Stacy Henrie - The Outlaw's Secret

“What’s this hideout like?” Essie asked as she broke her biscuit into two and dipped one half into her beans.

Tate held his breath. Any minute now Clem would surely stop talking or Fletcher would march over and demand he shut up. But the outlaw didn’t even pause or look the least bit uncomfortable.

“It’s real rough country, ma’am.” He rested his arms on his knees and leaned slightly forward. “But there’s plenty of grass for the horses and a creek for water. There’s even some cabins for wintering over.”

Tate’s jaw went slack as he studied Essie and Clem in turn. What had made the man disclose so much to a complete stranger? He’d been trying to siphon information about their hideout ever since he’d joined up with Fletcher’s gang a few weeks ago. And yet, in the matter of a few minutes, Essie had drawn out details he hadn’t even come close to discovering for himself. Maybe having her along would actually prove helpful to his investigation.

The thought had barely registered in his head when she turned and smiled at him. Something in the smile obliterated his good mood. “Had you heard of the Texas Titan before you met him, Clem?” She posed the question to the other outlaw but kept her gaze locked on Tate.

“Well, sure, ma’am. I ’spect everybody has.”

“Tell me, then...” She cocked her head to one side as if in deep thought. “Does he fit the picture you imagined of him?”

Tate shifted on the hard ground, the meal in his stomach turning as ashy as it tasted. What was she doing?

“Don’t rightly know, ma’am. He looks like them Wanted posters all right.”

Essie finally returned her attention to her plate. Only then did Tate dare suck in a breath. “He does very much resemble his description in the posters and newspapers,” she agreed. “But no one has yet mentioned—”

“Food’s sure good tonight, Clem,” Tate interrupted, smacking his lips in an exaggerated fashion. He cringed at the way his voice carried loudly across the camp. “I’ll take another helping. What about you, Miss Vanderfair? Care for more food?” He leveled a hard look her way, though he didn’t miss Clem’s puzzled expression as the outlaw refilled his plate.

Essie pursed her mouth to the side, her eyes narrowed. If only he could decipher the thoughts inside that wily head of hers. “No, thank you. I find I’m quite done.” Tate sensed she was talking about more than just the meal.

Sure enough, after setting aside her empty plate, she swiveled to face him. “Remind me, Mr. Tex. What was the first crime you committed?”

“It was a bank robbery in Texas.” Tate shoved another spoonful of beans into his mouth, though he didn’t taste a thing this time.

The memory of seeing that first mention of his brother’s name and description in the newspaper still burned his gut with guilt every time he recalled it. He’d known Tex was angry and vengeful the last time they’d seen each other, but he hadn’t thought his twin would turn to a life of crime in retaliation. That first robbery led to others, each more daring than the last—more banks, then trains. All performed single-handedly and pulled off without a hitch.

Sometime around the fourth robbery, Tate had had enough. He’d sold the family farm and applied for a job with the Pinkertons. If he couldn’t help his brother, he could at least help others by bringing down other criminals.

“What was your last solo job?” Essie’s question cut into his thoughts.

He glanced at her and found that hard, emerald look in her eyes. Did she suspect something? “That would be a train robbery in Utah Territory.”

She nodded, though she didn’t drop the shrewd look. “How much did you take?”

“Six thousand dollars,” Tate said with a forced note of pride. In reality, disgust filled him at the thought of Tex taking even a dollar that didn’t belong to him.

Thankfully he’d kept abreast of Tex’s activities through the years. Not only did it afford him with the correct details to share with Essie, but it had also alerted him to the past four months of silence when it came to his brother’s criminal activities.

Tex had seemingly disappeared. Of course, Tate hoped the stop in robberies meant his brother had decided to change his ways. But, whatever the truth, he’d recognized a golden opportunity to bring in the Fletcher gang. With Tex out of the criminal scene, Tate could impersonate him as the notorious outlaw. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for the Texas Titan to have wandered as far north as Wyoming, either. Medicine Bow, the closest town to where they’d stopped the train, was well-known for falling victim to train robberies.

So far Tate’s cover had worked, getting him closer to taking down Fletcher than any other detective had ever come. And it would continue to work as long as he kept his wits about him, especially around Essie Vanderfair.

A flash of surprise—or was it disappointment?—crossed Essie’s face. Had she been trying to trap him with his own words? Then the emotion fled, replaced by a smile. “Thank you again for the supper, Clem. May I help with cleaning up?”

Clem’s face flushed, but he shook his head. “Ain’t much to clean. I’ll do it.”

“Very well. I believe I shall work some before turning in.”

“Work?” Tate echoed, setting aside his plate. He still had a lot left of his second helping, but he no longer felt hungry.

“Writing, Mr. Tex,” she said. She gathered her valise, while still holding the blanket around her shoulders, and retreated to a spot a little ways from the fire.

Clem looked toward Tate and chuckled. “She’s an interestin’ little thing, huh?”

“Something like that.” Tate eyed Essie as she began scribbling in a notebook. Satisfied she wasn’t going to engage Clem in any more conversation tonight, he stood and moved toward the others who were still in heated discussion. “Sounds serious over here,” he said as he joined the small group.

Fletcher shot him a glare and crossed his arms in a defensive stance, the saddlebag of cash from the train draped over his shoulder. “It is, but I don’t know that it’s any of your business.”

“Come on, Fletch,” Jude said. “Let’s see what Tex has to say.”

The outlaw leader studied Tate and then sniffed. “All right. We’ve been debating the merits of taking one more job before heading to the hideout.”

Tate struck a casual stance and kept a deadpan expression, trying to hide the alarm Fletcher’s words inspired. He’d been hoping the train robbery today would be his only criminal activity. “What’s the reason?”

“A little more cash and supplies to see us through the winter,” Jude volunteered when Fletcher didn’t jump in with an answer. “Once the snow hits around here and the temperature dips real low, we don’t do much traveling, especially not in a hurry.”

“So you’re wintering over now?” Again the news blindsided him. He’d hoped they’d leave for another job after they reached the hideout. Then he’d make up some excuse for staying behind before riding to the nearest town and rounding up the law. When Fletcher and the gang returned, it would be to a sheriff and his posse, all waiting eagerly for the outlaws’ arrest. But a decision to winter over now could jeopardize that plan.

“Got a problem with that, cowboy?” Fletcher watched him closely. “You don’t have to join us for the winter.”

And miss his chance at seeing them brought to justice? Not happening. Tate fought the urge to clench his jaw in determination; he had to appear affable. But he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity or leave Essie to fend for herself, either.

He chose his next words carefully. “I told you in the beginning I’m done with doing things on my own. Too many close calls. If you’re wintering over, then I aim to, as well. If you have another job planned, I’m in on that, too.”