Lawman in Disguise (12 page)

* * *

“Boys, I usually don't talk over plans with y'all very far ahead of time, as you know,” Griggs announced that night by the campfire. “But I got wind of...an opportunity, shall we say, that would require some advance work on our part—and an extra helping of guts to carry it out. But I have to know if you're up to it.” His dark eyes glittered in the firelight.

“What is it, boss?” Pritchard asked. “You know we're up for anything you want to do, especially if there's a big prize.”

Thorn took a sip of his coffee. Might this be the opportunity he'd been waiting for, a chance to set a trap for Griggs and his gang?

Griggs grinned. “The prize is big, all right, but so's the risk. When I was in town last night, I caught wind of some news. The mayor's wife is outta town visitin' in Houston, and she'll be comin' back by stage exactly two weeks from yesterday.”

Now several of the men were leaning forward, their faces avid. “What did you have in mind, boss? Robbing her stagecoach? What if she ain't carryin' no big valuables?” one asked.

Griggs chuckled. “Nothin' so picayune as that. No, this'd be a bigger escapade than we've pulled off in the past, and I gotta know if you're willin' to take on the risk before we go any further.”

He waited until every member of the Griggs gang was staring at him. Thorn thought some of them might be holding their breath.

“All right. Mayor Gilmore is the richest man in San Saba County. I propose we stop the stage, kidnap his wife as she's traveling back to Simpson Creek and hold her for ransom. Then, after he pays up, we let her loose and head for the border, where we can live like kings on the ransom money for the rest of our lives. What do you say?”

“What if he won't pay, boss? What then?” asked another of the outlaws, across the fire.

“Oh, he'll pay, all right. She's his second wife, and they ain't been married that long, so it's well known that he's powerful sweet on her—sweet enough to part with whatever we ask to get her back safe. No fool like an old fool, as they say,” Griggs added with a guffaw. But then his features hardened. “But we've got to be willing to set consequences and stick to 'em if he tries to play fast and loose with us.”

“What does that mean, boss?” asked Tomlinson, who sat near Thorn.

“We've got to tell him we'll kill her if he don't pay up in time—and mean it. Maybe slice off a finger or two to show him we mean business.”

There were audible gasps around the campfire. “That ain't no picayune plan, for certain,” someone muttered.

Griggs shrugged. “As I said, if the idea's too much for you boys, we can keep robbin' banks an' stages. But this is the chance to pull off a huge heist and get away to where we kin live like kings ever after. No more getting' shot at and dodging posses. I just need to know none of you is gonna go yellow and back out at the last minute.”

As always, an appeal to the outlaws' pride got guaranteed results. There was a chorus of “I'm in” and “let's do it” and “I always did want to live 'cross the border with my own dark-eyed senorita.”

“You game, Thorn?” Griggs asked, gazing at him out of the corner of a narrowed eyes.

“Sure, why not?” he replied, his tone lazy. But his mind was racing. Did this plan have something to do with Griggs's rendezvous last night? Was Tilly the one who had informed him of Mrs. Gilmore's travel plans? If so, the waitress was more evil than he had imagined. And if she really had played any sort of role in the plan, then she was an accessory who could go to jail right along with her outlaw lover if it could be proved.

All that made her more dangerous to Daisy, if the woman ever found out Daisy's outlaw guest was really a lawman in disguise who wanted to put her beau in jail. For that reason alone Thorn was more determined than ever to bring Griggs and all his allies to justice.

Chapter Eleven

“I
was thinkin' about this project of ours—the kidnapping,” Griggs said to Thorn the next afternoon. Most of the outlaws were taking a siesta, having eaten a heavy noon meal of stolen barbecued beef. If the law came to arrest them now, Thorn thought, the only trouble they'd have would be in waking some of them up to take them away.

“Something I could do to help in the planning?”

“Yup, as a matter a' fact, there is. Strikes me that while we know when that mayor's wife's coming back, I don't rightly know the route the stage takes, or the schedule. Do you?”

Thorn shook his head. “Can't say as I do.”

“Then I'd like you to go find out. Go to the stage stop in Simpson Creek and ask about those things. And it's all right by me if you want to fit in a little visit with yore woman while you're there.”

Your woman.
While Thorn would never think of Daisy in such a coarse way, the idea that she was his made him want to smile. He'd have to do some hard riding to get to town before the stagecoach manager was gone for the day, yet he could manage it if it meant seeing Daisy. But was his desire to do so getting in the way of clear thinking? Thorn didn't know if it was safe for him to be seen in Simpson Creek. “I'd be right happy to do that, boss. But...what if someone recognizes me, riding around town in broad daylight?”

“Don't fret, I thought of that. Just so happens I got a frock coat and trousers that Zeke took off a stage passenger one time that oughta fit you. It was stupid of him—Zeke's a lot fatter than that passenger was, so no way that poor fellow's duds would've fit him, but we saved the clothes in case one of us needed to go disguised as someone respectable. Iffen you was to shave, you won't look nothin' like that desperate fellow they last saw robbin' their bank.”

Thorn had to smile at the thought. A ranger disguised as an outlaw disguised as a respectable man. His situation just kept getting more and more ironic.

Once he'd shaved and put on the frock coat, though, he had to agree that he looked nothing like a bank robber. The clothes might as well have been tailored for him, and they were fancier than anything he'd ever owned. He could probably pass for a traveling doctor or preacher. Daisy might not even recognize him at first sight.

As he gazed at his freshly shaved face in the mirror he'd propped in a tree branch, he thought about what Daisy would be doing when he arrived. She'd still be cooking supper, and no doubt cleaning up, until mid-evening. And Griggs had said nothing about sending any of the outlaws with him.

If Daisy wouldn't recognize him, chances were that Tilly wouldn't, either. Daisy had said that the waitress had only actually seen him just once, when she'd caught a glimpse of him and Daisy walking to the creek the night Billy Joe sneaked out to go skinny-dipping. So Tilly had seen him only from a distance, in the dark. Which meant he could probably get away with having a respectable dinner right at the hotel without anyone suspecting him of being anything different from what he appeared to be—a perfectly respectable man just passing through town.

“You look like a parson,” Griggs observed when Thorn presented himself before leaving.

He grinned. “Parson Dawson, that's me. Thanks for lettin' me do this, boss. I'll get your information for you.”

“I know you will,” Griggs said. “And you're welcome—I like to keep my men happy.”

I'll be happiest seeing you behind bars
, Thorn thought.
But this'll do until I can.

* * *

“Did you see that fine-looking fellow at the middle table?” Tilly asked when she came to pick up the latest order at the narrow pass-through window between the kitchen and the dining room.

Daisy peered out without any real interest, but spotting the tall fellow in the black frock coat, snowy-white shirt and string tie, she had to agree there was nothing wrong with the waitress's eyes. He was a handsome man, all right. As handsome as Thorn Dawson would have been, she thought, if he possessed clothes like that and was clean-shaven. She had to laugh inwardly at the thought. Thorn had probably never worn a frock coat in his life.

“Yes. He's certainly not from around here,” she murmured, turning back to the ham fritters she was making.

“His name is Reverend Dinwiddy, and he's from Austin,” Tilley said, smug in her advanced knowledge. “He's been called to a church north of here to take over as their parson. Funny name for such an attractive fellow, isn't it—Dinwiddy?”

Daisy nodded absently, but went back to her work
. So the man who could have passed as Thorn's brother was a preacher.
She'd have to tell Thorn about it, if she ever saw him again.

The preacher ordered ham fritters and corn, and when Tilly picked it up to take it out to him, Daisy took advantage of the opportunity to peer out at him again.

Reverend Dinwiddy watched Tilly as she approached with the meal, but as the waitress bent over to deposit the plate in front of him and pour his coffee, he raised his eyes to the pass-through window and, seeing Daisy looking at him, winked.

It
was
Thorn Dawson, or she wasn't Daisy Maxwell Henderson.
How dare he come here like this?

She forced herself not to look again for a long while, lest Tilly notice and also realize who the “parson” really was.
How was it possible that the girl hadn't recognized him already?

Yet she wasn't looking at the man through the eyes of love, and Daisy was.

When she finally couldn't resist peeking out again though, the “parson” had evidently finished his meal and left. She sighed.
Had Thorn really taken such a risk to come here, for no other reason than in hopes of catching
a glimpse of her? Was it possible he loved her that much?

It would be something to think about as she fell asleep, Daisy thought, as she applied herself to the last stack of dirty dishes that stood between her and going home for the night. Tilly, who would never think of helping her finish, had already left, after boasting about the nice tip the preacher had left her.

Perhaps Daisy would even dream about him. She wished she could have spent some time with Thorn, but for now, this brief glimpse would have to suffice until he could return to her for good.
Lord, please hasten that day.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time she gathered up her paper-wrapped package of supper to take home to Billy Joe. It was so late that Daisy wondered if she'd find him still awake. She hoped Ella had given him something to take home to eat after his shift there.

It was a good thing Simpson Creek was such a safe town to live in—except for the rare bank robbery, she thought, as she lit the lantern and locked the kitchen door behind her. Otherwise she'd have been nervous about walking the dark streets alone, especially going past the saloon.

“Can I walk you home, Miss Daisy?” said a voice from under the shadowy eaves of the back of the hotel, startling her so much she dropped her package and nearly let go of the lantern, as well. “Here, let me get that,” Thorn Dawson said, bending over to pick up what she'd dropped.

“What are you doing here?”
she demanded in a smothered whisper, looking around her lest Tilly be lurking in the shadows. “Don't you know what a risk you're taking?”

“Don't worry, I made sure Tilly had left before I came back here to wait for you. She's been gone an hour or more, so I think we're safe. But I was in town and I had to see you.”

“You did? Why? Oh,
Thorn
,” she said, as he swooped down and pulled her into his embrace. As his lips touched hers, she decided
why
he was here could wait a little while to be explained.

He'd left Ace tied up at the hitching rail at the saloon, where he wouldn't be noticed. They picked the horse up and Thorn led him the rest of the way to Daisy's house. When they reached it, there was no need to make a decision as to whether to tell Billy Joe of his presence or not, for the boy was sitting on the back stoop, waiting for his mother.

“There you are at last, Ma. I was getting worried... Thorn!” he cried, and rushed toward him. “What're you doing here?”

Thorn gave him a hug, then told him an abbreviated version of what had brought him to town, concluding with “But I can't stay much longer, I'm sorry to say. Ace and I have to be getting back.”

Daisy and the boy's faces fell. “Can't you come in and just stay while I eat what Ma brought me for supper?” Billy Joe asked.

Thorn's eyes met Daisy's to see what she thought. She hadn't invited him inside the house during the whole time when he'd been recuperating in her barn, for fear of scandal, he knew. He saw her peer carefully at her neighbor's house, which was dark, then she squared her shoulders and turned back to Thorn and her son.

“Yes, that would be nice, Thorn. Please come in. We can sit in the kitchen.”

The kitchen was small and homey, Thorn saw when he stepped inside, with a round table in the center and a cast-iron stove at one end. Daisy raised the glass and lit the lamp on the table, and Thorn and Billy Joe sat down while she reached into a cupboard for a plate, knife and fork, and set out the food. She placed the pot of coffee she'd brought with her on the stove to reheat.

“Ham fritters, yum! And apple pie, my favorite dessert! But...Mr. Thorn, have you eaten? I'd be happy to share with you...”

Thorn saw Daisy beam at this showing of good manners on her son's part. “Actually, he ate at the restaurant. Didn't you?” she said with a twinkle in her eye, then told the boy how Tilly had mistaken him for a traveling preacher.

“Boy howdy, Mr. Thorn, you're the daringest man ever was,” Billy Joe enthused, then went back to attacking his supper with boyish gusto. “That Tilly must be blind as a fence post if she didn't recognize you.”

“Billy Joe, some respect for your elders, please,” Daisy said, but he could see she was hard-pressed not to smile.

“Yes, ma'am,” Billy Joe said, then yawned after swallowing the last bite of pie.

“I'd better be going, Miss Daisy,” Thorn said reluctantly, setting his cup down. These few minutes sitting with her and her son had felt so relaxing and natural. It had given him a glimpse of what being part of a family would be like—especially
this
family—and he was loath to let it go.

“Young man, say good-night to Mr. Dawson. It's time you got ready for bed,” Daisy said.

Thorn extended a hand to the boy, and Billy Joe shook it manfully.

“You keep on helping your ma, Billy Joe. I'll be back to see you when I can.”

“I will, Mr. Thorn, I promise.”

Daisy walked Thorn out to the barn, where they'd left Ace in a stall. “You never said what you were doing in town today, but I'm guessing you didn't come just to see me.”

He shook his head. “No, though you're certainly worth a special trip, Daisy. As it happens, Griggs sent me to research some details about stagecoach routes,” he told her. “Can you let the sheriff know that the gang is finally planning something that I think I can give him advance warning about?”

“Of course, Thorn.”

He then laid out the plan as far as it had been developed at this point.

Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth after Thorn finished talking. “Griggs actually thinks they can get away with kidnapping the
mayor's
wife
and holding her for ransom?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “Don't they realize how risky that will be, how many things could go wrong? Someone could get hurt!”

“Yes, but all they care about is the reward they're hoping to get with the ransom payment. They're planning to live like kings across the border after that. But don't worry, they're not going to succeed, because we know about it in advance. We're going to use that knowledge to ambush the gang and capture them. And that's how I'll get out of the gang and out of the Rangers, or State Police—or whatever they want to call themselves these days—and live happily-ever-after with you and Billy Joe,” he told her with a lopsided grin.

Then he grew sober again. “Be real careful when you speak to the sheriff, Daisy,” he warned her. “Make sure no one overhears you, or sees you going to the jail. We think Tilly's the one who supplied Griggs with information about Mrs. Gilmore's travel schedule, though I have to wonder how she came to know of it.”

He saw Daisy's eyes narrow at the mention of the waitress.

“I know exactly how it happened. The mayor told her about his wife's plans the other day when he came in to have dinner at the restaurant,” she told him. “That poor innocent man was just making conversation—little did he know he was speaking to a Jezebel! But don't worry, Sheriff Bishop's wife and I are friends, so it's not unusual for me to visit their home,” she assured him. “Though it makes me furious that another female, someone I
work
with, would stoop so low as to
help
the gang plan to kidnap Mrs. Gilmore, and maybe even hurt her. What can Tilly possibly hope to get out of conspiring with criminals that is worth the risk to good, honest people like the Gilmores?” Daisy's blue eyes flashed sparks of fury.

He shrugged. “Hard to understand, isn't it? But I've seen how Griggs operates. He makes big promises to the men—and probably does the same with Tilly. If she's the sort to want fine things, and not care too much about who she has to hurt to get them, then I could see her falling for his fancy words.”

Daisy was thoughtful for a moment. “She likes fine things well enough, but at heart, I think what she truly wants is the same thing I want, a man she can trust.” Her eyes were luminous as she faced him. “I almost feel sorry for her, when I think of it that way.”