The Union (18 page)

Keely looked overwhelmed. Dietz stared at the drawing. He didn't like the skirt. "I was imagining a flounced bell skirt."

The woman smiled. "You are quite right, sir, that flounces have been and are still in fashion. But I think the circular bell suites the design better and is more on the leading edge of fashion."

Dietz's mistress on his last mission had been quite a belle, wild over fashion. He had learned a thing or two from her in their brief time together. Enough to know a flounce from a train. But the nearly year's lapse in attention had put him out of date. He frowned. "I don't like the train."

The woman smiled again. "We can eliminate the train in favor of a simple round length."

Dietz suddenly felt Keely's gaze on him. He'd said too much, exhibited too much expertise. Damn, without realizing it, he'd slipped out of character and become himself. The realization shook him up. He'd never slipped so easily before. What about her overcame him so? Keely made him go blind to everything but her. McCullough would not be so knowledgeable about ladies' fashion. Now, he could do nothing but ignore Keely's confused look and plunge on. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful, but—"

"It's yours." He placed the order and made the arrangements to have the dress shipped.

Chapter 11

Dietz decided they should spend the night in Spokane, rather than Coeur d'Alene as he originally had intended. The trip meant business as much as a temporary reprieve from the tense mining country. Business he had not yet accomplished. He wanted to set up a small bank account for Keely. Damn, but his conscience bothered him over his deception and he intended to set a little something aside for her for after he left.

Then he needed to wire the mine owners his latest information and mail a report to the Chicago office. And he had arranged a meeting with the owners' Spokane attorney, W.T. Skoll. But much as he hated to, he had to get rid of Keely first. Fortunately, she looked tired and overwhelmed by the city. He would take her to the Rockport Hotel, get her settled, and excuse himself to run errands.

Keely strolled next to him as they left the dressmaker's shop, her hand resting in the crook of his arm as he carried their packages. He smiled at her, wondering if he could trust her. Would she repeat the details of their visit to her friend Lacy? Would she innocently reveal facts that could incriminate him? So far the visit had been purely innocent, but would the absence he was about to insist on anger her, or arouse any suspicion?

"You look tired, lass."

"I am. The day has been wonderful. But I am looking forward to catching the train to Coeur d'Alene."

He gave her a full-out grin. "You'll have to look forward to it tomorrow."

She gave him a confused look.

"Would you mind a change of plans?" He tried to look pleading. "I know we planned to spend the night in a hotel on the lake, but—" He paused, unsure how to phrase his deceit. "I have some business best attended to here. I got a recommendation for an excellent hotel in town. It's not on the river, but it has opulence in its favor."

Keely looked uncertain. "Business?"

"Business. Things you're best off not knowing about." That, at least, was true. Though tempted, he didn't elaborate. Lies about loose ends back East, an acquaintance he should look up, or labor leaders he should meet all bounced through his mind. But he refused to voice them. The less said, the fewer lies and details given, the better. "I'm sorry, Keely. But you know who I am. I never stop working. I was hoping you wouldn't mind a rest in the hotel while I take care of things. Then later we can have a nice meal together."

She smiled, but it looked forced. "Certainly."

The interior of Rockport Hotel took Keely's breath away. More beautiful and finer than any building she had ever seen, it carried her senses to a place she could not have imagined really existed. Rich mahogany paneling lined walls dotted with oil paintings so large they could have passed for walls at the boardinghouse, and all were framed in gold gild. The stair rails gleamed dark in deeply polished mahogany. Polished doorknobs dotted the doors along the hall like rows of gold buttons. On slick, buffed wood floors plush jewel-toned carpets greeted the feet, but looked too fine to actually tread on.

The rectangular building opened to a two-story center atrium. Standing just inside the entry from the reception desk, Keely stared up two stories to the frescoed ceiling. On the second floor, rooms lined each wall. An exposed hallway ran past the rooms, protected by a filigreed rail. The building stood taller than just two stories. Keely guessed the guestrooms lay on the upper floors. She should have protested staying in such an obviously expensive setting. She turned to McCullough, who seemed to read her thoughts.

"One night, Keely," he said. "A week's wages for a night. At any price it's cheap to give you one night of excess. One night to remember." His smile beguiled her. His tender words, the sentiment behind them, overwhelmed her. How blessed she was to have him.

She smiled and laughed. "I've married a spendthrift for sure, Ian McCullough."

"Yes, you have. But one with good cause." His answering laugh matched hers, but his words unintentionally brought reality back. "Some people imagine they've got all the time in the world for saving, but none for spending. There's time enough in our lives to be frugal, time enough when the danger is past. But who knows what the future holds? Maybe this is all the time we have. Maybe only now is ours."

His tone sounded light, and the smile didn't break from his face, but his words sent a shiver of fear through her. Were things more dangerous than she imagined? Did he think he'd be killed? No, he couldn't. She tried to push the unsettling thought away. Fear gripped her, not allowing her to ask the question whose answer she feared most.

A porter arrived to carry their bags to their room. Keely took McCullough's arm and followed the porter mutely. Suddenly the opulent surroundings faded away, lost to the terror of her thoughts. When they had settled into their room, she finally asked, because she could not vanquish the fear. "You won't leave me, McCullough?" He looked suddenly alert, wary.

"Leave?"

"I mean die." She paused. "You think that violence will erupt, and your life will be, maybe already is, in danger." She took his arm again. "Am I right?"

"Yes, Keely."

She swallowed. She couldn't ask more, and he didn't seem inclined to volunteer anything. "What kind of business are you off to now?"

He gave her an unreadable look. "Legal business, Keely. Tying up loose ends." He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and picked up his hat. "Don't worry yourself, Keely. I intend to be careful, and do what I can to prevent any violence." His tone became soft and tender, reassuring. "Put the dark thoughts away and get some rest."

After he left, Keely sat on the magnificent four-poster bed and tried to obey him. But there were times that success required more than intent. She pondered his mysterious business, finally settling on a thought that made sense—McCullough went to have a will made. That explained the reason for his earlier subterfuge—he hadn't wanted to worry her. She saw that clearly and was deeply touched, and just as deeply frightened. She didn't want to lose him, not ever.

Dietz stopped by the bank and then went directly to Dr. William T. Sutterfield's office, who, hopefully unknown to any union man who might be following him, was a good friend of W.T. Skoll, attorney-at-law. Dr. Sutterfield’s nurse ushered him into the doctor's office, giving the appearance of him coming in for a private consultation. Dietz hoped only that it didn't get out that he was in poor health.

W.T.'s assistant, J.D. Netherman stepped into the office some minutes later. He greeted Dietz with the correct code word and sat down in the doctor's chair opposite him.

"Where's Skoll?" Seeing Skoll's assistant surprised Dietz.

"A court case kept him away. What have you got for us?" Husky, powerfully built, thickly mustached, and clear-eyed, Netherman looked everything but lawyerly.

"Waters has tasked me with murdering John Monihan." Dietz delivered his message deadpan, watching Netherman's reaction. Netherman didn't appear surprised. He looked bored.

"Monihan's been threatened before."

"Yeah, but not seriously." Dietz flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve. "The boys in Gem are a suspicious lot of bastards. They've got themselves a spy and are off on their own witch-hunt to find him. How many men they find guilty and ruin won't matter to them, as long as they find the right man eventually. Thirst for vengeance runs high. There's talk of bringing a man in from Montana to sniff the traitor out.

"Point is, I haven't been there long enough for them to suspect of the original spying. But they're testing everyone. I'm going to have to make the attempt on Joe. If not, I might as well waltz out of town right now. It's your client's call." Would the clients call him off the job now? Dietz hoped the hell not.

Netherman sat silently, apparently considering Dietz's words. "You have a plan?"

"Sat up half the night figuring one out." Netherman appeared a wary accomplice. And Dietz was no fonder or trusting of Netherman than the lawyer seemed of Dietz.

"Want to give it to me?"

"Not particularly, but I guess I have to." Dietz stood and stretched. A day of train travel and shopping had made him stiff and restless. "We held a union meeting late last night. The membership voted to approve the latest plan to shut down the mines.
 

"They want to flood the Tiger and Poorman Mine, and the lower works of the Gem. The way I see it, we can use that situation to our advantage..."

Keely waited for McCullough to return well past the usual supper hour before deciding she had better get herself something to eat before the hotel restaurant closed. Fret, worry, and hunger made her irritable. What kept him? Surely he wouldn't be out drinking late again? Not here in a town where he had no drinking buddies? But what business could have kept him so late? Surely a law office would be closed by now?

She sat alone at a small linen bedecked table, reviewing the day as she ate the last of the least expensive meal on the menu. At least she had thought to bring a small bit of her own money. Still, half a day's wage for one meal? Worse still, she barely tasted it. Worry numbed her senses.

Something wasn't right about McCullough. She couldn't recover from her suspicion. Her thoughts flashed back to the dressmaker's shop. How had he known so much about fashion? An ugly fear welled up inside her. In the two years that they corresponded, he had never mentioned courting any other woman. But what if he had? Some fashionable woman who cared enough about such things to make him take an interest in them? Someone very different from herself. How could she compete with such a woman, especially when McCullough seemed so obviously to want Keely to dress that way? Keely sighed.

He was her husband, but she wanted more than that. She wanted him to love her the way she did him, with ridiculous, overwhelming intensity, until nothing else mattered, and every thought except ones of her seemed trivial and a waste of time. He said he loved her, but did he? Did he really?

His inattention to her this night upset and worried her. How dare he leave her alone in the strange, large city? Did he care so little? At home, even last night, when he’d stayed out drinking, she could forgive. It was what all men did. But couldn't he stay with her here?

She paid her bill and went back to the room. She had barely returned when the door opened and McCullough came in wearing, much to her satisfaction, a suitably sheepish grin.

"Sorry, business kept me late."

"I see." She walked over to him and took an intentionally obvious breath. She could detect no alcohol on his breath. The subtle aroma of bay rum and leather greeted her. She frowned, confused. If he hadn't been out drinking, and he didn't smell of another woman, where had he been?

He casually set his hat on the night table. "Have you eaten?"

"Just."

"Good." He seemed relieved.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been?"

"I can't, Keely. You know that." His violet blue eyes looked cool and impassive when he spoke. He wouldn't tell her, no matter how hard she pressed. Of that she was certain.

"Must there be secrets between man and wife?"

"You know the answer to that, Keely. You’ve never asked me to reveal the things I did, the way I worked, before."

"No, you’re right. But now we’re married—"

"What does that change? Did you lie to me when you told me you trusted me and didn't need to know details? Or was that only subterfuge?"

He had her. She spoke in a resigned tone. "No."

"Keely McCullough, what has made you so insecure?"

"You, McCullough." Her answer seemed to surprise him.

"Me?"

"I never thought I'd love you like I do. Be jealous of things as insubstantial as secrets. I want to be with you every minute. I want to know everything about you."

"Do you? Then be with me now, lass." He pulled her into his arms, and swept her into a kiss.
 

At his touch, Keely felt herself falling into an emotional abyss so dark, so consuming, and so pleasurable, it felt like falling into cool, shaded water on a hot day. But water could drown. The irrational thought caught her by surprise, popping into her mind from nowhere.