He jolted out of the swing and moved to lean against the porch railing. “‘We’ is the sheriff of Owyhee County, Idaho, and me. And the Pinkerton Agency in Colorado. As for what else I need to tell you, it’s this. The sheriff is stumped. He sent for a US Marshal, and that marshal happens to work for Pinkerton.”
“Why did you really come to see me, Marshal? It wasn’t just to tell me about Dottie, was it?” When he said nothing, she went on.
“Why is Dottie’s death of interest to a US Marshal and the Pinkerton Agency? Exactly why are you here, Marshal Logan?”
Rand stood and began to stack the empty pie plates on the tray. “No, it wasn’t just to tell you about your sister. We... That is, I need your help.”
“I thought so,” she breathed.
“It’s like this, Alice. Your sister lived in this little town that’s mostly a tent community of Idaho miners, and they’re tighter than ticks about sharing any information with outsiders.”
“I would be an outsider,” she pointed out quietly.
“You would be, yes. But we... I...think you might be able to succeed where the sheriff has failed.”
“Why?”
“Because...” He looked everywhere except at her. “Because you’re a woman,” he said at last.
“I see.”
“I tried to talk Pinkerton out of even mentioning it to you. I knew you’d need time to get over the shock, time to grieve. I wired the sheriff in Idaho that I wasn’t going to ask you because it wouldn’t be fair. That you wouldn’t want to do it no matter what.”
Alice took a deep breath. “Right now I would do anything to catch my sister’s murderer.”
Rand stared at her, a proper, delicate-looking girl whose face was still white with shock. My God, a woman could be tougher than he’d ever imagined. Suddenly he didn’t want to go any further with this. She wasn’t ready. She might even get hurt.
Then she surprised him again. “What is ‘it’?” she asked.
Oh, hell, here it comes. She wouldn’t even speak to him after he’d asked what he’d come four hundred miles to ask, much less sit in a porch swing with him. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Marshal?” She looked up at him, and all at once he noticed how blue her eyes were, how downright pretty she was.
“Marshal, what is it you need me for? You might as well spit it out before I lose interest,” she said with a soft laugh.
He resumed his place on the swing beside her. “Okay, Alice, here it is. Silver City miners are suspicious of strangers and they’re tight-lipped about everything, especially a killing. But they might open up to a woman. Someone who could work undercover.”
“Work undercover as what?”
“We figure they wouldn’t be suspicious of a, well, of a saloon girl.”
He waited for her cry of outrage. It didn’t come. Instead, she sat motionless beside him, her eyes searching his face.
“A saloon girl,” she echoed. “Do I look like a saloon girl to you?”
“Definitely not,” he said quickly.
“A saloon girl who would wear a low-necked gown and fishnet stockings?”
“Yeah, I reckon so. I know it’s a real far-fetched idea. Pinkerton came up with it as a last-ditch—”
“I’ll do it,” she said calmly.
He almost choked. “What? Alice, are you serious?”
She bit her lip. “Believe me, I have never been more serious in my life.”
“Miss Montgomery... Alice, I have to warn you it could be dangerous. It’s a long, hard trip just getting to Silver City, and a mining camp is a really rough place for a...” He swallowed. “For a librarian.” Unbelievably, he heard himself trying to talk her out of it.
She said nothing, just looked at him with a tired smile.
“Alice, I...”
She pushed the swing into motion. “When do we leave?”
Rand could scarcely believe his ears. Never in a hundred years did he think a woman like Alice would agree to such a scheme. He guessed he had a lot to learn about librarians. “Tomorrow.”
“I have one question for you,” she said. “I won’t go alone. Will you be with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll be with you.”
“Do you promise?”
He blinked. “Well, sure, Alice. You can count on that.”
She nodded and pushed the swing again. “Then it’s settled. I will be ready in the morning.”
He managed not to let his mouth fall open. After a long minute he risked his final question. “Now I have something else to ask you.”
She sent him an expectant look and waited.
Rand watched her face and crossed his fingers.
“Can you sing?”
Rand spent a sleepless night at the Smoke River hotel, and after a breakfast of steak and eggs he made his way to the livery stable. He chose a gentle mare for Alice, certain that no librarian would be an experienced rider, and at eight o’clock he walked over to Alice’s boardinghouse and got an unexpected shock.
Alice was seated in the porch swing, waiting for him. “Good morning, Marshal,” she called.
He climbed the steps and stood before her. Once more he found himself surprised by Alice Montgomery. Not only was she obviously wide-awake, she was dressed in traveling clothes and a small tapestry bag sat at her feet.
“Before we leave, I must visit the dressmaker.”
“The dressmaker? Alice, I don’t think—”
She sent him a smile that dried up his words. Yesterday Sheriff Rivera said he thought highly of Miss Alice. Rand had figured it was a man’s admiration for a pretty girl, but now he was beginning to wonder.
“If I understand your need of me, Marshal, I will need a...how shall I put it...a ‘saloon girl’ outfit. Something sinfully silky with an extremely revealing neckline. And fishnet stockings.”
Rand bit back a laugh. This girl was no ordinary librarian. In fact, he was beginning to realize that Alice Montgomery was not ordinary in any way.
Sarah Rose stepped out onto the porch. “Marshal, have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rose.”
Alice stood up. “Mark has a dozen more questions for you, Marshal. While he keeps you busy with the answers, I am going to the dressmaker’s.”
“Come on in, Marshal Logan,” Sarah invited. “Mark can entertain you while he eats his breakfast.” She disappeared into the house.
At the doorway, Rand turned to watch Alice make her way down the porch steps and start up the shady, tree-lined street. She was wearing something he’d never seen before, a sort of cutoff skirt that was split up the middle. Blue denim, if he wasn’t mistaken, with what looked like one of young Mark’s red plaid shirts. And polished leather riding boots.
Inside the boardinghouse, he joined the residents in the dining room, and while they ate flapjacks and bacon he consumed two cups of Sarah’s excellent coffee. Mark peppered him with