The Union (27 page)

Patterson motioned Dietz to come out from beneath the desk. An instant later Dietz got his first view of Big Pete. Monihan had rolled his coat up and tucked it under Big Pete's head like a pillow. Someone else threw a coat over him. The room began to fill with curious scabs and Thiel guards who had seen the constable bring Big Pete in.

"He hardly looks human, except for his shape," Patterson said slowly, his tone solemn. "They've beat him almost to jelly."

As he looked at Big Pete, anger erupted inside Dietz and he swore under his breath. "What kind of an animal—"

Monihan was bending over Big Pete, taking inventory. "Jaw's broke, and only God knows how many ribs. He needs a doctor and fast." Monihan looked up at the men surrounding him in the room. "We can't move him again. Someone needs to go for the doctor."

Dietz didn't hesitate. "I'll go."

Patterson frowned at him. "You can't," Patterson said. "It'll blow your cover. You don't think the doctor will tell?"

Silence echoed off the walls. Finally one guard spoke up. "The road to town is going to be heavily guarded. Going for the doc is a suicide mission."

"The man will die," Monihan retorted. The men all looked sheepish, but none spoke up.
 

A man's courage is best tested under pressure,
Dietz thought. He wasn't afraid of going.

"I'll do it," Patterson said. "The union boys want a piece of my hide already. They can have it sooner if it will save your man."

One other guard volunteered to go with Patterson. Patterson grabbed his gear and looked to Dietz. "Get back to town, boy. I'll walk you to the road."

Every muscle ached as Dietz slipped off his boots and tiptoed into Keely's bedroom. He set the boots by the door. He should have bathed, but he had no energy for it. Would Keely notice that the smell of swamp, sweat, and mud replaced alcohol tonight? Would she care or question it?

Keely didn't stir as he prowled around stripping off his filthy clothes. The realization jolted him with guilt. A wife shouldn't have to get so comfortable with her husband's late night carousing that she didn't even wake when he came home. Moonlight shone in an arc around her, highlighting her fair complexion. Her features relaxed in sleep, worries forgotten for the moment. She should look like that all the time, he thought—beautiful, safe.

Keely deserved more than the lying, imitation bastard of a husband he was. How could he have done this to her? Why did his conscience always attack him when fatigue weighed him down? A few more days and he would leave and make things right. As right as he could.

He slid into bed and curled up behind her, threw his arm over her. She stirred and snuggled into him, pushing her tight little bottom up against him. He might have started something if he hadn't been so tired. Instead, he settled in, content. He was going to miss this. How would he live without it?

The heat made Dietz grumpy as he stood in the sun and barked orders at his platoon of men like a military sergeant. He'd been drilling them since early morning, marching them up and down the street in a mock military parade, waiting for the orders from the Central Union bosses to move out. Move out and do what? The union bosses must have put the fear of the devil into those in the know. No one was singing. Frustrated that he couldn't glean any useful information, Dietz ordered his men to keep moving.

That the union bosses didn't even trust McCullough, renowned union terrorist, irked Dietz. That they assigned him the menial task of drilling the men angered him further. But at least it gave him an opportunity to keep an eye on Patterson's store. Guards surrounded it, posted by the union.

Dietz knew Patterson had returned to Gem and holed up in the store. He'd seen him come off the train this morning, toting a Winchester rifle and strutting bold as brass down the street. Had he been to see Mr. French? Had he warned him? Patterson never faltered where courage counted. Shortly after that Dietz had seen a contingency of union boys go into the store. That set him on edge. Dietz kept marching his boys back and forth in front of the store, trying to figure how many union fellows he could take out if it came to that to help Patterson, waiting for an ominous round of fire. Neither occurred. A few minutes after the union boys arrived, they left. Bill Black, a known desperado, had given Dietz the thumbs up as they left the building.

"Good job, McCullough. That little show ought to have scared that damned spy sure enough."

Dietz had nodded. "You let him live?"

Black's returning laughter echoed eerily off the buildings. "Son of a bitch asked the same question. I told him same as I'll tell you—the time isn't right." Black shook his head, amused, and laughed again.

"You let me know," Dietz said, speaking before his silent men. "I want in on it."

Black nodded. "Sure, you and everybody else." He descended the steps from the store into the street and looked Dietz levelly in the eye. "Tell you what, McCullough. Because of your reputation, I'll let you in on the action." He clapped Dietz on the shoulder. "But it won't be for a bit. He isn't going anywhere. The fool says he's planning on staying until we carry him out a corpse." Black chuckled. "Looks like he's going to get his wish." Black walked off, pausing to call back over his shoulder. "Whip those boys into shape, McCullough. There'll be fireworks soon, and we'll need every man."

Throughout the remainder of the day, Dietz kept looking for an angle, a way to help Patterson escape. All the while his uneasiness grew. He pulled back from his thoughts and noticed that the men looked worn out and edgy. Dietz called for them to break ranks and take a rest. Just as he did, Conrad, one of Brown's henchmen, came riding down the street up to Dietz.

"How's the drilling going?" he called out.

"Fine." Dietz reached for his canteen and took a sip of water. "What brings you out?"

The men gathered around, expecting news. Conrad leaned down and whispered to him. "Let the men get some rest. I came to tell you that we'll be blowing up the Frisco Mill just before daybreak. Pass the word along."

"You're awful casual about the plan. You aren't worried about the owners getting word?"

"Nah. We'll be blockading the town. No one will be coming or going. How's the word to get to them?" Conrad winked and rode off.

Dietz's heart stood still for a bare second, and then thumped wildly into action. Keely—he had to get her out of town now, immediately, before it was too late. He dismissed the men and ran across the street into the boarding house. Keely stood over the stove cooking something that smelled good.

"Shut the stove off, Keely." Dietz spoke without preamble.

She turned and looked blankly at him, then quizzically. He went to her and taking her by the elbow, pulled her away. "Get your bags. I'm taking you to Wallace. Now."

Understanding washed over her expression. "When?" She stepped back to the stove, pulling the pans off and turning it off.

"Tomorrow, before daybreak. Keel, they're going to be setting up a blockade this afternoon. We have to go."

She nodded understanding and wordlessly turned toward the hall.
 

He followed her into the bedroom. Damn, how was he going to stand losing her?
 

She pulled her satchel from beneath the bed.
 

"Make sure you have everything—the money, clothes…" His voice cracked.

She faced away from him as she nodded and struggled with a large trunk. As he stepped to her aid, she turned, looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and threw herself into his arms.

"Keely." Damn, why did he have to be so inept?

"McCullough—"

He pressed his fingers to her lips. "I'll take care. I'll be all right—everything will be." He'd never told a bigger lie. Nothing would ever be right again without her.
 

She pressed her cheek against his chest.
 

He lost control. He had to have her one last time. He began unbuttoning her blouse.

"McCullough—"

"Don't say anything, Keely. Grunt and scream and moan if you like, but don't call my name." He undressed her urgently, wanting to see her in full one last time. Then he shrugged off his pants and underthings and carried her to the bed. Just this once, he didn't want to hear McCullough's name yelled in passion.

He made love to her urgently, thrusting wildly, both of them bucking until the headboard bounced and pounded the wall. The sounds of men outside in the streets marching and drilling faded away. Until they were both breathless and sparkling with exertion. Until he knew that part of him would die without her. Finally, completion washed over him, cleansing like cool stream water. No matter his duplicity with her, no matter the wrong he had done Keely, he loved her with a part of himself that he hadn't known existed. A part of him pure and unjaded, and vulnerable. She would never know, but he had given her that part of himself—his love, something he had never given before, and doubted he would again.

He rolled from her, the urgent need to get her to safety returning. He kissed her neck and pulled her to her feet.
 

They dressed silently, hurriedly.
 

When they finished, he spoke unnecessarily, "To Wallace."

 
Everything seemed inadequate. There were no words. No words.

Keely stood in the doorway of the Hotel Wallace and watched McCullough walk away, down the street to the train depot, back to Gem. His shoulders set, back straight, he looked proud and determined, confident.
 

She kept picturing his face, hearing his words as he wished her goodbye.
I love you, Keely. I love you.
 

Why had he looked suddenly haggard? He seemed desperate for her to understand, and yet, his fears had never been founded. She knew he loved her. She had always known, from the first moment she laid eyes on him.

Was there something more he wasn't telling her? Blast him! He was half Irish. With their little people and pots of gold, Irish folk looked notoriously superstitious. But McCullough had never seemed so. She attributed it to his pragmatic Scots half. But now, she more than sensed, she knew he had told her goodbye, not for now, forever. She shivered in the heat. Had he a premonition of his own death? She believed in intuition. She'd felt it when Michael died. She felt a dread now, a sense of something amiss or about to go afoul.

She tried to force aside her own superstitious nature, and willed him to turn back and give her one last look before he departed from sight. But her thoughts brought no action. Determination drove him. He didn't mean to look back, but what did he see ahead?

A voice shook her from her thoughts. "That your man walking away?"

She hadn't noticed the stranger approach. She nodded mutely.

"I saw you two at the train station."

McCullough disappeared around a corner. She turned her gaze to the stranger, trying to place him, remember him. But truth be told, she couldn't remember anything past McCullough. The man next to her wore a sympathetic expression and looked kindly enough, non-threatening.

"Thoughtful man," the stranger said. "He tried to get you out of the Valley to safety, didn't he?"

Keely's hollow laugh came out more of a snort. "Is there such a thing as safety? Does a safe place exist?" She turned and walked into the hotel lobby.
 

The man followed her. "There's safer places right now than the Valley, miss."

"Judging from the crowd at the station, and the unavailability of trains, it would appear most people think so. I couldn't get a train out until tomorrow morning."

"That so. Smart men are seeing the wives and children out of the Valley." The man paused. "You look like you could use a friendly ear and a little something to perk you up. Could I buy you a cup of coffee, Miss—"
 

He waited for her to give her name. His tone held no flirtation, and there seemed to be nothing untoward, nothing other than kindness behind his words, but she felt no need for companionship just now.

"Mrs. McCullough. Thank you for your offer, but no thank you."

The man's expression lit up. He smiled in apparent recognition. "Would your man happen to be Ian McCullough?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"
 

"Not well, but I thought your husband looked familiar. Just couldn't place him without a name. I'm a member of the Butte City Miners' Union. They sent me over to help out the boys here.

"I met McCullough when he came through Montana. Your husband's reputation preceded him. Will he be involved in the big doings expected?"

The man's tone remained friendly and pleasant, but something about him made her wary. "My husband doesn't share his business with me, sir."

The man cleared his throat; embarrassment crept into his expression. "I didn't mean to be prying, ma'am. But I can see you're worried, and I just thought to set your mind at ease. I'm heading up to Gem, and I just thought that I might be able to look out for him for you. You don't happen to know where he'll be, do you, so that I can look him up?"

"No." Something about the man's persistence worried her. She walked away abruptly. Fortunately, he didn't follow.