Epilogue
Two weeks later
San Antonio looked a lot better this time. Thomas looked down the street at where the saloon and tobacconist building had been. All that remained of them was two stumpy piles of blackened and burned material, but men were starting to clear it away.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Clary asked. She eyed Mr. Rossi skeptically.
He smiled at her.
“We’ll be fine,” Thomas said. “Won’t we, Mr. Rossi?”
“Of course,” Mr. Rossi said. “I must make my report as usual, or there will be trouble.”
Thomas nodded. “See, it’ll be fine. You and Evelyn can head over to the haberdashery, and we’ll meet you at the coffeehouse.”
Clary kissed his cheek. “See you soon.”
Thomas watched Clary and Evelyn walk down the street arm in arm, already deep in conversation. He was glad the sisters had reconciled and were now working together, running a very successful stagecoach business.
“They’re quite something, aren’t they?” Mark asked as he and Mr. Rossi set off for the post office.
Thomas took one last look after Clary and then followed them. “That’s for sure.”
“I’ve been writing to a woman too,” Mark said with a faint red tinge to his cheeks.
“Oh, that’s great,” Thomas exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s about time you found yourself your own Clary!”
“So, placing an advertisement works?” Mr. Rossi asked. “Women respond?”
“They do,” Mark said with a nod and a sheepish smile.
“Maybe I can try,” Mr. Rossi said.
Since the little man might still end up in jail for his part in everything, Thomas wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
“Maybe we should get this all sorted out first,” Thomas said.
He had insisted that Mr. Rossi wear work trousers and a flannel shirt to try to disguise him in case El Aguila had someone watching them in San Antonio.
Thomas hoped that with a large, wide-brimmed hat on his head for good measure, no one would ever know it was Mr. Rossi.
The bureaucrat was visibly uncomfortable out of his suit, but he had insisted on coming to the post office himself. He was expecting his lawyer to write to him, and he wanted to make sure that no one was going to tamper with his letter. He had said as much in his fight to be allowed to come.
So, while Clary and Evelyn were picking out fabric to make her wedding dress, Thomas was babysitting the spy who had caused so much trouble in the last few months.
Since being caught and hearing that his mother was being looked after in a new facility, free of El Aguila’s men, Mr. Rossi was a new man.
He had even admitted that he knew where there was evidence stashed of El Aguila’s crimes and was willing to negotiate a deal.
That was why he was expecting some kind of correspondence from his lawyer, who was in New York and hopefully on his way out to Texas.
That was what it had come down to. A negotiation between Mr. Wilkinson—Mildred and Anders’s attorney—and Mr. Rossi’s legal counsel.
Reaching the post office, Mark opened the door, and they stepped inside. It was quiet. There were three people other than the teller and them.
Two were in the line for the teller, and one was writing out a message at the counter. Thomas inspected the man at the counter. He didn’t look familiar and paid them no attention at all. The other two in the line didn’t seem terribly interested in them either.
He relaxed as they joined the line.
“So, how does it work?” Mr. Rossi asked.
“What?” Mark asked.
“The writing to women thing,” Mr. Rossi said. “You know, where you put an advertisement in the paper.”
“Oh, well, it’s just like that,” Mark said. “You place the advertisement and then wait. When someone writes to you, you can choose to write back or not.”
“What do you say in the advertisement?” Mr. Rossi asked.
Mark shrugged. “What you’re looking for. And you include a bit about yourself so the ladies know whether or not they’d be a good fit.”
They reached the front of the line. The teller knew them well and handed over a pile of letters without much preamble.
Thomas rifled through them and found a thick envelope for Mr. Rossi. He handed it over. Then, finding one for Mark, he handed that to him. The rest was for other folks in Unity, and Thomas put the letters in his satchel.
They moved to the counter, where Mark and Mr. Rossi opened their letters.
“Oh my!” Mark exclaimed. “Heather’s already on her way. There was a problem back home and?—”
“Ah, he’s coming too,” Mr. Rossi interrupted happily. “He’s got a new contract for me to sign.” He smiled and put the letter in his pocket.
“Okay, we should go,” Thomas said. There were more people coming into the post office.
They stepped outside and began to walk to the coffee shop. The sidewalks were busy, and Thomas was uneasy. Sure, they had disguised Mr. Rossi, but he was still quite distinctive. They needed to get him back to the Lucky Bull, where they had left the coach.
Suddenly, the doors to a building behind them opened, and a whole host of men came flooding out onto the street. They streamed around the three men from Unity, moving quickly past them as though on some kind of journey that only they knew about.
And then they disappeared, walking down the street and around the corner.
“That was odd,” Thomas began.
Mr. Rossi was pale and clammy. He turned scared brown eyes on Thomas and sank to his knees.
“Thomas!” Mark said in a worried tone. “Thomas, he’s bleeding!”
Thomas stared as Mr. Rossi toppled to the ground.
“Help!” Thomas yelled. “Help! Someone help us!”
This was terrible. If Mr. Rossi died, they would never know where all the evidence against El Aguila was hidden.
He had to survive. Swiftly after that thought came a great deal of guilt because Mr. Rossi was, after all, a human being, and his life was worth more than just the information he could provide.
But it seemed he had been stabbed, and he was bleeding badly.
Thomas said a prayer as people arrived with a stretcher and carried Mr. Rossi off.
“How is he?” Thomas asked.
Diane and Julie exchanged looks.
“It’s touch and go,” Julie said.
“We’ve done what we can,” Diane said. “It was good you got him to the San Antonio apothecary when you did, but the damage to his spine is bad. We won’t know how bad until he wakes up.”
“If he wakes up,” Julie said soberly.
Thomas turned away from them to find Clary standing there. She took his hands in hers. It was always such a comfort to have her near.
“He might not make it,” Thomas said. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”
It was three days since the ill-fated trip to the post office in San Antonio, and only a few hours since he, Mark, Evelyn, and Clary had brought the former spy back to Unity. The drive had been long and hard, with them trying not to jiggle the badly injured man around too much.
“It’s not your fault,” Clary insisted.
“But—”
“No. We were all there. We went with you,” Clary said. “We were all responsible for him. At least he’s here now. I think Diane and Julie are more skilled than any other medical professionals who attended to him in town. Anyway, it’s clear that San Antonio isn’t safe.”
“You’re right,” Thomas said.
They walked out into the sweltering heat. Clary sighed as she took his arm, and they started down the street.
“I have this feeling that things are about to start getting a lot better,” Clary said as they walked along the street. “The birds are singing; there are even a few clouds in the sky. We might get some rain later. What a wonderful day it is.”
“Ah, Clary, you’re always such a ray of sunshine. You’re like a sunflower, following the light.” He kissed the top of her head.
She smiled. “Exactly, so smile.”
He did, but it was halfhearted. As much as he loved Clary and was excited about their life together, his gut was telling him that things would get a lot worse before they began to get better.
However, since the dark cloud he felt approaching hadn’t arrived just yet, he smiled, held onto the woman he loved, and walked down the road in the summer sunshine.
Thank you so much for reading our book. We sincerely hope you enjoyed every bit reading it. We had fun creating it and will surely create more.