Tarnished Angel (25 page)

    Hearing a footstep at her side, Devina turned to see Molly's somber expression. Devina took a deep breath and a firmer hold on her patience. Her one holdout was Molly. Even with a cook hired especially for the occasion, she needed Molly's willing cooperation. There just were not that many good maids to spare in this godforsaken town.

    What was it Lai Hua had said about Molly's talent for baking? Devina raised her eyes with a smile.

    "Molly, I would like to enlist your aid."

    Molly was unimpressed. "Yes, ma'am."

    "I'm having a bit of trouble with the cook I've hired for the party."

    A spark of interest flickered in Molly's eyes. "Yes, ma'am?"

    "Monsieur
LeFleur
has agreed to arrive from San Francisco two days prior to the party to prepare the feast. He has wired that the menu is satisfactory, but my one problem is the desserts. Monsieur
LeFleur
has had no experience in making the traditional American desserts, which will be in great demand. He has refused to make either mince or apple pie for fear of embarrassing himself."

    Molly was beginning to smile. "Yes, ma'am. Folks around here have come to expect good wholesome desserts at their parties."

    "Your pies are legend, Molly. If you would consent to bake for the affair, I would be very obliged. Do you think you could handle it in addition to your regular duties? I will, of course, compensate you generously, and I'll be glad to get you help if you need it." Devina raised her blue eyes in a plea that broke the last flicker of Molly's resistance.

    "Yes, ma'am, I think I can. As a matter of fact, I know I can. My hands just fly through that kind of work."

    "Oh, that is a relief. I can't thank you enough." Turning from Molly's smile long enough to pick up her pencil, Devina ran her delicate finger down the menu. "Here they are." She added the desserts to the menu with an elaborate flourish: "Apple pie and mince pie."

    Following Molly's ample form with her gaze as the pleased woman walked back to the kitchen, Devina was abruptly turned back to the table by a soft giggle at her side. She glanced into Lai Hua's bright expression.

    "Miss Devina, that was very clever. You have soothed Molly's hurt feelings and added immeasurably to the party as well."

    Strangely, Devina felt little pride in her small victory. "I wouldn't have had the problem in the first place if I hadn't ignored Molly's feelings so blatantly." Devina raised her shoulders in a shrug. "There are times when I feel I am too much like my father, Lai Hua. Sometimes my own deviousness saddens me."

    Lai Hua shook her head in violent protest. "Oh, no, Miss Devina, you are not at all like Mr. Dale. You are a good person. You"

    Her small hand snapping up to cover her lips, Lai Hua halted   her sentence abruptly. She lowered her eyes. "I apologize for the unthinking words I have spoken."

    Unable to stand her earnest young servant's discomfort, Devina rose to her feet and slid her arm around Lai Hua's shoulders. "Please, don't apologize, Lai Hua, or I'll have to apologize to you again for my father's unforgivable behavior. We'll attempt to forget both. I think that would be the best way to solve the problem. "

    Lai Hua's eyes rose gratefully to hers, and Devina smiled. She walked back to her chair and sat down, suddenly dispirited. She had been burying herself in plans for the party, but she had been unsuccessful in overcoming the unrest that continued to plague her. She had not been able to shake the sensation of being watched, even after Sam Sharpe and Wally Smith were dismissed. In that aspect, her father's plans had gone awry. The party had not totally distracted her.

    Devina raised her gaze to Lai Hua's scrutiny. "There has to be more to this vendetta being waged against Till-Dale than Father is letting on, Lai Hua. What is it all about? Do you know?"

    Her questions caught Lai Hua unaware. An emotion that resembled fear flickered momentarily in Lai Hua's eyes before she again dropped her gaze and shook her shining dark head emphatically from side to side. "No, I am sorry, Miss Devina. II know nothing."

    Lai Hua's eyes were still averted when Devina realized that the maid's slender frame was trembling. Moving immediately to her feet, Devina again slid her arm around Lai Hua's shoulders.

    "No, please, Lai Hua. It is I who should apologize. I wasn't accusing you of anything, you know. It's just that I feel so helpless against this undercurrent I'm being forced to live with. If I could only make my father talk to me honestly, without subterfuge."

    "I… I know nothing, Miss Devina," Lai Hua said once more.

    "Lai Hua, please, forget I asked. Let's return to the party plans." Devina picked up a list. "Lai Hua, if you'll read the responses, I'll check them off against this list."

    Waiting only until Lai Hua had stepped to the table and picked up the pile of replies, Devina seated herself and again picked up   her pencil. She glanced at her servant as Lai Hua finally broke the uneasy silence of the room.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Parsons will come."

    Devina made the appropriate check, her eyes continuing down the list even as her mind wandered once more. Yes, there was more to this vendetta than was immediately apparent, and Lai Hua knew more than she was presently willing to say. Her father refused to let her into his confidence, and Charles appeared to know less than she about the whole affair. At least that was what she had gathered from the tone of his curious questions of late.

    Only one alternative remained: She would have to gain the information by herself. A sudden thought occurred to Devina, returning the smile to her lips. And what better time to converse freely than at a party? Yes, this party might prove useful after all.

    Her enthusiasm suddenly returning, Devina looked up and smiled, breaking into Lai Hua's careful recitation.

    "You know, I think this party is going to be a very good idea after all, Lai Hua. Very good, indeed."

    For the first time, Devina meant it sincerely.

Chapter X

   Ross was perspiring profusely. Sweat was pouring from under the brim of his battered Stetson, running in shining rivulets down his temples and cheeks as he lay in the hot sun watching for the Till-Dale supply wagon. Unconsciously brushing away the damp paths with the back of his arm, he looked toward Jake, who was lying on a rise directly across the road, surveying the approach from town.

    Agitation beginning to temper his concentration, Ross darted a quick glance toward the man beside him. Mack was silent and uncomplaining, but he wasn't faring much better in this damned heat. Sweat glistened on Mack's face and neck, forming a damp pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. His shirt was ringed with perspiration.

    Ross twitched with annoyance. If that supply wagon didn't show up soon, the damned payroll guards wouldn't have to see them to know they were lying in wait. They'd smell them.

    Squinting against the glare of the brilliant afternoon sun, Ross looked toward the other side of the road where Harry waited, also concealed. Hell, Harry was the lucky one. The rise of ground behind which he was hiding served to shield him from the intense sun.

    Ross glanced back toward Jake. The hope that he would signal the approach of the supply wagon grew dimmer by the minute. Ross had been all but certain Jake's Chinese mistress had been truthful about the switch to be made in Benson, but his conclusion had not been based on faith; he had removed that particular word from his vocabulary long ago.

    Instead, he had sent Harry into Benson earlier in the day. It hadn't been hard to choose the best man for the job of pretending to be a drunken cowboy recovering from an all-night spree in the alley behind the bank. Harry had that kind of face, sagging and heavily
jowled
, and his slow, casual manner of speaking was vastly deceiving; no one would suspect he was a quick hand with a gun.

    That had been proved by the manner in which Harry had been mentally dismissed by the men dressed in freighters' garb who had pulled their supply wagon to the rear door of the bank just after the first rush of the business day had begun. Had Harry not been alerted to their activities, he had said he doubted he would have given a second thought to the innocent-looking crate those men had carried out of the bank and loaded on the back of the wagon. Those fellows had been smart, all right. They had further backed up their innocuous appearance by making other stops along the street after they left the bank.

    But
Harry's
keen eye had also noted that the guns strapped to those fellows' sides were well tended, polished to a sheen that glinted in the early-morning sunlight, and that the inordinate amount of attention they paid to their surroundings did not quite fit the behavior of casual laborers.

    Also, it was too coincidental under the circumstances that while the supply wagon was being unloaded in the rear, Wells Fargo agents were entering the bank through the front entrance. The attention they called to themselves and to the payroll they would collect ''to be shipped early the next morning" was also a bit difficult to swallow.

    When Harry had related all he had witnessed, Ross had been certain that Jake's information was correct. But several hours had passed since the supply wagon had left the bank. He was damned hot and getting more tired by the minute, and the wagon still had not appeared on the road. He was beginning to believe Harvey Dale had managed to outsmart him.

    His mount, tethered in the shade below the crest of the hill, let out a low, nervous snort, breaking into Ross's thoughts. Soothing the horse with a few soft words, he glanced at Jake in time to see him stiffen. Turning with a barely discernible smile, Jake  made a hand signal. Ross leaped to his feet and hurried toward his gelding. The supply wagon had come into sight.

    Jake was scrambling down the side of the rise toward the position where Harry waited with his horse as Ross mounted and turned a quick, assessing glance toward the surrounding countryside. From his position, it would be easy to see any trap that might be sprung from the opposite direction. No, he and his men were quite alone on this portion of the trail.

    Ross's mount made another nervous movement, and a surge of adrenaline moved through Ross's veins. His gelding had sensed the wagon's approach. It would only be a little longer.

    Holding himself stiffly erect, Ross pulled his neckerchief up over his face so that it concealed all but his eyes. A quick glance revealed the others had done the same. He turned toward the trail, waiting tensely for the supply wagon to round the curve of the rise, which temporarily hid it from view.

    Abruptly, the wagon was within sight.

    Ross raised his hand. He paused for long moments until the wagon neared the narrowest portion of the road, where no choice would remain for the driver except to halt or attempt a bolting escape, which would be doomed to failure. Ross brought his hand down in a sudden signal, which started Jake and Harry moving toward the wagon from the opposite side of the trail at the same moment as he.

    The man seated beside the driver of the wagon spotted their approach and reached for his rifle. Ross immediately drew his gun and fired a warning shot, which was echoed by Jake's gun. Ross spurred his gelding to a faster pace as the guard glanced toward the guns raised at him from either side.

    Relief touched Ross's senses as the driver began reining in his horses and the guard threw his gun into the dust of the trail. He had not yet shot a man in the execution of a robbery. He did not want this to be the first time.

    Drawing up alongside the wagon as it pulled to a shuddering halt, Ross issued a gruff command as Jake and Harry drew up on the other side.

    "Get down off the wagon, both of you."

    As the men scrambled to his bidding, Jake and Harry dismounted and ran to the back of the wagon. In seconds they had discarded the tarp and were working feverishly to
unstrap
the wooden crate.

    His heart pounding, Ross leveled his gun on the two men as Mack dismounted, took several strips of rawhide from his saddle, and secured the wrists and ankles of one of the men.

    Suddenly a short exclamation sounded at the rear of the wagon. Ross glanced in Jake's direction. Jubilation sent a hot flush rushing through his veins as he read in Jake's pale eyes exactly the message he had hoped to read.

    The payroll was theirs!

    The guard made a sudden furtive movement toward Mack, and Ross issued a sharp admonition: "Don't try it! You don't have a chance."

    Breathing easily only after the second fellow's wrists and ankles were also bound,
Ress
turned his attention back toward Jake. "Ready?"

    "Ready."

    Darting a glance toward the two men who lay bound and gagged on the trail beside the wagon, Ross could not suppress a smirk. Now it was their turn to wait in the sun.

    When his men had mounted, Ross turned his gelding and spurred him toward a nearby rise of ground, which would conceal the direction of their escape. He did not bother to look back.

    His rage barely controlled, Harvey Dale delivered a parting sally as the marshal started to close the front door of the Dale residence behind him. "And you needn't worry that I will come to you for help in catching the payroll thieves in the future. The exercise would be futile. I would not waste my time."