Fatal as a Fallen Woman (25 page)

"But
what
threat? Ben, I can't think of a single thing Evan could have known that would make Father give him a large sum of money. And if he didn't extort that first payment, then the rest of this speculation is absurd." She managed a faint smile. "If
I'd
come up with this theory, you'd accuse me of letting my imagination run away with me."

"I might. On the other hand, that active imagination of yours is right more often than I like to admit."

* * * *   

Bits and pieces of Diana's early life had been coming back to her throughout the journey from Denver to Torrence. By the time the train reached Buena Vista, the county seat, she was flooded with memories.

"We used to come here to shop," she murmured. "Before we moved to Denver."

The town was much as she remembered it, with its impressive courthouse, its churches, and stores of all kinds. There was even a cosy little opera house. And there were at least three hotels—the Lake, the Park, and the El Paso.

"There are hot springs west of here," she said to Ben. She grinned at a stray memory. "Some folks come all the way from Denver to visit them. Eleven dollar fare. Mother thought that an extraordinary amount to pay for such foolishness."

They were soon moving again, through the forest of small pine and cedar trees that surrounded Buena Vista, and on into rough broken country covered with scrub-pines and more cedars. Directly west was Mt. Yale, piercing the clouds, and on the opposite side ahead, Mt. Harvard.

Torrence was only a few miles away.

The flashes of memory increased in volume. Diana recalled a cottonwood tree from which her father had hung a swing one summer. And there had been a trumpet vine winding around the door of one of the shacks they'd lived in before William Torrence found the Timberline Mine, although she wasn't certain where that had been. Fairplay, perhaps? Or Oro City?

She wondered what her life would have been like if her father had never struck it rich.

"Why is she so nervous?" Ben asked in a voice low enough that Jane, the subject of his question, could not hear him.

Jerked back to the present, Diana stared at the younger woman. Jane's hands twisted together in her lap and she was alternately pursing and licking her lips.

"I assume it has to do with Alan," Diana whispered back. She hadn't yet shared with Ben her suspicion that Alan had abandoned Jane for the wealthier, prettier Miranda. She hadn't wanted to speak of that possibility in front of Jane, since she still had not questioned the younger woman about her beau. "I'll tell you later."

Ben gave Diana an odd look, but didn't press for details. Instead he asked about their destination.

"I'll be honest with you," Diana said, "Torrence is not a very hospitable place. It sits on a barren hilltop 9800 feet above sea level. Gales blow in, one after another, from the Continental Divide, making it necessary to brace all the houses on that side. In summer, there are violent thunderstorms, and winters are even more fierce. That's why we usually moved into Denver in late fall, even before Father struck it rich. The one time we stayed all year, I saw for myself just how deep a snowdrift could get. The house was covered to the second floor and we had to use the upstairs windows as doors."

"Is Torrence as large as Leadville?" Ben asked.

"No, but I'm not sure of the population. What does
Crofutt
say? It was published in 1885 and is probably more accurate than my memory."

"About five hundred." He glanced at the entry again. "'Chaffee County. On the Denver & Rio Grande railway between Buena Vista and Leadville. A post office, several stores, a good depot building, one smelter, one stamp mill, the Grand Hotel, and a score of private residences. Two churches. Fare from Denver, $12.50.'" He turned to look at her. "How long did you live in Torrence."

"Less than three years after Father founded the place. Then he moved us into the house in Denver. We'd been in the area before that, of course. For as long as I can remember. But we were dirt poor until I was nine and we moved around a lot."

"That's when he found a vein of silver? When you were nine?"

She nodded. "In 1873. He noticed a flow of blossom rock on a high hill near the Continental Divide. When he took a load of the ore to the smelting works in Argo, on the outskirts of Denver, he had hopes, but I don't think even he expected it to assay so high in silver. He took $6000 worth of ore out of the Timberline Mine that year, all from the first twenty feet of his shaft. The following year, he organized the town, and by 1875 it had sixty houses. He used to brag about that."

He'd also, she recalled, boasted of how his mine had produced $70,000 in silver in 1876, the year they'd moved to Denver. Diana hadn't been back to Torrence since.

The train slowed, pulling in at their destination, and for a moment she had a clear view of the town cemetery.

"Is your father buried there?" Ben asked, noting the direction of her gaze.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know. I never thought to ask." She'd had little experience paying her respects to the dead. The only cemetery she'd ever visited had been the one in Leadville, and then only once. Evan had been buried without ceremony in a grave marked with a wooden cross. She'd had to grit her teeth and accept charity to be able to afford to give him even that much.

"Where do we go?" Jane asked as the train groaned and came to a halt at the station.

"To the dance hall Matt Hastings owns. The others arrived three days ago. They could be set up in business already, or still be settling in. Either way, we need to warn them they're about to be evicted."

"I thought you came here to talk to Miranda." Jane gathered up hatboxes, bags, and gripsacks and Diana and Ben did the same.

"I did, but no one's going to throw her out of my father's house. She'll be there when I get around to her." Diana had a great many more questions for her father's widow now than she'd had when they'd left Denver. She still intended to find out what Miranda knew about William Torrence's murder, but she also wanted to know if Torrence's wife had been at that mysterious meeting with Evan.

Diana made her way along the aisle in the direction of the exit with Jane in the lead and almost ran into the other woman when she stopped short instead of stepping down onto the platform. "That's the headquarters of the Torrence Mining Company," she whispered, staring at a building a little way down the dusty street. "Alan works there."

"Do you want to stop and let him know you've arrived?" Diana nudged her forward.

Jane shook her head. "He's going to be angry with me."

"Why should he be?" Ben asked, bringing up to the rear.

But Jane just kept shaking her head. She seemed almost afraid of Alan Kent.

Once again, Diana was reminded of her own relationship with Evan Spaulding. He could be charming one minute, brutal the next. If Alan Kent was cut from the same mold, Jane would be well rid of him. Perhaps Alan's pursuit of the rich widow Torrence would turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

She forebore comment. Jane would undoubtedly ignore any advice Diana tried to give her. Diana had experience there, too. She'd listened to no one when she'd decided she was in love with Evan. She'd married him in spite of all the warnings. And she'd lived to regret that hasty decision.

Once they were off the train, Diana took a moment to study her surroundings. The place still had the same bleak, windblown look she remembered.

"I wonder why Miranda decided to come back here," Ben said. "From what you've told me about her, this doesn't appear to be an environment she'd care for."

"At first I wondered if she'd heard about Matt's generosity and thought Mother might turn up here, too, but then I remembered that the one time I met her, Miranda seemed afraid of her."

"Then maybe she's here because she thinks this is the one place that's safe," Ben suggested.

Whatever her reasons, Miranda had arrived just twenty-four hours earlier. By now she knew, if she hadn't before, that the former residents of the Elmira Hotel were also in town. In a place this size, it wouldn't take long before she also heard that Diana, Jane, and a tall, dark stranger had arrived on today's train.

* * * *

Diana had sent a telegram ahead to announce their impending arrival. Ben watched her search the platform for a familiar face, but plainly she saw no one she knew. A perplexed expression crossed her face as she glanced back at him.

"I wonder where everyone is? I expected at least a few of the girls to meet us. There isn't all that much to do in Torrence. The train coming in should have counted as fine entertainment."

"Maybe they've already set up in business." Jane had to shout to be heard above the noise of the train steaming out of the station.

Ben didn't see any reason for concern. Almost the entire town was visible from where they stood. They wouldn't need an escort to find their way to the Alhambra, the dance hall Matt Hastings owned. In fact, since he could recognize vaguely Moorish-looking designs on a sign swinging in the breeze a hundred yards away, he'd wager his hat, if he had one, on that weathered old building being their destination.

At that moment a man opened its door, stepped out into the dusty street, and started their way. His size, his battered physiognomy, and Diana's sigh of relief all confirmed his identity. This must be "the professor."

Ben watched his approach through narrowed eyes. Something wasn't right. He could see it in the way the fellow moved. He kept glancing behind him, and from side to side, as he advanced towards them, and he was sweating profusely, even though there was a distinct chill in the mountain air.

On the surface there didn't seem to be anything to fear. Several of the good citizens of Torrence were visible, going about their daily business: a shopkeeper closing up for the evening; a woman with a child hurrying towards home; an older boy rolling a hoop along the wooden sidewalk and earning himself a ripe curse from the old prospector he nearly sideswiped.

Ben moved in front of Diana without consciously thinking about it and took up a protective stance. The professor skidded to a halt when he was still a few feet away and gave Ben a suspicious look. "Who are you?"

Jane pushed to the forefront. "This is Diana's real fiancé, Professor. Doctor Benjamin Northcote. I'm afraid we've brought bad news. The invitation to use the dance hall is about to be rescinded."

"Doctor? There's a piece of luck."

"What's happened?" Diana eluded Ben's grasp and slipped in front of him, reaching out to clasp the professor's arm.

"It's Big Nose Nellie, " he said, patting Diana's hand. "She's been shot."

Ben saw Diana go rigid and heard her horrified gasp. He stepped up behind her, settling both hands on her shoulders, and met the professor's eyes. "How bad?"

"Flesh wound, but . . . well, we don't think it was an accident." He sent a nervous glance over one shoulder. "We'd best get back inside."

Feeling hideously exposed, and next to useless as a bodyguard, Ben accompanied Diana, Jane, and the professor down the wide, unpaved street. Buildings on either side provided far too many places for a gunman to hide.

"What happened?" Diana demanded. "When?"

"I wasn't with them," the professor said, obviously relieved to have someone else take charge. "I was working on the place here, fixing things up for us. The girls got done cleaning and went out to explore the town, such as it is. On their way back from the mercantile, someone started shooting at them."

"You're certain they were the targets? It couldn't have been stray gunfire?" Even in Ben's own, supposedly civilized, Eastern city, there were occasional incidents of that type. Some drunken fool decided to shoot up the town, or kill a cheating spouse, and innocent bystanders got in the way of a bullet. As one of the city coroners, he'd seen more than his share of the dire results.

 "No one saw who fired the gun," the professor said, "but the bullets were aimed at the girls. Several struck the ground just ahead of them, raising puffs of dust, and then the one hit Nellie's nose."

"Her . . . nose?" Diana's steps faltered. For a moment Ben thought she was about to faint or have hysterics. Then he realized she was trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry. You'll see when you meet her."

"Was there much damage?" Jane asked. She, too, was fighting a smile.

"She thinks there was. That's why I'm glad he's a doctor. Maybe he can quiet her down. Didn't help that Maryam told her she'd have to change her moniker to 'No-Nose Nellie.'"

Within minutes of entering the Alhambra, Ben understood the reason for Diana's reaction.

"Bled like a pig," said the plump brunette Diana had addressed as Maryam.

With gentle fingers, Ben examined the damage. "Nothing's broken. You were lucky, Nellie."

"Lucky? This here's my trademark!"

"And it will heal just fine." He applied a bit of sticking plaster to the nick she'd sustained. It was already beginning to scab over.

"I've had a terrible shock," Nellie maintained. "I need bed rest and pampering."

The others hooted, but Ben nodded solemnly. "An excellent idea. There is only one problem. You're all moving out of here tonight."

A chorus of protests greeted his announcement, but when Diana had explained, the objections vanished. "There's only one place to go," she told them when she'd finished. "The Grand Hotel."

"And who's going to pay for that?" Maryam demanded.

"I am," Ben said. Before taking a look at Nellie, he'd dispatched the professor to secure rooms for them, a mission it had taken the other man only a short time to accomplish. He'd returned and given Ben a thumb's up while Diana was still explaining Matt Hastings's perfidy.

The move took only a short time to accomplish. They settled Nellie first, in a black-walnut bed of the finest quality. Eyes wide, she surveyed her surroundings. "My stars! Ain't it grand!"

Ben tried to see the room as she did, but the furnishings seemed ordinary to him. There was a bureau with diminutive drawers with pendulous handles like bell pulls and a black walnut washstand to match the two beds in the room. It held an enormous water-pitcher and basin and the hotel provided scented soap and hand towels. Nothing special there.