeared. Bowls of vegetables and platters of beef and fowl were held out for his selection. At least his hostess’s attitude had improved from earlier.
“Excellent meal, Mrs. Alexander,” Cole complimented when he had finished his dessert.
“Thank you. Please call me Beth. Everyone else does.”
“What do you do with what’s left over?”
“As you will soon discover,” Howard answered, “Beth has a lot of people in her employ.”
Beth dabbed her lips with her linen napkin before placing it beside her plate. “I think it’s time for us to get down to business.”
Cole leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Excuse me for not mentioning sooner that you are a vision of loveliness tonight.”
The compliment took Beth completely by surprise. “I... Thank you. Ah...” Beth regained her composure. “Until I started this trip, I had never traveled in my own country. I’ve never seen a man robbed or shot, or a gun drawn. I haven’t seen savage Indians. This is where you come in. I want you to show me all this. I want to see stagecoaches and trains held up. In other words, I want to see the real frontier. Naturally I’ll be making sketches and taking notes the entire time. I intend to write novels.” Beth looked him straight in the eye. “I am writing about outlaws.”
Cole was dismayed. She was serious! There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her expression — or Howard’s. Now, how the hell was he supposed to react to this? Damn! Someone had better supply him with some answers—and soon. What was her part in this assignment? “Do you realize what you’re asking?”
Beth stood. “Of course I do,” she replied indignantly. “I’ve done a considerable amount of reading on the matter.”
“Are you going to let her do this?” Cole asked Howard as they followed Beth into the small parlor.
“You will learn that the lady has a mind of her own.”
“Why would you ask such a ques —” Beth broke off and laughed with delight. “Howard, I do believe he thinks we are lovers.”
“I gave it some thought,” Cole admitted.
“Why, I’ll wager you were even convinced that I’m a kept woman.”
Cole kept his comments to himself. He was still trying to digest all the woman planned to accomplish during her travels.
“Actually, Howard, I can see where he could have reached that conclusion.”
Nothing was going right, and Cole would very much have liked to join Howard in a drink of that whiskey the debonair gentleman was pouring himself. He was having to second-guess everything, and his guesses were not getting the results he’d expected. Figuring out Beth Alexander wasn’t going to be easy.
“You are wrong on both accounts,” Beth assured Cole. “Howard and I are good friends. He watches after me.”
Cole watched her sit on the divan with the grace of a queen.
Beth looked directly at the tall man. “Now, I believe the time has come for you to tell me if you can provide what I want. Are you familiar with the area from here to Dodge City, my final destination?”
“Oh, I can provide what you want, and yes, I do know the territory. The question is whether or not I want to provide your entertainment. Are the men you’ve hired to go on the trek aware of what you are planning? I would think they would have concern for their lives, even if you don’t.”
Beth’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Let’s settle all the questions you might have so we will not have to broach this subject again. I want to write dime westerns. You are asking yourself why, when they are about men, and I don’t need the money. Because the editor at Beadle Library turned down my proposal. He said it was obvious I didn’t know what I was writing about. He was right. However, I can be a very determined woman. I will write those novels and prove my worth to the world, but as the editor said, first I must become acquainted with the real West.
“As for our trip, there will be nothing to concern yourself about except getting me to my destinations and providing what I want. Those who work for me have specific jobs and are quite capable of taking care of themselves. I am also capable of taking care of myself. There is little that I haven’t seen or done, including hunting tigers in India and playing matador in Spain.”
Beth paused, then added, “And I have seen death. When I was hunting, one of the maharaja’s beaters was mangled by the tiger.”
This time Cole didn’t ask if he could be seated. The high-backed chair looked the most comfortable.
“As for my people,” Beth continued, “I interviewed and hired each one individually. I made sure they would be loyal, willing to follow my orders without question and, most important, willing to take personal risks. They are a daring group, even the women. Does that take care of everything?”
“How long do you think it’s going to take to accomplish what you have planned?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Are you in some sort of a hurry?”
“Not really. Just curious.”
“I have even purchased a house. It is presently being readied. I thought we could use it as a central base.”
“Let me see if I understand this correctly. You’re planning to ride out, watch a stage being held up, then return to town? Then after a good rest, do we ride out again and watch Indians scalping settlers? What do you need me for?”
“TO be my guide!”
“Anyone can do that. Go find an ex-lawman to do your running back and forth.” He knew he was taking a big gamble. He could only hope that she was as determined a woman as she’d stated and didn’t like things or people slipping out of her hands.
Beth raised her lace handkerchief to her nose and inhaled the scent of jasmine perfume. “I’m well aware that we may have to bivouac for two or three days on some occasions.”
One thing was certain. No matter what Beth was involved in, she definitely needed watching after. “If I took this job, we would leave and not return until everything has been accomplished. Seeing someone murdered or scalped by an Indian is a lot different than being mauled by a big cat.”
“I’m quite brave, and you needn’t try to frighten me. You might also like to know that I’m not easily dissuaded from what I set out to do.”
Cole leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If that is so, how come you kept me handcuffed until this evening?”
“I have an investment in you and I want to make sure you don’t run off, at least not until I feel I no longer need you.”
“And what is to keep me from leaving right now with you as my hostage?”
“Howard, and the men waiting outside.” Beth pulled a small revolver from her pocket and pointed it directly at the outlaw. “I hope you’re not foolish enough to think that because I’m a woman I don’t know how to use it.” She gave him a warm smile. “Mr. Wagner, I will not be a handicap. My horsemanship and marksmanship are every bit as good as some men’s and exceedingly better than others. I have nerves of steel and do not faint in a crisis.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Mrs. Alexander,” Cole bluffed. “That deputy lied to you. No man can provide you with what you’re looking for. You seem to be a sensible woman, so think about this. Of all the thousands of miles of track, who can make a knowledgeable guess as to where outlaws plan to stop a train, for instance? Not only where, but when. You’d do better to just rob the damn thing yourself.” Cole stood. “Also, Indians do not scalp people for ladies’ entertainment. Shoot me if you like, but I’m leaving. We both know I’m not the man you’re looking for.” He headed toward the door, gambling she would stop him.
“A hundred dollars for every time you provide what I want!”
His ploy had worked!
“Two hundred. It’s not as if I have to actually rob a train. We could pretend.”
Cole reached the door but didn’t turn the knob. He was listening to her offer, and at the same time wondering what she would come up with next.
“Five hundred,” Beth offered.
“A thousand.” He turned and faced her.
“Very well, a thousand. Do we have a deal?”
“Only if we keep going. I can show you everything on the way. I have no desire to keep retracing my tracks.”
“Done.” Beth’s smile showed her satisfaction.
“When will everything be ready to go?” Cole asked.
“Other than some last-minute supplies, we can leave any time you say.”
“Fine, but I’ll want to check everything personally. If all is in order, we’ll leave at four in the morning, two days from today.” He couldn’t picture her willing to get up so early, but he didn’t receive the reaction he’d expected. “In the meantime, I need money to get what I’ll need, like a horse and gear.” He rubbed his wrists. “Have you decided what you want to see first?”
“I think I would like to rob a train.”
Cole chuckled. The woman did have guts. “Then a train you shall rob. Let’s just hope you don’t get caught by some marshal.”
“Have you ever been to Dodge City?”
“Yes.”
“I have saved newspaper articles about it being...” She picked up the cuttings she had gathered. ‘“A perfect paradise for gamblers, cutthroats and girls.’” She flipped to the next one. “‘Fast men and fast women.’” Another, “‘The wickedest little city in America.”’ The next clipping. “‘Seventeen saloons furnish inspiration, and many people become inspired — not to say drunk. Every facility is afforded for the exercise of conviviality, and no restriction is placed on licentiousness.’” She laid the papers on the seat beside her. ”Would you say the critiques are correct in their depiction?”
“I’d say so,” Cole replied.
“Good. I would like to know the route you would take to get there.”
“Probably drop down to Wichita and over. Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know if there is.”
“Good night, Howard.” He nodded at Mrs. Alexander. “Good night.” He left, certain that this beauty had to be quite insane. Or else there was more behind her starched demeanor than he realized, such as a wild taste for adventure. He headed down the hall to where he’d bathed earlier, the Jones brothers trailing right behind him.
Later that night Cole’s door was unlocked from outside, and a man dressed in black stepped in.
“Well?” he asked.
“Send a wire that so far everything has worked out as planned,” Cole replied. “We’ll be leaving in two days.”
The man handed Cole a large envelope and left, locking the door behind him.
Cole made himself comfortable on the bed and read the familiar handwriting.
I know you’ve expressed a desire to quit my little organization, but I really need you on this one, Cole. The assignment certainly won’t bore you.
Grain destined for our forts is being augmented by chaff and something else. We’re lucky if we get half the grain originally purchased, and soldiers and their families have already been poisoned. The man who handles most of the grain is named Samuel King. He and some congressmen are in cahoots in this swindle, but the mastermind is Quin Turner. We have no description other than he is English and a tactical genius. His gang have wreaked havoc for over five years, killing and robbing, and of course stealing grain from the farmers. No one has been able to locate his headquarters. If we can get our hands on him, we’ll not only destroy a band of thieves, we will also have proof of the men in Washington involved in the swindle.
I arranged for one of Turner’s gang to escape from the Kansas State Prison so he can lead you to the others. His name is Tex Martin. He was followed to Independence, where he signed on with Mrs. Alexander. Now the bad part. Our spy was killed and the only description I have of Tex is that he has brown hair and no distinguishing features. As usual, you’re on your own to figure everything out and catch the scoundrel Quin Turner.
Also, knowing your reputation with women, I am ordering you to keep your britches up and your hands off Bethany Alexander. As bad luck would have it, the widow’s uncle is a senator. Not one under suspicion. The woman is a bit of an eccentric. The one good note is that the senator is seldom aware of her escapades and won’t interfere.
You and I both know you’re the best I have, and your disguise as an outlaw should work in your favor.
President Ulysses Grant.
Mrs. Alexander was a bit eccentric? That was putting it mildly. Cole lit a match to the paper, then dropped it in the fireplace. So much for his thoughts of bedding the beauty. As determined as Beth had been to see robbers, murders and Indians, he’d come to believe she was involved in his assignment. As it appeared now, she was nothing more than an innocent party. How ironic that she had been thrown into a situation very similar to what she was looking for, which in turn put more responsibility on his shoulders. He needed her help if he was to get to Turner.
The Turner gang. He’d heard rumors about them. Word was that all outlaws were welcomed, but, under penalty of death, each member had to take an oath to never reveal the location of the hideout or the names of the other members. For years lawmen and the government had tried to put an end to the band’s ravaging and slaughter. Now he was expected to take care of the matter with nothing more to go on than a man named Tex who no one could identify, and that was supposed to lead him to the hideout that no one could find.
Which one of the lady’s men had he disguised himself as? Could there possibly be a brother no one had known about?
After finishing this assignment, he was going to retire and purchase land in California.
Chapter Three
Cole twisted in the saddle, his dark eyes scanning the parade stretched out behind him. Satisfied that everything was moving well, he turned back around, his gaze automatically scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. Even after being on the trail a week, sight of the caravan still left him speechless. For some reason that absolutely escaped him, a damn household was being transported from one spot to another. The only thing lacking was the wooden structure.
There were five new canvas-covered wagons, each being pulled by six yoked oxen. These were for the furniture and apparently every convenience known to mankind. Besides these, there were three additional farm wagons filled with supplies. The wagon wheels kicked up enough dust to be seen for miles around and would make a tempting parcel for any outlaw bands or Indians lurking about. Cole could only hope that marauders would mistake the dust for a small, well-armed wagon train and would prefer to give it a wide berth.
And then there was the menagerie of servants—eight men and four women in all. The rest of the flock consisted of five steers, one milk cow, horses, oxen, one pig and four sheep.
Though Mrs. Alexander’s entourage seemed never-ending, Cole had to admit it was well planned. The women handled the mending, cooking, serving and other womanly duties. The men drove the wagons, did the loading and unloading, set up tents and collected firewood, as well as doing anything else they were needed for. Besides their work on other chores, the Jones brothers were experts on wagon building and repairs, George Higgins was a blacksmith, Frank Doolan cared for the stock and Tucker Washington was a doctor. Evan White and Jeff Dobbs filled in where needed. Howard Bench kept Beth’s fancy carriage moving in front of the line to avoid the dust. It had become increasingly evident that her comfort was of the utmost importance. At least, as far as she was concerned.
Preferring to just observe for the time being, Cole hadn’t developed a close friendship with the men. However, he had learned that none of them would admit to ever having traveled through Kansas before. Tex Martin was keeping a low profile. Had Cole not been assigned to join this caravan, Beth could have found herself in a heap of trouble. She could have been stranded in some remote spot, having been attacked, with all her valuables gone. Indians would have taken care of the rest.
More than once Cole had seen Beth busily writing in a journal at night. Without a doubt, she was keeping a record of everything that transpired during the day. He wondered if her determination to be a writer was nothing more than a phase that would soon fade.
