As promised, an update within 24 hours.
This chapter is dedicated to Tripidydoodah for their kind words and support. (Thank you!)
I would like to thank three betas for help on this chapter: The Wild Whovian, Andamogirl, and Dlldarkwolf for giving t a last once over when my spellcheck failed. (sometimes I hate being dyslexic.)
Enjoy ...
Chapter 2
The ride from the Marshal's office to the hotel took ten minutes, but to Artie it seemed much longer. Somehow their witness had been able to question his riding ability, the strength of his horse, the quality of his saddle, and his intelligence – all before they started out. If she was this charming all the time, he was going to ask for a raise. Maybe the agency was punishing them for that last incident where they misheard their orders – or one of the many other times.
"Are we there yet?"
Yes, most definitely a punishment.
"It's just a little farther down the street," Jim answered, riding beside them. "You think you can make it that far?"
"If your partner doesn't drop me."
Artie wanted to mention that she was the one holding on, not him, but a subtle look from Jim kept him quiet. He wasn't sure what was going on back there, but he trusted his partner. Besides, they were coming up to the hotel and it felt like their witness really was about to fall off his horse.
"Hold on," Jim said softly, dismounting and holding his arms out to the girl.
Olivia's death grip released his jacket and switched to his partner. Artie caught a glimpse of pure terror on her face and frowned. Was she that afraid of Douglas Scranton or was there something else? The way she practically ran into the hotel didn't offer up any answers. Jim followed, leaving Artie to get the bags. Typical. Luckily, the hotel had excellent service and he needed only to take the bag off the saddle before the staff whisked it away. He followed them inside to find Jim signing in and Olivia – looking much calmer – staring out the window.
"Can we get a room in the back?" the girl asked sweetly.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but those are all full," the clerk replied.
"Never mind, the front is fine," Jim assured him, taking the key.
"But can't people from the street see in?"
"Not if we avoid the windows," Artie answered, holding out his arm. "The upper level offers all the privacy we need. May I escort you to your room, Miss Olivia?"
She gave him a smile and accepted his peace offering. He couldn't blame the kid for being scared – anyone twice her age would be – but she seemed to be handling it better now that they were inside. Maybe this protection detail wouldn't be so bad after all.
"I'm tired," Olivia announced as soon as they got to the room. "Can I take a nap before dinner?"
"Dinner isn't that far away," Jim commented.
"I know, I just need a little nap."
Artie shared a look with his partner and gave him a shrug. She didn't seem tired, but maybe maintaining the strong front was getting hard. Besides, a few minutes to herself wouldn't hurt anything – it would also give them a chance to talk. Jim seemed to agree and escorted Olivia to the private bedroom. Once the doors were closed, he turned to Artie.
"Cute kid."
"Easy for you to say; it wasn't your jacket she almost tore."
"Ah, she was just scared, and who could blame her?"
Artie muttered in agreement, checking the street out of habit. There wasn't much going on below them. A few women window-shopping, an elderly couple buying tickets from the stage office, a drunk being tossed out of a saloon; pretty standard. No sign of Scranton or his men – not that they knew what Scranton looked like beyond a vague description of a punchy, balding man with a love of good whiskey.
That sure narrowed it down.
Tossing his hat onto the credenza, Artie removed his jacket – double checking to make sure the seams were still intact. Relieved to see that the garment was only wrinkled, he shook it out and laid it over a chair. Maybe he could get the maid to press it for him later-
"So," Jim started, taking a seat by the fireplace. "What do we know about Douglas Scranton?"
"From what I read about him, he's not a very pleasant fellow," Artie replied, pouring water into the washbasin. "He made his fortune during the war securing gunpowder for the North – though there are no official records as to where he got it."
"Now he works in the import business," Jim continued, taking his turn at the washbasin. "A perfect cover for smuggling. It would also explain how everyone who has ever testified against him has disappeared."
"Charming," Artie added grimly.
He handed his partner the towel and glanced at the bedroom door, thinking about the girl on the other side. They had both heard enough to know how ruthless Douglas Scranton was when crossed, but would he really order the death of his own daughter? Could anyone be that callous?
"Hey, Artie," Jim interrupted his thoughts. "It's almost dinner time. Why don't you go wake up our guest?"
While he seriously doubted she was asleep, he nodded and knocked lightly on the bedroom door. When he got no answer, he knocked louder. Still no answer.
"Olivia?" he called, sticking his head into the room. "It's time for – Jim!"
Artie threw open the door to the empty room. The bed was untouched, the girl's bag was gone, and the window was wide open. Someone must have sneaked in and grabbed her – but how would they have not heard them? Why didn't she scream? And why would the kidnapper bother taking her bag with them? However, those questions could wait; what was important now was finding Olivia – fast!
"They can't have gotten far," Jim stated, heading to the window. "I'll track them this way; you head out the front."
Nodding, Artie raced down to the lobby, praying they weren't too late. He ran past a very bewildered clerk, almost knocked over a couple of cowboys coming through the door, and finally reached the street. Scanning the area, he checked for anyone who looked out of place – like a little girl being dragged away by a would-be assassin. Unfortunately, nothing stood out. The ladies were still window shopping, the drunk was getting tossed back out of the saloon, a group of passengers was boarding the stage – including one girl in a very familiar violet dress.
"Hey!" Artie yelled, running across the street. "Hold up there!"
Unfortunately, his voice was drowned out by the cry of the driver urging the horses on. Running after the stage would be pointless on foot, so he doubled back to where he and Jim left their horses. Speaking of Jim, he came around the corner of the hotel just as Artie reached their mounts.
"She just got on the stage," he reported, climbing into the saddle.
"Did you see who was with her?" Jim asked, following suit.
Artie shook his head and the two took off after the stage. Despite the fact it only had a thirty-second head start, weaving through traffic slowed the agents down enough that they didn't even catch sight of the stage until they were just outside of town. After that, it took another mile or two to catch up with it – not to mention convince the driver that they were not planning to rob the thing and it was okay to pull over.
Once the stage came to a stop, Jim dismounted and opened the door. With his gun at the ready, he ordered everybody out. First came the elderly couple he had seen buying their tickets, next came a man with the look of a banker, followed by two woman in their twenties, and last came Olivia. The girl kept her eyes on the ground, a sheepish expression on her face, and Artie got the distinct impression they had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
"Gee," she chuckled nervously. "I guess you're real agents after all."
So, what do you think of Miss Olivia? Anyone see trouble on the horizon? ;)
I look forward to your comments/feedback while I prepare the next update, which will be up in about 24, unless requested sooner. (And I HAVE been known to update in as little as 2 hours when asked.)
