A Touch of Camelot (24 page)

They took a ferry across the sparkling blue bay to land in San Francisco proper and then took a horsecar up Market Street, where they ate dinner at a small café. Afterward, they set out on foot to find accommodations.

Locating a lodging house with two vacancies that also fit into Cole's stringent budget had proven to be a challenge. It was past dusk when Gwin finally dropped her valise onto the bed in her new room. She turned a slow pirouette, eyeing up the peeling floral wallpaper. The furnishings consisted of one sagging brass bed, one cane chair, and a washstand with a tin basin and pitcher. The sign over the front door of this establishment read, ROOMS FOR RENT. 50 CENTS AND 75 CENTS. This was one of the seventy-five cent rooms. She shuddered to think what one of the fifty-cent rooms must look like.

Cole stood inside the open doorway, examining the bolt lock. The rusty piece of hardware was missing two screws and looked to be hanging by little more than spit and a prayer.

"We'll have to get this fixed," he muttered. He'd been thrilled to find two rooms for rent in this brick building on Kearney Street, but he didn't seem quite so thrilled at the moment.

Arthur looked in from the hallway. "Geez! What a dump!"

Irritation flitted across Cole's face. "I wouldn't exactly call it a dump."

Gwin gave Cole an amused glance. "We've lived in a lot of dumps. We know one when we see one."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?"

"Modest accommodations, you said. Why didn't we do it right and just pitch a tent?"

Cole tossed up his hands. "I don’t believe you two. You've got a perfectly good roof over your heads and running water right down the hall."

"Yes, and did you notice that tub? I swear, the last time it saw a scrub brush was during the gold rush."

"It's nothing that a little soap and elbow grease won't fix. Besides, no one will think to look for you here."

Gwin laughed. "You're probably right about that."

"Oh, come on," Cole chided as he crossed the room to sit on the rickety brass bed. "The landlady says she does laundry every day." He slapped the mattress firmly. "Why, the linens are clean as a whistle. No bedbugs."

"No bedspread, either."

"You know we need to watch our expenses. Tomorrow, I'll have to send a telegram to Fritz at the Agency. After paying for dinner and these rooms, we're just about out of money."

Gwin waved this away. "Oh, you worry too much. We can always get money."

"Oh?"

"Certainly. In a town like this, there are dozens of opportunities."

Cole gave her a doubtful look. "If you're talking about gambling again, you can forget it."

"Not gambling. You have no imagination at all."

"And you do, I suppose?"

"Absolutely. Why, I'll bet even young Arthur here could come up with a few ideas."

Her brother, who had donned his favorite overalls before Gwin had had a chance to catch him this morning, grinned at her from beneath the brim of his cap."Sure! We know how to get money. Anytime, anywhere. Right, Gwinnie?"

"You bet." Gwin felt the juices begin to flow. "How about that old game, the Pigeon Drop?"

"You mean the one where Silas would pretend to find some money and—"

Gwin snapped her fingers as another idea occurred to her. "Oh! I know, we could—"

Cole stood. "Stop it. Hold it right there."

Gwin and Arthur looked at him.

Cole raised a finger at Gwin. "I just want to know one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Has it ever occurred to either of you to just get a job?"

Gwin and Arthur looked at each other. Gwin wrinkled her nose. Arthur grimaced.

"That's what I thought. We'll wire the Agency."

Gwin shrugged. "Suit yourself, Shepherd. Just trying to help."

"That kind of help we can do without. We're liable to end up in the county jail."

"At least you wouldn't be able to complain about the rent."

A smile tugged at his lips. "You have an answer for everything, don't you, Miss Pierce?"

"Not everything. In fact, I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"When do we get started?"

"Started what?"

"On our case. Now that you dragged us back here, what's next, Mr. Pinkerton Detective?"

"First thing tomorrow, I get to work."

"You? I thought we were working together. You do remember saying that, don't you?"

"Not out in the open, we're not. You two might be recognized, and until we know who our enemies are—"

"That's not a problem," Gwin said. "We could disguise ourselves."

Cole looked incredulous. "What?"

Arthur hopped up and down. "Yeah! We could disguise ourselves!"

"It's not like you're dealing with two amateurs,” Gwin said. “Between Arthur and me, we've probably got ten years' worth of stage experience."

"Absolutely not," Cole said.

"Wait, just hear me out." Gwin turned to Arthur to demonstrate her point. "It's not as crazy as it sounds. Anybody who knows us will be looking for a woman and a boy, right? But would they ever think to be on the lookout for two boys?"

She snatched the engineer's cap from Arthur's head and set it down on her own, pulling the brim down low and stuffing her curls beneath it."See? Put me in a pair of pants and a coat and ... See?"

Cole stared at her, his head cocking to one side, a look of puzzlement creeping over his face.

Gwin prodded again." Pretty good, huh?"

The look of befuddlement passed, and he glowered. "
Not
pretty good." He snatched the cap from her head and slapped it back against Arthur's middle.

"But I'll be wearing pants and a big coat and ..."

Cole waved her protestations aside. "Come on, Gwin, no right-thinking person would ever mistake you for a boy."

"But—"

Cole closed the distance between them and caught her up by the shoulders. He spoke in a low voice for her ears only. "I am telling you, Miss Pierce, that no matter how you try to disguise yourself, no red-blooded man worth his salt will ever mistake you for a boy." His gaze dipped to her breasts and then back to her face.

Gwin felt a flood of color rise to her cheeks. "Not even a really big coat?"

"Not even."

There followed a silence, a long, lingering silence, during which they both became exquisitely aware of how close he held her.

Arthur piped up. "So, are you two done arguing now?"

Gwin couldn't tear her eyes from Cole's. "Oh, I think so. Why don't you go wash up before bed?"

"What?
Again?
" Arthur sounded horrified.

"Just do it."

"Geeeeez! Cole, do I have to?"

"Listen to your sister."

"Geez! Wash up, wash up! All I ever do is wash up. It ain't healthy. I'm gonna end up getting sick from it. You just watch and see if I don't." But his voice was already fading down the hall where a door slammed.

Cole bent his head so that his mouth hovered tantalizingly over Gwin's. "Is it my imagination, or is this the first time we've been alone since yesterday morning?"

"Not your imagination."

He kissed her, one hand dropping to her waist, his other slipping behind her neck. Just about the time Gwin thought she might swoon, he pulled back. "Last night, on the train, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about —"

"I know." Gwin wondered at how so simple a kiss could scramble her insides worse than a morning egg.

He kissed her again, deeper this time. When he pulled away, she had to catch her breath. "Tonight," he said, "after Arthur is asleep?"

"Yes," she agreed. Too quickly, she knew. But she couldn't seem to help herself. Succumbing to temptation once had not quelled her desire for him. If anything, it had only fanned the flames. She had spent the better half of last night lying awake, thinking of him in the next berth, dreaming of the night they'd spent together. Was she being a fool? She didn't know.

They heard the door down the hall squeak on its hinges, and Cole pulled away from her with a reluctant sigh. "That had to be all of ten seconds to ourselves. I wonder if that kid actually uses soap."

Gwin forced a weak smile. A moment later, her brother was back in the room, and it was too late to change her mind.

Chapter Nineteen

Cole lay on his back in one of two narrow camp cots, listening morosely to the songs of drunken revelers as they passed on the street one story below. They had probably come from one of the many noisy gambling parlors or saloons just up the street near Portsmouth Square.

"Cole? Are you awake?"

"What do you want, Arthur?"

"Can I go along with you tomorrow?"

This was not the first time Arthur had posed a question seemingly out of the blue. It would be just about the time Cole dared to think that maybe the boy had drifted off to sleep that his voice would spike the dark to cruelly dash all hopes.

"Absolutely not," Cole answered, trying his best not to sound as impatient as he felt.

"Why not?'    

"Well, first, I'm going to the police station, and then I'm going to the jail to visit our friend, Mr. Cortez."

"He's the man they said did it."

"Yes."

"But he didn't."

"That's what we're going to try to prove."

"I could help you."

"No, Arthur."

"Why not?"

"Because no one's supposed to know you're here, remember?"

There was a short, thinking silence. "I could wait outside and hide. I'm good at hiding."

Cole smiled despite himself. "I have no doubt you are, but the answer is still no. Now, go to sleep."

"Geeeez."

Cole rolled over onto his side and stared into the dark. He imagined Gwin in the next room, her hair loose and wild, her eyes closed, her lips parted, and stark naked, of course, just waiting for him. Waiting and waiting and waiting.

"Cole?"

"What?"

"Do you think we could ride the cable car?"

"We aren't here to ride cable cars."

"But it only costs five cents."

"The five cents has nothing to do with it. Go to sleep."

"Geeeeeeez."

Cole listened as the tower bell of Old Saint Mary's Church tolled the hour. One. Two. Three. All the way to eleven before its melancholy echoes finally fell silent.

They lay quietly for a few minutes before Arthur spoke again. This time, Cole heard something troubling in the boy's voice. "I hope we get him."

Cole didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "We're sure going to try."

"Then maybe I can stop seeing his face."

"Stop seeing his face?"

There was a short span of silence before the boy answered. "In my dreams. That giant, big as Goliath he was, I swear. After we get him, maybe I'll stop seeing his face."

Cole thought about this before replying. "We'll get him, Arthur. And you
will
stop seeing his face."

"You promise?"

Cole hesitated. He knew it was foolish to promise the boy anything. In reality, Cole figured his chances of tracking down Silas Pierce's murderer were pretty slim. He still sometimes wondered to himself why he had talked Gwin into coming back to San Francisco. And those were times when he also had to wonder if there wasn't some truth to her accusations about his job being more important to him than their welfare.

There was only one thing he knew for sure. He had to try. If he returned to Chicago without trying to uncover the truth behind Silas's murder, it would be to admit defeat. He would have to admit that he didn't have what it took to be in this profession. And that fact would disillusion more than just his superiors at the Agency.

Cole spoke. "I promise, Arthur. Now, I want you to try to get some sleep, all right?"

"All right. Good night, Cole."

"Sleep well, Arthur."

*

Gwin had left her door unlocked for him. Cole pushed the flimsy bolt lock back into place, reminding himself to speak to the landlord in the morning about getting it fixed. Light from the street lamp filtered through a nearly sheer curtain in the window, illuminating Gwin's figure in the bed.

"Gwin?"

There was no answer. She lay unmoving beneath the sheets. He crossed the room and undressed before climbing into the bed, sidling up next to her and burying his face in her hair. "Gwin?" He reached to encircle her waist, which he discovered with pleasure was naked to his touch.

She sighed languidly and rolled over to face him. She was warm and fragrant from her bath, and Cole pressed up against her, knowing that his wait had been well worth it.

"I thought you weren't coming," she whispered.

"It took a while for Arthur to fall asleep." Cole was content for now just to lie here, holding her in his arms.

"Sometimes I think he's afraid to fall asleep," Gwin said. "He has nightmares, you know. He tries not to let on, but that night was a nightmare in itself. I doubt he'll ever get over it."

"Maybe in time."

Gwin lifted her head to look at him in the dimness. "He hasn't had any bad dreams since we've been with you. He trusts you. He feels safe with you, but now that we're back in San Francisco, I'm worried about him."

"We just have to make sure he's safe."

"Yes."

"And what about you?" Cole asked.

"What about me?"

"Do you trust me?"

She paused. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I'm not sure that answers the question."

"Trust has never come easy for me."

Cole pictured her as she had looked on the train pulling out of Topeka, shuffling her cards and eyeing him askance.
"So, what’s your game, Shepherd? Everybody has a game."

"I reckon it doesn't come easy to you," he said, "but there's always a first time, isn't there?"

Her arms slipped around his neck, her breasts pressed enticingly against his chest, and his body started to respond. "Yes," she whispered. "Perhaps there is."

*

They made love as if they had all the time in the world, each reveling in explorations still tender and new. Cole had been alone for so long that he had come to take it as life's most natural state, but this, he thought, as their fingers interlaced and he entered her, was life's most natural state—a man and a woman, their bodies matched and mated, naked flesh to naked flesh, moving in that unspoken, concerted rhythm that spun the senses.