CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two weeks later
M ASON WATCHED THE DAWNING SKY, HIS EARS KEEN FOR THE SOUND of an approaching plane. Since his encounter with Colucci, he’d received two shipments of Canadian whiskey, both of them delivered by a boyish, ginger-haired pilot flying a Jenny. Now it was time for a third.
He’d known better than to ask the young man about Ruby, although he probably knew her. Was she all right? Was she flying again? Would he see her this time?
But the answers to those questions were none of his business. He’d seen the glittering dress, read the possessive look in the mobster’s eyes, and faced the truth—if he wanted to do business with Colucci’s organization, Rule Number One would be hands off the boss’s woman.
His business was picking up, with supply and demand growing. New customers were either referred by Colucci or picked up by word of mouth and carefully vetted. He’d bought a used Oldsmobile, newer and more reliable than the aging Model T, with room under the seats for a hidden stash. He kept it out of sight and used it only for business, so it wouldn’t be connected with him at other times.
He had dealt twice with Webb Calder’s friend. The few words they’d exchanged hinted that he might be British. But the man remained a mystery. Satisfying as it might be to learn that Webb was involved in the illegal liquor trade, Mason knew that probing deeper could prove a risk to his own safety. There were no friends in this business, only contacts. And confidence was an invitation to betrayal.
The air was chilly. Mason thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. He could hear the rush of wind along the rocky escarpment that hid the cave. The morning birds were waking in the scrub to greet the dawn with their piping calls. But there was only one sound he wanted to hear.
As he was about to abandon hope for the day, he heard it—the sound of an engine, coming closer. But something was different. The drone of the Jenny had become so familiar that he could recognize the plane sight unseen. But this engine sounded different—smoother and more powerful.
Colucci had mentioned that Ruby would be flying a new plane after her recovery. Could she be on her way to him now? His pulse raced at the thought of seeing her again.
But this was business, Mason reminded himself. If the incoming pilot was Ruby, they would make contact, exchange payment, unload the crates, and say as little as possible. Then she would climb back into the plane and fly home. Home to her lover.
He hurried to light the fires he’d laid along the landing strip.
* * *
Piloting the De Havilland DH-4 was a dream. With the Rolls-Royce Eagle in-line engine humming in her ears and the controls responding to her slightest touch, Ruby could almost forget that she was flying a load of illegal cargo for unsavory clients in a dirty, dangerous business.
First designed in Britain for the war, the DH-4 was a wood-framed biplane like the Jenny. The prototype had been built as a light day bomber and reconnaissance craft with two seats—one with controls for the pilot and one for an observer, with mounts for a Vickers machine gun in front. In the refurbished peacetime model Ruby was flying, the front cockpit had been converted to a fortified cargo bay. Compared to the Jenny, it was faster, stronger, and more maneuverable, with longer range and higher altitude capabilities.
Ruby had never been told where the long-nosed plane had come from. It had been waiting one morning when she’d been driven in from town. For all she knew, it could’ve been stolen from the U.S. Mail and repainted. Maybe Al Capone had had a hand in procuring it. She only knew that flying it gave her confidence, as well as a sense of freedom she no longer felt on the ground.
At least there’d been no need to fend off Colucci since the crash. His wife had given birth to a baby boy. The proud father had gone home for the christening and the festivities to follow. He’d left a posted schedule for the pilots and ground crew and an armed assistant to see that everybody performed their duties. This morning it was Ruby’s turn to deliver a shipment to Mason Dollarhide.
On approach, Ruby’s nerves sent prickles down her back and along her arms. Mack had assured her that the airstrip had been smoothed and lengthened. He’d had no problem getting in and out in the Jenny. But it wasn’t the landing that triggered the quivering sensation below Ruby’s ribs. It was a memory—lying on her bed, drifting awake to the gentle contact of Mason’s lips on hers.
She had kept her eyes closed and willed herself not to move. But the response had shot through her body like summer lightning, setting off shimmers in the depths of her body.
When he moved away, she had drifted back into sleep. She’d awakened to find Colucci at the door and Mason behaving like a cold stranger.
When the plane touched down on the airstrip, which version of the man would be waiting for her?
But this was business and no time to be a romantic fool—especially when she could be called on to set him up and betray him to the feds.
She could see the bonfires that marked the landing strip. Even heavily loaded, the plane performed like a well-trained steed. Using the stick and rudder pedals, she made a perfect landing and taxied to a stop in front of the cave, where Mason stood waiting for her.
His expression was unreadable. He made no move toward her as she removed her goggles and helmet and climbed out of the cockpit. “I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Otherwise I wouldn’t be flying. Let’s get this business over with.” Walking over to him, she held out her hand for the payment envelope. His green eyes locked with hers as he slipped it out of his vest and placed it in her hands. She counted the bills, stowed them inside her flight jacket, and climbed back onto the wing, using a step below the exhaust pipe to reach the front cockpit.
* * *
Mason stood on the ground below, watching as she lifted out the first crate. She was strong, and she was doing a man’s work. She deserved better, he thought. He’d known other men like Leo Colucci. Back in the city, they had wives who bore their children and were treated with respect. Away from home, they had the women they used. Women like Ruby.
She passed the first crate down to him. He took it from her gloved hands, set it down a few feet from the plane, and reached up for the next one. For the first few minutes they worked in silence, Ruby avoiding eye contact. But as the tension grew, Mason could no longer hold back his words.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Ruby? I’ve been worried about you.”
“If you mean my head and my shoulder, they’re fine.” She lifted another crate from the plane and passed it down.
“That’s not what I mean. Is Colucci treating you okay?”
“I told you, he’s my boss. He tells me what to do, and I do it.” She hefted the last crate of whiskey, passed it down, and climbed off the wing, rubbing her shoulder. “What are you really asking, Mr. Dollarhide? Is there something else you want to know?”
Mason put the last crate on the stack with the others. As he turned back to face her, something worked its way loose in him, like the first break in a dam. The words spilled out before he could stop them.
“You’re better than this business, Ruby. And you’re a hundred times better than Colucci. A man like that will only ruin your life. Get away while you can, before the filthiness drags you under—like it already has me.”
She stared at him. “Is that what you think—that I’m sleeping with Colucci? If it is, you’re wrong. As I told you, he’s my boss. My work boss. That’s all.”
Was she telling the truth? Mason wanted to believe her. But why should it matter? Who was this woman to him?
“I saw the way he looked at you in that hotel room, Ruby,” he said. “It was like he owned you—or at least wanted to. And if you don’t leave while you can, he’ll take you—by any means necessary.”
She took a step toward him, her dark eyes burning their challenge into his. “What’s it to you? Why should you care what happens to me?”
In the heavy beat of silence that followed, Mason crossed the line that divided wisdom from desire. His hands caught her waist, pulling her against him. His mouth found hers in a crushing kiss. She resisted, but only for the briefest moment. Then her lips softened and parted. Her body responded, arms circling his neck, her curves molding to his hardened frame. Her breath came in gasps that were almost sobs. The taste of her, the womanly scent of her, like fresh earth, and the feel of her firm breasts against his chest, ignited a fire between them. He was crazy with wanting her, and he sensed that her hunger matched his own. But there was no place for the way he wanted to make love to her—not the thorny, rocky ground, not the cave—and the sun was coming up. They needed to get her plane back in the air and the contraband liquor out of sight.
It was for the best, Mason told himself as he eased her away from him. Her eyes were moist, her lips softly swollen from their kisses. Something in her look told him that this would have to be goodbye. Mason couldn’t argue with that. Seeing her again wouldn’t do her any favors. As men went, he wasn’t much better than Leo Colucci.
“I need to go,” she muttered.
“Yes, you do.” He fought the urge to pull her into his arms again. “No need for words. What happened . . . happened. But if you’re smart, you’ll get into that plane and fly away. Go to another town, another state, anywhere but back to this life and that man.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. There are things you don’t know. Obligations I have. My father—” She broke off, as if she’d been about to reveal too much.
“Your father is dead, Ruby. He would want you safe.”
“Yes. But that can’t be helped. Goodbye, Mason.”
She climbed into the cockpit and donned her helmet and goggles. Without being asked, Mason spun the propeller to spark the engine, then stepped back as she taxied the plane to the far end of the landing strip and turned it around.
As the sun rose above the mountains, the plane soared into the sky. Mason watched its flight until it vanished into the clouds. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine a different future—Ruby at his side, no bootlegging, no Colucci, no secrets, just a simple, happy life, raising a family on the ranch. But that would never happen. He had broken too many laws. So had Ruby. Sooner or later, there would be a price to pay. Maybe they were already paying it.
If there had ever been a chance for them, it had passed them by.
* * *
For Ruby, the delivery to Mason’s ranch had been the final run at the end of a grueling five days. Colucci would be returning next week. Meanwhile, she had earned some time off. As the driver let her off behind the Olive Hotel, she was already looking ahead to a room service meal, a hot bath, and a long night’s sleep. But first she needed to contact Agent Hargrave.
After climbing the back stairs to her room, she tossed her purse and her travel bag onto the bed. Had anyone seen her come in? Could one of the maids be watching for her, ready to report her movements to Colucci? She needed to make a phone call, and she didn’t want to do it from her own room.
Slipping out of the room again, she locked the door, pocketed the key, and walked to the far end of the hall. Most of the doors were closed, but a few vacant rooms had been left open for cleaning. After checking the corridor again, she stepped into the nearest one and picked up the receiver on the phone. The operator connected her with the number she requested.
The voice that answered after several rings was Hargrave’s.
“Is that you, Mrs. Weaver?” He never called her by her first name. “Are you on a safe phone line?”
“I’m in a vacant room of the hotel. It’s as safe as I’m going to find.”
“And you’ve made your deliveries on schedule?” He always asked her that question.
“Yes. The new plane—the DH-4—is wonderful.” She gave him a list of her customers by location, including Mason’s ranch, which was no secret. Hargrave had never told her what the agents did with the information she gave them. She was kept in the dark about their activities. It made sense that they didn’t trust her. Still, given the risks she took, she found it annoying that they didn’t keep her better informed.
That didn’t stop Ruby from wanting to know more. Today, with Colucci at a safe distance, she felt bold enough to speak up.
“How long do you expect me to keep working for you, with nothing to show for it? I don’t know if I’ve helped you at all. I don’t see anybody being arrested or any business being stopped because of what I’ve passed on.”
Hargrave sighed. “That’s because you don’t see the whole picture. We could keep shutting down those small operations forever. More would just take their place. But you’re giving us a pattern. We can use that pattern as evidence, to catch the man we call the Big Fish—the man running the whole illegal bootleg show in Montana.”
“But who is he? If it’s Leo Colucci, I can tell you everything you need to know. You can have him arrested when he steps off the train from Chicago.”
“Colucci’s small stuff. But he’s a link. We’re giving him plenty of line in the hope that he’ll lead us to the Big Fish.”
“What about Al Capone? Is he big enough?”
Hargrave’s laugh was humorless. “Capone’s out of our league. He’s got his fingers in more pies than you can imagine. So far, thanks to his lawyers, he’s been too smart to get nailed. But we’ve got our best agents on him in Chicago. The bastard will get what’s coming to him—it’s just a question of when.”
“I see.” Ruby took a deep breath. “One more question. What about my father? Is he all right? Will I get to see him, or even talk with him on the phone?”
“Not now. Any kind of communication with him would be too risky. But the warden reports he’s doing fine. His health is good. He gets along with the other prisoners. He’s even made a few friends.”
Friends . The word, which should have cheered her, struck Ruby with an unexplained chill.
“What friends?” she demanded. “I understood he wouldn’t be housed with other prisoners.”
“It’s nothing to be concerned about, Mrs. Weaver. Your father wouldn’t be happy sitting around alone, doing nothing. He’s been helping out in the prison library. The warden reports that he’s doing an excellent job.”
Ruby gulped back a sense of dread. Hargrave was right, she told herself. Her father had always loved books. Art would enjoy working in the library. And surely he would be safe there. All the same, something didn’t feel right.
“But how much longer will he have to stay in prison? I’ve done everything you asked of me. I can’t help it if you haven’t caught your so-called Big Fish.”
“Let me remind you of something, Mrs. Weaver. You and your father were both committing crimes when we caught him. We could’ve had you both tried and sentenced to long, hard prison terms. Instead, we gave you a chance to help us. And you have. But that doesn’t mean we owe you any favors. You’ve no right to demand anything from us. Overstep yourself, and your father will be on a chain gang tomorrow. Do you understand?”
“I—” Ruby broke off at the sound of a creaking laundry cart coming down the hall. “I’ve got to go!”
She hung up the receiver and replaced the phone on the bedside table. An instant later, the laundry cart came rumbling through the door, followed by the sour-looking maid—the one who always seemed to be watching her.
“This isn’t your room, missy,” she said. “What are you doing in here? Did you get lost?”
Ruby managed a nervous laugh. “No, sorry. I’ve locked myself out of my room and can’t find my key. I was just about to call the front desk and have a bellhop come to open the door. But now that you’re here, you can do it for me. I know you have a master key to all the rooms.”
The woman sighed. “All right. But don’t start thinking I’ve got time to be at your beck and call. I’ve got work to do.”
Ruby followed the maid back down the hall, chatting. “I’m so sorry. I left my purse on the bed when I went out. The key is probably in it. I won’t let this happen again.”
“The next time it does, you’re on your own.” She unlocked Ruby’s door. “There.”
“Wait.” Ruby rushed into the room and pulled a dollar bill out of her purse. “Here’s something for your trouble.”
The tip was more than generous enough for a few seconds of work. The woman frowned at the bill, tucked it into the neckline of her dress and, without another word, walked back to the room where she’d left her laundry cart.
After locking the door behind her, Ruby sank onto the edge of the bed. Given the woman’s behavior—always lurking nearby— she had to be working for Colucci. What if she’d been just outside, listening to the phone conversation, then going back to get the cart and make her entrance? What if she’d heard everything, knew everything, and was waiting to tell Colucci?
Ruby’s instincts screamed at her to run—grab a few essentials and catch the next train, any train that would get her out of Miles City. But if she were to flee, what would happen to her father? Art had protected her all her life. Now it was up to her to protect him.
Maybe she would be all right. Maybe the maid hadn’t overheard her phone call. But she couldn’t assume she was safe. There was always a chance that Colucci would find out she was working for the feds. If he confronted her, she could only brazen it out, deny everything.
And if he ordered her killed . . . what then?
As she shifted her weight to stand, her foot brushed the dress box she’d shoved partway under the bed. The box was a constant reminder of dressing up for Leo Colucci, his hands touching her, his eyes devouring her. All she’d wanted was to get it out of sight.
Even now, she battled the urge to take the box down to the alley and dump it in the trash. Or donate it to the brothel at the far end of the alley. Some poor girl would put its contents to good use. But the awful truth Ruby faced now would be that she might need the clothes herself, to buy mercy from the man who controlled her life.
Early that morning, she had stolen a moment in Mason’s arms. When he’d kissed her, sensations she’d buried since the war, and her husband’s tragic return, had surged through her body. For those few, precious seconds, she’d felt like a whole woman. She’d almost felt hope.
But she couldn’t go back to Mason. Not now, not ever. Tell him the truth, and he would despise her for it. Keep the truth from him, and the danger could get him killed or arrested.
Her father was out of reach. She had no close friends. Whatever was to come, she would have to face it alone.
* * *
Mounted on his bay horse, Joseph led the way along the canyon trail. Lucy followed on the roan she’d borrowed from the Calder stables. Arranging to meet hadn’t been easy. Joseph had been busy on the fall roundup; and Nigel Merryweather usually kept his daughter under close watch.
But young love would find a way. The two had managed to leave a few notes in the old, dead tree that stood at a backroad crossing. They’d even managed to see each other briefly in town. Today, however, was a gift. Nigel was meeting with some contractors, and Joseph’s father had gone to Miles City to deposit the bank draft for the cattle he’d sold. Joseph and Lucy had a few precious hours to spend together.
“Where are you taking me?” Her laughter rang out as they wound their way along the trail. It was a beautiful day. Under a crystalline sky, the foothills were ablaze with the scarlet hues of oak and maple. Higher up on the slopes, stands of aspen had turned to patches of brilliant gold.
Joseph looked back over his shoulder, relishing the sight of her in her yellow dress, the skirt rucked to the knees to accommodate the western saddle. He ached with wanting her. But Lucy wasn’t like Annabeth. She was a lady. And going beyond a few kisses would be a serious mistake.
“Joseph, where are you taking me?” she demanded again.
“It’s a surprise. Wait and see.” He’d never taken Annabeth to the spot in the hills where a trickling spring formed a charming pool amid the rocks, framed by ferns and mosses. Now he was glad he’d saved it for Lucy.
Years ago, the summer he was fourteen, he’d come here sometimes with his three friends to relax on the rocks and swim in the chilly water. But the four boys had gone their separate ways after that awful night when they guided bootleg smugglers to the Hollister Ranch. The feds had moved in with guns. Chase Calder had been hit and almost died trying to warn his friends. Culley O’Rourke, whose father had betrayed them for the reward, had failed to show up. Buck Haskell had turned tail. And Joseph had been saved by Logan Hunter, who would later marry his aunt. The blame for the whole mess fell squarely at the feet of Mason Dollarhide.
But all that had happened five years ago. By now, other, younger, boys must have taken over the pond. But today those boys would be in school. Joseph and Lucy would have the place to themselves.
“Oh, this is lovely!” Lucy exclaimed as Joseph swung her down from the horse. “And so romantic, like a scene from a fairy tale.”
“And you’re my fairy queen!” As her slippers touched the ground, Joseph gathered her into his arms. His kiss was long and deep, her innocent response igniting a firestorm in the depths of his body. He drew back, aware that his hardness against her might feel frightening. She was childlike in many ways—but all woman in her passion. It would take every ounce of his willpower to keep himself under control.
“Let’s go sit on that flat rock, next to the pond. We can talk there.”
Her laugh sounded slightly nervous. “Good. I was afraid you’d want to go swimming.”
“Not in that water. It’s ice-cold.” Joseph brushed off the surface of the rock before she sat down. “I’d hoped to bring some food for a picnic, but it was all I could do to get away without being caught by my sisters. They’re little tattletales.”
“You’re lucky to have sisters, Joseph.” She tossed a pebble into the water and watched the ring of ripples fade away. “Being an only child is dismal, especially since my mother died. I’m all my father has, and he rarely lets me out of his sight. You’ve seen that for yourself.”
Joseph reached for her hand, cradling her soft, white fingers in his. “I love you, Lucy.” He had never spoken those words to any girl, not even to Annabeth.
She seemed to hesitate. His heart dropped. “I love you, too, Joseph,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean things are going to be easy for us.”
“Your father—”
“Yes, my father. He brought me here for a reason—hopefully to wed Chase Calder.”
That was no surprise. Joseph couldn’t blame Nigel for wanting to marry his daughter into a wealthy family. But he didn’t have to like it. “Chase already has a girlfriend,” he said.
“I know. My father found out about her. He says she’s dirt-poor, the daughter of a cattle thief, with no education. Not a suitable match at all.”
“Do you love Chase?”
“Of course not. You know who I love. But my father says that doesn’t matter. According to him, love can be learned.”
Joseph swallowed his disappointment. There was still hope for him. “What if Chase doesn’t want to marry you?”
She stared down at the water, avoiding his eyes. “Then I’ll be expected to win his father.”
Her words struck Joseph like a punch to the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. “But that’s crazy,” he said. “Webb is old enough to be your father, maybe even your grandfather. Is that how they do things in England?”
“England?” She stared at him. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t that where you and your father came from?”
She shook her beautiful head. “Our blood may be English, but my father was born in New York City—in a one-room flat over a butcher shop. The man you’ve met, Nigel Merryweather . . .” Lucy took a deep breath. “That’s the persona he created for himself. He has a talent for that sort of thing, and he’s put it to good use.”
Joseph struggled to mask his shocked expression. So the man who called himself Nigel Merryweather was nothing but a con artist. Lucy had just given him a powerful, and dangerous, piece of information. But why?
“What about you?” he asked. “Are you really his daughter?”
“Yes. He and my mother were never wed, but he took me in when she died and raised me to be a proper lady. I owe him for that, as he often reminds me.”
Joseph checked the impulse to put his arms around her. He sensed that she was asking for comfort. But her revelation had come as a shock. He needed to know more.
“So, does your father really know how to build an airfield?”
“Only what he’s read. But he can be very convincing. The airfield will be built, but for a lot less than Webb Calder will be paying. My father is passing himself off as a rich engineer with an estate in Canada. He’s been proving it with the Canadian liquor he brings in as a gift for Webb. I have no idea where the liquor is coming from, but he’s also been selling enough to provide us with spending money.”
Joseph had an idea where the bootleg liquor might be coming from. But that wasn’t his problem now. He took a deep breath and asked the most puzzling question of all. “Lucy, this is dangerous information. It could get you and your father in a lot of trouble. Why are you telling me?”
She turned toward him. “Because I trust you. I know you love me, and I’ve nowhere else to turn.”
He seized her hand. “You know I’d do anything for you. What do you need? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Not the kind you might think. I haven’t done anything wrong. But there’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Tell me, Lucy. You can tell me anything.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s . . . Webb. The other night he came into my room. He kissed me, and . . . put his hands on me. When I threatened to scream, he backed off. But he was laughing. He said he’d be back—and something about making it worth my time.” She was trembling, on the verge of breaking down in sobs.
Joseph’s grip tightened on her hand. He’d known the Calders all his life. Never had he imagined that Webb would take advantage of a young girl. But then he remembered Webb’s past—his illicit courtship of a young immigrant wife. Now Chase had made a move on young Maggie O’Rourke, who was barely out of her childhood. Maybe the trait was passed down from father to son. Or more likely, it was the Calder arrogance, the belief that they could take whatever they wanted.
“Who knows about this, Lucy?” he demanded. “Have you told your father?”
“I did. He was actually pleased. He said that Webb’s attention could work in our favor, especially if I let him get me . . . with child.” It was as if she could barely speak the words. “I can’t stay there, Joseph. I’ve got to get away.”
I could marry you, Lucy.
The words were poised on the tip of Joseph’s tongue, but caution and common sense held them back. He was too young to wed. And what about his dream of becoming a pilot? Marriage would mean the end of his freedom. He’d be stuck on the ranch, caring for his family. There had to be another way to help her.
“Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked.
“I’ve got an aunt in Texas. If I could get there, she’d take me in and help me find work. But it’s a long way, and train fare is expensive. My father doesn’t give me any money—I think he knows I might try to run away. It’s not that he cares about me. He worships the wealth the Calders have—and he’s capable of using me to get a piece of it.”
“My family isn’t poor,” Joseph said. “Between the ranch and the sawmill, we Dollarhides probably have more cash in the bank than Webb does. Of course, it isn’t my money. My father controls it, and he hangs onto every cent.”
“Heavens, Joseph, I would never ask you for money,” Lucy said. “But if you insist on helping me, I promise to pay you back as soon as I get work. I’ll send you money every month until the loan is paid off—with interest of course.”
“Don’t worry about interest. How could I leave you at the mercy of men like your father and Webb Calder?”
“The Harvest Dance is this Saturday. If you can get me the money by then, I can leave that night.” She lowered her gaze. “Of course, you can always say no. This is my problem, not yours, Joseph.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I love you, Lucy. If I were older, I’d ask you to marry me. But that will have to wait.” He drew her into his arms. “Will you wait for me?”
“Of course, I will! And I’ll write every week.” She raised her eager face for his kiss. Joseph’s heart drummed with a fragile happiness. But even as he lowered his lips to hers, one thought nagged at him, refusing to be still.
What if he’d talked his way into a promise he couldn’t keep?