Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alexandra’s hands shook as she held the reins. She took a deep, steadying breath and hoped that Bluebelle didn’t notice. Most of the vehicles had burned along with the barn, so Antony’s mare was hitched to an old governess cart that had been parked out behind it.
The road to town stretched out in front of Alexandra, quiet under the late morning sun.
The landscape was mostly barren on either side, filled only with low grass and scrub, which was the only thing that kept Alexandra from going to pieces.
She’d boldly taken on this part of the plan, refusing to let on how afraid she was; now that she was alone, however, it was a different story.
Aidan had wanted to come. She had been the one to talk him out of it.
She was still sure she’d been right—a man buying shovels a week after his barn burned looks like a man with a plan, and a woman buying shovels while she talks too much looks like a woman who can’t keep a secret.
The bait only worked if she was alone and cheerful and careless.
Knowing it did nothing whatever for her hands.
“It’ll be fine,” she said aloud. Bluebelle flicked her gray ears back toward Alexandra. “We’re just taking a quick jaunt into town, that’s all.”
Bluebelle didn’t say anything, just kept up her jaunty trot. Alexandra envied her ignorance.
As they made their way down the road, Alexandra rehearsed her lines. She’d never been one for public performing, and the whole idea had her innards twisted up. Still, she knew it was their last chance. They needed specific bait to catch this particular monster.
The packed dirt road turned to the main street of Virginia City, or “the Main Drag,” as it was affectionately known.
Storefronts loomed tall on either side, and though they blocked her view, Alexandra found them comforting in a way, as they reminded her of Philadelphia.
She took her time navigating to the largest general store; she needed to be seen.
She pulled up in front of the store, making a show of fussing about as she exited the cart and hitched Bluebelle to one of the posts out front. She smiled and nodded to a few people as they passed, who gave her quizzical looks.
As she pushed open the door to the general store, all conversation died down. Her cheeks warmed, but she tamped down the embarrassment. Tossing her head proudly, she swept up to the counter with as grand an air as she could muster.
“Mrs. Rawlins,” the shopkeeper said, his brows halfway up his shiny, bald head. “I didn’t expect to see you in here. We were all aggrieved to hear of your recent… tragedy.”
Don’t pretend like it’s not your fault, every one of you, she longed to say. You all let this happen—you stood by and did nothing.
Instead, she smiled, putting on the guise of a breezy, charming wife in town to run a few errands. “Oh, that,” she said, with a flippant wave of her hand. “Truthfully, it saved us a lot of time and trouble. We’re on to bigger and better things.”
“As you say, Mrs. Rawlins,” the shopkeeper said, though his tone was dubious.
Alexandra didn’t turn, but she could feel the other customers, the ladies of the town largely, shifting closer, their curiosity piqued. Alexandra put a gloved finger to her lips, tapping thoughtfully.
“Now, I understand you’re the man to see about shovels and picks,” Alexandra said. There was a veritable forest’s worth of them in barrels behind the counter.
“Shovels?” the shopkeeper said. “You all breaking ground out there?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Alexandra said, deliberately vague.
“My dear Mrs. Rawlins,” a woman with graying hair said, sidling up to Alexandra. She bobbed a hasty curtsy, which Alexandra returned. “Don’t tell me that your dear husband has given up his horses—why, I never would have thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, no,” Alexandra said, flashing her what she hoped was a dazzling smile. Alexandra couldn’t quite place the woman, but knew that she’d been at the ranch the day of the fundraiser. “We’ve just realized an… untapped source of income, you might say.”
The woman leaned closer, so close that Alexandra could smell the powder she used on her face. She wore a great string of pearls around her neck, even though it was daytime. Alexandra was half-surprised the woman didn’t lick her lips at the hint of gossip.
“Don’t tell me that Mr. Rawlins is going to become a miner,” the woman said, clearly probing. “It’s such a hard life, ruins the back, you know.”
Alexandra laughed airily. “Oh, no, not a miner, exactly,” she said. She lowered her own voice. “Let’s just say that his brother didn’t spend all of his time up in those hills for nothing.”
“You don’t mean—” the woman said, putting a gloved hand to her mouth.
“Shh,” Alexandra said, darting her eyes around. “We don’t want everyone to know just yet.”
The shopkeeper, who had his head down and was scribbling in his ledger, sent his brows so far up his forehead that Alexandra wondered if he’d ever get them back down again.
“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman said, patting Alexandra’s hand. “You can trust me—I’m the soul of discretion.”
“Just so,” Alexandra agreed. She turned back to the shopkeeper, lifting her bag, which jingled conspicuously. “How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Rawlins,” the shopkeeper said. “I’ll just add them to your tab. We’ll settle up at a… more convenient time. Might I interest you in some of our fine lace? We’ve just had it in from—”
“How kind,” Alexandra said, “but no. I imagine we’ll be going farther afield for our laces soon enough.” She dipped her head at the woman, and swanned out to the cart.
The shopkeeper awkwardly carried out a pair of shovels and a pick, laying them carefully in the cart. She gave him a cheeky little wave as she climbed up onto the seat. She tapped Bluebelle with her driving whip, setting the mare off at a brisk trot.
Alexandra kept her expression carefully placid as she made her way out of town. It wasn’t until the last of the buildings was behind her that she exhaled, sagging a little against her corset. Her teeth clattered together.
“Well, that’s that,” Alexandra said to Bluebelle. “Let’s just hope the bait is good enough.”
***
“And you’re sure they both heard you?” Aidan asked.
“Positive,” Alexandra said. “I think there were others that overheard, but I can’t guarantee that. The shopkeeper and Mrs.… Dawlins? I can’t remember her name for the life of me, but she was there, just like you said she would be.”
“Good,” Aidan said. He lifted a shovel out of the cart with one hand, wincing. “I’d wager the whole town will know before dusk.”
Alexandra fidgeted with her leather gloves. “You think this will work?”
“I know it will.” Aidan set the shovel down.
“When Brendan vanished, somebody went through that house. Drawers pulled out, the ticking cut open, floorboards up in the back bedroom. I told myself at the time it was somebody chancing their arm on an empty place.” He looked over at the black ruin where the big house had stood.
“It wasn’t. Black’s been sure my brother had something hid since the day he didn’t come home.
All I’ve done is tell him he was right.”
Alexandra was quiet a moment. “Then the bait isn’t bait at all,” she said. “It’s the answer he’s been waiting all summer to get.”
“Let me go get changed, and then I’ll give you a hand.”
“Hold on,” Aidan said, leaning the shovel against a section of fence still standing. He took Alexandra by the hand and swung her arm. “Let me get a good look at you,” he said, grinning. “I don’t get to see you all gussied up very often.”
Alexandra blushed fiercely, but laughed.
She allowed him to twirl her about. She was wearing one of the good dresses she’d brought with her—mercifully, a trunk had come out of the fire relatively unscathed, sheltered in part by the cold larder.
It was a royal purple day dress, black lace at the collar and cuffs, the front swagged and the fabric drawn back for volume.
“This is a fine color on you,” Aidan said. “I hope we have occasion to dance again.”
“We will,” Alexandra said, ducking under his arm. She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “But now, let me get changed so I can help you.”
“Yes’m,” Aidan said, releasing her.
Still wearing a foolish, lovestruck grin, Alexandra practically floated into the cabin.
There wasn’t much space, so she and Aidan were ostensibly sharing a room, though she’d been sleeping in a chair to spare his injuries.
She quickly set about shucking herself out of her dress.
She rummaged around for something appropriate for physical labor.
Her favorite work dress had burned to a crisp somewhere in the ashes of the house.
She stood there in her chemise and corset with her hands on her hips.
There was a checked skirt that had once been Lisa’s, too long for her, and she pulled it on anyway and hiked it up as high as it would go.
That left the problem of a top; every bodice she owned was boned and stiffened, hardly conducive to an afternoon of digging holes.
Her gaze slid to the closet of Aidan’s clothing that he’d left when he’d moved into the big house.
A shirt with a closed, bibbed front lay folded neatly on one of the shelves.
Alexandra pulled it out and put it over her head, swimming in it.
Quickly, she rolled the sleeves up and tucked it into her skirt, the tails falling nearly to her knees.
She topped the outfit off with a leather belt.
She was ready to leave the room when she saw her aunt’s gun lying on the side table next to the bed. She hesitated, then quickly put it in the deep pocket of her skirt before heading back outside.