Wild Roses (2 page)

“This is between Miss Carson and her family,” Harrigan said. “Why not leave them to sort it all out?”

“If they want to discuss things, they can come here. Put her down,” Joshua ordered.

“I think it'd be a fine idea if you boys'd put those guns away,” said a deep voice followed by the ominous sound of a rifle being cocked.

Ella cursed, tried to lift herself up, then tried to peer around Mahoney. Although she could not see anyone's face clearly, she recognized Joshua's boots and ornate belt buckle. He was flanked by two more of the youths everyone referred to as Louise's boys. What made her tense was the pair of legs she could see directly behind them. Instinct told her that that man was the one who had cocked the rifle. What she could see clearly was that everyone except the man she was draped over was holding a gun and the tension between the men was so thick she could feel it pressing in on her. Although she was terrified about being put in the reach of her Philadelphia kin, she did not want anyone to die trying to save her.

“Give it up, Joshua,” she said. “This isn't worth dying over.”

“No? Didn't you say those folks back east are eager to see you dead?” Joshua asked, never taking his gaze from the unarmed Harrigan.

“They are, but I'm not in their hands yet.”

“This bastard means to put you there.”

“There are a lot of miles between here and there. You can't win this standoff. And that pig, Smith, has put Auntie in his jail. She could use some help and I could certainly use her free and fighting for me.”

For one long minute the tense confrontation held, then Joshua and his friends put their guns away. Ella breathed a sigh of relief and felt it faintly echoed in Mahoney. She intended to fight hard and long every step of the way to Philadelphia, but she did not want the trail to be littered with the bodies of her friends.

“Don't you worry none, Ella,” Joshua said as he and his friends began cautiously to move away. “We'll get Louise out of trouble and then we'll get you free of this. That flock of carrion back east won't be picking on your bones.”

“How colorfully put,” Ella murmured as she watched her three erstwhile rescuers walk away.

“Phew,” Clement said as he reholstered his gun with a shaky hand. “I thought Joshua was going to shoot you dead, Mr. Mahoney.”

“Oh, not with you here to protect me, Clement,” drawled Harrigan as he nodded his thanks to George and started toward the train.

“Sir, I couldn't shoot a man. Hell, I can't hit anything I shoot at. Joshua knows that, too.”

Harrigan glanced at a morose Clement and suddenly realized that none of the young men had aimed their guns at Clement. In fact, they had mostly ignored the timid youth. Since the deputy had made it clear that he was glad to see the Carson woman leave, and that he expected trouble from “Louise's boys,” Harrigan could not understand why he had been given such an inept guard. Smith was either incompetent, or unaware of Clement's failings. One look at Clement's morose face was enough to make Harrigan decide not to file any complaint against the young man.

“I think it would be best if we got out of here as speedily as possible,” said George, pausing at the door of the train to let Harrigan board first. “This job isn't looking as easy as you thought it would be.”

After murmuring his thanks to Clement, who left them with a graceless haste, Harrigan nodded, briefly grimacing at his assistant. “Once we're on our way, the situation will grow calmer, George.”

“I am beginning to think you have about as much wit as the deputy,” said Ella, cringing a little as they strode through the passenger car, for she recognized several of the people there. “My aunt will be hot on our trail as soon as that idiot Smith releases her.”

“Her aunt?” murmured George as he helped Harrigan settle Ella on a seat.

Harrigan briefly told George about the confrontation at the jail. “We will be on a train rolling steadily toward Philadelphia. I don't see her as much of a threat.”

Ella was just about to reply when Harrigan clicked shut a pair of wrist shackles, chaining her right arm to the arm of the seat. For a brief moment she was stunned, then mortified, certain that every other person in the train car was staring at her. Then fury pushed aside all other feeling. Harrigan sprawled in the seat next to her and she glared at him.

“This is not necessary,” she said in a cold voice as she fruitlessly tried to free her wrist.

“I will release you once we are moving and have put a goodly distance between us and this dusty town,” Harrigan said.

She looked at the other man, the one Harrigan had called George, who sat across from them. George was not much taller than she was and slender of build. His somewhat narrow face was softened by thick waves of dark brown hair and surprisingly large hazel eyes. Those eyes revealed his discomfort, and Ella wondered if she could use that to her advantage.

“Don't waste your time,” drawled Harrigan, smiling faintly when she scowled at him. “George may not agree with all I do, but he will not go against my wishes.”

“Ah, I see. The lackey has a lackey.”

“This journey will go much more quickly and smoothly if you would cease to hone your tongue on my skin.”

“I do not see why I should consider your comfort when you are taking me to my death.”

Harrigan studied her closely and frowned. He was beginning to think that she really believed what she was saying. For one brief moment, he considered the possibility that she was telling the truth, then shrugged it aside. She did not want to go home and was simply trying to sway him to her side. The rich were good liars, he thought bitterly, and would say or do anything to get what they wanted.

“That is utter nonsense. You might as well give up that lie because I will not swallow it.”

“I do not lie.”

He uttered a short, scornful laugh. “The rich always lie.”

“You are Irish, Mr. Mahoney, and I would have thought that you would know well the folly of such sweeping condemnations.”

She was pleased to see the flicker of discomfort on his face, but still inwardly cursed. There had been a wealth of bitterness behind his insulting words. Some wealthy person had done him a wrong and now she would pay for that. It was unfair, but she would be foolish to ignore the fact. Nor did she have the time to change his mind. It surprised her to realize how badly she wished to do so.

“What you believe or do not believe,” she continued, “does not matter to me in the slightest.” She hoped he could not detect the lack of conviction behind her words, something that deeply troubled her. “I will not be in your company long enough for it to affect me.”

“No? Already planning your escape?”

Ella ignored the derision in his deep voice. “Yes, and I am sure that Aunt Louise will soon be along to assist me.”

“Your faith in your aunt is admirable, but misplaced. She is nearly as delicate as you are and we are secure within a moving train. There is nothing she can do.” He frowned and felt a twinge of unease when she slowly smiled.

“You do not know my auntie.”

“Louise, are you sure we ought to do this?” Joshua Longtree asked quietly as he sprawled in a delicate chair. He warily watched Louise Carson march in and out of the front parlour of her small house throwing the things she thought she needed for a trip to Philadelphia onto a plush burgundy settee.

Louise stopped after tossing a large bowie knife onto a tangled pile of clothes, and slowly turned to face Joshua and his three equally concerned companions, Edward, Manuel, and Thomas. Joshua and Thomas were half Indian, Manuel and Edward half Mexican. All of them had known little more than abuse and hatred in their lives and it had made them hard. She had saved the life of each one of the young men, taken them in, nursed their wounds, and given them work on her small ranch. She had never asked any return for her kindnesses, but had gained their unfaltering loyalty. There was no doubt in her mind that they would follow her to the gates of hell if she asked them to. Following Ella to Philadelphia and trying to rescue her could be just as dangerous, and she could not willingly push them into the middle of that.

“
I
have to do this. You do not,” she said as she started to stuff her clothes into a small carpetbag.

Joshua looked at his three friends, who subtlely nodded, then looked back at Louise, smiling faintly over her unusual agitation. “If you go, we go.” The other three youths nodded again.

“That is so good of you,” she murmured, and sat down on the settee. “This could be very dangerous. Ella and I were not victims of female hysteria when we told you that her life was in danger.”

“Never thought it.”

“Those people in Philadelphia want only one thing—Ella's death. They will not see any of us as an impediment to that plan. They will sweep us all aside if they can. You know they will feel free to be rid of you, seeing you as no more than half-breeds and outcasts. They will see me in much the same light. I know I have always jested about it, but I truly did leave Philadelphia in disgrace. There are many people back there who still suspect that Robin Abernathy was my lover and that I killed him in a fit of jealous rage. What I am trying to say is that, although I am a Carson and the Carsons are highly placed in that society, I am not. I will be no protection for you.”

Joshua moved to sit next to Louise, lightly patting her tightly clenched hands. “If you're fretting that we'll do something we don't really want to because we feel we owe you, stop it. I won't say that a sense of obligation ain't part of what's prodding us, but there ain't no shame in that. Ella treated us kindly and that little miss sure as hell doesn't deserve to die just so her kin can take what don't belong to them. We don't want you doing something dangerous without us and you don't want us in danger either. Ain't no choice though, so why don't we just all agree to watch out for each other and get down to the business of saving poor Ella.” He flushed when Louise impulsively hugged him and then scowled when the others laughed.

It was almost noon before they had everything ready for their rescue attempt, and Louise cursed softly as they rode away from her small ranch. The train now had a two-hour head start. Although they could take a more direct route than a train, and the one Ella was on would make a lot of stops, catching up to it was not going to be easy. Getting Ella off of that train could well prove to be impossible. Even if they were able to snatch Ella from her captors, that would not put an end to the danger she was in. It would only postpone the inevitable confrontation. Louise had the sinking feeling that the time had finally come to face the threat that had hung over them all for three long years. All she could do was pray that they could successfully eradicate it and that they would all survive.

 

 

An ear-splitting scream erupted from Ella, and Harrigan pulled away from her so quickly he nearly fell out of his seat. He glanced at the other passengers in the train car and flushed slightly under their accusatory stares. When he looked back at Ella she was no longer asleep but sitting calmly and tidying her hair. His first thought had been that she had suffered from some terrible nightmare, but his initial stirrings of sympathy abruptly faded. He now suspected that it was just another one of her ploys intended to discomfort him.

“You seem to have recovered from your bad dream very quickly,” he drawled as he relaxed in his seat.

“Bad dream?” Ella looked at him, feigning innocence, and could tell by his narrowed eyes that he did not believe her act. “Ah, that. Yes, it was rather horrible. For one brief, terrifying moment, as I woke, I feared that I been thrust into the pits of hell. I was quite certain I could feel the devil's hot breath upon my cheek. I could even smell its foulness.”

Harrigan clasped his hands over his stomach, sternly resisting the urge to cup a hand over his mouth, breathe into it, and test the freshness of his breath. He knew she was referring to him, to the way he had been leaning so close to her as he had prepared to nudge her awake. For a moment he had lingered in that position, struck by the sweetness of her expression. He had been strongly drawn to the fullness of her mouth and the way her lips had been faintly parted in innocent invitation. He had even found the length and thickness of her dark lashes of intense interest. It was a little embarrassing to have been caught in his observation, but he would never give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I am pleased that you have calmed yourself, have realized that it was only a dream.”

“Was it?”

“You are hardly in hell, Miss Carson. You greatly exaggerate your situation.”

“You, sir, know nothing about my situation.”

“I know all I need to know.”

“You know only the lies my conniving relations have told you.”

“And you are the sole voice of truth, are you?”

His sarcastic tone enraged her, but Ella fought to control that emotion. Screaming insults at the man would do little to aid her cause. It would probably just confirm every lie her relatives had told him. A calm, steady repetition of the truth was what was needed. There was the chance that, if she said the truth often enough, and firmly enough, the man might at least begin to question the tale he had been told.

“Yes, I am, at least concerning this matter,” she said, pleased at how polite and at ease she sounded. “My relatives in Philadelphia no doubt told you that I am some wild, spoiled child who ran away from her loving family and all of her obligations, a foolish girl who makes up tales of dangers and threats.”

Harrigan swallowed a brief surge of unease over how precisely she had guessed what he had been told. Her family had said that she often tried to flee so it was possible that she knew exactly what they said about her. They had probably even said it to her face. They had also told him that she was very clever.

“More or less,” he murmured, watching her closely for some sign that she was lying or was one of those sad people prone to delusions. ”I am sure you have heard it all before.”

“Yes. They have made it their business to tell that story to all who will sit still long enough to hear it. I fear I lacked the wit and the guile to ingratiate myself with the people of power and high standing in Philadelphia, so I suspect that many were more than willing to believe such a tale.” She idly twisted the manacle encircling her wrist. “Therefore, I suppose I cannot blame you for believing it. Everyone you must have spoken to before accepting this appalling job must have readily confirmed that story.”

Harrigan subtlely glanced at George, who avoided his gaze, concentrating instead on smoothing down some imaginary wrinkles in his black waistcoat. George had repeatedly suggested that they investigate the Carson's claims before taking the job on, but Harrigan had always shrugged that good advice aside. He knew his own prejudices against the rich made him susceptible to believing any tale of their stupidity or rash, unthinking actions. He did not want to think that the Carsons may well have used that prejudice against him. Nor did he want an encroaching sense of guilt to make him believe anything the dangerously alluring Ella Carson chose to tell him.

“Just because everyone believes something does not mean it is the truth,” she continued, glancing at him and wondering why there was no expression on his face. It was as if he was making a real effort to conceal his thoughts from her.

“Just as it can mean that it is the truth,” he replied. “I find their tale of an errant, imaginative child far easier to believe than your story of conspiracies and attempted murder.”

Ella turned in her seat slightly, so that she was facing him more directly. “I begin to think, Mr. Mahoney, that you have some deep mistrust and dislike of rich people. I also suspect that those feelings are even stronger when the rich person happens to be of English descent. So why do you so quickly and firmly reject the idea that such people could conspire against each other, even to planning the death of one of their own?”

“If they wished to murder you, they would not involve strangers. They would have come after you themselves.”

“The Carsons do their own dirty work? Surely you jest. They would never sully their hands so. And, if they were convicted of my murder, they would lose all that they can gain from my untimely death. It might behoove you to watch your back a little more closely. The Carsons may well have a plan to implicate you in my death.” She peeked at George, pleased to catch the dark frown on his face, for it meant that she had at least roused some suspicion and doubt in his mind. “In truth, I am surprised that my relatives would even know an Irishman.”

“They know me well enough. It was one of their closest friends who stole my father's business, and, as a result, my inheritance,” Harrigan said coldly.

“Ah, and therein lies the dislike of
my kind.”
Ella inwardly cursed. Reminding him of the many wrongs done to him was no way to sway him to her side. “I would wager that you refer to the Templetons. I doubt that it will do me any good to remind you that women are usually given little control over or knowledge of business dealings.” When Harrigan just scowled at her, she shrugged with an air of disinterest, then abruptly tensed. “Mahoney? Wasn't Templeton's daughter Eleanor acquainted with a man named Mahoney?”

“You could say she was
acquainted
with one. She was engaged to me.”

Worse and worse
, Ella thought. “Was?”

“She called off the wedding when my father lost the business to her father.”

Distracted from her own troubles for a moment, Ella closely studied Harrigan.

Eleanor Templeton was a voluptuous blond, beautiful and haughty. It had astounded Ella when she had heard that the woman had betrothed herself to some unknown Irishman. When the wedding had been abruptly canceled, no one had been surprised, least of all herself. Gossip about the ill-fated match had been thick and constant. It was at that time, however, that Ella had discovered the perfidy of her relatives, realized her life was in danger, and fled to Wyoming. In the nearly three years since then, she had had far more important things on her mind than the whims and follies of Philadelphia's elite. She supposed that was why the name Mahoney had roused no memory when she had first heard it.

Now, however, memories flooded her mind, including the memory of a few suspicions she had had about Eleanor, as well as about her own cousin Margaret. The small crimes she had begun to suspect them of had faded into insignificance when she had realized her life was threatened. Both Eleanor and Margaret were society beauties and both had shown a tendency to become engaged to men their society considered unsuitable. Those engagements were usually short-lived as the young men or their families had suddenly had an unexpected turn of bad luck. At the time, she had begun to wonder if the two young women had had something to do with that bad luck, especially since their families had almost always benefited from the downfall of their betrotheds. Breaking a betrothal was also scandalous, and it had seemed curious that Margaret and Eleanor had risked their much prized reputations so repeatedly.

“You are staring,” Harrigan said quietly, a little discomforted by her intense gaze.

“Is Eleanor Templeton married now?”

“I believe she might be in a month or two, as she is currently engaged to a man of her own standing. She was betrothed three more times between me and her current fool.”

“And my cousin Margaret Carson? Do you know if she has wed?”

“She is now engaged for the fifth time since you ran away. I do not believe you will be attending any wedding, however. The man is from a poor background, born of a poor Scotsman who began a business twenty years ago and has only recently turned the corner to prosperity.”

Ella smiled faintly when she saw the curiosity he could not hide. “Does it not strike you as passing strange that Eleanor and Margaret make and break so many betrothals? That they risk their reputations and standing in the society they love with apparent callousness? Or that they keep promising marriage to young men who are taking their first steps into the society Eleanor and Margaret were born into, making matches that none of their family or friends could possibly approve of? Odd that they would be willing to brave ostracism and scorn for love yet flee when the man becomes poor again? I find it a little sad that, each time they choose a man who has struggled up from the bottom and finally has wealth in his grasp, he loses it all. One must wonder if those women carry some strange curse, or if they just choose unwisely.”

“Or if they are working for their fathers.”

Fury had whitened his features, and Ella wondered if she had stupidly given him yet another reason to distrust and dislike her. He had already revealed how easily he could condemn an entire group of people for the crimes of a few. It was possible that he could now think she was hand in fist with Eleanor and Margaret. She had hoped to enhance her standing in his opinion by revealing such deception, but may well have done just the opposite. After taking a deep breath to steady herself, she decided to persevere. Any other action might simply harden his suspicions.