Katie Rose (17 page)

Inside the dry goods store, four women stopped talking when she entered. Emily adjusted her glasses and saw to her dismay that one of them was the older woman on board the stagecoach when she’d arrived in town. Watson bounded toward the woman as if he, too, recognized her, and Emily scrambled to scoop him up. The woman nodded in her direction and whispered something to the others. They all stared at her.

Emily ignored them and placed her poster in the window. She walked to the counter and tried to make her voice as normal as possible.

“Could I have some lace, please? Five yards will do. And some of that white thread.”

Emily requested the items from the shopkeeper, who also stared at her with open curiosity. She attempted to overlook his rudeness, but it was almost impossible. Instead, she focused on the walking stick beside him, a handsome specimen with a gold-plated tip.

“Miss Potter, I have to ask you something.” The man placed her packages on the counter. “Miss Jenkins there claims that you can read a person’s mind simply by looking at their cuffs. Is that true?”

Emily sighed with impatience. “Not exactly.” When the man raised his brows in triumph, she went on. “I can tell a lot about a person by their cuffs and boots.
It isn’t anything anyone else couldn’t do. And it certainly isn’t mind reading.”

“I see.” He handed her the change, then smiled in a superior manner. “I don’t suppose your talent helped at the saloon?”

The women tittered, but Emily kept her composure and simply shrugged, collecting her purchases. But the man wasn’t about to let her off that easily.

“See! I knew you were a fraud. You couldn’t tell anything about me!” He turned toward the women with a smirk, as if dismissing them all as silly females.

Emily smiled, turning toward the door. “Other than the fact that you’ve developed a weakness for whiskey, that it has led you from a lofty position at the bank to your present occupation, that you have a small dog who continually chews your belongings, that your wife has left you, and that you are desperately trying to forget a woman named Rita, I can’t tell a thing.”

The gasp behind her was audible. Emily turned and gave the man a nod, noting his white complexion and gaping jaw. Normally she didn’t like to employ her talents just to put someone in their place, but her pride had taken a solid beating that morning and she had had enough. The women looked equally astonished and watched the clerk in bewilderment, waiting for him to deny her charges.

Instead, he sputtered, “But how—you just came into town. How did you know?…”

“It was elementary. You have a walking stick inscribed from the bank. Banks only give such presentations to valued employees or important customers.
Since you are working here and don’t appear to have great wealth, I deduced the former. Since you were once held in such high esteem, and now are employed in a dry goods store, I have to assume that some evil influence created your downfall. When I see that your stick is chipped in several places, and observe the scent of whiskey on your breath, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“But my dog?”

Emily gestured to his boots impatiently. “There are at least three bite marks on your boots. They are only an inch apart, hence a small dog.”

“And my wife? And Rita?”

Emily waved her hand in the air while the women stood looking at each other, speechless. “You no longer wear a ring, but there is a clear white mark where it once resided. Also, I saw that the back of your watch was once inscribed ‘Rita,’ but you scratched over the name. I observed it when you laid it on the counter. Good day.”

She left the store, with the women and the clerk still in stunned silence. She never saw Thomas move away from the window where he’d witnessed the entire scene, nor did she see the long, thoughtful glance the preacher gave her.

After Emily departed, Thomas walked casually into the store. The shopkeeper had just removed Emily’s poster, and was busy rolling it up while the women whispered and tittered. Without saying a word, Thomas took the poster from the man’s hands and put it back into the window.

“Excuse me, sir, I mean, Reverend, what are you doing?” the shopkeeper huffed indignantly.

“Being neighborly,” Thomas answered dryly. “As a man of God, I consider it my duty to make sure all of his children treat each other kindly. What is that saying? Do unto others …”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” one of the woman corrected him with a superior look.

Thomas shot her an unappreciative glare. “Thank you. Miss Potter is a good Christian woman, and I aim to see that she gets a warm welcome here in town. I don’t want to hear of anyone causing her any trouble. Are you in agreement?”

Thomas stared down the shopkeeper, his eyes like steel. The man swallowed hard and indicated the poster. “But I can’t have that hanging in my store! I’ll lose business. Miss Potter has a reputation—”

It was as far as he got. Thomas stepped closer and grabbed the man by the collar. Tension radiated from the preacher, and the glitter in his eyes got even icier. At the moment he appeared more like the wrath of God than a man of God. The women shrank back.

“Miss Potter is a lady, and should be known as such,” Thomas said, his jaw tight with anger. “Now, if I hear any different, I’ll have to come calling on you. For I have an observation in addition to Miss Potter’s. You are a coward. Do you understand me?”

The shopkeeper nodded, his eyes wide with fear. Thomas let him go, then brushed his hands as if to remove filth. “Good.” Thomas forced a smile,
remembering his calling. “As a man of the cloth, I’d hate to have to prescribe a public penance. Good day, shopkeeper. Ladies.”

Thomas walked out, and the women exchanged a wondering glance with the shaken clerk.

Anger still burned in his gut as Thomas walked toward Shangri-La. The thought of that weasly shopkeeper passing judgment on Emily made his stomach wrench, even though he himself had once done the same thing. These parochial townspeople didn’t know her, didn’t understand her, and never would, Thomas fumed. It would be best for all concerned if Emily just quit this place and went back East, especially after all that he had witnessed yesterday.

The picture of Lizzie’s housekeeper lying in her own blood wouldn’t leave him. If he hadn’t gotten to Boulder when he did and taken Emily away … he couldn’t even think of the rest. He had the horrible feeling that she was tangled in a web where death and disaster were the certain outcome.

After leaving Boulder, he’d ridden into the Chinese settlement outside of town to look up China Blue, the laundry woman who’d worked at Shangri-La. It had occurred to him that she might be in as much trouble as Lizzie and Emily, especially if she had been there the night of the murders.

But he had had little success finding the woman. No one in the encampment would even talk to him. He could only hope that someone had understood why he was looking for China Blue and would warn her about the danger she might be in.

Now he could only vent his aggravation on the shopkeeper. Lizzie was gone, her housekeeper brutally murdered, and China Blue either dead or in hiding. There was only one other person that the sheriff had named as a possible witness: a housekeeper who had worked in the bordello. Tomorrow, Thomas would probe that lead a little further. He had to admit he didn’t like the way things were going. And yesterday’s murder proved just how far the killer would go.

He stopped outside Emily’s house, watching her charming silhouette in the window as she lit the lamp. Thomas smiled, thinking of her deductions concerning the shopkeeper and the women’s astonished reaction. He had to admit, she was good, but even her brilliance wouldn’t keep her out of trouble this time. He felt a strange hollowness as he realized that if she took his advice, he’d never see her again, but he couldn’t let that stop him. Reaffirming his resolve, Thomas climbed the porch steps. He was going to talk some sense into her.

The door flew open at his second knock. Emily and Darrel’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Reverend Hall!” Emily spoke first. “I wasn’t expecting company.…”

“That’s all right. Can I come in, Miss Emily? I have something to tell you. Darrel, would you mind waiting outside?”

The boy stopped his work and dashed out the back door before Emily could say another word. She bit her lip uncertainly, as if not at all sure she wanted to hear anything he had to say. Thomas felt the same
strange stirrings that she always engendered in him and thought back to their encounter outside Boulder. Damn! Pushing the memory aside, he entered the house—then stared at the parlor in astonishment.

It looked just like a real bordello. Thomas’s jaw fell open as he took in the mended curtains, the lace undersheers peeking beneath like petticoats, and the newly fixed sofa. Perfume emanated from somewhere—the gaslights, it seemed—and the rose-colored shades threw a seductive pink light over everything. Books were everywhere, some of them open, and hats were displayed on every available table and shelf. The player piano tapped out a tune that he dimly recalled had suggestive lyrics, while strategically placed mirrors caught every movement. And above it all was the ceiling, the couples entwined in frankly sexual positions, laughing at him.

Thomas’s throat went dry. “Emily … my God, what are you doing?’

“Do you like it?” Emily beamed. “I am going to establish my shop here.”

“Emily, you’ve lost your mind.” Thomas’s hat dropped to the floor and he turned to her in disbelief. “You can’t mean—”

“Why not?” Emily said defensively. “Just think, Thomas, what this could mean! Women would have the same privileges as men: a retreat for their own needs. They could come here, try on hats, look through the pattern books, and socialize. What’s wrong with that?”

“You have lost your mind.” Thomas put a hand on her forehead. Her temperature felt normal, but he
was again forcibly reminded of the soft feel of her skin, like rose petals. His fingers remained on her flesh longer than necessary as he marveled at the silky texture. Visions of the couples cavorting overhead burned into his brain, and he realized what he was thinking. He pulled his hand from her as quickly as if he’d been burned. As he glanced around the room once again, consternation creased his brow. How far would Emily take this? Surely, she wouldn’t—

His voice was hoarse as he took her by the shoulders and spoke. “You can’t plan to … have men here to … pleasure these women?”

“Of course not!” Emily seemed insulted by the suggestion. She pulled out of his grip. “I hadn’t even thought of such a thing! I envision Shangri-La as a place for women to go, a place to enjoy some of the things men take for granted. What’s wrong with that?”

“And where do you plan to find these women?” Thomas asked, incredulous.

“I’ve hung posters in town, and I’m going to hold a reception!” Emily said triumphantly. “I think I will attract women with intelligence and talent. What better way to gain customers, build relationships, and sell hats in the bargain?”

Thomas suddenly understood the shopkeeper’s resistance to hanging Emily’s poster. “Emily, listen to me. This idea is insane. Not only will decent women refuse to come to a whorehouse to buy hats, you’ll never have another chance to establish yourself here. The townspeople already think you are some kind of
saloon girl. If you pursue this, your reputation will be in shreds!”

He was pacing the floor in extreme agitation. Lord, how could a woman become full grown and know so little about the world? She seemed genuinely puzzled by his disapproval, and she gazed at the fruits of her labor as if trying to see them with his eyes.

“Do you really think … I was so sure they would be curious.…”

“Emily,” Thomas sighed, trying once more to rein in his impatience. “You’re right, they would be curious. But most women aren’t like you. They wouldn’t brave the loss of their good name over anything, let alone an opportunity to glimpse a whorehouse. And when word got out about what this place looks like, their husbands wouldn’t get a moment’s rest. Don’t you see? Every marriage in town would be threatened, and everyone would say you were the reason. You’d be tarred and feathered, and driven out of Colorado!”

She paled, and to Thomas’s great relief, seemed to consider his words seriously. “Maybe I should paint the ceiling. I did take the pictures down.”

He came closer to her and lifted her chin. “Emily, I really think you should just leave. This isn’t the place for you. You are so intelligent and so … different. You need the stimulation of the East, places where you can safely practice your detecting. I came here to tell you that Lizzie is gone.”

“Gone?” Emily’s eyes widened. “Where?”

“I don’t know. She was planning to bolt—I saw
her trunks near the door. But something happened. Now she’s gone and her housekeeper is dead. She was shot.”

Emily sank down on the sofa, folding her hands together. “My God, Thomas, Lizzie gone! And the poor housekeeper …” Her voice cracked and Thomas sat beside her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“That’s right. And I don’t want to see anything like that happen to you. I can’t keep you safe. No one can.”

When she looked up at him, his heart plummeted. Her silver eyes were thoughtful, like deep pools of water, and her chin lifted.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I’ve already told you I can’t leave. Don’t you see what this means? We’re getting closer! Whoever killed my father is worried that we are on his trail! I can’t quit now, or ever!”

It was useless. He had hoped the shock of the housekeeper’s death would frighten her, but not Emily. She was more determined than ever, and he knew he could talk himself blue in the face, but it wouldn’t matter.

“Then I’m sorry, too, Emily. You leave me no choice. If you don’t have sense enough to take care of yourself, I will do it for you.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to do that!” Emily gasped. “If you think just because we shared a kiss—”

“I’m afraid I do. Emily, I almost made love to you. You know it and so do I. Maybe that means nothing to you, but when you allow a man certain liberties,
you allow him other privileges as well. I have decided a few things. I want you as I’ve never wanted any other woman, and I’m going to have you.”