“Blake, this sounds dangerous.” Mary reached across the table touching his arm with gentle concern.
“It could be.” Blake met her bright eyes. “I’ve been trained for this though, and I think I have a plan. Mary, you can’t tell anyone who I am. Don’t even tell the children that I’m here. As far as you two are concerned, I’m just another drifter down on his luck.”
“What will you do now?” Bar glanced at his wife then back at Blake.
“I’m going to stay in the shelter and see if anyone there knows where the gang is holed up. That bunch has their finger in half a dozen pies, and I’m sure that two bank heists here in Wyoming have been organized by them. I’m hoping that I’ll find someone who will think I can use work and that I’m not too picky about what kind it is.”
“Blake!” Mary covered her face with her hands in shock.
“It’s called going undercover, Mary.” Bar took his wife’s hand in his. “We had plenty of men ‘over there’ who infiltrated the enemy’s lines to get information and help the allies bring the war to an end. Think of the lives that would have been lost if they hadn’t been willing to try.”
“That’s just it,” Blake agreed. “There is so little information coming to us about this bunch. Most officers can track the small fry, but no one seems to be able to tell who actually backs this gang. I know that at least three people have already died because of their activity, and I have to do what I can to make sure no one else suffers.”
“It’s a lawless time.” Mary’s voice was soft and her eyes sad as she spoke the words.
“That’s why I’m doing this, Mary.” Blake took her other hand. “What if men like these showed up at the Broken J? What if you had them right here and didn’t even know it?”
“We all thought that once liquor was outlawed things would get better. There would be less violence, more men staying home and caring for their families, but it has only grown worse.”
“You can’t legislate or dictate morality, Mary.” Blake turned his amber eyes to hers and squeezed her hand. “The only way men will change is if they let God into their heart. Yes, the idea behind prohibition made sense. Women needed to stand up for their rights, but the more you try to keep people from something the more they’ll want it. It never works. What works is what you two are doing, reaching one man, one heart, at a time.”
Mary’s smile was weak but heartened Blake. He knew she understood and that his secret was safe with her. He also knew that Bar would keep his ears open and pass on any tips that might help him in the long run. He had tried taking the gang from the outside, now it was time to bring it down from the inside out.
Chapter 4
“You look fresh off the turnip truck,” a soft female voice tickled Blake’s ear, and he turned his head trying to see behind him. Even as he swiveled his head, the woman trailed her finger across his shoulders moving to his other side and forcing him to follow her progress until he caught a glimpse of her profile.
The woman’s dark brown hair was cut short curling under her ears in a sweep of satiny waves, held in place with a wide head band bejeweled with silk flowers.
“Excuse me?” Blake studied the woman’s pale face and dark eyes as he waited for an explanation. She was thin, and the white flapper dress she wore hung on her, the shimmering fringe, dropping to just above her knees. Blake still wasn’t used to the new styles in the city, and the sheer amount of leg that women like this one exposed, was a bit shocking.
“I said you look like you’re fresh off the turnip truck.” She giggled her slim, slightly upturned nose wrinkling as she sloshed a clear drink in her hand. “Where are you from?” The brown-haired woman sipped her drink making the chips of ice in her glass jingle with the action as she turned her wide doe eyes on him.
“Here,” Blake said, shifting on the hard bar stool he slipped onto nearly an hour earlier. “I was born and raised in Wyoming.”
“Out there in the dust no doubt,” the woman’s voice was a mere huff.
“If you mean on the prairie,” Blake said, “there’s a goodly bit of it to call home.”
The smile she offered was so bright it made the heavy gas lighting seem to dim as her tinkling laugh washed over him.
“I like you,” she said waving her glass in the direction of the bartender who quickly poured another round. “Why are you here?” She placed her empty glass on the polished wood then lifted the fresh drink from the bar and took a long sip.
“Same as you,” Blake lifted the glass before him sipping the tiniest bit of his drink. He was careful what he imbibed, not only because he needed to keep his head about him, but also because some of the gin brewed behind closed doors could be deadly.
“You workin’ in the city?” The woman asked. Her voice was growing slurred the longer they spoke.
“Not steady like.”
The dark-haired woman raised one perfectly penciled brow and waved her empty glass toward the bar keep once more. “Maybe I can ‘elp.” She hiccupped lightly then grinned.
“How?” Blake lifted his glass again touching his lips to the rim. “Do you own this place?”
The laughter that bubbled out of her this time was jubilant as she tipped her head back exposing the smooth expanse of her neck. “Not quite,” she hiccupped again. “But I know who does.”
Blake felt his heart rate pick up and he placed his glass back on the bar as his hands began to sweat. He had been in Cheyenne for
