Devil in Texas(48)

"Then Sadie should have told me—"

"Sadie doesn't know," Sterne said.

Holy crap!

At long last, the veil lifted from Cass's eyes.

For four years, he'd been blaming Sadie for an affair she'd never had. He'd walked away from her in Dodge because he'd thought she'd been playing him for a fool. Sadie hadn't been lying about Sterne back in Dodge. Sterne had been lying to her!

Cass clenched his fists. He had half a mind to smash Sterne's face. "God aw'mighty! Why haven't you told her?"

Sterne's hand shook as he poured himself another dram. "I tried, once."

"Once?"

"She kept fingering that damned button."

Cass knew exactly what Sterne meant. Sadie fondled her pendant whenever she was nervous or afraid. She'd confided to him, once, that the button's cap hid a secret latch. She liked to fantasize that Michelson had used the tiny compartment to hide ciphers. Or maybe to carry quinine in case he got shot. Sadie used the compartment to store a lock of her father's hair. She'd doted on Roarke Michelson. His murder had shattered her life.

Cass folded his arms across his chest. "Trying once isn't good enough."

"Michelson was a decent father. I won't take that away from her."

"Michelson didn't know?"

"Not until the end."

Cass cursed. "So help me God, if you were one of those Terry's Rangers who lynched him—"

"I wasn't." Eyes like granite-colored ice collided with his. "A few years after the war, Meg figured out Michelson betrayed the Confederacy. That he was working as a Pinkerton. Knowing she would be ostracized if the secret leaked, she flew into a rage. She told Michelson he was despicable. She threw our affair in his face. The window was open, and one of their neighbors overheard the argument. That same night, the Klan went gunning for Michelson. Meg never forgave herself."

"Where were you?"

"Corsicana. Meg and I parted ways in '54—at her request. I never suspected she was pregnant. Not until the spring of '79, when Ranger business led me to work with Allan Pinkerton, did I learn about the lynching. When Pinkerton discovered I'd been assigned to patrol Grayson County for a spell, he asked if I'd ever met one of his operatives, a Roarke Michelson. I began piecing the story together then."

Cass's head was spinning. He sat heavily in the chair across from the man whom he'd hated for so long. A man who clearly thought he was doing the right thing by protecting Sadie from the truth. A man who didn't know his daughter at all.

"You can't keep sitting on this powder keg, Sterne. Sadie has the right to know you're her father. She'd want to know."

"Sadie has the right to be happy," Sterne corrected him. "That's why I'm counting on you to keep this matter a secret, William. You owe Sadie that much after riding out on her in Dodge. She never betrayed you. All my girl ever did was try to protect you—and mostly from me.

"That's why she asked me to accompany her to Chicago," Sterne continued in that same grim tone, "to get the restitution Pinkerton owed Michelson's heir. She figured if she got me on a northbound train, I couldn't track you. But once Pinkerton saw her grit and resourcefulness, he offered her a commission. It was Pinkerton who bought out her brothel contract. I didn't have that kind of money on a Ranger's pay."

Cass dropped his gaze from the lawman's. Now he felt lower than a snake's belly. Never once had he suspected these outlandish circumstances. Who would have? If he hadn't found Sadie's Pinkerton badge, he would have accused Sterne of telling whoppers!

Cass's hand shook as he reached for the scotch Sterne had poured him. It was the long-awaited dram of Glenmorangie he'd dreamed of sharing at his rival's expense. Only Sterne wasn't his rival. Not anymore.

But that wasn't the only reason Cass barely tasted the smooth, smoky flavor as it slid down his throat. He owed Sadie an apology of cosmic proportions! How was he supposed to make amends, if he wasn't allowed to spill the beans?

Sterne reached into the breast pocket of his vest. After rummaging around for a moment, he withdrew something metallic and tossed it Cass's way. The tin flashed in the lamplight before it landed on the table and skittered up against Cass's glass.

"What's that?" Cass bit out, staring at his lifelong dream.

"A vote of confidence."

Cass raised his eyes from that battered, old Ranger badge and locked stares with its wily owner. "I thought you were retired."

"That's what the governor wants folks to think."

Cass sucked in his breath. "Governor Ireland's been in on your charade? From the beginning?"

Sterne nodded.

Cass bit back an oath. Sterne's ruse was bigger than him and Sadie. It was bigger than Baron's election. It was even bigger than the legislature. Sterne's ruse was the whole damned state of Texas, with its fence-cutting cattlemen, vigilante sodbusters, and blood-soaked range lands!

"So why are you confiding in me?" Cass demanded warily.

"I may have misjudged you. And Sadie could use the help."

Cass's mouth salivated as he glanced once more at his tin-star dream. "You're offering me a commission?"

"That's the normal order of business when a Ranger goes undercover."

Cass's soaring spirits stalled, hitting the ground hard. He should have known there'd be a catch. "You want a man inside Baron's organization."

"Is that a problem?"

Cass's Coyote mind raced. Baron was his friend. Sadie was his woman. But no matter how many angles Cass considered, he couldn't find a way out of his predicament without betraying at least one of them.

He cursed silently. The only option he had at the moment was to play along. He knew too much. Sterne couldn't let him go running back to Baron, not without being thoroughly convinced Cass was serving the law. Cass needed time to find Collie and learn what had really transpired between Baron and Hank. He needed time to determine if Pendleton had masterminded the sniper attack on Baron.

"Count me in," Cass said grimly. "But count Sadie out. I don't want her getting caught in the crossfire when The Ventilator starts gunning for Baron again."

Sterne stiffened. "Sharpe broke out of Huntsville?"

"Looks that way. Sadie spotted him at Aquacia."

Something dark and foreboding flickered through the Ranger's eyes. "You keep that bastard away from my daughter."

"Nothing would please me more." Cass shoved back his chair.

"One other thing," Sterne said coolly. "Sadie answers to Allan Pinkerton, not the Rangers. She has her own mission. Stay out of her way."

A muscle ticked in Cass's jaw. Abruptly, he reached for Sterne's tin-star and did something he'd never once conceived of doing in his whole life: he pocketed a Ranger badge under false pretenses.

In the final analysis, Cass didn't give a rat's ass about Pinkerton or his secret army of nameless, faceless minions. If Cass had to use his Ranger badge to keep Baron alive and Sadie safe, then by God, he would.





Chapter 16



Devil's Eve was the time when ghosts and goblins went bump in the night.

Or so the scaredy-cats said.

Collie snickered at his humor and took another swig from his half-empty bourbon bottle. He was more than a little roostered. After escorting Baron to his hotel suite—where Poppy had been busily tying orange and black ribbons to a basket full of soul cakes—Collie had been only too happy to let the Harpy Queen shoo him out the door. The thought of spending Devil's Eve with the Westerfields had given him the heebie-jeebies. He'd seen for himself what kind of vermin Baron rendezvoused with in lonesome bathhouses.