Katie Rose (20 page)

The urchins raced in, snatched up papers, and raced back out. Emily never looked up. When the room cleared, the editor indicated the boardwalk.

“I’m going to get lunch. Like to join me?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stay and help Miss Potter. I feel it’s my Christian duty.”

The editor appeared perplexed, but nodded and left the office. When he was gone, Thomas picked up Emily’s notes and began to read through them. As soon as she noticed what he was doing, she tried to snatch them back, but Thomas refused to release them. Looking up, he faced her outrage with a frown.

“Emily, what has this got to do with the case? Your
notes are all about some outlaw named Emmet Colter.”

“You’re right, Thomas, it has absolutely nothing to do with it. Now could you please give them back?”

He held them closer to his chest. “Emily, I thought we had agreed to be partners. How can I help you if I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Emily sighed in resignation. He obviously planned to make good his threat, and there was nothing to be gained from fighting him. “Read this!” She thrust the paper under his nose.

Thomas scanned the newsprint, but he had no idea what had caught Emily’s attention. There was an article about the elections, one about a robbery, then one about the drought. The rest appeared to be editorials and items of local interest. He didn’t see anything that had any bearing on her father or the killings.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Thomas asked, mystified.

“Right there. The robbery. Don’t you see?”

Thomas reread the article. It was about Emmet Colter, an outlaw who had plagued mining towns and the railroad alike in the last few years. There was a price on his head; Thomas had seen the wanted poster in the post office himself. Apparently there had been gunfire following the robbery of the Union Pacific. Colter had made off with a few thousand dollars, but he’d been shot in the leg as a result.

“So?” He handed it back to her.

Emily stared at him as if he were an imbecile.
“Don’t you see? Our first real break!” When Thomas shook his head, Emily sighed. “Thomas, this article is dated four months before the murders. Lizzie said my father was afraid of a man with a wooden leg. Colter was shot in the leg, and he couldn’t have gone to a real doctor, for any doctor would have reported him. He probably treated it himself, and gangrene set in.”

Thomas couldn’t keep the admiration from his voice, although he tried. “Much as I hate to admit it, you may have something there. I still don’t think you should be endangering yourself this way, but I have to give you your due. That’s a damned good job of detection.”

She blushed, and Thomas realized she was more pleased with his comment than she would have been had he praised her beauty. Her eyes shone, and she folded her hands together like a child.

“You really think so?”

“Yes. It’s not conclusive, but it makes sense. I’ll give this information to the sheriff and maybe he can find Emmet. But if I catch you chasing after an outlaw yourself, there’s going to be hell to pay. Emmet isn’t a man to toy with. Just like the housekeeper, a man like that wouldn’t think twice …”

Thomas’s voice trailed off as he realized what he’d just said.

Emily clapped her hands in glee. “I’m right, aren’t I? You think Emmet was involved in her death! Thomas, the trail is getting warmer! Don’t worry, I have no intention of becoming one of the Colter gang’s victims. I’ll be careful.”

The editor returned before Thomas could argue further. It was all he could do to get Emily out of the office before the newsman murdered her.

“Goodness, he certainly wasn’t very friendly.”

“Emily, this is his life’s work. I know you may find it hard to believe, but most men resent a woman who pokes around in their business.”

“Yes, but—”

Emily was interrupted when a woman ran out of her house and accosted Thomas. Tears streamed from her eyes as she stopped in front of the preacher, clasping her hands together in supplication.

“Preacher! Please, you’ve got to come! My old pa is passing on, and we need someone to read him the last rites, proper-like.”

Emily glanced at Thomas. His jaw had tightened and he held the woman’s hand nervously, shaking his head.

“I’ve got other obligations—”

“But you must come! If you don’t say the prayers over him, he’s doomed to damnation! My poor pa …”

The woman’s wails grew louder. She was well dressed, obviously affluent, and used to being obeyed. Other people stopped, watching and whispering. The woman fell to her knees, hugging herself, her sobs growing more wretched by the moment. Emily reached down and helped her up, comforting her with soft words.

“It’s all right. Reverend Hall will come. There is nothing else pressing right now, is there, Thomas?”

He looked like he wanted to strangle her. The
expression disappeared as quickly as it came and resignation followed. “I’ll go get my prayer book.”

“The Reverend Flatter never needed his book,” the woman declared, wiping the tears from her face. “He had them all here.” She tapped a finger against her temple.

“I like to be accurate,” Thomas said pointedly. “Especially when dealing with eternal damnation.”

“But there isn’t time!” the woman declared. She grabbed Thomas’s coat and began dragging him toward the house. “He’s liable to go at any moment!”

Emily could have sworn she heard Thomas curse as the woman pulled him along. More people had gathered to watch. The woman yanked Thomas through her front door and up to her father’s bedside.

Emily stood a little behind him, watching Thomas lean over an elderly man who was obviously dying. His breath came in wheezes, and his eyes were closed. They opened slightly when Thomas entered the room, but they seemed unable to focus on anyone except his daughter.

“Adelia? Is that you?”

“I’m here, Pa, and I’ve brought the minister with me. Don’t worry, you won’t go to your grave without a proper blessing.”

The man’s eyes closed again, and his lined face relaxed. Thomas’s presence seemed to have brought him some peace already.

The preacher stared down at the dying man. The woman stood on the other side, then looked questioningly at Thomas.

“Well?”

Thomas cleared his throat, then gestured awkwardly at the bed. “Do you have some holy oils or something? I believe that’s part of the process.”

“Oils?” The woman’s nose wrinkled. “Where would I get oils?”

“Perhaps some nice bath oil would do,” Emily proposed. “Or cooking oil. Thomas wasn’t able to fetch his supplies, after all.”

The woman nodded, and Thomas threw Emily a look of such gratitude that she had to hide a smile. The daughter returned seconds later with a bottle of pungent bath oil that reeked even before he unstoppered it. Thomas ceremoniously opened the flask and doused his hand with the stuff. As Emily watched him fumbling with the bath oil, the last trace of uncertainty about Thomas Hall’s status as a preacher left her mind.

He didn’t have the first idea what he was doing.

Everyone waited as Thomas stared at the man, mumbling a chant that no one could hear. Emily held back her comments as the lavender-scented bath oil dripped down his hand and onto the man’s head. The elderly man sighed, sniffing the air as Thomas made a crude attempt to anoint his forehead. He dabbed at the man’s face with his sleeve, trying to blot some of the spilled oil. Tiny droplets of sweat beaded on his skin, and he bit his lip. The woman frowned and was about to comment when Thomas raised his hands.

“Good Lord above, have mercy on the soul of this
man. He led a good life, practiced your word, tread the holy path.…”

The woman tugged at his sleeve. Thomas glanced over at her and she shook her head. “My pa made his fortune gambling. I don’t know if that’s the good Lord’s work—”

“I’m sure He understands,” Thomas answered quickly. Emily choked, and he gave her a quelling glance before starting the unusual prayer again.

“May he rest in peace through eternity.
Et cum spirit Tu. Tu. O
. Amen.”

“Amen.” The woman nodded, then beamed at Thomas. “That was a very good last rites, though I’ve never seen it done quite that way.”

“Neither has he,” Emily couldn’t resist adding.

Thomas shot her a look, then glanced back at the woman. “I’m sorry. I could have been more eloquent if I’d had my prayer book.”

“No, I thought it was wonderful. Didn’t you, Pa?”

The man didn’t respond. It took Emily a long moment to realize that he was no longer with them. Astonished, she glanced at Thomas, and saw the understanding come to him as well. A peaceful silence fell over the room as the man’s spirit departed. The woman fell to her knees and resumed her sobbing. Emily laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, then looked back at Thomas. He indicated the door, and they quietly withdrew, leaving the woman alone with her grief.

Outside, Thomas absently smoothed back his hair, then paused as the scent of lavender hit him. He
sniffed his hand and groaned, and Emily burst into laughter.

“You’re the prettiest-smelling preacher I’ve ever met.”

“Very funny.” He gave up any attempt to remove the oil, aware now that his efforts only rubbed it deeper into his skin.

They had reached her door and Thomas stood undecidedly on the porch. Emily’s face lifted to his and her smile reached her eyes.

“I’m not going to ask how you knew where I was, but thank you for your help. That newsman had no intention of assisting me. Without your … interference, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.”

“You’re welcome. But I meant what I said. Stay away from Emmet. I’ll give the sheriff the lead.” After another moment he turned and started to walk away, then stopped in his path. “You are done for the day?”

“Sleuthing, yes.” Emily grinned. “But I do need to work on some hats. My reception is Tuesday, and I have lots to do.”

“I see.” He looked at her regretfully. “Miss Potter, do you think it inappropriate to have supper with me in town one night this week? Maybe Wednesday? I’d like to repay you for your kindness last night.”

He was referring to the meal, of course. Emily had to fight to keep from blushing as she remembered their kiss—and the fact that she’d rifled through his pockets when he fell asleep.

“I think that would be nice,” she agreed, a bit surprised at how nice it really did sound.

“Good. I’ll come for you around seven. Is that all right?”

Emily’s eyes searched his, then she smiled. “Seven would be just fine.”

“Now I know he’s lying.”

Rosie materialized in the mirror, yawning as if Emily had awakened her. She rubbed at her eyes, then glanced around the room in bewilderment. Her gaze fell on Emily and her beautiful brows lifted in surprise.

“What did you say, honey?”

“I said I know he isn’t a preacher.” Emily tossed aside her bag and sat meditatively on the bed. “There isn’t the slightest doubt in my mind.”

“How do you know?” In spite of her fatigue, Rosie appeared intrigued.

“He was asked to perform the last rites in town today. You should have seen him—he looked like a bachelor handling an infant. He didn’t have the faintest idea what to do.”

Rosie clapped her hands together. “What fun! What happened?”

“He muddled through it, but he knew I was onto him. So he’s in disguise, but why was he investigating me? And what does he have to do with Wells Fargo? Thomas Hall is certainly a tangle in this web.”

Emily flopped onto her stomach, her mind racing with possibilities. Rosie frowned, her painted beauty mark dimpling. Then Emily sat up suddenly, her eyes sparkling.

“I know! I’ll search his room!”

“What?” Rosie looked at her as if she were mad.

“It’s the only way,” Emily said logically. “I can’t continue to work with him until I know if he’s friend or foe. Otherwise he’ll know everything I do and could use it against me. Somewhere in his room, there has to be something telling who and what he is.”

Rosie chuckled. “I see. That shouldn’t be too hard. Most men are more than eager to show you to their bedroom. But how are you going to pull it off, honey?”

“He asked me to supper on Wednesday,” Emily said. “Maybe that would be a good time to … accompany him back to his place.” Emily blushed at the thought.

“Sure!” Rosie agreed. “Tell him you need to change in privacy, or something like that. Men will agree to just about anything if they think it’s seduction.”

Emily wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but a possible scenario began to emerge in her head. “Now that he’s sworn to be my bodyguard …”

“What?” It was Rosie’s turn to look surprised.

Emily nodded. “He means it, too. He followed me to the newspaper office this morning. I don’t know how he knew where I was, especially at that hour. I swear he must have eyes in the back of his head.”

“Hmmm.” Rosie considered this development, and her smile broadened. “Why, honey, I think this man’s sweeter on you than we gave him credit for. Why else would he put his own neck at risk to protect you? Whether he wants to admit it or not, you’ve gotten under his skin.”

“Do you really think so?” Emily couldn’t hide her pleasure at the thought.

“Sure, I think so, and why not? You’re pretty, you have a wonderful figure, you’re bright and fun and … well, I could just go on and on.”

Emily looked into the mirror beside Rosie. For the first time in her life, she didn’t see her crooked spectacles, the cat hair that clung to her dress, her unfashionable outfit or straight nose. She saw herself as Rosie did, someone pretty, fascinating, and … desirable.

“Maybe … perhaps there is some hope.…” Emily hardly dared to voice her thoughts.

“Why, of course there is. He’d be crazy not to fall for you. You just keep coming to me for advice, and we’ll make Wednesday a night he’ll never forget.” Rosie brushed her hands together as if it were as easy as pie.

Emily smiled, though her practical mind was already planning.