“Your actions say otherwise,” she pointed out as the young boy stepped out from behind James. “You asked a young boy to spy on us.”
“He didn’t ask. I offered,” the boy declared.
James looked at the boy fondly and shook his head. “Either way, I shouldn’t have allowed you to,” he said.
Rosalie shifted her gaze back to James. “If you are innocent, then why are you worried about Pinkerton agents investigating the crime?”
Laughter floated through an opening that divided the barn from the staging area, and Mr. Murray shifted his gaze toward the noise while explaining, “There are very few of us who know about the gold. I’m one of them. But, if I lost my position here, then all these boys would be out of a job. I wouldn’t risk that for nothing.”
She observed James, his eyes flickering uncertainly under her scrutiny, but her instinct already told her that he was telling her the truth. Criminals were inherently selfish, and this man was not.
“I believe you,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, holstering her pistol.
James let out a relieved breath. “That’s great news. Thank you!”
Ryan took a step closer to her and pointed at her revolver. “Is that the gun that you used to stop the bad guys that tried to rob the stagecoach?”
Placing her hands on her legs, she leaned closer to the boy. “Not this time. I used a shotgun to stop those road agents.”
“I want to be a Pinkerton agent when I grow up,” Ryan declared, standing a little taller.
“I think that is a fine idea.” Rising from her position, Rosalie asked James, “Aside from yourself, who else knows about the gold shipment?” She already knew the answer, but it was always best to start at the beginning.
“That’s the thing. The gold box gets picked up about fifty miles south of here, along with the mail. The staging coordinator, ticket collectors, drivers, and shotgun messengers all know about the gold shipments. In addition to the lawmen and the banking staff that signs off on the deposit.”
“Who specifically in Shelbrook knows about the gold?”
“Mr. Tuttle, Mr. Holmes, Sheriff Walton, and Deputy Charlie,” James listed.
Rosalie considered his words for a moment. “Do you have any reason to suspect one of those men is working with Bill Garrett?”
His eyes went wide. “Bill Garrett is behind this?” He groaned. “This is a small town, and there is nothing questionable about the character of those men. Besides, none of them are stupid enough to team up with that murderer.”
“James has a crush on Emeline Holmes,” Ryan announced, unexpectedly, with a smile.
Lifting her brow at the abrupt change in subject, she asked Mr. Murray, “Is that true?”
Running his hands along his suspenders, James wore a look of bashfulness. “I am working up the nerve to ask to court her.”
Ryan laughed. “He goes into the restaurant and makes lovey-dovey eyes at her.”
“I wish you luck with that,” Rosalie said, grinning.
“Can you offer me any advice, seeing as you are married and all?” James asked hesitantly.
That’s right. She was married. “I am not the best person to seek advice from. It is a recent development, actually.” Rosalie grew serious. “My husband and I are staying at the hotel. It’s best if we are not seen together until this investigation is over. If you need to pass along any information, then send Ryan, and we will coordinate a time to meet.”
“I wish I had any more information that could help the case.”
“Don’t worry. The investigation has only just begun, and I have succeeded with far, far less than what you gave me,” she replied confidently.
“You have?” Ryan asked in awe.
She nodded, and a smile came to her lips. “Yes, and I always catch the bad guy.”
“And you just believed him?” Paden asked in an incredulous tone.
Sitting next to him on the yellow upholstered settee in their hotel room, Rosalie replied, “I did. He’s not our man.” She had changed out of her blouse and trousers and replaced it with a blue striped, high-necked gown with ruffles along the collar.
They’d gone down to the restaurant in the hotel for a light supper, but it was crowded so they didn’t have an opportunity to converse as freely as he would have liked. It wasn’t until they came back up to their room that she’d started telling him about the conversation with James Murray.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Instinct,” she stated firmly.
He sighed. “All right.”
“All right?”
“Yes, all right. I trust you.”
Rosalie eyed him with suspicion. “What game are you playing?”
“No game, I promise,” he said, grinning. “After witnessing what you are capable of today, I have no issue with trusting your instinct.”
A pleased smile came to her lips. “Thank you, Paden. That means a lot.”
He shifted in his seat, angling toward her. “I was wrong about what I said back in the sheriff’s office,” he started, watching her smile dim. “I am sorry for even asking you that question.”
“It was a fair question, considering how much I’ve changed over the last few years. But I would never have resorted to that tactic to capture a suspect.”
“I know that, and again, I am sorry.”
Rosalie’s gaze darted toward the window at the sound of glass shattering in the distance. It was quickly followed by a drunken melody.
Paden reached out and clasped her hand. “How did you learn all your new tricks?”
“Tricks?”
“Acrobatics, sharpshooting from the roof of a
