22

Claire Hamilton’s Case Notes

Thursday, August 23, 1877
Black Hawk, Colorado

I told Hattie everything, drawing out the story longer than necessary, my voice trembling by the end, my body shaking, sure when I finished that she was going to kill me. She prolonged the agony by silently staring at me with dead eyes for what felt like hours. Though my body was quivering, I didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t beg her for my life. I clasped my hands, kept my chin up, and waited for her to declare my fate.

“I’ve suspected from the first, and have known since I followed you to your meeting with Dorcas at the tea shop.”

“You were following me, then?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t kill me.”

“Garet wouldn’t let me do it until you betrayed us.” She pulled out her gun. “Looks like it’s time.”

“No, please. I haven’t betrayed you. Dorcas has no idea it’s you. She only suspects.” I told her the lie about Sally Steele and the gang of whores.

“Where’s your real journal?”

“I … Why?”

“I wanna read it.”

“No.” My case notes had become more personal than professional, and I knew Hattie was clever enough to read between the lines. I’d rather have her kill me than have to face her after she read my innermost secrets.

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing to do with the investigation, I assure you. I swear to you.”

“You swear to me? That fixes everything. You’ve been lying to us for nearly three months, but now I’m supposed to believe what you say? You’ve put me and my family in danger.”

“I never meant—”

“You never meant what? Look at her face! She lost a battle with someone.”

“I don’t think so, Hattie. Look—”

“You’re gonna argue with me?”

“No, I’m not arguing. Something went wrong, terribly wrong. Why else would she stumble into this town half-dead? And maybe Callum did this; we won’t know until she wakes up. But I’m a detective; I’m showing you what I see. Her face is covered in scratches, especially the side that’s bruised, the same side with the broken ribs. I bet if we looked, that side of her body would be bruised, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think she fell off her horse.”

Hattie side-eyed me, but she didn’t yell at me. I was making progress.

“She’s the best—”

“Horsewoman you’ve ever seen. I know. But even the best fall off a horse sometimes. The point is, let’s not fly off the handle, do something impulsive we might regret. We need to wait for Garet to wake up, talk to her, hear what happened.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“We go to Timberline and get your ranch back.”

“You? How could a rich blue belly like you help? Unless you want to give us some money.”

“I’m not rich. Far from it. I dressed that way because I was undercover. I came from nothing, just like you.”

“Don’t you go comparing your life with mine. As bad as you had it, it wasn’t nothing to mine.”

“You’re right. Of course. I apologize. I want to help. I already helped. When I thought Dorcas was a threat to Garet, I got her out of the way.”

“You? You attacked Dorcas?”

“Yes. I dressed as a man. Unfortunately, I was too late. She probably told Callum her suspicions before they left.”

“If she’d been there, she might have been able to keep Callum from doing whatever he did. Dorcas isn’t a cruel woman, she’s just a rule follower. Garet would have gone to jail, to trial. Instead she’s on her deathbed.”

I covered my mouth and started crying, because I knew the truth of her words. I’d brought all of this on Garet. I should have disappeared when I returned to Denver, never gone to Dorcas, never tried to help.

I retrieved my journal from my bag and held it to my chest.

“I know that I’m partially responsible for Garet laying here, for whatever she went through. But you have to give me the chance to make it right.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, I’m not sure yet. We will decide together. I’ll do whatever you want.” I gave her my journal. “If you don’t trust me after reading this, then kill me.”

She holstered her gun.

“If I don’t trust you after reading this, I’ll let Garet have the honor of killing you.”

Thursday, August 23, 1877 cont

Alida is in with Garet right now, so I am going to take this time to write down what’s happened since my last entry, little clues, since we aren’t sure if Garet will be able to let us know what happened to her and how much danger Hattie, Jehu, and the sisters are in. I suppose I should include myself in that number, since it seems I’m part of the group now.

Hattie finished my journal and asked, “What next?”

I wasn’t dying today, at least.

Hattie and I had just about agreed that our plans were overly complicated, with too many points where things could go terribly wrong. We’d danced around the simplest answer: if Garet died, half of our problems went away. I felt horrible thinking it at all. I didn’t want Garet to die, but we had to assume that Callum Connolly knew she was the leader of the gang that had been terrorizing him, and that the towns within a hundred miles would be on alert. So we would have to make a run for Timberline through the mountains, which Garet could hardly do after having her guts pulled out, cut apart, and shoved back into her stomach. Not to mention the broken ribs.

“We have to assume Salter is part of this,” I said. When she got to that entry, she’d berated me well and good about keeping quiet on the Pinkerton. “He may be leading a group of agents in search of her. How far is Black Hawk from your old ranch?”

We were in the kitchen drinking coffee. Sunrise was a gray affair. Storm clouds were gathering over the mountains; it was going to come a gully washer soon. Lana had told us her relation to Garet, and we saw in her someone we could trust. She went in and out of the kitchen during her daily chores, catching snippets of our conversation and occasionally offering her own two cents.

“Here to where?” Lana said.

“North of Fort Collins.”

“’Bout a hundred miles, going up through Estes Park. Takes my boy Zeke a good week to get home. Though he don’t get much time off. Always horses to be broken. Why?”

“That’s where Garet was, last we knew.”

“At her ranch?”

“Yes.”

“You can add about twenty more miles on to that. Easy riding, those twenty miles. The other hundred’ll be tough.” Lana furrowed her brows. “What was she doing there?”

“Garet went with Callum Connolly to visit it. The last letter we received was postmarked from there. Said she was heading into the mountains with Callum to visit his other businesses,” Hattie said.

“I wonder if she saw Zeke? My son works for Connolly at Garet’s old ranch. He went back a few years ago hoping to get on with Garet and Jehu. When they were gone, the new foreman took him on. Zeke woulda been plumb pleased to see her. They took a shine to Zeke, Miss Margaret and Jehu. It was fine by me at the time. I was too worried about Homer finding us to be much of a mother. Was Jehu with her?”

“No. Jehu’s at our new ranch,” Hattie said.

“Were you one of Miss Margaret’s girls?”

Hattie looked at Lana for a moment and I could tell she wanted to snap at her that they were partners, but instead she said, “Yeah. I found my way there.”

“Then you know. I’d do anything for Miss Margaret or Jehu. Zeke would, too. You don’t think he done this to her? The younger Connolly?”

“We don’t know,” I said. “We won’t know anything until she wakes up and can talk.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she just did. That’s what I was coming in here to tell you. Doc’s in with her now.”