An Undercover Detective's Bride Read online

  He looked to Rance. “What about you, Sheriff? Do you know him?”

  Rance shook his head. “He is a stranger, just as you say. Perhaps he was unaccustomed to the presence of gals as pretty as yours, and thought their pleasant natures meant he could do as he wished with them. Perhaps he took things a bit too far, and this young woman did the only thing she felt she could do.” He stepped slightly in front of Rachel, and she understood why. He wished to conceal her.

  For she was not in the man’s employ, he would wish to know why she had pretended to be so.

  It didn’t matter what Rance attempted, because it was too late. The bespectacled proprietor had already gotten a look at her. He was shrewd, certainly. “And who are you?”

  She should have flown from the place the moment the shot was fired. She should not have stayed behind to check the man’s badge, or to say anything further to him. She should have run when she had the chance. This all could have been avoided. She squirmed, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever before.

  Rance stepped in before she could say anything that might make things worse. “I intend to take her to the jailhouse and lock her up. We can have this conversation over there, away from the doctor. He has quite a lot of work to do.”

  “And here, on my bed.” Mr. Lawrence shook his head. “It will now be ruined, and I will have to replace it.”

  Even in the midst of his work, the doctor snorted. “And just why do you have these beds up here?” he asked, casting a sly look to where Mr. Lawrence fussed and fretted.

  The man stammered, his face flushing. “I have to go downstairs and see to it the men are entertained.” He all but ran from the room.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Rance asked.

  “I don’t think so.” The doctor shook his head, withdrawing something from the man’s shoulder. Rachel turned her head, disgusted and mortified, the sound of the blood-stained bullet hitting the bedside table ringing in her ears. “That’s that. Now it’s a matter of closing the shoulder and the skin and muscle over the top. Assuming this young man makes it through this surgery, I cannot allow him to stay here to convalesce. He will need someplace clean and quiet.”

  “I’d imagine he’s a guest at the hotel.”

  “I doubt they’d mind him doing his resting there, though I further doubt he’d have the money to afford the amount of time that will take. While it seems like a clean enough wound, there’s no telling what might happen should infection set in.”

  Rance nodded, his forehead creasing. “I suppose we can cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I’m taking this woman to jail. Send word of his condition when you can. Once it seems he is out of the woods, we can decide on somewhere for him to convalesce.”

  “Indeed,” the doctor said.

  He then took Rachel’s elbow, looking for all the world like a man about to do something he would rather swallow his own tongue than do. “Let’s go. We can take the back stairs.”

  She shook her head, her mouth falling open in horror. “You expect me to walk about the street looking like this?”

  Rance scowled. “Perhaps you should have considered that before you dressed this way. I’m afraid your choice of costume is the least of your concerns at the moment.” He led her from the room, turning away from the stairs leading down to the saloon in favor of the other end of the hall. There was, indeed, a narrow staircase there. He allowed her to walk before him but stayed close at her heels.

  “Do you think he will die?”

  “I wish I could say. I survived a similar wound, after all, and the bullet was removed right there on my desk. He didn’t appear to be the sickly type. He might have the strength to pull through.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he took hold of her again. His grip was firm but gentle. “Though what I can say is, you had better hope he makes it. It’s one thing for a young lady to shoot a man in self-defense, but another when the man in question dies. Especially when there were only two witnesses who could testify to the woman being in any danger.”

  She might be a murderer.

  That might not have been anything worth concerning herself with if only she was certain that she had shot the right man.

  9

  Just when she thought her humiliation couldn’t get any worse.

  Just when she was certain there was nothing as dreadful as being led down and across Carson Street in the company of the town sheriff, at least he’d allowed her to wear his coat, but her legs had still been exposed, and the amount of paint on her face had all but amounted to a sign strung around her neck. Fallen Woman. Soiled Dove.

  Her sisters arrived, and she understood her troubles were only beginning.

  “And what is this all about?” Molly stormed from the front office to the cells without waiting for Rance to answer her question, heading straight to where Rachel sat beneath a blanket. She looked fit to be tied, as frazzled and furious as Rachel could ever remember seeing her.

  Lewis hurried behind her. “Take care. You shouldn’t be exciting yourself.”

  Rachel breathed a slight sigh of relief, knowing she had an ally. Lewis would keep Molly in check and, she hoped, prevent her from tearing the jailhouse down brick by brick.

  An instant later, he whirled on her instead. “And just what do you think you’re doing? Your sister asked you a question.”

  She barely had time to open her mouth to offer even a pitiful reply before Holly and Cate dashed into view.

  Cate burst into tears at the sight of Rachel sitting there, looking and feeling roughly as forlorn as she ever had. “Oh, Rachel,” she whimpered before a fresh storm of tears overtook her.

  Molly glanced over her shoulder, scowling. “Hush for a moment,” she hissed. “You have been crying on and off since we first got word.”

  Rachel had wondered how long it would take her sisters to arrive. She suspected Rance had sent word to the ranch soon after depositing her in the cell and thrusting a blanket her way.

  “You had better cover yourself,” he had muttered, averting his eyes. “There will be people who wish to see you.”

  Though she suspected these were not the people he had in mind at the time.

  “I wish I could explain.” Rachel looked from one of them to the other, all of them either furious or suffering under some equally violent emotion.

  Phoebe burst in, holding a bundle of clothing aloft. “Here,” she gasped, pushing her way through the rest of the family gathered around the cell. “I did what I could. I had to wait until Martha returned from her visit with friends on the other side of town. I could hardly bring Jesse in to see this. But I have brought you something that should suffice.”

  She turned to her husband. “Well? Aren’t you going to let me in to give her something decent to wear?”

  Rance looked for all the world like a man who wished he’d chosen another profession. He shrugged. “You do realize that were she any other person, I wouldn’t extend such courtesy toward her?”

  Phoebe gaped at him. “You mean to say that were she not my sister, you would allow a wretched young woman to sit, half-dressed, in a jail cell where anyone might come in and ogle her? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” She was beginning to work herself into a fit.

  Molly clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I hope that is not what you mean to say.”

  Lewis placed a hand on her shoulder. “We must let him do his job as he sees fit. What I believe he means to say is, just because she is his sister-in-law doesn’t mean she deserves special considerations.”

  Rance shot him a look of pure gratitude. “Yes, that is exactly what I meant.”

  Cate’s tears fell harder and faster than ever. “Oh, Rachel,” she whimpered. “They won’t even allow you to dress.”

  Holly bolstered her, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “There, there,” she murmured, “we wouldn’t want you upsetting yourself and fainting now, would we?”

  All of this happened so quickly, nearly all at onc
e. It was enough to make Rachel’s head spin. How could she possibly explain to any of them why she’d done what she done? How could she explain the desperation?

  Then again, she supposed some of her desperation was evident in her choice of clothing and in the establishment in which she had committed a crime. Only a woman at the height of desperation would sink so low.

  “Well?” Molly stared him down, fists on her hips. “What will it be? You allow this young woman—sister-in-law or no—the chance to dress herself more appropriately? I’m sure she must be half-frozen, even with use of that blanket. Or will you force her to sit there as she is, and perhaps catch a chill and become ill?”

  Rance threw his hands into the air. “As if there were ever a choice,” he muttered before turning his back on them. “Do as you wish. Just see to it that she stays in the cell.”

  Lewis clapped him on the shoulder. “Come,” he offered. “Let’s have a seat out there while she dresses, and we might be able to clear our heads a bit.” It appeared as though both men needed to be rid of the women for a moment. They were both more than a little overwhelmed.

  Phoebe took the keys from the hook on the wall and used one to open the door. “To think, I have spent time in this very cell.” She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning downward in a mournful expression. “Look at the example I set for my younger sister. No wonder you came to such an end.”

  Rachel took umbrage at this, dropping the blanket as she stood. “That had nothing to do with this, and don’t tell yourself otherwise. I had my own reasons for doing as I did, and none of you are to blame for it.”

  Molly took one end of the discarded blanket, Holly the other, and the two of them held it at shoulder-height that they might provide some measure of privacy for their sister while she dressed.

  “Why did you do it, then?” Molly asked.

  “I wish it were a simple as that.”

  “As simple as what?” Holly asked, perturbed. “It seems to me a fairly simple matter. You shot a man. There has to be a reason for it.”

  “What I wish to know,” Phoebe added before Rachel had the chance to answer, “is what you were doing in that saloon, dressed like one of the girls who work there.”

  “I could just die of shame.” Molly shuddered.

  “I fail to see how it would be you dying of shame, when it was I who was in the place.” Rachel could only stand so much of this. She well understood the shame she had brought upon her sisters, but for them to act as though their shame was anything in comparison to hers seemed the height of silliness.

  Once she had buttoned up the shirtwaist and slid into a long, striped skirt which thankfully covered her to her ankles, Rachel took a seat on the uncomfortable cot with its straw tick mattress. “I did what I thought I had to do,” she tried to explain with a shrug. “Unfortunately, there is very little I can tell you, as I don’t know the sort of danger I might place you in by revealing anything more than that.”

  Cate’s tears suddenly dried themselves as if by magic. She rushed into the cell, reaching for Rachel’s hands and falling to her knees before her. “It’s something horrible?” she breathed, her wide eyes large as saucers as they stared up at her sister. No doubt she imagined any number of things, the sort of dramatic situations she so often read about.

  And this was dramatic. Only it was not a story. This was real life, where there were seldom happy endings for all at the end of Act Three.

  Molly scowled. “Is this any way to behave? You act as though she ought to be commended for what she’s done.”

  “We still don’t know why she did it,” Cate reasoned. “But if it is something so dreadful she cannot share with us for fear of endangering us, it makes her a heroine. She has sacrificed herself for her sisters. Should we speak to her as though she were nothing better than a common criminal, then?”

  Phoebe’s brows lifted in surprise. “For once, I can’t disagree with her. She makes a strong point.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “Let’s not encourage her.”

  Before Cate could draw herself up into a good and proper tantrum—nothing got under her skin quite so badly as when her sisters would not take her seriously—Rachel spoke over all of them. “I mean what I said. I do not know the exact nature of the situation. I only know that I did what I felt I needed to do. I believed I was protecting myself, and all of you. And until I’m certain that I’ve done the right thing, I cannot share with you my reasons for having done so.”

  “Why did we never hear anything of this?” Holly asked, looking around. “You never spoke of any possible trouble. This comes as a terrible surprise.”

  Rachel nodded. “I can imagine that it would.”

  “I don’t see why you have to be so impossible about this.” Molly shot Phoebe a withering look. “She gets it from you.”

  “Me?” Phoebe gasped, surprised.

  “The both of you, believing you need to sacrifice yourself for others. You went to jail to protect a pitiful girl, who also happened to work at that horrid saloon, and this one here believes she did us a favor by throwing us all into scandal.”

  “At least I wasn’t on the verge of being charged with murder.”

  “Murder?” Rachel gasped, her heart clenching.

  “Typically, when one shoots a man, they aren’t trying to merely wound them.” Molly folded her arms, looking down at her sister. “What did you think this would lead to?”

  There was no way to explain it. To do so would mean revealing more than she felt comfortable doing. “Can any of you please go and check with the doctor? See if there has been any word about the man’s condition?”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” Molly sat beside her, taking one of her hands. “Since when do you keep secrets from us? Since when do we not share everything?”

  “This is different. This is much worse. I wish I felt comfortable telling you everything, don’t you know I would rather unburden myself I could?” Tears welled up in her eyes, tears she only held at bay for fear of setting off another of Cate’s spells.

  “I can go across the street to see if anything has been said of the man.” Holly took Cate by the arm. “Come. We’ll go together.”

  Phoebe leaned in. “You know, if there is any trouble, Rance will help you. I know it’s easy for me to say, with him being my husband and everything. I tend to have a great deal of faith in him. But you know as well as I do that he would stop at nothing to help you. Not only because you’re my sister, and because he cares about you, but because that’s the sort of man he is. He does not believe in a person being wrongly accused. If there was a reason for you to do this, you should share it with him.”

  Molly patted her hand. “Yes, indeed. He is the law in Carson City. If anyone could help you, it would be him.”

  Rachel nodded, her heart sinking further than ever. They couldn’t possibly understand, and that was how she wanted it. For the time being. Until she knew for certain just who she’d shot and whether her troubles were truly over.

  Lewis joined them once again, looking more stern than ever. “That’s a rather familiar pistol you used,” he said, his brows drawing together over the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything you wish to share with me?”

  Molly gasped, but Rachel paid her little mind. She could hardly meet Lewis’s gaze. “I am so sorry,” she murmured, hanging her head.

  He grunted. “I suppose we can deal with this later. You have enough troubles now. Come, ladies.” He stepped aside, giving her sisters room to pass. “The sheriff wants us to clear out for now, and I think we ought to listen to him. I suppose we’ll have to make arrangements for you all to stay in town until this is settled.”

  Rachel stood, going to the bars which Phoebe swung shut. “I wouldn’t want any of you to put yourself to any trouble.”

  Molly merely laughed, but Phoebe tilted her head to the side with a rather disgusted expression. “Right,” she muttered. “As if any of us would go back to the ranch now, with you in jail a
nd a man’s life hanging by a thread. As if we would remove ourselves from this place when the situation is so grave.”

  Things could not possibly get worse.

  But then, they did.

  Lewis waited until they were alone before turning to her. “It isn’t so much the matter of your stealing my pistol that bothers me,” he muttered, casting a glance toward where his wife stood. “What matters is the fact that the act was premeditated. If you stole my gun and drove to town with the purpose of shooting that man, this is no longer a case of self-defense. You armed yourself prior to your contact with him, which will give any judge ample reason to assume you had planned this in advance. Do you understand?”

  Yes, she understood far too well. Premeditation meant murder.

  And now that the question of whether she had shot the right man hung over her like a storm cloud, this mattered more than ever.

  Cate burst in from outside. “The doctor believes the man will live,” she announced with a radiant smile.

  Well. Something had finally gone her way on this terrible day.

  10

  How had everything gone so wrong?

  This question ran through Mason’s head again and again as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

  He’d heard of men losing awareness of what was going on around them when in the grip of a disaster. Of waking up after an injury with no memory of how the injury had occurred. Asking those around them how they had come to be attacked, or shot.

  He almost wished he had the luxury of forgetfulness. He wished he could forget how wrong everything had gone.

  He should have told her from the start. Little wonder she feared him. Little wonder she believed him the sort of man who deserved to be shot through the gut in the upstairs room of a saloon. He had behaved like one, had he not?

  So full of himself, of his skill as a detective. So certain of being in the right. He had given no thought to what she might already know. To whether someone had, in fact, menaced her before she left Baltimore.