Wyoming Lawman (7 page)

She lifted her chin and smiled. “I'm glad you and Carrie are friends.”

So was Matt. Carrie had brought him closer to Pearl. He indicated the way to Carrie's house. “I'll walk you home.”

“Thank you, Deputy Wiley.”

The formality annoyed him. He'd called her Miss Oliver to show respect, not to put up a wall. “Call me Matt. We're friends now.”

“All right, Matt.”

She smiled shyly, then started down the boardwalk. After ten steps, she commented on the weather. Matt commented back. It was indeed a lovely day, but not as lovely as the woman at his side. It wasn't a matter of whistling “Dixie,” either. She had his heart tied in knots. Not that it mattered…. No way would he court a blond-haired preacher's daughter. Not when he'd failed so badly as a husband. And not when he didn't respect her faith.

With that thought squarely in mind, he commented on the clouds. Pearl talked about the wind. And that was that.

 

Pearl hoped Carrie had already arrived for lunch. Asking Matt to share a meal with them was a small way to repay her cousin's kindness, though she'd had to swallow a surge of envy. She liked Matt far more than she wanted to admit. His apology had touched her deeply. So had the flash of anger when he'd understood the circumstances of Toby's conception. In that moment, Pearl had felt both safe and understood.

What if…
But the question had no bearing. Matt belonged to Carrie and Pearl intended to help her cousin in every way she could.

To her pleasure, Carrie hurried down the front steps. When she saw Pearl with Matt, she hesitated, but only for a moment. “I haven't heard a thing! What happened?”

Pearl took a breath. “I didn't get the job.”

“Oh no.”

Carrie tried to hug her, but Pearl pulled back. Kindness would make her cry, and she wanted to keep the dignity she'd regained. She indicated Matt. “I invited Deputy Wiley for lunch.”

With a winsome smile, Carrie faced him. “We'd love to have you.”

“No, thanks,” he answered. “I've got work to do.”

“You still have to eat,” Carrie insisted.

Matt smiled his appreciation. “I'll be fine, Carrie. Don't worry about me at all.” He turned to Pearl. “Take care now.”

“I will.”

His eyes lingered a bit too long and her throat tightened. She couldn't let his friendship matter to her. She couldn't care about this man or want his attention. She had to help Carrie. “Are you sure about lunch? Martha's a good cook.”

He looked pleased. “I wish I could, but Dan's waiting for me.”

“Of course.”

He gave Carrie a nod, looked at Pearl a last time, then walked away. Pearl wished he'd been friendlier to Carrie than he'd been to her. The circumstances were all wrong. She turned to her cousin. “I was upset after the interview. I ran into Matt—”

“You don't have to explain.”

“But—”

Carrie looped her arm around Pearl's elbow. “Matt takes care of people. I'm glad he helped you.”

He'd done more than
help.
He'd looked at her as if she were whole and pretty, as if he were interested in her. Pearl stomped the thought like a bug. “I thought you'd be home. That's why I asked him to lunch.”

As they climbed the steps, Carrie sighed. Pearl felt both guilty for liking Matt and sad for Carrie because he hadn't been happy to see her. Hoping to make things right, she touched her cousin's arm. “Maybe the dinner party will open his eyes.”

“I hope so.”

So did Pearl, though she still dreaded questions and
looks. As they entered the house, she smelled the soup but had no appetite. More than anything, she wanted to hold Toby and grieve in private. “I'm exhausted,” she said to Carrie. “Would you mind if I skipped lunch?”

“Not at all,” she answered kindly.

After a quick hug, Pearl went upstairs. She told her father the bad news, pleaded a headache and went to her room. There she changed into an old dress, picked up Toby and moved the rocker to the window. With the sun warming her face, she rocked with her son in her arms, praying for the strength to endure the rest of her life.

“Why, Lord?” she whispered.

She hadn't asked that question in a long time. After the rape, her feelings had run amok. At first she'd been numb. She'd stopped praying and hadn't confided in a soul. When her monthly hadn't started, she'd begged God to let the cup pass from her lips. Instead he'd given her the grace to bear the hardship.

In those dark days she'd clung to God instead of questioning him. She'd accepted the situation the way she accepted bad weather. She didn't know why blizzards struck, but they did and somehow the snow, sometimes deep and treacherous, nourished the earth. God hadn't abandoned her. He'd given her good friends and a beautiful son. He'd also exacted justice on her behalf, both in Denver and on Calvary.

She hadn't been angry with God at all…until now. Why had He given her feelings for a man she couldn't have? Not only did Matt belong to Carrie, but Pearl had a deep fear of being a wife. Rocking steadily, she thought of her mother's favorite psalm.
I lift my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help?
Never before had the Lord let her down, but today she felt bereft as she thought of the next verse.
My help cometh from the Lord.

Yes, but where was He?

Through the window she saw a puffy cloud. It reminded her of cauliflower, her least favorite food in the world, and surprisingly she found comfort. God knew her likes and dislikes, her needs and wants. He'd made
her.
He'd made Toby. In spite of the circumstances, she'd rejoiced at the child being knit in her womb. She'd rejoice now, too.

The rocker kept time as she spoke out loud. “Father in Heaven, I know you love me, and I know you'll provide. I need a job. Please open the right door.”

Closing her eyes, she prayed for Toby and her father, then Carrie. Unbidden, Matt's face appeared in her mind and she recalled his expression when he'd turned down their lunch invitation. If he had any interest in Carrie at all, Pearl couldn't see it. Yet she'd seen something in his eyes. Loneliness? Yearning? She didn't know, but she'd sensed a deep-rooted longing. Bowing her head, she whispered, “Lord, Matt needs you, too. Draw him back into your arms. And Carrie…. She needs a husband. Bless them, Lord. Amen.”

The prayer hurt, but she meant every word.

T
wo days after the interview, Pearl put Toby in the carriage and asked her father to accompany her on a hunt for “Help Wanted” signs. She needed a job and she intended to find one. Surely a decent shop would need a clerk. Her father had agreed to accompany her, and now they were on Dryer Street, the block filled with fashionable shops that included Kling's Emporium.

After discussing the interview with Carrie, Pearl still thought Mr. Kling had voted for her. Carrie thought Mr. Briggs had cast the other “yes” vote, but she hadn't seen the way he'd glared at Pearl across the table, as if she'd insulted him by wasting his time. Pearl had also considered Matt's comments about Mr. Kling's interest in her. Not likely, she'd decided. Like anyone, he'd been curious and had asked questions. A natural reaction, nothing more. As they neared his shop, Pearl glanced at her father.

“Let's visit Mr. Kling,” she said. “I want to thank him for speaking up at the interview.”

“Good idea,” Tobias answered.

When they reached the shop, Pearl saw a collection of womanly whatnot in the window. “Such lovely things!”

Her father smiled. “You sound like your mother.”

“I miss her.”

“So do I, princess. She'd be proud of you
and
her grandson.”

Bolstered by the memory, she lifted Toby out of the carriage. Her father held the door and together they stepped into a world of china and silk, silver trinkets and expensive clothing. As they approached the counter, Mr. Kling stepped out of his office.

His brows shot up. “Miss Oliver! This is a surprise. A nice one, I might add.”

His enthusiasm reminded her of Matt's warning. Suddenly nervous, she forced a smile. “This is my father, Reverend Tobias Oliver.”

The shop owner came around the counter and the men shook hands. “Good morning, Reverend.”

“Good morning, Mr. Kling.”

The man's gaze went to Toby, then rose to Pearl's face. “This must be your son.”

“Yes.”

“
And
my grandson,” her father added.

Toby didn't have a father, but he had a good man in his life. Pearl and her father traded an affectionate look. Fortified, she turned to Mr. Kling. “I want to thank you for your support at the meeting.”

“You're welcome.” He made an awkward bow, then faced Tobias. “You raised a fine young woman, sir. I admire her integrity.”

“Thank you,” Tobias replied.

Behind his spectacles, Jasper's eyes looked huge. “I've been thinking about you, Miss Oliver. I understand your need for employment and happen to have an opening for a clerk. Would you be interested?”

Could her prayers be answered so easily? She wanted to take the job on the spot, but any position she accepted had
to allow her to go home at lunch to nurse Toby. She'd also learned to ask questions before jumping into new ventures. “It's an appealing offer. What would I be doing?”

He laced his hands behind his back. “My clientele expects a high standard of service. You'd be assisting customers, arranging merchandise and making sure the shelves are
always
free of dust.

“And the hours?”

“The store opens at nine o'clock and closes at four. You'll have Sundays and Mondays off. Would that be acceptable?”

If Mr. Kling allowed her to go home at lunch, she wouldn't be away from Toby for more than three hours at a time. She'd have to hurry, but her father and Martha would help.

“If I can go home for lunch, the hours would be fine.”

“I expect you to take exactly one hour.”

She'd have plenty of time to feed Toby, but she had one more question. “And the salary?”

“Two dollars a week.”

The amount was fair. Not generous, but adequate as long as they stayed with Carrie. Relief swept through her until she saw her father's tight expression. “Papa? What do you think?”

“I have a question for Mr. Kling.”

“Of course,” he replied.

As always, Tobias spoke with authority. “The trustees found my daughter's situation questionable. I have to believe you agreed with the vote.”

“I did.”

Pearl's heart plummeted. Matt had been right.

Tobias's frown deepened. “If you don't think my daughter is fit to teach, why are you offering her a position in your shop?”

“She's honest.”

Tobias looked dissatisfied. “She also loves children. She'd be a fine teacher.”

“You're a minister, sir.” Mr. Kling's voice had a hint of condescension. “I'm sure you understand the implications. Her situation raises questions for impressionable school-girls. Appearances matter.”

And
they could be deceptive. Franklin Dean had been a wolf in sheep's clothing. Jasper didn't strike Pearl as a wolf, but neither was he a pillar of honesty. In the meeting he'd said one thing and done another. The man couldn't be trusted. Her gut told her to walk out of the store, but her next thought was more practical. He'd offered her good hours and a reasonable salary. She needed the job.

“I'd like to accept the position,” she said to both men.

Her father hesitated, then nodded his agreement. Jasper acknowledged her with an awkward bow from the waist. “I'll see you tomorrow at nine o'clock.”

“I'll be here.”

Her father extended his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Kling.”

As the men shook, the shopkeeper bobbed his head. “Please, call me Jasper.”

“Then I'm Tobias.”

Pearl sagged with relief. A job…. She had a job!

As she silently celebrated, the men made small talk. Her father and Mr. Kling discovered they both enjoyed chess, and they shared a deep concern for the moral climate of Cheyenne. Before they left the store, Mr. Kling invited her father to a meeting of something called the Golden Order and he accepted. Pearl welcomed her father's involvement. His heart condition limited his ability to work, but he needed a purpose. Joining the Golden Order would give him a chance to make friends in Cheyenne.

When they left the shop, she put Toby back in his carriage and hugged her father hard. “We're going to be fine, Papa. I know it.”

“So do I, princess.”

Today the nickname didn't bother her at all.

 

Matt didn't usually work Saturday nights. He claimed the privilege as a family man and left Saturdays to men without children. Tonight he'd enjoyed a quiet evening with Sarah. They'd played checkers—he let her win—then he'd read her a story and put her to bed. Knowing he wouldn't sleep, he sat staring into the fire, pondering his suspicions about the Golden Order.

If they'd crossed the line as he suspected, they had to be stopped.
How
was the problem. If he asked too many questions, the vigilantes would lay low. The problem would go away for a while, but they'd strike again without warning. Matt needed to set a trap. A trap needed bait, but he hadn't been in Cheyenne long enough to have the connections for an effective ruse. He needed a break but didn't see one coming.

Yawning, he banked the coals of the dying fire. As he headed down the hall, someone pounded on his door. He opened it and saw Dan. “What happened?”

“Someone beat Scottie Fife to a pulp.”

Matt strapped on his gun belt. “Where did it happen?”

“Behind the Silver Slipper.” Dan described how Scottie had been tricked into the alley. Instead of the customer he'd expected, he'd encountered five masked men in black derbies. “Doc says he'll live, but he's lost an eye.”

“I want to talk to him.” Matt punched into his coat. “Any witnesses?”

“Maybe. The girls are waiting for us.”

Matt went to Sarah's room where he scooped her into
his arms. Blanket and all, he carried her across the street to Mrs. Holcombe's house. The widow would understand. He'd woken her up before. Tomorrow she'd remind him that Sarah needed a mother, as if he didn't already know it. As Dan knocked on her door, Matt called her name so she wouldn't be alarmed. She opened the door and he carried Sarah to the sofa, kissed her forehead and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. Bless her heart, she didn't wake up. He thanked Mrs. Holcombe profusely, then left with Dan.

As they neared Ferguson Street, the night turned rowdy with noise from a dozen saloons. A tinny piano played a rambunctious tune, and Matt heard female laughter from an upstairs window. Forced and empty, the sound depressed him. So did the plink of bottles as he and Dan passed one saloon after another, each with a name more tempting than the last.

When they reached the Silver Slipper, the noise died to silence. With Dan behind him, Matt pushed through the batwing doors into a room blazing with light. The customers had moved down the street, leaving behind the smell of whiskey and an abandoned Faro game. The six women who worked as dancing girls were huddled around a table.

Matt tipped his hat. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Good evening,” they murmured.

He'd have wagered a month's salary that not a single woman in the room had chosen this life. They'd fallen into it because of hunger and shame and only God knew what else. The rouge on their cheeks did nothing to hide the pallor of fear. Katy the cleaning girl sat on the fringe of the group. With her clean-scrubbed face, she looked more ashen than the others and twice as scared.

Matt surveyed the women. “Did anyone see anything?”

After a pause, a brunette named Lizzy raised her hand.

“Speak freely,” he said.

“I saw their horses as they galloped off.”

“I did, too,” said another girl.

The dam broke and the women all started talking at once. Matt raised his hands. “One at a time, ladies.”

After a couple minutes, he discerned there had been five attackers. In addition to wearing masks, the riders had chosen horses with no discernable markings. Sometime during the beating, one of the men had scrawled “God is not mocked” on the back door with white chalk.

“I'd like to speak to Scottie,” he said to the group.

Katy pushed to her feet. “I'll take you.”

Leaving Dan to continue with Scottie's girls, Matt followed Katy up two flights of stairs to a third story as ornate as a New Orleans hotel. Katy tapped on the door. When someone called for her to come in, she led Matt into a bedroom furnished from top to bottom with fancy things.

Matt made eye contact with the doctor. “May I speak to Scottie?”

“Only if you're quick,” he answered. “I just dosed him with laudanum.”

As Matt approached the bed, he saw the damage to the man's face. As Dan had said, he'd lost an eye. The remaining one was swollen shut, and bruises covered every inch of his face.

“Hello, Scottie,” Matt said quietly. “What can you tell me?”

“Not much.”

“Did you recognize anyone?”

“They got me down too fast.”

“How about voices?”

Scottie swallowed painfully. “They're sly, Wiley. They didn't say a word.

Matt had to admire the group's discipline. They had a secret and intended to keep it.

When Scottie motioned for a glass of water, Katy stepped forward and lifted it to his lips. The gesture held tenderness, but Matt didn't think there was anything improper between the two of them. Katy had cared for her ailing husband before his death and had the demeanor of a nurse. When Scottie groaned, the doctor motioned for Matt to leave. As he headed for the stairs, he heard footsteps, turned and saw Katy following him.

“It's the men who shot out the windows, isn't it?” she asked.

“I think so.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I know Scottie's business is wrong. So do the other girls. We don't want to be here. It's just…” She shook her head.

“Sometimes there's not much of a choice,” he said for her. He'd seen it too many times. A woman lost her way and couldn't make ends meet. Prostitution was a downhill slide that ended at places like the one Jasper Kling had been visiting. Matt had to wonder what would happen if the businessmen leading the Golden Order offered decent jobs to these woman? What if someone gave them a second chance?

Katy bit her lip. “I have enough money saved for train fare home. I'm leaving next week.”

“That's good.”

“I wish I could take Lizzy and everyone with me.”

So did Matt. He couldn't make that happen, but he could stop the vigilantes. “Did you see anything else tonight?”

“I only remember the hats.”

The black derbies claimed authority and made the group
known. Eventually they'd make a mistake, but how many people would suffer before they stumbled? Matt had to take action
now.
As he and Katy arrived in the main dance hall, he made eye contact with Dan. The deputy shook his head, a signal he hadn't gleaned any useful information. The two men bid good-night to the women and paced out the door.

As the bright light of the dance hall faded to black, Matt saw the answer to the problem with startling clarity. He and Dan had been
inside
the saloon. Now they were
outside
in the dark. They were also outside of the G.O. If they could somehow get
inside,
they'd have the information they needed to make arrests during the next attack.

“We need a spy,” he said to Dan.

“A what?”

“Someone who can get inside the G.O.” Matt picked up his pace. “They're not going to stop, and they're smart. We need to find a man they'll trust but who sees them for what they are. It's the only way.”

Dan's brows lifted. “Who do you have in mind?”

Matt scanned faces in his mind, disregarding one after the other. If he approached someone favorable to the vigilante activity, he'd tip his hand to the Golden Order. On the other hand, the G.O. knew where everyone in Cheyenne stood on the issues of crime and Ferguson Street. “We need a newcomer to town. Someone they don't know.”