Chapter 12 #2
Robert looked up from the list. “I guess the question is, should we visit them all in person? Or start with letters?”
Enoch frowned. “Letters first, I think. They’ll reach the men before we could visit in person, and that way they’ll have time to research our family if they wish.”
Thomas shifted closer to the paper, squinting at the script. “How many judges does he list?”
“Three territorial judges and four solicitors with experience in contract law.” James folded the telegram carefully. “Father says Judge Harrison in Helena has handled several cases involving unconscionable contracts, and he knows the solicitors in Fort Benton and Bannock personally.”
Rose’s heart hammered against her ribs. These men, these Balfour brothers who had once been her dearest friends, were marshaling resources she couldn’t have imagined to help her.
The scope of their father’s connections, the weight of influence they could bring to bear on her behalf—it felt almost too much to believe.
But would they still help her if they knew what Vincent had done, what her mother had done? Surely they would listen, would understand. James had said she’d been a child.
And she had been, but that didn’t always seem to matter. Like mother, like daughter, Vincent had said. As if sensing her fears, James squeezed her elbow and smiled.
“It would be helpful to have a copy of the contract though.” Robert tapped his finger against his chin. “Even the best legal minds will need to see the actual document to build a proper case.”
That familiar knot twisted in her middle. “Vincent keeps all the papers in his office at Murphy’s.”
Thomas looked up from studying the list. “Where exactly is this office? What part of the building?”
“Behind the main saloon.” Down the long hallway she’d had to traverse to reach the stairs to her own chamber.
“Is it locked?” Thomas pressed. “The office, I mean.”
She studied him. “He always kept it locked.” Surely Thomas wasn’t actually planning to sneak in to retrieve the contract.
Silence fell over the room, and something shifted in the air. Thomas glanced at his brothers, then back at her with an expression that seemed almost…calculating.
“Thomas.” James’s voice carried a warning note that made Rose’s skin prickle.
But Thomas ignored his brother, leaning forward with a new intensity. “Rose, tell me more about the layout. How do you get to Vincent’s office from the main entrance? And who all has keys?”
That twist in her middle turned a little tighter.
“Vincent has the only key I know of.” Should she allow Thomas to attempt this madness?
It was dangerous, but if he was discovered, would Vincent realize Thomas’s connection to her?
She forced herself to focus on a thorough answer to his question.
“I suppose Murphy might have one too, since it’s his building. ”
“What about windows? Any way to get in from outside?”
“Thomas.” This time James’s warning carried real steel.
But Rose found herself answering anyway, drawn in by something in Thomas’s manner that made it impossible not to go along with him.
At least to give him the information he asked for.
“The only windows facing the back of the building are on the second floor. No windows on either side of the building. On the front, there’s just those at the saloon. ”
Thomas straightened, and something hardened in his expression—a determination that reminded her of Enoch when he’d made up his mind about something.
“I’ll go,” Thomas said simply. “I’ll get your copy of the contract.”
Rose’s breath stalled. The casual way he said it, as though he were volunteering to fetch supplies from town rather than break into Vincent’s locked office, made her chest clench.
“Absolutely not.” James stepped forward, his voice sharp. “Thomas, that’s—”
“Necessary.” Thomas cut him off with a look that brooked no argument. “Rose needs that contract to prove what Vincent did to her. We all know it. And I’m the logical choice to go—I’m the only one of us who knows how to get in and out of places quietly. And I can talk my way through anything.”
“That’s the truth.” Robert’s mumble did nothing to quell the panic rising in her chest.
She sucked in a breath, then forced herself to push it out slowly. “Vincent isn’t just dangerous—he’s ruthless. If he catches you, if he finds out where I am…” She couldn’t finish the thought. The image of Thomas trapped in that smoky back room, facing Vincent’s cold fury, made her feel sick.
But Thomas’s expression remained steady, almost gentle. “Vincent doesn’t know me from any other miner in the territory. If he did catch me, he’d just think I was a drifter looking for something to steal. He has no reason to connect me to you.”
She clenched her skirts as she stared at him. The easy confidence in his voice only made her worry more.
Then his mouth tipped on one side, his eyes taking on that mischievous glint she was becoming familiar with. “Rose, I’ve been in and out of places I wasn’t supposed to be since I could walk. This is just another locked door.”
Robert frowned. “It’s awfully risky. You could get caught.”
Thomas flashed another grin. “You know me, brother. I never get caught. Besides, I can mail the letters to those judges and solicitors while I’m out. Maybe even hand-deliver a couple.”
She stared at Thomas, her chest tightening with each word he spoke.
The fire popped in the hearth behind him, but the sound seemed muted beneath the roar of her own pulse in her ears.
He made it sound so simple, so reasonable—as though Vincent were just another obstacle to overcome rather than the calculating predator who had owned her life for five years.
“Thomas, you don’t know him.” The words scraped against her throat. “Vincent isn’t like other men. He’s…he watches everything. Studies people. He has ways of making you tell him things you never meant to say.”
The memory of his pale eyes surfaced unbidden—the way he could look at a person and peel back every layer of pretense until nothing remained but naked truth. How many times had she watched him break down a man’s defenses with nothing more than patient questions and that terrible, knowing smile?
Thomas’s expression gentled, and he took a step closer.
“Rose, I understand you’re scared. But Vincent’s never met me.
At least, not since I was a tot. He has no reason to suspect I’m anything more than another drifter looking for easy money.
Men like that—they expect petty theft. They don’t expect someone with actual skill. ”
She forced herself to take in a breath. Maybe he was right.
A hand rested on her lower back. Gentle. Reassuring.
James.
The warmth of his palm spread through the fabric of her dress, but it couldn’t quite calm the wild flutter of panic in her chest.
She looked up into Thomas’s face, searching for any sign of the recklessness she feared. But beneath the easy smile lay something more serious—a careful intelligence that reminded her of his older brothers.
James’s hand pressed more firmly against her back. “If Thomas is determined to do this, then we need to plan it properly. No rushing in without thinking it through.”
She let her breath out, and the weight on her chest eased a little. She would have to trust him. And tell him everything she could think of that might help.
“I need to tell you about the layout. And about Murphy—he’s the one who owns the saloon. He’s not like Vincent, but he’s loyal to him. Vincent pays him well for my performances, and Murphy doesn’t ask questions about things that aren’t his business.”
Thomas nodded, his expression growing more serious as he listened. “What time does the saloon close?”
“Around two in the morning usually. Sometimes later if there’s a big poker game.
” She closed her eyes, picturing the familiar routine that had governed her life so many years.
“Murphy always does a final walk-through before he locks up—checks the main room, counts the till, makes sure all the lamps are out.”
“And Vincent’s office?”
“It’s down a hallway that runs behind the main bar. Before the back staircase at the end of the hall.”
Thomas nodded, his expression intent. “So the office is between the main saloon and the back stairs?”
“Yes. About halfway down the hall.”
She could almost see him mapping it out in his mind. “What about the lock?”
“Heavy brass. Vincent always made a show of using it, even when he was just stepping out for a moment.” The memory of that metallic click made her stomach clench. “He keeps the key on a chain in his vest pocket.”
Thomas spewed question after question at her, and she did her best to answer them all.
His methodical interrogation reminded her of Robert’s legal mind, but with an edge of excitement that was purely Thomas’s own.
By the time he seemed satisfied, her entire body ached from reliving her life in that place.
“All right.” He straightened, that familiar glint of mischief now tempered with something more serious.
“I’ll leave at first light, get to Virginia City by Monday afternoon.
That gives me time to scout the place before the saloon gets busy.
I’ll decide whether it’s best to sneak in while a lot of people are there, or wait till after they close. ”
The knot in her stomach tightened again. Even with all their planning, the thought of Thomas walking into Vincent’s territory made bile churn in her middle. She’d seen what Vincent did to people who crossed him—the quiet threats, the way problems simply disappeared.
As though he could sense this new wave of distress, James’s hand moved against her back, a gentle reminder of his presence. “Thomas knows what he’s doing,” he said quietly, though she could hear the worry he was trying to hide. “And if anyone can talk his way out of trouble, it’s him.”
Robert cleared his throat. “If you plan to take the letters, I guess we’d better start writing them.”
While the others worked out the wording, Rose let her gaze drift out the window. This attempt felt too big. Too impossible without Someone more powerful overseeing every step. She hadn’t prayed in years, not really. But maybe…
Before shame could stop her, she shaped a quiet plea. Lord…if You’re as near as they seem to believe, keep Thomas unseen. Keep him safe.
The words felt strange, like wearing a dress that wasn’t hers. And she didn’t expect an answer.
Still, the asking eased something tight inside her.