To Know Her by Name (28 page)

The last thing McKay expected to be doing on Friday night was searching Longmont bars for Jubal Hackett, but that's what he was doing. The telegram from Carlyle had left little choice. He'd been called back to duty and without hesitation had responded. Guilt assailed him at the hard time he'd given Pup. She had obeyed her summons exactly as he had, but at the time he didn't realize how closely their loyalty and commitment matched. He asked himself where she was and indeed wanted to look for her, but he pushed the distracting thoughts away and made himself move on to the next saloon.

Unlike some of the other bars in town, the Brass Cup had no stage, only a long bar and two dozen tables with chairs. As saloons go, it was one of the classier establishments, but the smoke and smell of strong ale was always hard to take. Added to this McKay didn't drink, making it a challenge not to be noticed. McKay now moved along the edge of the room and chose a table away from the windows. He sat down, tilted his hat rather low over his brow, and slowly scanned the room.

23

From a corner table in the Brass Cup saloon, Morton Barnes watched McKay Harrington. It had taken a little work to get in the door and keep the bottle concealed, but the whiskey container filled with tea was now on the table. Pup was slumped over the wooden surface as if she'd drunk most of the bottle's contents. She was a quiet drunk this evening, whereas last night, in order to get close to a rowdy group, she had been quite boisterous. It hadn't done her any good: The group did not have the information she was looking for, so she was out again tonight. She had gotten one lead early in the evening and was now waiting patiently.

At the moment she pretended to be half-asleep in order to watch her coworker as well as the other occupants of the room. A swift glance around told her that no one was taking any notice of McKay, but the treasury agent's eyes were covering plenty. It didn't take her long to figure out that he'd gotten word from Denver. For just an instant she entertained thoughts that McKay might be looking for her, but someone came in the door, and her attention was instantly diverted. She glanced at McKay, but other than a swift perusal of the newcomer, he took little notice. However, Pup was more informed. This was exactly the man she was looking for. She shifted and sighed audibly as if trying to get more comfortable, but in actuality her movements were deliberate in order to see the man headed into a door at the back wall of the room.

Completely forgetting McKay or anyone else, she rose and acted as if she needed to be excused. A genuine drunk wandered by at that point, and she was forced to speak.

“You done with that?” his voice was slurred, but his eyes were fastened on the bottle.

“No,” Pup's voice was ornery and low, her beard and mustache moving as her lips formed a snarl. Her eyes were so fierce that the other man moved off. Pup stood for a moment then, as if in drunken indecision. She stood for so long that six cowboys, whom she would have liked to thank, came noisily through the swing doors. Nearly all eyes were drawn to them and she grabbed the opportunity. A moment later she slipped inside the door her prey had used and found herself in a dark hallway.

For a time she froze. Not just to adjust her eyes, but also to listen. This was no easy task with the saloon on the other side of the portal. She was just about to take a step further into the darkness when the door opened halfway. Again she went completely still.

“It's not up there,” an irate voice called from without. “The other door.”

Pup had no idea what they were speaking about, but the partially open door cast just enough light to show her there was a stairway at the end of the hall. Determined not to waste any time, she waited for the door to close completely and quickly moved toward the steps. There was a dim light coming from under a door at the top, but it was enough illumination for Pup. Miraculously the noise from the bar cut off sounds of her movement as she started up the stairs. She was only three-quarters of the way up when she was able to hear every word.

“Why Longmont?” a curious voice asked.

“Because no one suspects,” the second voice replied in an amused tone. “Boulder is such a den of iniquity these days that we look like the first rose of spring.”

“And what about our new friend here?” the curious man questioned.

“I have an influential family member,” a third man responded in a voice that Pup recognized immediately.

The curious man must not have been satisfied, since he said sarcastically, “By
family member
, just how close do you mean?”

“My uncle,” the familiar voice stated. Pup thought he sounded uncertain.

“Your uncle?” Curious was clearly not convinced. “Who is this man?”

Silence fell. Pup strained to hear, but it took a moment. Finally the amused voice encouraged the third party.

“Go ahead, Mr. Whitter. You can tell Mr. Stuart—he's one of our biggest investors.”

“Duncan Phipps.” The words were said a bit breathlessly, and Pup imagined that he'd pushed the words out. As it was she felt a little breathless herself. Had Nick known about their relationship?

“Why has it taken you so long to come forward?”

“I've never wanted to get involved before.” Mr. Whitter's voice sounded instantly angry. “I used to be appreciated where I was, but no longer. If they're not going to take care of me, I'll go where someone will.”

“And the other gentleman?” Mr. Stuart inquired, and Pup realized for the first time that a fourth person was in the room.

Mr. Whitter answered in the firmest voice yet. “Mr. Hackett works for my uncle. He stays with me.”

Pup was so surprised by the name that she moved on the step. It squeaked loudly. She heard, “
What was that
?” just before she made a beeline out of there. The door was already opening as she hit the bottom stair, and with a swift decision she let herself slip to her knees. She was groping for the wall when she was grabbed from behind.

“What? What is it?” she managed in a drunken slur.

“What're you doing back here?” It was her brother's voice.

“I gotta get out,” she mumbled. “I gotta go.”

“It's just an old drunk!” Jubal snapped toward someone back up the stairs. A moment later Pup found herself lifted by the coat and propelled to a door she hadn't seen—a moment after that she was lying face down in the alley. Jubal slammed the door without another word, and what little light she'd had was cut off completely.

The groan that escaped her lips was very real. The wet spot on her side as well as the pain in her hip told her she'd fallen on and broken her bottle. She was coming to her hands and knees when she felt other hands helping her. She finally rose to her feet.

“Okay, old-timer. You're going to be all right.” It was McKay's voice. Pup thought she would quit if she had one more surprise tonight. She was on the verge of speaking in her normal voice and giving herself away to him when Charlie Barnes spoke from behind them.

“That you, McKay?”

“Yeah.” He spun swiftly, dismissing the old drunk from his mind.

“It's Charlie Barnes. Someone would like to see you.”

Without question McKay followed him. Pup stood very still and heard Charlie softly say the name Crawford. So Carlyle had come. Pup stood for a moment, gripped with indecision. She watched as the men disappeared into the darkness and then swung her eyes to the back of the saloon.

My brother just threw me to the ground as if I were no more than a pesky moth.
Pup told herself it was foolish to cry and concluded that she must be a fool because the tears would not be stemmed. There was a box pushed against the building, and she went over and sat on it. It creaked as though it would break under her, but she didn't care. She didn't know if it was the wig or her tears, but a horrible headache was starting. It made her all the more miserable. Indeed, it was many minutes before she made her way back to Charlie's house.

“I didn't get much,” McKay told Carlyle as the three men sat at Charlie's kitchen table. “I was in every saloon in town tonight, but there was no sign of Hackett.”

“Were you able to get into any back rooms?”

“Only the one at Rocky Point, but there was nothing more than a card game. I tell you I hate this, Carlyle.” McKay was referring to the bars. “The sooner we wrap up this thing with Whitter and Hackett, the happier I'll be.”

“You and Nick both,” Carlyle told him. “That's the reason I'm here.” The older treasury man now turned to his host. “When do you expect Callie back?”

“I haven't a clue.”

“She's been staying here?” McKay asked.

“Yes.” Charlie stopped himself from saying that he thought he'd seen her in the alley tonight with McKay, but hers was the type of disguise you didn't believe unless you saw it.

“Is she okay?” McKay wanted to know.

“She was when she left here.”

“What was she going to do?” This came from Carlyle.

“Check the saloons, I'm sure.” Charlie wanted to push McKay to find out if he'd seen her, but when he heard the front door open, he was glad he had remained quiet.

“That'll be her.” Charlie rose, fully aware that Carlyle and McKay were on his heels. Once in the living room, he lit a lantern, and they all took in Pup's appearance. She was a mess. Holding her hat in her hand and covered with dust and mud where the bottle had broken down one side of her, she looked exhausted.

“You all right?” Charlie was the first to find his voice.

“Yeah.” She sounded weary, which was enough to propel both Carlyle and McKay out of their surprise over her appearance and into action.

“Let me have the coat,” Carlyle said as he began to remove it from her shoulders. It took a second for him to see why the pocket was wet. “Are you cut?”

“I don't think so.”

“Here, let me get this.” McKay's hands were there as well. He removed her hat from her hands and tossed it to Charlie. Next he took the wig from her head and then worked gently at the beard she'd adhered to her face. Her skin was red and chaffed underneath, and his heart clenched.

“Did you know it was me in the alley?” he asked softly.

“As soon as you spoke to me. I was about to say something when Charlie came up.”

“I thought it might be you,” their host commented, “but it's such a dark night.”

“Sit down, Pup,” Carlyle ordered. He'd taken the coat to the kitchen and checked to see if it was cut. The fabric showed no tears, but the smashed bottle indicated that her fall had to have hurt. Now as he came back to the living room, Nick's words rang in his mind.

If Pup has word, bring her to me. If she doesn't, tell her she can go home or continue her vacation. Either way, Carlyle, see to it that she's well. If she seems at all upset and won't come back to Denver with you, send for me.

Pup dropped onto one end of the sofa, and McKay pulled a chair up close to her. He sat down and looked at her dusty, weary face. He didn't think he had ever loved anyone more. She suddenly turned and looked at him. He was barely aware that Charlie had joined Pup on the sofa or that Carlyle had brought out another chair from the kitchen. He loved Callie Jennings, and he desperately wanted to tell her. Her gaze softened, and McKay knew she could see it in his eyes. Never married, but still wise to such things, Charlie Barnes watched them silently.

“Do you have news?” Carlyle sat in the chair and abruptly brought the group back to business.

“Yes.” Pup made herself turn and answer.

“Then Nick would like to see you.”

“All right. I can leave on the train in the morning.”

“I'll go with you,” Carlyle told her.

It took all of McKay's will not to tell Pup that she had to stay, but he managed to refrain. The timing was all wrong to tell her of his feelings. She was clearly upset by what happened tonight, and what he had to say would only add to her disturbance.