Diane T. Ashley (35 page)

“If you let that man get away, I may shoot you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jasmine could see Clem shaking her head.

David turned her around. Sprawled on the ground was a man with a long, skinny face and dirty blond hair. His hands were under him, his ankles tied together with a length of rope. She hoped his hands were similarly bound.

“Are you hurt?” David stepped around her, positioning himself between her and his prisoner.

“Don’t be silly.” She blocked out the memory of not being able to breathe. At least her sacrifice had been worthwhile. And she could breathe fine now.

“You should have seen your brother.” Clem clasped her hands in front of her, adoration spilling from her eyes. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He jumped so high, it was like he flew across that street. I thought he would be shot for sure, but your brother kicked the weapon out of the man’s hand and roped and tied him as fast as a flash of lightning. He ought to be in one of those cowboy rodeos. He would win for sure.”

David looked sheepish, almost embarrassed by Clem’s extravagant praise.

Jasmine’s stomach quivered. She’d never thought about David getting hurt. He was supposed to be invincible. Her knees buckled, and she met his gaze. Something happened in that moment. Her world shifted. Everything changed, like the landscape after a flood. It was all so clear to her now. Clear and yet muddled beyond comprehension. She bit her lip and turned away. What else could she do?

L
et’s try this one more time.” David sighed and leaned his elbows on the table between himself and the man he’d managed to capture. “I need the name of your boss.”

“Jack Sprat.”

“His real name.”

“How ’bout Abraham Lincoln?”

Irritation rolled down his back along with a drop of perspiration. He hadn’t planned to spend the whole afternoon in the stuffy jail, but Hiram Daniels was proving to be a hard nut to crack. “If you’ll cooperate with me now, I’ll put a word in with the judge. Who knows? He might not even hang you.”

Hiram, if that was even his real name, didn’t seem too impressed with the offer. He was leaning back in his chair, his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I don’t plan to stay in here long enough to get hanged.”

David shook his head. “Who said you’d be here?”

The other man straightened and scratched his ear. He had a face only a mother could love—small eyes, a long nose, and a weak chin. “So where you gonna take me?”

“I ought to drag you back to New Orleans. See if they can’t charge you with Charlie Petrie’s murder.”

Hiram shook his head. “I wasn’t part of that. Felix is the one who did in poor ol’ Charlie.”

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”

David raised an eyebrow at that news. It sounded to him like the members of this gang weren’t under much control. They seemed to prey on each other as much as they preyed on the innocent. “How did he die?”

Hiram relaxed, a smile on his thin lips. “Fell off his horse and hit his head. Weren’t nothing we could do. Leastwise that’s what my buddies said.”

It sounded like his buddies might have murdered Felix and made it look like an accident. Had they been worried Felix was working with the police? “When was that?”

“Near about two weeks ago, I guess.” Hiram looked off into the distance, counting the days.

“Yep.” He nodded. “I remember it clear. It was right before we got our orders to come up here and wait.”

“How long have you been in Cairo?”

“Not in Cairo.” The thief corrected David. “We been living in the woods.”

David gritted his teeth. He was ready to get this interrogation behind him and catch the real culprit. “All right, how long have you been living in the woods nearby?”

“ ’Bout a week. We been sitting around doing nothing until we got our instructions last night.”

“What did they say?”

“To rob the bank.” Hiram looked at David, his eyes flat.

“So you and the rest of your gang sat around for a week. You didn’t do anything at all until you got a note telling you to rob the bank.”

“That’s right.”

David slammed a fist on the table. Although the action caused his hand to ache, Hiram sat up, and the distant look in his eyes disappeared. “That’s not right. I know you got more information than to ‘rob a bank.’ Someone is giving you specific information on the strengths and weaknesses of every bank you’ve hit. I want to know who that person is and how he gets his information.”

Hiram shook his head. “Listen to me, lawman. I ain’t scared of you. I ain’t scared of your threats. In fact, there’s only one thing I am scared of.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting stabbed in the back by the man you want to know the name of.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“Like you protected poor ol’ Charlie?”

David felt his cheeks flush. “That was an accident.”

“Well, I don’t want no accident happening to me.” Hiram grinned at him. “I know how to keep my skin whole.”

The jailhouse door opened, and Sheriff Cunningham strolled back in. “Did you find out what you need, Pinkerton?”

“Yes.” David nodded. “Hiram has been very helpful.”

“What?” Hiram sat up, a shocked look on his his face. “I didn’t tell you nothing.”

The sheriff chuckled. “Apparently you’re wrong. I wonder if the fellow he arrests will think you’re innocent.”

“That’s not fair.” Hiram’s whine made David grin. “You’re gonna get me killed for sure.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about it.” David held out a hand to indicate the sheriff. “I’m sure there’s more than one cell here. You should be safe.”

Sheriff Cunningham nodded his agreement as he walked toward Hiram. “Come on, let’s get you settled in and comfortable before your friend arrives.”

David wished he could’ve gotten Hiram to give up Vance’s name, but it didn’t really matter. It was obvious Vance had orchestrated the whole affair. Nothing would convince him the actor was innocent. All he had to do now was arrest Vance and put him in the jail next to Hiram. He was certain he could get a confession from one of them before the week was out.

Leaving the jail, David was surprised to see how dark the sky had become. Was a storm brewing? A glance upward told him otherwise. He’d wasted the whole afternoon inside the jail with his prisoner. All the booths that had earlier lined the street were either gone or deserted. The celebration had moved to the raised stage where the actors from the
Ophelia
would perform.

At least he knew where to find Vance. David strode down the street, considering his next move. Although he knew Vance was guilty, others might be working with him from the
Ophelia
. Rafe, for example, had been skulking about town in a guilty manner. Was he another conspirator? Until David knew for certain, he needed to continue protecting his real identity. He would have to claim he’d been looking for Jasmine when he came upon the bank robbery, and his instinct had kicked in when he realized his “sister” was in danger. Any man in town might have done the same to protect the women in his family.

Blending in with the audience, David watched as Jasmine, modestly attired in her altered costume, beseeched Rafe, resplendent in a feathered Indian headdress, to save Captain John Smith from a beheading.

The gallant captain—alias Vance Hargrove—knelt at center stage, his head bowed and his hands tied behind him as an Indian brave menaced him with a raised tomahawk. As she cried out and ran to stand between Hargrove and the brave, David found himself caught up in the drama along with the rest of the audience. The fear on Jasmine’s face was so real, her every gesture so natural that she seemed to have become Pocahontas.

She put her arms around Captain Smith’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “You will free him, great Powhatan, or I will die with him.”

David blinked and fell out of the trance Jasmine had woven. Of course she could play the part of Pocahontas with convincing authenticity. She and the Indian girl shared the same strength of will and imperious bravery. If she had to play a different part, Katherine from
The Taming of the Shrew
for example, he doubted she would be nearly as credible.

Powhatan relented, the brave retreated, and Pocahontas helped Captain Smith rise to his feet. He thanked her for saving him and pledged to reward her with endless wonders from his homeland in exchange for her bravery.

Jasmine smiled up at him. “You owe me nothing, good captain. You have been a kind and honorable man. How could I let others harm you? Return to your people and tell them they are welcome here. You will live in peace among us. We are thirsty for the knowledge you will share with us. Together we will become a great nation.”

They bowed and walked off the stage to thunderous applause.

It was time for him to act. David slipped through the crowd as Rafe, now dressed in a gray Colonial suit and white wig, escorted Angelica onto the stage for their skit about George and Martha Washington. Four tents had been set up behind the stage so the actors could change costumes. All he had to do was find out which one belonged to Hargrove and wait. He hoped to get him away from the area with a minimum of fuss.

Clem rushed past him, a blue scarf trailing from a mountain of material in her arms.

He reached out a hand to stop her. “Have you seen Vance?”

“He’s changing in that far tent. He ought to be out in a minute or two.”

Tabitha Barlow appeared at the flap of a different tent. “Clem, are you coming? I have to be on stage next.”

“I’m right here.” Clem grimaced and hurried away.

Several minutes ticked by, and David’s shoulders tensed. Did Vance suspect he’d been identified?

“Did you find out anything from that man?” Jasmine’s voice behind him distracted David from his worried thoughts.

He turned and smiled at her. “You made a very convincing Pocahontas.”

“Do you think so?”

“I would have freed John Smith myself.”

For a moment the chaos surrounding them seemed to disappear. Jasmine’s lips parted, and her eyes widened. Like a moth drawn to a candle’s flame, David felt himself yearning to caress her beautiful face, feel its softness beneath his fingers.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think the two of you weren’t even related.” The sound of Miss Barlow’s voice stung him, making David jerk back.

“Of course they are.” Vance finally made an appearance, a stovepipe hat tucked under one arm. “Can’t you see the resemblance? They have the same strong chins and high cheekbones.”

David didn’t want this conversation to continue. “I need you to come with me, Vance.”

The actor looked surprised for a moment, but then he nodded, his face showing comprehension. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

“Tell Mr. Easley I won’t be able to deliver the Gettysburg Address after all.” Vance reached for Jasmine’s hand and pressed a swift kiss on it. “If only you had been wrong about that race, this evening would be turning out very differently.”

Jasmine pulled her hand from his. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” David sounded so cold, so different than he had only a moment earlier.

Tabitha looked as surprised as she felt. “I think I’ll go find Mr. Easley … make sure he knows about the change in the program.” She walked away from them, leaving Jasmine to stare after her.

“You should go with her.” David’s voice brought her attention back to him.

“Not until you tell me where you’re taking Vance and why he won’t be back in time for his performance.”

“Someone else can recite the address.” Vance’s gaze was sad, defeated. Guilt poured from him like a spring flood.

Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t believe it. I can’t. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Of course he has.” David blew out an exasperated breath. “You’re just blind to the truth, as always. When will you stop ignoring the evidence right in front of you?”

Was he still talking about Vance? Jasmine had the odd feeling that David’s words had a completely different meaning. She snapped her mouth shut.

David held a hand out to Vance. “Why don’t you show us what’s in your pockets?”

“Do we have to do that out here?” Vance glanced around. “I don’t want everybody to know what’s going on.”

“They’ll have to know sooner or later.” David’s face was implacable.

“Not if you tell them I decided to leave the
Ophelia
on my own.”

Jasmine watched the debate, unable to accept the implications of their words. Could Vance have fooled all of them for so long? It didn’t seem possible. Vance had kissed her. A chill went down her spine. If he really was all that David said, he could just as easily have stabbed her.

The three of them moved a few feet away from the stage, standing behind one of the tents where no one could see them. Jasmine prayed David was wrong. But her heart dropped to her toes when Vance reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. He avoided meeting her gaze as he slapped the money into David’s palm.

“Do you believe it now, Jasmine? Vance is the one who’s been going to the banks at every stop your showboat makes. He trades on his notoriety as a successful actor and his dubious charms to ferret out information from the tellers and officers at the banks. They never realize what he’s doing.”