Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Page 8

  She wasn’t quite certain how to get him alone, so once she found the office building on the same street as the hotel, she simply stood across the street and watched. She paid close attention as carriages deposited men of various shapes and sizes, and then at last, the man she waited for arrived. Not long after, women came to do their shopping and soon Main Street was bustling with activity.

  “Too many people,” she muttered.

  Sweet Suzie knew where he was now and decided breakfast and even lunch might be a good idea. She found a small café and asked for bacon and eggs, something they never served in prison. She read a two-day-old newspaper and then took a walk down Main Street. In the General store, she bought a new scarf to wear. Fashionable or not, she didn’t like wearing hats, but she didn’t like her hair in her face either. Scarves were the perfect answer. Besides, it would hide her hair color if she needed to make a hasty dash out of town.

  By early afternoon, the possibility of her brothers finding her became more critical. Sweet Suzie walked to a park and found a bench to sit on. She doubted her brothers had ever been to a park and they would never look for her there. Two hours later, she cautiously went back to her hotel room where a front window on the second floor afforded her a good view of the street below. Then she waited. She waited for the 4:00 train to leave for Denver, she waited for carriages to pick up men in front of the office building and finally, it was time.

  Sweet Suzie put on her scarf, cautiously walked to the office building, opened the door and climbed the first set of stairs.

  *

  Young Wade and the dog, Traitor, quickly became the best of friends. Traitor followed the seven-year-old everywhere and no one was surprised the dog had given up his loyalty to Cathleen so easily - that’s why they called him, ‘Traitor.’

  Butler Prescot found an old hat, cut it down to size and sewed it back together, making a perfect cowboy hat for the boy. Of course, Wade was forced to use only his finger for a gun, but he put in hours and hours of practice until he could draw that finger just as fast as he imagined any gunslinger could draw a gun.

  There were, however, a few places he was not allowed to play. He could not leave either the front or the backyard, or get too close to the horse corral, although he dearly wanted to try his hand at roping one or two horses. For the purpose of practicing his roping skills, Butler Prescot found a length of twine he could use as a lasso, and put a chair in the backyard for him to seize.

  Therefore, the MacGreagors should not have been surprised when Claymore Whitfield entered the house with his hands in the air and a lasso around his middle.

  Hannish tried hard not to laugh, but he couldn’t help cracking a smile. “What have we here?”

  “I caught him stealing cattle, Mr. Hannish. Caught him red-handed,” Wade proudly announced.

  “There’s a good lad. I believe I can handle it from here.” Hannish loosened the twine and let it fall to the floor so Claymore could step out of it. “You may put your hands down now.”

  “Is it safe, do you think?” Claymore asked, cautiously looking behind him.

  “Wade,” said Cameron, “you best put that gun away before you hurt someone.”

  Wade was not happy, but he pretended to shove his finger gun in his imaginary holster, gathered his lasso and raced back out the front door.

  Claymore chuckled. “I was only able to rustle three cows before he caught me.”

  Hannish laughed. “I wasn’t aware we had a herd.”

  “You do now,” Cameron put in.

  Once the child was gone, Claymore’s demeanor suddenly changed and he lowered his voice. “I am in need of assistance.”

  “What sort of assistance?” Hannish asked.

  “Might we talk in your office?” Claymore asked.

  Hannish was surprised. He’d left Claymore at the office in good spirits not an hour before. “Of course.” He led the way into his study, waited until both Claymore and Cameron entered and then closed the door. “What is it, what is wrong?”

  “A woman came to the office after you left. She…she means to tell Abigail she is…was my mistress in Cripple Creek.”

  “What?” Hannish stammered.

  “I cannot believe it either,” Claymore admitted, sitting down in a chair near Hannish’s roll top desk. Small beads of perspiration began to collect on his upper lip. “What am I to do? If Abigail hears such a thing, it will tear her to the bone.” He pulled a cloth out of his coat pocket and began to dab at the beads of sweat. “I have never even looked at another woman since the day I married Abigail. Why would I? She is everything a man could want.”

  “Indeed she is,” Cameron said. “What does this woman want?”

  “What else could she want; she wants money.”

  Hannish drew in a deep breath. “How much?”

  “Twenty thousand dollars,” Claymore answered.

  Cameron let out a slow, descending whistle.

  Hannish shook his head and then finally sat at his desk. “Twenty thousand now and twenty thousand later.”

  Claymore closed his eyes for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “‘Tis how blackmail works,” said Cameron. “Once you agree to pay, they have you.”

  “Yes, but I cannot let Abigail hear such a thing. I could not bear the look in her eyes.”

  “She would not believe it,” Hannish tried.

  “Perhaps not, but the gossip would do her in. You know how this town loves its gossip. She might beg me to take her away and then what would we do?”

  “You are right,” said Cameron, “We cannae let this happen.”

  “Why not tell the sheriff and have her arrested?”

  “I have no proof. She was careful not to have witnesses. Besides, that too would cause my Abigail to suffer the same gossip. I cannot chance it.”

  “Then we shall give you witnesses. When does she want the money?”

  “I am to go to the bank in the morning, and then she will call me at the office and tell me where to meet her.”

  Hannish considered that. “She is a bit more clever than we thought. She will want to meet in a place where we cannae be witness to it.”

  “I would not be surprised if the duchess were behind this somehow,” Cameron muttered. “‘Tis just the sort of thing she has done before.”

  “Has she?” Claymore asked. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Perhaps I should not have…” Cameron started.

  “No, no, my boy, the more I know, the more prepared I will be.” Claymore’s temper began to flare. “Apparently, marrying my son and then making him miserable is not enough for that reprehensible woman. We should have locked her up when we had the chance!”

  “Not without hurting still more people,” Cameron reminded him.

  “We could have made something up. A liar deserves a lie. We could have charged her with theft,” Claymore argued.

  Hannish shook his head. “Aye, but then she would have told about Charles and some would believe her. ‘Tis why we dinna have her arrested at the time.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember. Abigail cannot survive that scandal either. The duchess has us, does she not? She has us and she will never let go.”

  Hannish went to the door, opened it and asked Brookton to bring a tray of wine and glasses. It looked like it might be a long night and keeping Claymore calm might not be easy. He closed the door and went back to his seat. “Suppose this woman does not come to the meeting place alone? Suppose she has a lad or even two lads with her?”

  “Have you ever seen her before?” Cameron wondered. “Did she not say your affair was in Cripple Creek?”

  “I do not recall seeing her, but then I slept in my work shack near the mines and rarely went into town. Besides, there are thousands living in Cripple Creek now.”

  “What does she look like?” Hannish asked.

  “She wore a scarf over her hair, but I could see enough to know it was blonde and quite curly. She is a little thing, about the size
of my daughter, Gloria. Yet, her brown eyes look tired and her skin is leathered. She’s had a hard life, from the looks of it.”

  “You might not want to pity her too much. She is blackmailing you and criminals often choose their own lives. She might not have come from Cripple Creek either. ‘Tis too easy to learn of your wealth,” Cameron added.

  “True.” Claymore dabbed his upper lip again. “Oh, dear me, however did we get in such a mess?”

  Hannish bowed his head for a long moment. “The fault is mine. I married her first and I brought her here.” As Brookton brought in the tray and set it on the table, Hannish abruptly stood up and left the room.

  “Where does he go?” Claymore asked.

  “I suspect he goes to chop wood. ‘Tis what he always does when he is upset.”

  “Surely, he knows this is not his fault.”

  Cameron was mindful not to say too much in front of Brookton when he answered. “He blames himself nonetheless, and far more severely than he should. Any of us could have fallen into that trap.”

  “How right you are,” Claymore muttered, “how very right you are.”

  *

  Sweet Suzie lay on her hotel bed and thumbed through an old catalog. It wasn’t long before that bored her, so she set it aside and got up. As she had done repeatedly, she went to the window, pulled the drapes aside just a sliver and peeked out to see if she could spot her brothers. The hour was getting late and Main Street was practically deserted. Suzie sighed, got ready for bed, got in and tried to sleep. Unfortunately, her mind kept racing through all the things that could go wrong.

  There was a great deal Sweet Suzie didn’t mention to the duchess. The truth be told, she knew exactly who Claymore Whitfield was. She supposed everyone did, everyone who was familiar with Cripple Creek that is, and her especially, having practiced her trade there until her most recent arrest. The prisons in the west were harsher than those in the east, and she never would have come west had her lazy brothers not gotten the gold rush bug. By the time they waited for her to get out of a prison in the east and got sufficiently inspired, the Colorado Gold Rush was well over.

  Sweet Suzie was not surprised.

  She hated her profession, yet Suzie never considered blackmail as a way to escape both her occupation and her brothers. If she were in the blackmail business, she had plenty of victims to choose from, some more respectable than others. Still, Claymore Whitfield was the wealthiest. Indeed, she knew all there was to know about Claymore Whitfield. He had a talkative wife, a silly son whom most in her profession took advantage of, and a daughter too young to be a bother.

  Even if she had considered blackmail, Sweet Suzie had no idea how to do it without getting caught. It was fortunate then, that Ethel McGraw was willing to teach her. However, Ethel McGraw’s idea was not altogether sensible and therefore, Suzie spent considerable time altering the plan just enough to make the blackmail more workable. A lot could go wrong, but then a lot could go right too. It was a chance Sweet Suzie was willing to take. The alternative was to go back to her old form of employment and no doubt land in prison again anyway. She would rather start a new life and that took money – the kind of money Claymore Whitfield wouldn’t even miss.

  There was also that other thing prissy Ethel wanted her to do, and remembering that part of the grand plan made Suzie smile. Along with asking for a great deal of money, Suzie was supposed to demand Ethel’s release from prison, with a full pardon, no less. Now there was a stretch of the imagination. It would never work, never in a million years. In fact, it was such an outlandish idea; Suzie started laughing and couldn’t stop.

  “Good bye, prissy Ethel,” she giggled. “See you in another two years, if you can find me.”

  *

  The hours seemed to drag on and on for the duchess. She was still in prison, tired of trying to teach the un-teachable how to be ladies and was slipping back into her old complaining self. Why not, she had achieved her goal, her plan was in motion and very little could go wrong.

  Yet, there was one little shred of nagging doubt. Would Sweet Suzie have the courage to outright blackmail someone? Suzie didn’t seem to balk at the idea when the duchess broached it, but agreeing to do something was one thing - having the nerve to actually do it was another, especially when the deed could well land her right back in prison.

  Claymore Whitfield hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but he was a man. The duchess couldn’t remember meeting a man who didn’t deserve to be deceived and then some. It was in their nature somehow to only consider their lust and nothing more, which of course, was to the benefit of all women.

  The duchess slowly pulled the thread through the knee patch she was sewing on to yet another prison uniform, and considered Hannish MacGreagor for a moment. Hannish and Claymore Whitfield were friends, or so Charles said. What would Hannish do if he suspected she was behind the blackmail plot? There was little he could do. Hannish once threatened to tell Lord Bayington about Blair, or rather Dugan, his insignificant footman threatened to, but she’d already eliminated that threat by telling Lord Bayington herself. The only other thing Hannish could do was expose her bigamy and Hannish would never do that. He would protect his brother Cameron and Lord Bayington at all costs.

  It all depended on Sweet Suzie now. The duchess’ entire future rested on the boldness of a lady of the evening, and she saw no irony in that at all. At length, she forgot her sewing and rested her hands in her lap.

  “Ethel!” Bertha shouted. “What is wrong with you? You’ve become a slowpoke again.”

  The duchess narrowed her eyes and glared at the one woman who had become the most irritating, bothersome soul in the entire world. “If I had been your husband, I would have killed you before you had a chance to kill me!”

  That was all it took to set Bertha off and it took two guards to keep her from pounding the duchess’ head in.

  *

  Paulette was more than flattered when Mr. Swinton called from Cripple Creek the next morning just to see if she was well. She took the call in the upstairs sitting room where all the MacGreagor women sat discussing the wedding and enjoying a cup of tea.

  “I enjoyed our time together,” Swinton said.

  “So did I,” Paulette blushed and kept her back to her mother. “Are you coming to the weddin’?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “Good.”

  “Well, I best go back to work. See you then.”

  “See you then,” Paulette said, putting the handset back in the holder. When she went back to her seat, her mother was smiling. Cathleen was not. The look on Cathleen’s face bothered Paulette a little, but not enough to worry over. Cathleen would be gone soon, so who cared what she thought. Paulette wanted to marry and the idea of marriage to a handsome man with a great deal of wealth pleased her very much.

  CHAPTER 6

  Morning came far too soon for a man who spent most of the night worrying. Claymore turned over in his bed, wrapped his arms around Abigail and smiled when she cuddled close to him. “I do love you so,” he whispered.

  “I love you too,” she said. Abigail found nothing unusual in his morning greeting. It wasn’t the first time he woke her that way and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. If she were awake enough, she might have seen the trouble in his eyes, but she had not yet opened hers.

  “Work calls, my love,” he said, kissing her on the forehead for a long moment.

  “Call me later?”

  “Of course. Go back to sleep, it is early.” He gently stroked her soft red hair, kissed her once more on the forehead, threw the covers back and got up.

  Claymore sat down to a quick bite of biscuits and gravy, walked out the door, climbed into his carriage and signaled for the driver to take him to town. This was the day he would pay the blackmail demand. What else could he do? There wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t do to protect his precious Abigail, even to the ends of his fortune.

  Nevertheless, he was sick about it and just as Cam
eron pointed out, the blackmailer could come back to haunt him anytime she liked. It was not a happy prospect. As much as he wished it, neither of the MacGreagor brothers had a remedy for the trouble he was in. Hannish went off to chop wood, Cathleen came to collect her husband-to-be and Claymore made his excuses and went home. He guessed he was on his own.

  The driver let him off in front of his office building and as it was still not time, Claymore went inside. He was to go to the bank at precisely ten o’clock, and until then, all he could do was pace the floor. Moan came early too and was still getting the outer office organized. If Moan suspected there was trouble, he didn’t let on.

  *

  In the lobby of the Antler’s hotel, Cameron sat on a sofa sipping a cup of tea and watching the people. According to the hotel manager, only one young woman matching Claymore’s description checked in during the last few days and she had a room on the second floor. She signed the register as Susanna Maxine and planned to leave today.

  Not far from the back door of the hotel, Hannish sat on his horse and waited. He was certain the duchess was behind this somehow and if he could find a way to pin a charge of blackmail on her, he might get her out of their lives forever. Once accused of blackmail, she could claim she was married to anyone she wanted, they would deny it and no one would believe her. The question was, would this Susanna Maxine tell them what they needed to know – did the duchess put her up to it, and more importantly, where was she?

  One thing was for sure, if the duchess showed up, they had both the front and the back door covered.

  *

  In the lobby, Cameron watched the minutes pass on the large ornate wall clock. At five till ten, he got up and went to a front window to watch. Exactly five minutes later, Claymore walked across the street and entered the bank. Everything was right on schedule.

  Another ten minutes passed before Claymore reappeared. He looked both directions, waited for a team pulling a loaded wagon to pass and then went back to his office. All he could do now was wait to see what the woman would do.

  What she did surprised them all.