The Union (23 page)

She finished punching down a loaf of bread she'd been making, and slapped it into the buttered pan, dreading the thought of firing up the oven. Just then Joe Murphy swung in through the door, looking wild and winded and pale with fright.

"Where's McCullough?" he asked without preamble.

"He's in the back room, resting."

Murphy pushed past before she could stop him, almost before she'd finished speaking. He barged in on McCullough even as she tugged on Murphy's arm in an attempt to stop him.

"Keel?" McCullough said sleepily, then saw Murphy. "Murphy, what the—" McCullough sat up.
 

Keely loved the sight of him when he woke. Startled awake, hungover from too late a night of partying and lovemaking, his jaw firm and covered with stubble. Even in the worst case, McCullough never looked puffy-eyed or bleary with sleep like most people. He always woke instantly, always immediately alert. His gaze fell on her. She gave him an apologetic shrug. Man, how she loved those violet eyes of his.

Murphy followed McCullough's gaze and scowled at her. "I got to talk to you alone, McCullough."

"You can't burst in on my husband and then send me away, Mr. Murphy. You say what you have to in front of me," Keely said.

"It's union business, ma'am." Murphy seemed suddenly to remember his manners.

"My brother died because he was a union man, and I'm every bit as loyal as him." Keely refused to back down.

This time McCullough shrugged. Good, he was letting her stay.

"Shit," Murphy said.

McCullough sat up. Keely tossed him the shirt thrown over the chair next to her and he pulled it on. Then he stood and pulled on a pair of pants as casually as he would pull on a pair of gloves. "What's bothering you, Murphy?"
 

Murphy looked around furtively, as if he expected the walls to eavesdrop. When he spoke his voice barely qualified as a whisper. "I've just come from warning Allison. That damned Dallas has been in town inside three days and he's claiming he knows who our spy is."

"Good." McCullough finished buttoning his shirt, the last of his perfectly muscled chest disappeared and Keely hoped she'd be able to concentrate better now. "You going to keep us in suspense?" McCullough asked.

"That jackass. He thinks it's Allison. Our own recording secretary!" Murphy's voice pitched shrilly. He swallowed like he meant to gulp his panicked words back down. "It's ridiculous. But they've called a special meeting of the union." He swallowed again, almost for emphasis. "They mean to kill him tonight. I warned him to leave."

McCullough speared him with a look. "It's your habit to warn spies?"

Murphy stammered. "He swore he's innocent, and I believe him. He refuses to leave town, says he won't be a coward, that he must clear his good name."

McCullough nodded. "If he's innocent, he has nothing to worry about—"

"Innocent, or no, they want blood. They're going to kill someone. Look, I've noticed you and Allison together. I figured you're friends. Warn him, warn him to leave."

McCullough's face went blank, as if he'd pulled on a mask. Keely held her breath, praying he would stay out of the trouble. As much as she liked Mr. Allison—

"If Allison's made up his mind, he's made up his mind. You couldn't stop him, neither can I. Like I said, if he's innocent, he has nothing to worry about. If not, he knows the consequences. He swore a Molly Maguire oath, same as we all did, pledging his allegiance to the union, under penalty of death for betraying his brothers. If he
is
the spy, he deserves to die."
 

Keely found her ice in McCullough's voice and the steely set of his face and eyes. Suddenly she felt like she did when submerged in the frigid waters of Canyon Creek on a hot day, chilled and gasping for breath, reaching for any warmth as she came to the surface.
 

McCullough turned to look at her. "Keely, are you all right?"

"Fine." How she spoke, she didn't know, but her response came out breathy and barely believable.

"You'll be at the meeting tonight?" Murphy said.

McCullough nodded.
 

"Good. See you there." Murphy turned on his heel and left as abruptly as he had arrived.
 

Keely stepped into McCullough and collapsed against him, listening to the reassuring drumbeat of his heart.

"Must you go?" She didn't need to ask. She knew the answer. She felt him nod. "Will they kill Mr. Allison?"

"If they have to."

"He's a nice man." Why couldn't she think of something better to say? "Will the trial be fair?"

He pulled her closer in response.
 

The icy, gasping feeling returned. "Be careful, McCullough. Be careful. I love you." Would the trouble never end?

That night the miners packed the union hall.
 

Everyone seems to know Dallas intends to unveil the spy
, Dietz thought. He sat in the back near the door, calculating the odds of escaping unharmed. The Derringer rested in his coat pocket. He fingered the cold metallic Colt's 45 at his side. Hundreds of men filled the room, most of them armed. If they convicted Patterson of being the spy, Dietz would have to defend him. He couldn't let the mob lynch a fellow agent. But the odds of his own escape were practically nil.

He could shoot into the crowd and create some confusion. To date no one suspected McCullough of spying. With hope, he could distract enough men so Patterson could sneak out while Dietz broke for the door. It was a long shot. He hoped that tonight Patterson lived up to his cool-headed reputation. Could he possibly lie himself out of this one? Dietz had no idea. He'd been unable to meet with Patterson and make plans. He knew only what Murphy had told him. Patterson must have had some plan.

Patterson sat onstage with President Waters, Eaton, Judge Brown, and Dallas.
 

Waters called the meeting to order. Patterson, in his role as recording secretary, then stood and read the minutes of the last meeting. If he trembled inwardly with fear, he didn't show it. Nothing gave him away, not a tremble, a stutter, a wayward gaze, or a bead of perspiration. Patterson sat and Dallas got up to make a speech. Suddenly silence echoed off the walls, and reverberated in Dietz's ears in time with his own frantic heartbeat. Time for the games to begin. Thoughts of Keely pounded through his mind. It was too soon. He didn't want to leave yet, not without being certain that Keely would be safe. He willed Patterson to remain calm, to show the wily spirit he was renowned for.

"Brothers!" Dallas shouted.
 

He thinks he's running a revival meeting
, Dietz thought, only without the hope of God-fearing results.

"You have allowed a spy in your ranks and he now sits within reach of my hand," Dallas continued.

Such drama. Dietz was reminded of the Last Supper in the Bible. Christ offering Judas the bread and then bidding him on his way. So this is the way Dallas chose to play it. What an actor, an orator, Dallas the hyena was. If he offered Patterson a sop of bread, Dietz would have to shoot on principle.

"He will never leave this hall alive." Dallas punctuated his speech with podium pounding and hand waving. "His fate is doomed. You know your duty when it comes to dealing with traitors to our noble cause for the upbuilding of true manhood."

The room thundered with applause. Patterson clapped as wildly as any. Dietz put his hands together, imitating Patterson. What did he have planned? Waters pounded his gavel on the podium, calling for order. He called for a ten-minute recess. The union boys surrounded Patterson and pulled him off the stage.
 

Dietz, keenly aware of the weapons he harbored, pushed through the crowd toward him. Every exit crawled with union boys, jumpy, excited, out-for-blood men with too much idle time and too little to occupy it. A good killing might liven things up. Dietz had no doubt that with this incident, the union leaders hoped to incite the boys into real war. Give them a taste of blood and they would want more. A cause, every man needed a cause, and an enemy.

Waters saw Dietz coming and motioned for the crowd to let him through. "McCullough, you're just in time for the trial."
 

Poker face
, Dietz reminded himself.
Poker face.
Now's the time to earn those big bucks they pay you. Dietz couldn't remember ever having been this nervous on the job before, and he'd been in situations as tight. Usually excitement and adrenaline overcame him. Nothing compared to the heady rush of a good job, a tight squeeze, and a fine escape. But Keely made all the difference. He had a reason to live, a reason to keep his cover a while longer, if only to protect her. Damn, this nervousness could foul him up. He forced himself to concentrate. There had to be a way out.

"We've got you now," Dallas said, still on the stage, glowering down at Patterson. Like a cat, he leaped agilely down.

Patterson stepped up. "What's the matter, gentlemen? You seem puzzled."

Dallas held up the union's book of minutes and screamed at Patterson. "There's a leaf cut out of this book. We want an explanation."

"Waters ordered me to do it." Patterson stood supremely still, acting calm and almost confused.
 

That's it, Patterson
, Dietz thought. That's why Patterson was almost legendary in his own time. What an audacious accusation to make. Dietz hoped it stuck.

Waters cursed. "Liar!"

"You'll remember back a while when we voted to flood the Tiger and Poorman?" Patterson drawled, Texas style, his old cowboy days evident in his lazy speech. "I wrote down the full facts of our resolution and read it at the next meeting. After that, Waters ordered me to cut it out and burn it, as nothing of that sort should be on record in case the book fell into enemy hands."

Every face turned toward Waters. Dietz thought the slimy bastard might deny it. Clever Patterson. Dietz remembered the incident well enough. Patterson had not burned the page. He'd had Dietz mail it to their contact in St. Paul.

Waters nodded. "He speaks the truth."

Dallas looked ready to explode. He wouldn't be letting up on Patterson. Waters called the meeting back to order and made a conservative little speech. "Men, it is my recommendation that we sit on this matter a while longer, that we do nothing tonight. The time is coming, and will soon be at hand, when we will act and move on to greater things."

The men cheered. Dallas scowled. Dietz's heart settled back down to its normal trot. He had time, but not long.

Back at the boardinghouse Keely fell into his arms. "Mr. Allison?" He didn't have to ask to know what she meant.

"Found innocent."

"Thank goodness."

"Like I said, Keely, an innocent man has nothing to fear." But a guilty one? He had to get Keely out of town. But could he bear it, knowing he would never see her again?

"Oh, McCullough, the terror. The town was too quiet, and then the union hall would just shake with applause." She paused. "Though it was still light outside, I closed the blinds. I, I couldn't face a lynching. I found myself waiting for gunfire. I don't know what I expected. Could I have had so little faith?" Her eyes misted up. "You have more faith in the union than I do. Oh, I don't deserve you." She pressed into him again.
 

Holding her like that created torture pure and simple. His heart stretched tight on an emotional rack with no escape. Every word she spoke only convinced him further of their differences. He was no union man. He was a union buster.

"Keely," he said. "I have something I have to show you." Her gaze met his, completely trusting. He led her upstairs to his room.
Separate rooms, separate lives
, he thought. If only he'd kept it that way. But they didn't sleep apart, and he no longer lived apart from her, in his heart or elsewhere.

He stifled a sigh. He had needed this room. He had convinced Keely by claiming that he needed an office, some place private to think. That was certainly true, but he also needed a place to hide his secrets. He pulled his saddlebag from beneath the bed, then seated Keely on the bed while he opened the bag. He handed her a bank account ledger. "That's yours. I set it up for you when we went to Spokane. Do you remember? I was late that night. I stayed out taking care of business. You were angry—"

"I remember." She looked about to cry.

"It doesn't matter now." He kneeled at her feet, next to his bag on the floor. "There's enough money there to see you through for quite a while." A lifetime? He hoped she'd at least get a good start on it. "If something happens to me, you use it. Do you understand?"

"Oh, McCullough." A tear slid down her cheek.
 

He reached up and brushed it away, fighting a damned lump in his own throat. "My will's on deposit there as well, for safekeeping. I saw a lawyer that day." He couldn't face her sad eyes. He fumbled in his bag for the final item longer than he needed to. He pulled the drawstring bag out and set it in her lap. "Gold pieces. Eagles and half eagles. A small fortune that. Had to sell one of my best horses on the way here." He tried to sound light. Actually, he'd sold McCullough's only horse. Well, it was one truth at least.