Silver Lies (41 page)

999

The somber social over, Reverend Sands escorted Inez, Emma, and Joey out behind the church to a lean-to that sheltered the same buggy as the previous evening, but hitched to a different horse. The reverend climbed into the front seat next to Inez, remarking, "It seemed a good day to hold onto a rig."

His arm brushed hers as he reached for the reins. Despite the layers of wool between them, it might as well have been his skin sliding across hers. He clucked to the horse, then glanced back at Emma and Joey in the rear seat. "Looks like a big storm. Hope it doesn’t delay your departure from Leadville, Mrs. Rose."

"As long as the passes stay open, the sleigh-coaches drive through all but the most impossible weather." Emma tugged Joey’s cap over his ears.

Mid-afternoon was surrendering to early dusk by the time they reached Emma’s home. As the reverend set the brake, the curtain of snow thinned long enough for Inez to think she saw something not quite right about the front of the house.

"I’ll come with you." She descended from the rig. The snow fell harder.

She was nearly to the porch when the driving snow and wind paused. The curtain lifted. Behind Inez, Emma gasped.

The rat’s brown fur was picked out with flecks of snow. Rivulets of frozen blood painted small red streaks down the door. A knife hilt protruded from the pinned rat. Silent punctuation to a deadly statement.

The reverend’s hand closed on Inez’s shoulder. "Give me your gun." His voice, next to her ear, sounded foreign in its abruptness.

Inez turned. His mouth was a tight line. Snow clung to his eyelashes and patterned his hat.

She slowly pulled the Remington out of her pocket. Emma gasped again. "Inez! You brought that into church?"

Reverend Sands spun the cylinder to inspect the chambers.

"It’s fully loaded," Inez said belatedly. Then, "You’re going in? Alone?"

"Mrs. Rose, your key."

Emma opened her reticule and handed him the key.

"Ladies, Joey, back into the rig."

"I’ll walk them to my house. It’s just two doors down," said Inez.

Reverend Sands swung around. "No." His voice was flat. "Take them to the rig."

She bristled and opened her mouth to retort. His expression caused her to reconsider. Strangling a stifled protest, she took Emma and Joey by the hand and hurried them away.

At the rig, Inez turned in time to see the ghostly, snow-obscured figure of Reverend Sands push open the front door. He slipped into the dark interior.

"Was that a rat on the door?" Emma’s teeth chattered as she huddled with Joey on the back seat. "This must be some kind of horrible prank."

Inez gathered the reins, remembering the dead rat in Joe’s office and the rat pinned through her skirt at the bank. "I think it’s a warning, Emma."

"What kind of warning?"

Inez said nothing, but gripped the reins more tightly, feeling unprotected with her empty pocket.

If he’s not out in five minutes, we’re straight off to the marshal’s office. I’ll drag Hollis back by his nose if I must.

Sands reappeared at the door and strode to the rig.

"No one’s there or even been inside, as far as I can tell. Inez, I’m going to hold onto this for a while longer." He set the safety on the pocket revolver. "This is what we’ll do. We’ll all go inside. Mrs. Rose, gather what you need for two days. Then we’ll go to the Clairmont Hotel and get you a room. Inez, you should probably take a room, too."

Harry Gallagher’s hotel.

Protests rose simultaneously from Emma and Inez.

Reverend Sands shook his head through the blizzard of words.

"Listen to me!" Inez shouted over the storm. She threw down the reins and climbed down to Sands, clutching her cloak as the wind gusted and threw snow in her face. "With this weather and the holidays, there won’t be a free room anywhere much less at the better hotels. You think a hotel room is safe? Think again. One door. No other avenue of escape. What do you plan to do? Post yourself as sentry?"

"If necessary."

"No." Now her voice brooked no argument. "The Roses will stay with me. I’ve an extra room. And a shotgun."

Reverend Sands glanced from Inez to Emma and rubbed his face as if missing the absent mustache more than ever. "Done."

Inez blinked, thrown off-balance at his unexpected capitulation.

He continued, "And I’ll stay as well. The parlor floor will suit me fine."

"You can’t." Inez was speechless.

"Can’t what? Spend the night on your parlor floor?" Reverend Sands sounded as if, under different circumstances, he’d find her protest comical. "There are plenty of chaperones to go around, if that’s what you’re thinking. Discussion’s over. Now, let’s be quick."

The four hustled back up the walk and into the house. The banked stove eked out a thread of warmth that barely raised the temperature of the parlor. Trunks and boxes, packed and ready to go, lined the nearby walls. The house felt empty, cold, abandoned in spirit.

In her room, Emma handed Inez a carpetbag and threw open a trunk. They were stuffing a quilted petticoat into the bag when a scratching noise drew them to the hallway. Joey was tugging his rocking horse down the hall toward the front door. Long gouges trailed behind in the polished planks.

"Joseph Lawrence Rose!" Emma sounded beside herself. "
What
do you think you’re doing?"

"Papa said my horse’s our ticket to freedom. Papa said it’s my res…respon…job to watch over him. I’m taking him to Auntie’s house." Joey tugged. The gouges lengthened.

"You are not! You heard Reverend Sands. We take only the necessities."

"NO!" Joey shouted.

Emma moved swiftly. Her hand cracked against his cheek like a small gunshot. "You will
not
speak to me that way!"

Joey screamed and started to cry. Even in the face of his mother’s fury, he wrapped his arms around the horse’s wooden neck, prepared to go down with the ship.

Emma stared at her hand, then at her weeping child. Inez moved between mother and child, too late. "He meant no disrespect, Emma."

Reverend Sands emerged from Joey’s room, carrying a small carpetbag. A red flag, the leg from a set of flannels, trailed out of the hastily closed top. He took in the sobbing child and the two women.

Emma, still staring at the fire-red imprint of her hand on Joey’s fair skin, whispered, "He shouldn’t talk that way to his elders."

The reverend strode forward, pried the horse from Joey’s grasp, and hefted it under one arm. He turned to Emma and Inez. "Ready? Let’s go."

Back out on the porch, Reverend Sands locked the door and handed the key back to Emma. "Same key works the back door?"

She nodded.

"Good. It’s locked up tight as we can make it."

The small parade worked its way back to the rig, stepping into the vanishing impressions of their footprints. Sands hesitated. "We might as well walk. It’s just a few steps."

They bent their heads toward Inez’s home. The snow fell unrelenting, encouraged by gusts, as they waded through ankle-deep powder.

The reverend had them wait on the porch while he entered and made a quick sweep of Inez’s house. As they shivered outside, Inez realized, with the slowed-down reactions of one completely exhausted, that he had opened her door with the key from his pocket. She glanced at Emma, wondering if she’d noticed. Emma’s eyes were closed. She held Joey’s carpetbag in one hand and clutched Joey to her cloak with the other.

Sands reappeared at the door. "All clear."

He stoked the fires in the parlor stove and fireplace while Inez went to her bedroom, rolled up her comforter and sheets, and put fresh bedding on her bed for Emma. She slid out a little-used trundle bed and added blankets for Joey before retrieving her own bedclothes. Up close, they emitted a faint, musky odor that reminded her of Sands.

She spread her bedclothes on the braided rug of the second bedroom and gathered extra blankets for Sands to layer on the parlor floor. While Emma and Joey settled their meager belongings in the bedroom, Sands drew Inez aside. "You said you have a shotgun?"

"In the pantry."

"Let’s see it."

Inez retrieved the twelve-gauge shotgun and handed it to Reverend Sands. As she pulled a box of shells from the pantry’s top shelf, he asked, "Can you use this?"

She turned to face him, box in hand. "Fourteen months ago I stood off two lot-jumpers with that shotgun."

He looked up sharply from his examination of the gun. "No, Inez. Can you
use
this? Not just wave it in someone’s face, but point it at them and pull the trigger."

She extended her hand for the gun and said frostily, "Oh ye of little faith."

He gave it back to her. "I don’t want to leave you with something you won’t use. I’m going out for a while. To talk to the marshal, return the rig, and get a few things from the hotel. Including my gun. I’ll also check for open seats on tomorrow’s coaches to Georgetown and Fairplay. If it were up to me, I’d send the Roses packing tonight. And you too. I don’t like the situation." Grey eyes sized her up. "You could go with the Roses to Denver for a few days. Maybe I can get someone to ride shotgun on the three of you."

"New Year’s Eve is Wednesday. I can’t leave Abe with only Useless for help." She hesitated. "Once Emma and Joey are out of town, they’ll be safe, won’t they?"

"I’m not placing bets either way. Are you?"

"When will you be back?" she finally asked.

"Two, three hours. I’ll knock, so don’t shoot me." He began to give Inez her key.

"Keep it for now. You’ll be staying tonight, at least."

He pocketed the key. "I don’t have to tell you to keep the doors locked."

"No, you don’t." After he left, Inez returned to the parlor where Emma and Joey sat close to the fire. Joey’s eyes went wide at the shotgun. "You’ve seen one of these up close before, haven’t you Joey?"

Inez lay the gun across her lap and opened the box of shells. "Papa had one at the office, but I wasn’t allowed to touch it." "Well, you can’t touch this one either." She broke the