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STILES SPLASHED WATER on his face from the bowl in his room. He was missing something—some clue that seemed just out of reach. He dried his face and pushed his hair back from his eyes.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror, all the pain and disappointment of what happened to Paul came crashing back. Lizzie was too precious. He would not let her down. He would find her and he would save her.
He wrote out a letter, describing everything he knew, and addressed it to James McCullough at the agency’s office in St. Louis. If he didn’t survive the night, at least McCullough would know what he had already learned from Drew Largo.
It would take two hours to get to Mercer, maybe less by horseback instead of a wagon. That was, if he didn’t get lost. He knew the general direction, but he’d never traveled the distance alone.
He brought Sally an apple. She chewed on it happily while he saddled her. No one was about as he walked her through the yard beyond the house. As soon as he was astride her, he nudged her forward. She shot off into the twilight.
It was quiet as a graveyard as they galloped through the darkness. The moon had only just begun to rise in the sky. The only thing lighting their way was a million twinkling flecks in the dark blue sky. The stars sparkled like diamonds. Stiles wasn’t one for praying, but he said a few words as he rode Sally on through the night. Not for himself, but for Lizzie. He wanted to see her safe and sound. One thing he knew for sure: he’d never forgive himself if anything had happened to her.
A mile or so from the town of Mercer, Stiles began to see small specks of light closer to the ground. It wasn’t long before music floated over the air. It was only an hour after sundown and most of the shops had already closed for the day. Riding into town, the only places that did have lights on and were open for business were the hotel and restaurant, and, of course, the saloon, Patty’s Place. O’Donnell’s bar was crowded with men and would be open late into the night.
The sheriff’s office was dark and locked up tight. It seemed strange to Stiles that no one would be there. Maybe the sheriff was out patrolling the streets at this time of night.
As he continued slowly down the street, Savage came to Stiles’ mind. Where was he?
Two doors down, he slipped the letter he’d written under the door of the post office. Then, checking to make sure he wasn’t being followed, he drifted along the wooden sidewalks until he reached Patty’s Place. It was early, so he stood still long enough to look through the dirty windows.
Stiles could see Patrick O’Donnell standing at the back of the room, close to a door. He was gesturing at someone Stiles couldn’t see. Walking through the front entrance toward Patrick, Stiles spotted the battered face of Gus Williams.
“Take him to the church and we’ll deal with him later,” Patrick said as Gus looked up and spotted Stiles standing a few feet behind Patrick. He ran out the backdoor.
Patrick turned to face Stiles. A brief look of frustration crossed his face, followed quickly by a fake smile, before he met Stiles in the middle of the room.
“Stiles, let me get you a drink,” Patrick said as he wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder. “Pour two from my private bottle,” he said to the man behind the bar.
After they had their drinks in hand, Patrick turned to Stiles. “I was going to let this wait until morning, but now that you are here....” He hesitated, then said, “I’ve got some terrible news for you.” The man didn’t look upset at all about sharing bad news.
“Really?” Stiles took a sip of his whiskey. “And what news would that be?”
“I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but Savage has been arrested. Actually, he turned himself in.” Patrick picked up his whiskey and drank it all in one swallow. He nodded at his glass and the barman refilled it.
Waiting until his heart rate slowed and he could harden his face, Stiles finally looked up and into O’Donnell’s eyes. The man’s face was stoic, frozen in a look of compassion. Stiles knew he was wearing a mask. He also knew what Patrick said was a lie.
“Why on earth would Savage turn himself in?”
“He’s been sabotaging the well water, poisoning the cattle.” Patrick dipped his head, as if in pain. “He killed Larry Largo, too.”
The man was acting and he was lying; but why? What did he hope to accomplish by making Savage out to be a criminal?
“He’s been fooling all of us. You’re not the only one he’s used along the way. I fell for his charms myself at one time. I doubt the buyer you are working for will be interested in the Circle W Ranch now. There’s bound to be an investigation, and Savage will finally get what’s coming to him.” He stepped back from the bar. “You can just go on your way and forget you ever came here.”
Stiles slammed his glass on the wooden bar. The rest of the whiskey in it sloshed out.
“There are a couple of reason that isn’t going to happen.” Stiles seethed out the words. “First, I don’t take orders from you. The man who hired me to check out the ranch is calling the shots. I answer to him alone.”
O’Donnell stepped back and Stiles pressed forward.
“Second, and more importantly, I’m not going anywhere until Lizzie Ferguson is found and I know that she’s safe.”
Stiles watched as O’Donnell’s face flushed a deep red. It gave Stiles a measure of satisfaction that he had ruffled his slicked back feathers. He smiled.
“I believe we understand each other.” Stiles leaned back against the bar and stared at the door where Gus Williams had disappeared. Stiles finally had the piece of the puzzle he had been looking for.
He walked slowly out of the bar and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. His beard itched and he could hear Lizzie admonishing him for letting his grooming go. Oh, Lizzie, are you all right?
Stiles decided to find a spot in the shadows. He could see the church at one end of the street and O’Donnell’s place at the other. Keeping an eye on both seemed the right thing to do. He didn’t want Gus or anyone else sneaking up on him, and he needed to see who went into the church. Shots rang out, and shouting voices drew his attention back to the saloon.
“Somebody get the doc!” someone shouted from inside.
“Stop him! Stop him before he gets away!”
A lone figure emerged from the saloon and ran to a horse hitched nearby. Jumping into the saddle, the rider raced past Stiles in the dark, heading in the direction of the ranch. The night swallowed him up.
“Forget the doc. He’s dead. Somebody go find the sheriff.”
A voice Stiles recognized, called out, “Get the damn body out of my place. It’s bad for business to have it lying around. I want this mess cleaned up before I get back.”
Stiles stayed in the shadows and watched as Patrick O’Donnell emerged from the saloon and walked next door to the hotel. Two men dragged a body outside and left it on the sidewalk. They went back inside. Then one of them returned and placed a hat on the face of the dead man. Others came and went. Eventually, the sheriff showed up with another man Stiles assumed was the local undertaker. After that things quieted down again.
Stiles looked at his pocket watch. Eleven forty-five. Across the street, someone walked quickly toward the church. Stiles couldn’t make out the man’s face but even from this distance, he could tell he was nervous. He kept looking over his shoulder with every step he took. Just as he crept past the millinery shop, a lantern lit the inside of the shop. A woman wearing a dressing gown picked up several papers lying on the counter by the window. It was enough light that Stiles could clearly see the man on the sidewalk. It was Pete Huggins.
Pete ducked past the window and picked up his pace. He ran across the open expanse of dirt in front of the church. Pulling his pistol from his belt, he opened the front doors of the church slowly, and peered inside. He froze for a moment, then frantically rushed through the doors.
Stiles had followed behind Pete. He waited until the door slipped closed, then rested against the wall and listened to the voices coming from inside. It was really just one voice: Pete’s. He sounded anxious as he spoke.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was going to do this. I swear. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
The sound of something heavy being scooted across the floor came next.
“It’s going to be all right, Lizzie. I promise you it will be all right.”
At the mention of Lizzie’s name, Stiles burst through the door, his gun drawn. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Lizzie was standing on a small table, barely big enough for her tiny feet, at the front of the church. Her arms were tied behind her back, a gag covering her mouth. A noose hung about her neck. Stiles followed the rope to see that it was tied off on the rafters supporting the church’s bell. Pete stood on a bench beside the table. He was reaching for Lizzie. The table wobbled as Pete tried stepping on it to get closer. Lizzie saw Stiles and her eyes grew wide. Stiles could see the terror in them. Panic flooded Stiles as he watched. Calming himself and regaining his control, he spoke softly, so he wouldn’t startle anyone.
“Pete, back away from her,” Stiles said as he carefully pulled the hammer back on his gun. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you don’t move away right now.”
Paul’s sweet face flashed across Stiles’ mind. He was determined that he would not lose another person he cared for.
Pete pulled a knife from his back pocket and pointed it at Stiles. His hand shook. “I ain’t going to hurt her. I only want to cut her down. I told him he shouldn’t have done this. I never meant for Lizzie to get hurt.”
Pete tripped over his own feet in his nervousness and the table wobbled again. Lizzie nearly lost her footing, but managed to hold steady.
“Pete, please get down. Your movements are shaking the table. We’ll get Lizzie down together and you can tell us who did this.” Stiles moved forward, lowering his gun hand.
“Stay right where you are Stiles, and Pete, you best keep your trap shut. Look who I found nosing around Patty’s place.”
Gus Williams pushed Savage Beare through a side door, between the hard wooden pews of the church to where Stiles stood. He had a shotgun barrel flush between Savage’s shoulder blades to move him forward. As they got closer, Gus shoved Savage to the floor beside Stiles.
“Drop it,” he said, using the shotgun to point at Stiles. “And kick it over here while you’re at it.”
Stiles did as he was told. He noticed that Savage’s wound was bleeding again. The man didn’t look like he was in any physical pain, but he was flushed with anger when he looked up. He stared past Stiles at someone who had just entered the church behind them. Stiles knew the voice immediately.
“Well, well. Looks like the gang’s all here,” Patrick O’Donnell said cheerfully. He waved a derringer at Stiles as he continued, “You should have listened to me and left while you still could.”
“Why’d you have to go and hang her up here like this? She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Pete yelled from beside the table where Lizzie stood. “Let me cut her down before she gets hurt. She don’t know nothing. I’ll take her with me. We’ll leave. Nobody has to know who’s behind the dead cattle—”
A shot rang out and everything grew quiet again. Gus had unloaded one barrel from the shotgun at the floor in front of Pete.
“I told you to keep your trap shut! If you say one more word, I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Gus Williams’ words stopped Pete in his tracks. Then he turned to Patrick O’Donnell, a sneer on his face. “And as for you, our partnership is over. Thanks to you, these two Pinkerton agents were sent here. Now we’re going to have to get rid of them too.”
“Gus, calm down. Everything is going as I planned. We had to make Savage Beare look incompetent so the owner would put the ranch up for sale. I agree the plan would have worked better if someone hadn’t called them in. So, I used Miss Ferguson to lure Savage here. Killing an agent could bring the whole agency down on us, but if it looks like one of their own committed the crime, well, that would be very bad. Wouldn’t it, ex-agent Beare?” O’Donnell had moved a little closer to Gus as he talked, and now he kicked Savage’s boot.
Stiles stared at Savage. This explained so much of Savage’s behavior. His unwillingness to share information was due to his training as an agent. He was gathering facts and information just like Stiles. Did Savage suspect Patrick all along? It also might explain what he had meant about a different job and a different life. He wished they had a moment to speak, but his questions would have to wait. A smile curled at the corner of Savage’s lips, and he looked at Stiles with a softness that made Stiles’ stomach knot. Stiles had to get them out of this situation. Determination brought out the clinical side of Stiles’ mind.
“Why?” Stiles asked. “Why did you poison the cattle and kill Larry Largo? He was just a kid.”
“He was an idiot and he was going to go to the sheriff and tell him everything,” Gus answered. “He wanted to tell Savage too, and I couldn’t have that.”
“Larry wasn’t very bright, Stiles. He just wasn’t going to keep quiet about things,” O’Donnell added.
“It’s clear now that you were behind all of this, but why? Why do you want the ranch?” Stiles moved a little closer to Savage.
“It’s mine. All mine. It was stolen from me and now I want it back.” O’Donnell straightened his jacket. He ran his free hand through his hair.
“Ha!” Gus bellowed. “Your old man lost the danged ranch in a damn card game when you were just a kid.”
Stiles watched as Savage measured the distance between where he sat on the floor and where Stiles’ gun lay. He was planning something. Stiles wanted these men alive, but the chances were slim that everyone was going to survive this. Savage’s voice was low and full of authority when he spoke.
“That’s where you are wrong, Patrick. Actually the ranch is mine.” He looked at O’Donnell and Gus. “I bought it from the man who won it in the card game. I was the one who called in a favor at the agency. I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t prove who was behind it.”
Patrick O’Donnell’s face flushed bright red. The veins in his neck protruded as he stared at Savage. Anger rolled off him in waves. Stiles could now see that Patrick O’Donnell was delusional and out of his mind.
“You... own... the ranch! You!” He aimed the derringer at Savage, but before he could pull the trigger, another shot rang out.
“I told you not to move!” Gus had unloaded the other barrel of the shotgun into Pete.
The force of the blast threw him backwards, and as he fell, he leaned against the table on which Lizzie stood. It crashed to the floor and Lizzie was left hanging.
“No!” Stiles screamed and bounded across the room to Savage, who had managed to undo the ropes binding his hands.
Another shot rang out, slicing the rope holding Lizzie, and she fell into Stiles’ arms. She had fainted as she fell. He laid her on the floor and turned back in time to see Savage creep slowly toward Patrick.
“You idiot!” O’Donnell shouted as he turned to Gus. “It needs to look like it’s Savage who kills them. Your incompetence has been the downfall of this whole plan!” Gus reloaded his shotgun while Patrick shouted.
Patrick did not see Savage as he slid forward and swiped his leg out. O’Donnell fired his derringer at Gus just as Savage’s foot made contact with his leg. The shot grazed Gus’ temple and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, groaning. The shotgun he had used on Pete slid across the floor to where Stiles stood. O’Donnell turned his gun on Savage, but Savage had the upper hand. He had Stiles’ revolver aimed right at O’Donnell’s head.
“Don’t make a stupid move, Patrick. I will kill you if you force me to. I’d rather let the Pinkertons take you in, but it wouldn’t take much for me to pull this trigger.” Savage slowly stood. He looked at Stiles, keeping the gun trained on O’Donnell. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, she’s coming around now. You saved her,” Stiles said gratefully. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for that.”
Lizzie moaned and startled awake. She grabbed her throat with both hands. Large tears formed in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. Stiles had never seen her cry. He wrapped her in his arms and felt her body shudder against his. She didn’t make a sound, but he could feel her tears soak his shirt as she wept.
“I’m afraid I can’t possibly let you turn me over to the authorities, Savage. Prison doesn’t suit a man like me.” O’Donnell raised the derringer and placed it at his temple. “The Circle W Ranch was all I ever wanted since I was a boy. I survived the drunken beatings and the hate. I survived, and it was supposed to be mine. But he lost it. Gave it away in a card game. Like it was nothing. Nothing! He was the first man I ever killed.”
“Patrick, put it down. We can talk about this,” Stiles said. “We all know a derringer only has one shot and you used it on Gus.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about. I don’t intend to let you take me anywhere.”
Stiles watched as Patrick charged Savage. The two wrestled for the revolver. Savage’s shoulder was still weak and Patrick took advantage, punching it hard. Savage staggered back from the blow. Blood gushed from the reopened wound, and Patrick managed to wrangle the gun.
Stiles could see Savage might lose the battle. He retrieved Gus’ shotgun.
“Patrick, throw the gun and back away,” Stiles called out as he stepped closer to the two men. Savage looked up with relief in his eyes. Stiles cocked the shotgun, then said, “Savage might want to save you for the Pinkertons, but I have no such sentiment. You wouldn’t be the first man I’ve killed.”
Patrick only hesitated for a moment, but it was long enough for Savage to grab the revolver from his hand. There was no struggle this time. Patrick turned and ran toward the open church door. One shot rang out and down he went.
THE SHERIFF LOCKED the cell that Patrick O’Donnell and Gus Williams were sharing. The town doctor had just left after he patched up Gus’ head wound and the gunshot to Patrick’s left leg. He turned to Stiles and nodded.
“They’ll be fine until the rest of the agents arrive to take them to Cheyenne. I’ll be sure of that Mr. Long. My deputy is on his way to the ranch to pick up Drew Largo as well.” He shook Stiles’ hand. “I guess you and Miss Ferguson will be leaving with them too.”
“Miss Ferguson is going, but I’ll be staying on to finish up my report,” Stiles said to the sheriff, but that wasn’t his only reason for staying in Mercer for a while longer. “I’ll be at the Circle W if you need me for anything.”
Stiles closed the door to the sheriff’s office behind him and walked down the street to the boarding house. Lizzie had decided to stay there rather than return to the ranch. Stiles didn’t blame her. Walking through the lobby, he stopped and said good morning to the owner before he climbed the stairs to Lizzie’s room. He knocked softly and listened for her approach. She opened the door and smiled.
“Stiles. Come on in.” She opened the door wider and Stiles entered her room. He took a seat by the window overlooking the street.
“They are locked up tight, Lizzie. You don’t have to worry about them anymore. Do you feel like talking about what happened?”
Lizzie sat on the bed facing Stiles before she began to speak.
“Gus Williams returned to the ranch shortly after everyone had headed out to the station shacks. He cornered me in the kitchen and knocked me out. When I came to, I was tied up and I could hear Gus and Pete arguing. Gus told Pete to take me into town and wait for him to get there.” She grabbed at her skirt and stretched the material between her fingers.
“Gus told Pete they had to get you and Savage into town and I was the bait. He sent Pete to get to the horses ready.” Lizzie’s face grew pale as she continued.
“While Pete was gone, Gus told me that I didn’t need to worry. He touched my face and... and he was going to kiss me... but Pete stopped him. They argued again, then Gus left, yelling at Pete to follow orders.”
“When Pete and I arrived at the church, Patrick O’Donnell was there. He put a gag in my mouth and then sent Pete back to the ranch. He left me there in the church, tied up and gagged. It was hours later before he returned and hung the noose.”
“Lizzie, you don’t have to say any more. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Stiles rose from the chair and pulled Lizzie up into his arms. He hugged her tightly.
She only let Stiles hold her for a moment and she didn’t cry. She pulled away from him before she spoke again.
“Stiles, I knew there would be danger being an agent. And yes, I was very shaken by the experience, but I have no intention of giving this up.” She smiled softly. “I need a little chance to get my strength back and come to terms with it, but I’m fine. I really am.” She kissed Stiles on the cheek. “Thank you for saving me.”
“I can’t take all the credit for that. Savage Beare had a great deal to do with that too,” Stiles stated.
“What are you going to do about him?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Stiles turned to the window to hide his face.
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” she said. “Do you care for him?”
Stiles didn’t know how he felt about Savage Beare, but he didn’t want to leave Wyoming without talking to him one more time. He squeezed Lizzie’s hand and kissed her cheek.
STILES RODE INTO the yard of the Circle W Ranch, thinking it looked exactly as it did that first day he had arrived. Except now the men greeted him like one of their own. He walked into the kitchen through the back door, and though some of the faces were the same, there were many new ones. The ranch would go on. The cattle would be safe and life would return to normal. Stiles strode through the parlor to the foreman’s office. He could see Savage sitting behind the large desk when he entered. Savage stood and offered his hand.
“This is a surprise. I thought you’d be on your way to Cheyenne with Lizzie and the prisoners,” Savage said.
“Mr. McCullough is sending agents to pick them up. They will be here tomorrow, and Lizzie is returning with them to Cheyenne and then on to St. Louis from there. O’Donnell and Williams will be held by the authorities in Cheyenne until it’s decided where they will be prosecuted.”
“So why are you here? I believe everything was covered at the sheriff’s office when we took them in.” Stiles watched as Savage rubbed at his wound.
“Did the doc take a look at that for you?”
“Yes, he put a couple of stitches in it,” Savage smiled at Stiles. “Just like you said.”
Stiles returned the smile, remembering their argument at the station shack.
Savage stood and circled the desk until he stood before Stiles. Rising, Stiles felt the pull that was so strong between the two of them. Rough hands pulled Stiles forward.
Savage took Stiles’ mouth in a hungry kiss. The same but different from what they had shared at the station shack. This kiss was not filled with the anger that had pulled at Savage before. Stiles let his hands roam across Savage’s chest muscles. Savage grabbed Stiles’ neck and pulled him closer. When their bodies came into full contact, Stiles could feel that Savage’s excitement matched his own. Savage only stopped long enough to say one word.
“Bed.”
This time clothes came off while they stood face to face. Stiles could admire every inch of Savage’s body. Sculpted from years of hard work, it took his breath away. He let his fingers wander through the soft hairs on Savage’s chest and listened to the deep breaths and growls Savage released as he returned the touches on Stiles’ body.
The sex was still animalistic and full of heat, but Stiles knew what to expect this time and he could meet Savage with the same intensity. The two of them lay side by side in Savage’s bed after, their bodies sweaty and heaving from the exertion of their joining.
“Do you ever think about going back to the agency?” Stiles asked as he rolled to look at Savage.
“Sometimes. But the ranch is where I belong.”
STILES WOKE TO the sound of the ranch coming to life. He could hear the animals and men’s voices mingled together. Savage was not in the bed, but then Stiles hadn’t expected him to be there. They’d said their goodbyes the only way they could. Stiles smiled as he climbed from the bed and felt the soreness of his body. He dressed and left the bedroom.
His bag packed, he threw it over the horn of his saddle and mounted the horse one of the hands had brought out to him. He figured that if he rode hard he could make it to Mercer in time to catch the next stagecoach to Cheyenne. It was time to go home.