Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (13 page)

Hunter leaned forward and banged his fist on the table. “I’ve been looking for him way too long. I intend to make sure he pays for his crime.”

“Now hold on there, boy. Don’t you go doing anything that will make me put you behind bars.”

Hunter turned on his heel and left the room. Their shouting must have reached the outer area since everyone stared at him as he barreled past. As he’d suspected before he even entered the place, this had gotten him nowhere. If he couldn’t get Smith behind bars, he’d have to find another way to get Emily away before she was seriously injured.

He yanked on the doorknob when the officer’s voice stopped him. “Don’t you forget what I said, boy. I don’t cotton to having people take the law into their own hands. You stay away from Smith.”

Chapter 13

Jeremy Steele stepped off the train at the Galveston station, then turned his head aside and winced.

Damn, who needs all this fucking sunshine?

He turned up his jacket collar and lowered the brim of his hat. Head down, he picked up his satchel and headed away from the depot. A chatty woman on the train with two children had told him of a hotel only a couple of blocks away. He’d soon cursed himself for asking because it had opened a floodgate of conversation in which he had no interest.

A short walk brought him to the hotel the woman had recommended. The place seemed decent enough. After waiting for a sleepy-eyed clerk to register him, Jeremy was handed a key to room three forty-two. The climb to the third floor wasn’t too bad, but he was getting close to needing another injection. He would take care of that, and then mosey on over to the boardinghouse where Hunter was staying.

He tossed his bag on the bed and sat to catch his breath. He sure wasn’t in good shape anymore. He hadn’t received a Ranger assignment in a while, and he felt it in his bones. Once this business in Galveston was taken care of, he’d have to contact his superior and find out what was going on. Despite the morphine, there was no reason he couldn’t work. Hell, he was taking on an assignment for Henderson, wasn’t he?

The climb down was much easier, and Jeremy hit the street feeling like himself. He wasn’t sure when he’d eaten last, so he downed a bowl of soup at a restaurant along the way. He had to start eating more, his clothes were beginning to hang off his large frame. Soon he would cut down on the morphine. The pain for which he’d originally been given the drug by the doctor had ended months ago, but he still seemed to need morphine to get through the day.

Not that he was addicted, of course.

Once on Strand Street he glanced at the paper Hunter had sent him, and checked for two thirty-four. Five houses down was the correct number.
Ballinger Boardinghouse
. The building was a large home that must have housed a single family at one time, but now catered to those needing a room and unwilling to stay in one of the many hotels on the island.

The clapboard exterior was painted white with black trim. Four wicker rocking chairs sat on the porch, along with several planters with colorful fall flowers. As he climbed the steps he noted the well swept boards that looked as if they’d recently been painted. Whoever owned the house took very good care of it.

The doorbell sounded, echoing inside, easy to hear with the neighborhood being so quiet. No dogs barking or children squealing with laughter. Since it was early afternoon, most likely kids were in school.

A stout woman of middle years answered the door, her ample figure wrapped in an apron covered with some type of food. She smiled and pushed back the curls that fell over her forehead. “May I help ye, lad?”

“I’m Mr. Jeremy Steele and I’m here to see Mr. Henderson. Is he at home?”

“Aye, he’s been expecting ye. Step in, and I’ll let him ken you’re here.” She moved backward allowing him to enter the house. The inside was as well-kept as the outside, and delicious smells drifted from the back of the house.

The woman lumbered up the stairs, wiping her hands on her apron as she climbed. He took a survey of the area. The entrance hall opened to a pleasant parlor on his left, with striped wallpaper and a worn, but clean carpet on the floor. The area was filled with clocks, knick-knacks, and books. Several oil lamps sat on tables next to numerous folded newspapers, which would provide a comfortable retreat to spend time after supper.

The place reminded him of his childhood home, where he had been so anxious to leave. He was hit with a feeling of despondency, knowing with his parents dead and his brother off to who-knew-where, he’d never see his home again, or have that feeling of security it had brought.

He shook off the strange feelings just as footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Jeremy.” Hunter gripped his hand with a firm shake, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s so good of you to come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, partner.” He grinned, happy to see the only real friend he’d ever had.

“We can go in here and talk, things will be quiet until the rest of the boarders return from work.” Hunter led him into the parlor Jeremy had just been admiring.

“Mr. Henderson, would ye like some coffee for ye and yer guest?” The woman who’d opened the door reappeared, still wiping her hands on her apron.

Hunter looked at him, but Jeremy waved his hand. “Not for me, I just had breakfast.”

“Not right now, Mrs. Pettiford. Thank you, though.” He turned his attention to Jeremy. “It looks to me like you’ve lost some weight.” Hunter studied him carefully.

“Just a few pounds. I was sick recently, but I’m fine now.” He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with Henderson’s scrutiny. “What’s this problem you want me to investigate?”

Hunter sat back, resting his booted ankle on his bent knee. “There is a man in Galveston who has an investment firm. From what I’ve heard, he’s well respected and has been in business here for over five years. However, I have firsthand information that he’s been cheating his clients for years. He takes their money to invest and then does very little with it except spend it. He pays his earlier clients with the minor amount of interest he gets, plus the money from the more recent clients.”

Jeremy let out with a low whistle. “Sounds to me eventually it all has to collapse.”

Hunter leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, and linking his fingers loosely together. “I agree. But I have reasons to want to have that collapse happen sooner rather than later.”

“Does this involve a woman?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve never known you to request help before. Hell, it was hard enough trying to do my share when we worked cases together with the Rangers.”

“As it happens, it does involve a woman.” He hesitated. “There are complications, however.”

Jeremey smirked. “There always are when a woman is part of the problem.”

“She’s not part of the problem. I’m trying to help her out of a difficult situation.”

“Sounds serious. Not the problem, but you and the woman.”

“That doesn’t matter. I need to get this man for another reason. More important to me than the money scheme.”

Jeremy didn’t respond, just gave Hunter time to state his case.

“Eighteen years ago he murdered my father while I hid under a desk and watched.”

Louis scowled as Sanders barged into his office. “What is it? I’m expecting a client any minute.”

Sanders wiped sweat from his forehead and panted, obviously having maneuvered his bulky frame up the stairs to the office at a fast pace. “I just came from the Club. Word is spreading that some crazy scheme to corner the market on United Copper Company stock is about to collapse. They’re predicting a major run on the banks.”

“So?”

“If there’s a run on the banks here, we’re going to have clients banging our doors down to get their money.”

Louis carefully inserted his fountain pen into the gold-plated inkwell on his desk and sighed. “Sanders, Sanders, Sanders. Must you always panic at the least bit of bad news? We’ve ridden out these rumors before, and we’ll do it again.”

His partner threw his hands out in supplication. “Don’t you understand? The money our clients are expecting us to have is gone.” He leaned in close to Louis, making him turn his head aside at the smell of whiskey. The man was coming apart at the seams. “We’ll be dragged off to jail.”

“We are not going to be dragged off to jail. The client I’m expecting any minute is a wealthy oil man with a lot of money to invest. He just arrived in Galveston to set up a few businesses for investment. I will convince him the major part of his venture should come to us.”

“You’re crazy, you know that, Louis? How much longer do you think we can keep this up?”

Louis stood and shoved his chair back, slamming it against the wall. “I am not crazy! We can keep this up forever.” He waved his arm toward the window. “There are thousands and thousands of people out there with money dripping from their fingers, greedy enough to give it to us with our promise of high returns.”

He adjusted his jacket and sat back down. “I have built an empire here. I give to charity, I have the local politicians in my pocket. The woman on my arm at every function is always the most beautiful in the room. She’s cultured, polished, and everyone loves her, and respects me. I intend to keep it that way. All these bouts of hysteria have to stop. You need to calm down and get out there and find us more clients like my oil man. Get busy and stop worrying about jail.”

All the air seemed to seep out of Sanders. He hung his head and sat in the Italian leather chair in front of Louis’s desk. “You’re right. I don’t know why these things upset me.” He attempted a smile. “Tell me about the oil man.”

Louis glanced at a notebook on his desk. “His name is Jeremy Steele. Comes from an oil family—very wealthy. In 1901 they struck at some place called Spindletop near Beaumont. They have money coming out their asses, and I intend to get my hands on it.”

Sanders stood. “Good, good. I’ll go on back to the Club now and see if I can squash those rumors.” With a shuffle he left the office, closing the door quietly.

Most likely squash the rumors by drowning them in whiskey. My partner is becoming a nuisance.

Hunter lifted his binoculars and watched from across the street as Emily and Louis entered the mansion after an evening out. He’d been observing the house for the past three nights, to assure himself of where Emily’s bedroom was. Within minutes after the front door closed, a light appeared in the window on the second floor, the west side of the house. Seconds before that another light shone from what Hunter had determined was the library.

Four nights in a row. Same two lights shortly after they arrived home. That upstairs window had to be Emily’s bedroom. After about thirty minutes he scooped up the rope he’d brought and tucked the binoculars into the bag at his feet.

That amount of time should be enough for Louis to drink a sufficient amount so he wasn’t too alert. Hunter walked across the street, noting the absence of foot and street traffic. Hopefully that half hour would also have been adequate for Emily to have dismissed her maid.

Earlier that morning he’d scouted the outside of the mansion when he was sure most everyone would still be asleep. It would have been nice if the large tree in the back of the house was actually in front of Emily’s bedroom window, but life wasn’t always convenient.

Since houses of this size and style almost always had servant’s quarters and storage in the rear, he had to take a chance that the window he could crawl into from the tree would be a storeroom. The last thing he wanted was to scare some maid and have her run screaming through the house.

Taking another look around, he hoisted himself up by one of the lower branches and began his climb. Now that Jeremy was on the job, Hunter could do what he’d wanted from the day he’d first saw Emily walk out of the mansion. Take her away from Galveston. He could escort her to Guthrie to stay with Tori and Uncle Jesse where she would be safe while he worked on getting Louis charged with murder. The way things stood now he would not be able to concentrate until he knew Emily was far from Louis’s clutches.

He scaled the branch next to the window, going out as far as his weight held. Cupping his hands, he peered through the glass. The space was indeed a storage room of some sort. He slowly slid the window up, grateful that it made very little noise. He tossed the rope into the room and climbed in after it.

He stood still and listened for a few minutes to make sure nothing stirred. Trying to snatch Emily from the house while Louis was still awake was risky. From what he’d learned the last few nights, Louis spent a few hours in the library each evening before the light in his bedroom went on. Whether he was drinking all that time or dozing after a few drinks, Hunter had no idea, but he needed as much time as possible to get her out of town before the household came alive.

When nothing stirred after his entry, he took a deep breath and made his way across the room. He skirted past shadowy figures that daylight would most likely reveal as cast-off furniture. The door to the room creaked as he opened it, but silence reigned as he eased out and started down the hall. Counting in his head, he reached what he knew had to be Emily’s bedroom door.

The doorknob turned easily and he slipped into the room. In the dimness he could make out Emily’s figure curled on her side, facing away from him. He needed to approach without causing her to make any noise. Tiptoeing closer he reached out and covered her mouth with his hand.

Emily’s eyes flew open at the sound of her door latch releasing. She lay very still, once again hoping Louis would think her sleeping and go away. Since she heard no further sound, she thought he had left when a hand clamped over her mouth. Blood raced to her heart, setting it to pounding. She wiggled, trying to get away from him when he leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Emily. It’s Hunter. Lie still.”

Hunter?

He moved his hand and she rolled over. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting you the hell out.” He looked around. “Where is your suitcase?”

She threw the covers off and swung her legs over the side. “Over there in the closet.” She pointed toward the closed door. He strode across the room and flung the door open, dragging the suitcase out. He glanced over his shoulder. “Honey, you have to get dressed. You can’t go like that.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at herself and felt the heat rise to her face. She stood in her bedroom in her nightgown with a man who wasn’t her husband. “I can’t get dressed with you in the room.”

“It’s all right, I’ll face the wall, but I need for you to get dressed, and fast. Louis is still awake downstairs.”