The Bride Wore Blue Page 17

  “New girl, been here about a month.”

  He hadn’t seen a fourth girl coming and going during his watch or in town on Tuesdays.

  “Until tonight, Violet only worked afternoons,” Opal said.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Mary said Violet ran through the kitchen and right out the back door like a fire lit her tail.”

  Carter had chosen the wrong shadows to hide in, and in the noisiest of neighborhoods. He made notes, and then looked at the other two girls. “Did either of you see or hear anything?”

  The blonde stepped forward. “I saw a man go into Miss Pearl’s room just minutes after Violet came up.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “It was Leon. Don’t know his surname.”

  Opal nodded. “He’s Pearl’s special friend. They were always exchanging gifts. She gave him a horse a few weeks ago.”

  Leon Kelso from Louisville, Kentucky.

  “She told us he bought her this gown.” The redhead glanced at the pink pearl-studded dress Miss Pearl wore.

  “Did you see this Leon after you were summoned to the room?”

  “No, and he wasn’t in the room when I came up. I haven’t seen Violet again either.”

  There was a good chance a prostitute and a robber were on the loose together. Was one or both of them responsible for Pearl DeVere’s death, or did the sporting girl have other reasons to hide from the law?

  Vivian sat in the mud with her hands tied to a saddle behind her, her feet strapped together. Her captor lay just five feet away, wrapped in a bedroll while she shivered under a smelly, wet horse blanket.

  He’d taken her below the depot, where he retrieved a chestnut, and she’d ridden with him up a dark path, whipped by overhanging branches. Her wig hung from a tree somewhere in the dark. Now the horse stood tethered to a sycamore a few feet away. If she could get to the mare, she could escape, but she’d lost count of how many times she’d tried to stand under the weight of the saddle. It was impossible.

  Vivian pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her ripped skirt.

  She’d blamed her father because he left her in Maine and wouldn’t let her go to Paris. She’d blamed her sisters for making her feel like she could never measure up to their level of morality and achievement. Tears pooled at her chin. The truth was that her plight was no one’s fault but her own. She’d chosen Gregory’s word over God’s. She’d chosen to work at the Homestead House instead of swallowing her pride and asking her other sisters for help. Miss Hattie was in no hurry for her rent. She would have waited a few weeks longer.

  Vivian blew a knot of unruly hair out of her face. She’d been out to prove she could stand on her own two feet, and look where it had gotten her—tethered to a saddle in the middle of the night with a killer as her captor. She’d lied to everyone who cared for her, and soon they’d all know it. Miss Hattie, her sisters, and Carter.

  Lord, I have sinned. With Gregory. Pride. Deceit. Lies. Hiding. Sneaking. And I blamed everyone but myself, even You.

  Tears poured down Vivian’s face onto the soiled gown. She’d been so selfish. So naive. So foolish.

  Please forgive me, Lord. I don’t deserve Your help, but I do need You. Please help me.

  Within minutes, her tears subsided, and although she couldn’t explain it, she felt better. Peaceful and watched over. Perhaps she wasn’t alone with this man.

  Lord, please be with my sisters and my father. And with Carter.

  Vivian leaned against the saddle that weighed her down and closed her eyes.

  Moments later, an explosion broke the silence. Vivian jerked her head up to see her captor coming toward her with a rifle in his hands. Beads of sweat streamed down her spine. She tried to jump to her feet, but the saddle pulled her back down, and she flopped onto her side in the mud.

  The bandit walked past her, and she twisted enough to see the silhouette of a dead animal that lay just beyond her.

  “Good thing you stopped sniffling when you did,” the bandit said, “or I’d never have heard that mountain lion growl.”

  A mountain lion? Vivian’s breath caught. “Thank you.”

  It felt strange to thank him after all the bad things he’d done, but he had just saved her from an animal attack, and she was truly grateful.

  Her captor spit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I should’ve let the animal kill you and saved myself the trouble.”

  “I didn’t kill Pearl.” Turning away from him, Vivian pulled herself back into a sitting position, bumping her hip on a rock as she did. “I went upstairs to tell her I couldn’t do that kind of work.”

  He huffed and stomped back to his bedroll. “Got news for you, missy.” His laugh tensed her stomach. “There’s men waiting where I’m taking you, and you’ll entertain them without pay.”

  Acid burned Vivian’s throat. “Were you the man who requested my company tonight? ”

  “I planned to teach you not to snoop outside Pearl’s door.” He spit again. “When I found you with her, your lesson took a turn for the worse.”

  “She was already dead when I found her.” Her voice sounded as shattered as she felt, falling apart with no one to pick up the pieces.

  “Doesn’t matter if you killed her or not. My Pearl is dead, and you’re going to pay.”

  Curling into a fetal position, Vivian fell onto her side, against the saddle. If she survived this night, she’d find a way to get away from him.

  God, help me.

  At first light, Carter walked Liberty out of the corral and looked at his bleary-eyed friend. “Thanks for saddling him, Jesse.”

  “No trouble.” Jesse hooked his thumb in his overalls and followed Carter out of the gate. “You sure you don’t need me to join the search party?”

  Carter palmed a carrot and held it out to his bay, then swung up into the saddle. He wasn’t like his father. He wasn’t going after the suspects alone. “I’ll have two officers from the police department with me. Any more than three of us would be too conspicuous.”

  Jesse nodded. “Be real careful, you hear?”

  Carter tapped the brim of his hat. “I intend to.”

  Had his father said the same thing to his mother when he left home that day to keep the peace in the red light district? It didn’t matter. Carter was setting out to bring in a prostitute, not rescue one.

  He returned Jesse’s wave and urged Liberty down the muddy road toward the depot, where the two officers were to meet him. He was riding past the train station when he heard a shout.

  “Deputy Alwyn!”

  He pulled up on the reins and twisted toward the depot steps. Baxter, one of the town drunks, shuffled toward him, waving his worn hat. Carter didn’t have time for town gossip or questions surrounding last night’s events.

  “Wait up, Deputy! I heard about our poor Miss Pearl.” Baxter shook his unkempt head. “You heard about that guy who shot up Edgar’s piano a couple of months ago?”

  Carter swallowed his impatience and nodded.

  “I seen him again last night.”

  Carter perked up. “You did? Where?”

  “Twice.”

  “When? Where?”

  “He came into Ollie’s all spiffed up, bragging about bein’ on his way to the big wingding over at the Homestead House.”

  Carter nudged Liberty closer to the man. “You saw him again, later?”

  “I was going to the Central Dance Hall. Saw him and a little lady walkin’ all cozy-like toward this here depot.”

  If Leon and Violet boarded a train, they could be anywhere by now. “Did you see them go inside?”

  Baxter shook his shaggy head. “Nope. They had a horse tied out back and rode off up the hill.”

  Carter followed the man’s gaze. “Toward Ute Pass.”

  “Yes sir. Thought it might help you to know.”

  “It does, Baxter, thanks.”

  Two uniformed policemen rode toward him on sorrels. Clucking his
tongue, Carter signaled Liberty to close the distance between them. Both men wore blue double-breasted uniforms with bottle-cap hats. Ten men would’ve been less conspicuous than these two.

  “Deputy.” They spoke in unison.

  “Morning, gentlemen.” Carter pinched the crown of his hat. “We’ve got a couple of people who fled the scene—a man and a woman. The man is tied to the train and bank robberies. And Mac’s death. Baxter said he saw them headed north last night, and I have reason to believe they have a hideout at Ute Pass.”

  “Yes sir,” said the rail-thin officer with a wisp of a chin. “Sergeant Grady told us they were the last people seen at Miss DeVere’s room before her death.”

  Carter drew in a deep breath. “You two up to a chase?”

  The heavier one tugged his uniform shirt over his belly. “We’re ready, sir.”

  Carter turned Liberty north and hoped he was ready. No telling what he’d find, but given their brash behavior the past several months, he didn’t expect any of the bandits to give up without a fight.

  Memories from Ida’s first months in Cripple Creek washed over her as she reached for the new doorbell at Miss Hattie’s Boardinghouse. Like Vivian, she’d come to town with high hopes of fulfilling a dream. Unlike Vivian, she’d achieved her goal of becoming a businesswoman within a few weeks. Granted, she’d run into trouble working for the unyielding Mollie O’Bryan, but things worked out all right.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before Vivian gained recognition as a costume designer. Her work at the hotel may not afford her much opportunity to mingle with those who would appreciate her fashion sense, but perhaps she’d accept a little help from her big sister. Mollie O’Bryan had commented more than once on Ida’s serge suit, one of Vivian’s designs. And Mollie had lots of contacts in Colorado Springs and even in Denver. Perhaps she’d be willing to put in a good word for Vivian—one businesswoman helping another.

  True to Miss Hattie’s hospitable nature, she whisked open the door and reached for Ida’s hand. “Ida, dear.” She squinted against the bright sunlight, motioning Ida inside. “Come in. Probably muddier than a bog after that downpour we had last night.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m not wearing my best shoes for a couple days, for certain.” Ida closed the door behind her. She expected to see Vivian strolling down the staircase, overdressed for their Saturday baking project at Kat’s. “How are you faring, Miss Hattie?”

  She wanted to ask how the landlady was faring with Vivian, but didn’t want to ripple the waters with nosy inquiries. Vivian had grown up considerably since Ida had last seen her—probably as a result of her newfound independence.

  “Finer than peach fuzz.” Miss Hattie tittered. “And I love having your sister here. Of course, I’ve been busier than a bee in a flower garden, and Vivian and I haven’t gotten to spend as much time together as I’d like. But we’re getting along just fine.” She smiled. “That is what you wanted to know, isn’t it? ”

  “Yes.” Ida giggled. “You do know me well, Miss Hattie.” She glanced toward the parlor, then toward the kitchen. The house was uncharacteristically quiet. “Where is your newest Sinclair boarder? Kat and Nell are waiting for us, and I was ready for breakfast an hour ago.”

  “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I haven’t seen her yet this morning.” Miss Hattie pressed a finger to her chin. “Why, I’ve been so busy getting ready for my day that I don’t even know that I’ve heard Vivian stirring.”

  “She better be. We have big plans.” Ida took a step toward the stairs. “More precisely, Nell has plans for us.”

  “Making banners for the harvest festival, isn’t it? Vivian mentioned something about it at breakfast yesterday morning.”

  Ida nodded, taking several more steps. She pressed her hand to her growling stomach. Knowing Kat, Ida expected her sister to have the scones and sausage patties ready when they arrived.

  “You know after last night,” Miss Hattie said, “Vivian may have been so tired that she overslept.”

  Ida straightened and looked over her shoulder at the widow. “Last night?”

  “Oh, you don’t know … Vivian telephoned me last evening.” Hattie tucked a gray tendril of hair behind her ear. “She said she had to work late. Not to wait up for her. Must’ve been about five o’clock, maybe half past.”

  “The hotel requires her to work at night?”

  Miss Hattie leaned on the oak railing at the bottom of the steps. “Only last night. She’s usually home just after five o’clock. But they needed her to help serve during the dinner hour.”

  “It seems everyone was busy in town last night. Did you hear the news?”

  “I had a headache and went to bed with the chickens last night. What news?”

  Ida set her reticule on the entry table. “Otis came by the parsonage this morning and told us Pearl DeVere died last night.”

  “The young woman from the Home—”

  “That’s the one.”

  Miss Hattie clucked her tongue. “She wasn’t more than thirty-five years old. Did she fall ill?”

  “She was found in her bed.” Ida lowered her voice. “I heard one of the girls who works there made the discovery.” She glanced at the landing, half expecting her little sister to be standing there with her mouth wide open. “Apparently, it was a suspicious death. The girl who found her may have even had a part in it.”

  “They think someone killed her?”

  “I don’t know. The city’s doctor will examine her body today to figure out why she died.”

  “Poor woman. That’s terrible.”

  Ida wanted to agree. She should agree; she was a pastor’s wife. But was it so bad to have one less of those women around to lead other women astray? Why, many of them were girls younger than Vivian.

  “Since Vivian’s not coming to me, I better go up and see if she’s about ready.” Ida started up the stairs.

  Miss Hattie huffed and puffed up the steps behind her. “It happened during the party? Several of the Women for the Betterment of Cripple Creek were going. Said they felt obligated to attend the festivities since the woman is … was such a philanthropist. I’m sure it’ll be the talk at our luncheon today.”

  Ida sighed. Since when was one’s charitable nature enough to excuse her immorality?

  Ida stopped in front of Vivian’s door. She didn’t hear any activity inside. Her little sister had obviously overslept. Clearing her throat, Ida reached for the doorknob. “Rise and shine, little—”

  The room was quiet and the bed empty. Ida glanced from the dressing table to the wardrobe to the open space in front of her sister’s trunk. Vivian wasn’t there. And everything from the dressing table to the pillow on the rocker was as neat as a butler’s suit, including the bed covers.

  Miss Hattie joined Ida in the room. “She’s not here?”

  “No, and I didn’t hear her downstairs.”

  “If she’s anything like me, she may have stopped at the necessary on her way down. I’ll check.” Miss Hattie took quick strides to the end of the hallway and tapped on the door. “Vivian, dear, are you in there?”

  No answer. The room was empty.

  Ida’s stomach knotted. This wasn’t like Vivian. She paused on the staircase and looked back at Miss Hattie. “Do you mind if I telephone Kat?”

  “Please do.” The quiver in Miss Hattie’s voice reflected the tension Ida felt in her neck.

  Ida walked to the telephone on the kitchen wall, lifted the earpiece off the hook, and looked at their family friend. “I’m sure she’s already there, claiming my scone and eating the last of Nell’s berries.”

  When the connection was made, Kat asked the first question. “We thought you and Vivian would be here by now. Where are you?”

  Ida moistened her lips. “Vivian’s not there with you?”

  The answer weakened her knees. Her little sister had expected Ida at the boardinghouse that morning and knew Kat and Nell expected them early. Vivian had told Miss Hattie so just yesterday,
and the landlady’s creased brow did nothing to pacify the question pounding in Ida’s heart.

  Where was she?

  Vivian sat behind her captor as the horse picked its way up a rocky path on the side of a mountain. She should be watching where they were going, but she didn’t dare look down. Neither did she wish to stare at the back of the outlaw’s head. Instead, she turned away from the edge and closed her eyes.

  Letting happier times fill her mind, Vivian recalled running across a summer lawn with her sisters. Climbing onto her father’s lap for a story. Standing on a kitchen stool, making jelly rolls with her mother.

  By now her sisters would know she was missing, and her heart ached for them. They believed she was a good girl. They trusted her, and she’d traded their trust for lies. Not only had she deceived them, but now she may never have the chance to tell them the truth, express her regret, and apologize.

  And what about Carter? He cared for her too. She’d seen it in his eyes and felt it in the touch of his hand. A part of her wanted to believe that if he knew she was gone, he’d come looking for her, but she wasn’t sure she could bear the humiliation if he found her.

  The horse stopped. Vivian’s ear slammed against her captor’s shoulder. Her eyes snapped open. They still clung to the mountainside, about halfway to the top. She let her gaze settle on a patch of columbines blooming in the rocky soil.

  “That’s your new home.” The outlaw pointed at a slanted shack to the right, about fifty feet below them.

  A new stream of tears slipped down her cheek. Home was Miss Hattie’s Boardinghouse. Home was eating breakfast with her sisters. Home was a checkerboard surrounded by her family.

  “Too bad you won’t be here long enough to pretty up the place.” He snickered.

  He was planning to let her go? Or kill her after … The shiver up her spine had little to do with her damp clothes.

  “You best not waste your time dreaming of freedom, though,” he said. “You’re coming with us.”

  Her breath caught. She’d strayed far enough from the people she loved. She couldn’t leave the area with this wretched man. “I’ll just slow you down. Why not let me go now? ”