The Marshal's Little Girl (2 page)

Gage put the shot glass down on the bar and tossed Gus a coin. His spurs jingled as he walked across the worn wood floor. Off-key piano music and raucous laughter followed him out the swinging doors. Merle, the town drunk, slumped on the porch under a window with one of the panes busted out. His mouth hung open, and a fly crawled around the edges of his cracked lips. Gage frowned. Merle was yet another reason he’d be glad to get out of this hellhole of a town.

The boardinghouse wasn’t a whole lot better than the saloon, which raised even more questions for Gage as he walked into the lobby. Red Horse Gulch was a small town—just a stopover on the way to larger towns in the territory. So why stop here when the carriage could have been in Springdale or Claremont in another half a day’s time? Maybe Hank was right. Maybe something was up.

“Hey, Mabel.”

Mabel Crane hefted herself from where she was sitting behind the counter as the sheriff approached. She had sweat stains under her heavy arms, and one of the buttons on her blouse was straining over her sagging breasts. A sheen of sweat dotted her brow. She picked up a dirty handkerchief and mopped it away, smiling.

“Well, hey there yourself, sheriff. What brings you here?”

“You got a lady boarding here?” He knew the answer before he asked it, but he always started with a polite question when on official business.

“Yeah, a pretty little thing,” Mabel replied. “And sweet as honey, too. Paid for a five-day stay up front. Cash money. And tips everybody. I wish we had ten of her staying here. Amos says we could retire.”

Gage chuckled. “Any chance of you telling me what room she’s in?”

Mabel suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well, here’s the thing, sheriff. She told both me and Amos that she likes to have her privacy. Only she pronounced it funny, real fancy, like they do in foreign countries—‘
priv
-acy.’” Mabel enunciated the word, emphasizing the short ‘i.’

“Hmm,” Gage grunted. “Well, I doubt she can be too mad at you once she learns that her ‘
priv
-acy’ is being violated on routine sheriff-type business. As the top lawman in these parts, it’s my duty to check in on a single lady traveling alone and make sure all is well.”

Mabel still looked concerned, but seemed to know it wasn’t her call. “Whatever you say, sheriff,” she said with weary resignation. “Just remember that me and Amos got to make a living. Don’t go scaring her off.”

Gage had already decided he’d be as polite as possible. The pretty stranger was a tiny thing, and would likely be intimidated by a lawman who towered over her by more than a foot. He knocked gently on her door when he reached it.

The voice on the other side was impatient. “Mrs. Crane, I specifically asked that I not be…” Her words died away as she opened the door. Her hat was off, the loose bun trailing tendrils of blond ringlets around her heart-shaped face. She’d loosened the buttons on her bodice and now, obviously aware of this lapse in decorum, spun around.

Gage took the opportunity to glance around the interior of the room. Trunks lay in various places, open to reveal lacy underthings and traveling clothes. A pair of stockings hung over a screen beside a pink dress. Then his eyes fell on something else—money. Stacks of it. The stranger turned at that moment and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

“Is there something I can help you with…” her eyes fell on the badge, “…sheriff?”

“Sheriff Gage Chandler,” he said. “And you are?”

“Tired,” she said.

Gage found himself growing irritated. As sheriff, he was used to some deference, and this diminutive woman seemed to be fresh out.

“Well, I don’t mean to bother you.” He decided to try again. “It’s just that we don’t often get women traveling alone, and Red Horse Gulch can be… unfriendly to strangers.”

Her smile was patronizing. “With a big strong sheriff like you running the town, I can’t imagine that anyone could ever be anything but law-abiding.”

“Ma’am, I can’t be everywhere at once. And a young woman carrying a large amount of cash…”

“Who says I have a large amount of cash?” Her eyes narrowed.

“I just saw…”

“Whatever you saw isn’t your business,” she said, her tone now guarded and defensive. “And unless it’s against the law for me to be in your town, we have no other business here. So good day.”

Gage felt his jaw clench. She was right; he had no reason to question her. But what was she doing with that pile of money? For a moment he stared at the door she’d suddenly slammed in his face, and then he stalked from the boardinghouse, not stopping to bid Mabel good day as he left to head back to the auction house. His eyes scanned the dusty interior for Mack, who ran the place. He saw him seeing out the last of the crowd and walked over.

“Hey, Mack,” he said. “That lady who bought that colt…”

“Yeah, pretty thing,” the old man said. “The horse is pretty, too.” He slapped his knee like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world.

Gage tried to keep the impatience out of his voice as he continued. “Yeah,” he said. “I need to see the paperwork on that sale.”

Mack grew serious. “Why, sheriff? Something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. Probably not. I just like to follow up when I have a hunch.”

“And you got one?”

Gage nodded and Mack walked over to worn leather satchel and leafed through receipts for what seemed like an excruciating amount of time before finally pulling one out.

“Here you go, sheriff,” he said.

Gage took the paper. “Wilhelmina? What kind of name is that?”

“New one on me,” Mack said. “Fancy.”

“Yeah, she’s fancy all right.” Gage glanced at her signature, neat and sprawling. Wilhelmina James. A woman, traveling alone. A woman with money, who not only wrote but signed her name with as bold a stroke as any man.

“She paid you cash?”

“She did. And she left orders to have the horse shipped to Texas by train. Paid for that, too.”

Gage handed the paper back to Mack and considered the situation. Red Horse Gulch wasn’t known for much, and wouldn’t be known for anything if it weren’t for Cliven Smith’s horse farm. His thoroughbred horses often ended up in racing stables, and the colt this woman bought had drawn the attention of locals and out-of-towners alike. In fact, Wilhelmina James’ new colt was one of the most expensive horses Cliven had ever produced. The fact that the horse was already broke to saddle made it all the more desirable.

“Did she say anything else? Like who she might be buying for?”

“Nope. All I know is that she’s taking the stage out in three days, and taking the horse with her to meet the train. From there, it seems they’re both heading to Texas.”

“Three days, huh?

“Yep.”

Gage glanced back toward the boardinghouse. He had a suspicious feeling about this little girl with the big name. He wasn’t sure why, but he planned to keep a sharp eye on Wilhelmina James until she left.

Chapter Three

Wilhelmina James stuffed the last of the cash she’d picked up from the table back into the carpetbag. She was furious with herself. What had she been thinking, opening the door with the money in plain sight? But then again, she’d been expecting Mrs. Crane, not some tall sheriff.

Sheriff Gage Chandler. He made her nervous as hell.

Keep your distance. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Tip generously and carefully; it will buy you protection. Avoid the law.

Hadn’t Simon made it clear to her? Her chest tightened in panic over what she would face if she returned having failed in her task. How long would it take for that sheriff to start nosing around? What if he was one of these corrupt lawmen who’d find an excuse to come in and seize the money? How long would it take before he caught on that it was counterfeit bills?

She’d paid for the horse with genuine money. Same for the board and train fare for the horse. Simon liked to launder money where he could, which is why he’d sent her here, to a hole-in-the-wall town known for horses and one decent bank. It was a win-win.

Simon’s other bit of advice?
Trust your instincts.
Wilhelmina paced the small room, remembering how the tall sheriff had looked past her to the table. Even shaded by his hat, his eyes had been sharp and inquisitive. This was no simple bumpkin. She’d seen him go back to the auction house. No doubt he was asking questions. No doubt he had her name by now.

It was time to accelerate her plan. There was a basin of water on the washstand. Wilhelmina quickly stripped herself of the blue gown and used the rough cloth in the basin to cleanse her face, arms, and legs. Next came a dusting of perfumed French powder. She donned stockings, thin cotton pantalets, and a linen dress with narrow beige pinstripes. A white bonnet followed over her neatly secured bun. Checking her reflection, she picked up the carpetbag and looked out the window. Her timing was perfect. Asa Pridgen, the banker, was walking to the saloon, just as he did every day at this time, leaving the operations to his less-than-sharp, bucktoothed son.

She’d have to act fast.

Lester greeted her as soon as she entered, slicking his greasy hair back as he smiled. Wilhelmina put aside her distaste for the ferret-like man and beamed her brightest smile in return.

“Miss… James, right?” Lester said, taking her hand in a limp, sweaty grasp. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, Mr. Pridgen…” Her voice quavered as she made her way to his office. “I’m so beside myself I can hardly stand it. As you know, I’ve recently arrived and had the pleasure of buying a beautiful horse in honor of my recently departed uncle, whose deathbed wish when he bequeathed me his farm was to acquire good breeding stock.” She dabbed her eyes. “But in my rush to get to my new home in Texas, I was rash. I thought I could carry all this cash. But now I see the folly of that decision. I am but a woman traveling alone, and think it best now to deposit it somewhere safe.”

“For withdrawal later when you are settled…?” Lester Pridgen sounded resigned to the promise of a short-term customer.

“Oh, no,” she said, laying a small hand on his. “I’m impressed by all the prime grazing I see around me. I may buy some land close to the other wonderful ranches here. So I plan to leave half of the sum in this bag…” she patted the satchel, “…which comes to this amount.” She jotted a number down on a piece of paper and Lester’s eyes grew wide. “The other half, of course, I’d like in the form of a registered bank note, to be carried ahead to my destination.”

“Of course. Of course!” The young man was breathless, both from her beauty and from the good fortune of having half her fortune in his keeping. “I can recommend investments,” he said hastily as he began to pull papers from the drawer of his desk, dropping some in his excitement. “Stocks, bonds, gold mines. It’s my specialty, making the wealthy even wealthier.”

She forced a smile. “And we shall talk at length about that. But if we could complete the paperwork. I’m afraid I am overly tired.”

An hour later, the well-counterfeited money was deposited and a very large bank note was on its way by courier to a bank in Texas. Wilhelmina walked to the stagecoach office and sent a telegram to Simon, announcing that all was in order. By noon on the next day, the money would be withdrawn from the Texas bank and she would be on her way out of Red Horse Gulch, leaving behind a nosy sheriff and a bank vault full of worthless paper.

But now she still had the matter of that nosy sheriff to deal with. Wilhelmina visited several shops, making sure to drop mention of her impending departure three days hence. She mentioned the excitement of riding on the stagecoach, and how she hoped the high-strung colt would make the journey tethered to the back.

She went back to her room then and watched from the window, smiling as Sheriff Chandler stopped at every shop she’d just visited. Just as she suspected, he’d been watching her, and was no doubt pressing the shopkeepers for information. Good. By now he was likely satisfied that he still had a few days to investigate her. It was with great satisfaction that she imagined his reaction when he got up the next morning to find her gone.

Chapter Four

She was up to something. Of that Gage was sure. Why else would this intensely private stranger suddenly flit around town telling everybody who’d listen about her plans?

He’s personally avoided going to the bank, although he knew that had been Wilhelmina James’ first stop. If she was laying a trail of lies, she was likely watching him just as he had been watching her. Also, Lester Pridgen was an imbecile. Gage waited until Asa Pridgen was back and then he entered the bank through the back, away from view from the street. No need to tip her off.

“Afternoon, sheriff.” Asa looked up from his ledger, peering at Gage through his round glasses. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s a town matter,” Gage said. “I’m here on a hunch.” He sat down in a chair across from Asa’s desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You had a young woman come in today—that visitor from out of town.”

“Now, you know any business matters are private, Gage.” The banker dipped his quill in an inkwell and turned his attention back to the ledger.

“I think you might want to talk to me about this one,” Gage said. “Something’s up with that young lady.”

“Do you have proof of this?” Asa looked up at Gage, who realized that he was already protective of the money deposited in the bank, and didn’t want to rock the boat, even if the source was in doubt.

“No, like I said, it’s a hunch. But if I’m right, I’m going to save you a lot of headaches. Now, I’m not here to make trouble if none is warranted, but I need you to tell me exactly what kind of transaction was made.”

Asa fell silent for a moment, obviously contemplating the ramifications of refusing to cooperate. Then, with a heavy sigh, he explained the situation, telling Gage that the young woman had deposited half the money and had a note for the other half sent by courier to a bank further south.