29

Brett took in the scene before him and holstered his Colt. “It’s just me,” he said, relief washing over him. “You can put that thing away.”

Kate dropped the gun to her side. Rounded eyes stared at him from a pale face. “Oh, Brett, thank God you’re here!”

Only sheer willpower prevented him from taking her in his arms and holding her close.

Instead, he extended a steadying hand to Kate’s aunt, who looked about to faint.

With a grateful smile, she slumped against the counter. “I never thought I’d say this, cowboy, but am I ever glad to see you.”

Ringo barked and wagged his tail. “Sit!” Kate said, and the dog sat, his tail thumping against the wood floor.

“It looks like you have everything under control,” Brett said, still fighting the urge to take Kate in his arms. She sure did look like she could use some comforting. Instead, he took the gun out of her trembling hand and set it on the counter. “You okay?”

She nodded, her lips curving upward. “I am now.”

The look on her face made his knees feel weak, and he immediately drew his gaze away. Reminding himself that he was there in an official capacity, he focused on Lucky Lou’s prone body. “What happened?”

“Kate bashed him over the head,” Aunt Letty said.

Not sure he could believe what he was seeing, Brett dropped on his haunches for a closer look. Narrowing his eyes, he probed the man’s arms and legs with a finger. “Is that…taffy?”

“Yep,” Aunt Letty said proudly. “Made fresh tonight.”

“It was the closest thing we had to a rope,” Kate explained.

Brett lifted his gaze to hers. “How did you know… I mean…why did you knock him out?”

Both Kate and her aunt started talking at once. Unable to make hide or hair of what they were saying, Brett held up his hands. “Whoa. One at a time.”

“He’s one of the Ghost Riders,” Kate said.

“How do you know?” He’d only that day figured it out himself, though he still had no proof. All he had was suspicion, and that wouldn’t stand up in a court of law.

Aunt Letty folded her arms across her chest with a disgusted frown. “He’s the one who knocked me down at the bank.”

“Are you sure?” Brett asked.

“’Course I’m sure.” Aunt Letty gave her head an emphatic nod. “Remember I told you I thought there was something familiar about him? It was the bullet casings.”

“What?”

“You know,” Aunt Letty said. “The ones he wears around his neck for good luck. If he moves a certain way, they make a tinny sound, like keys. Only they sound hollow.” Arms folded, she gave a nod of satisfaction. “Soon as he pulled his gun out, I knew I was right.”

Brett quirked a smile. Talk about irony. “Well now. I’d say his luck has finally run out.”

He patted Lucky Lou down as much as the taffy allowed, but found no weapons. Only a money clip and what he now knew was a dog whistle. He examined the metal loop on one end and slipped it onto his little finger. Sure enough, if held the right way, it did look like a ring. Could that be what Dusty had seen?

“You don’t seem particularly surprised that Lucky Lou robbed the bank.” Kate studied him. “Did you suspect him?”

Brett stood. “Not until today.”

“Was it the bullets?” Aunt Letty asked.

“It was the peppermint candy, right?” Kate said.

“Neither. It was Kate’s telegraph key—”

“Leaf,” Kate said with a sniff.

“Sorry,” he said. “But you have to admit it did look a little like a telegraph key, and that’s what got me thinking. I couldn’t figure out how the Ghost Riders were always one step ahead of the law. But your candy reminded me of something. I once walked into the telegraph office and found Lucky Lou and Flash arguing. Didn’t think much of it at the time. But then I realized that if anyone was in a position to decipher the sheriff’s encrypted notes, it was Flash.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You think Flash—?”

“That’s what I hope to find out.”

“What about Lucky Lou?” Aunt Letty asked. “Was it the argument that made you suspect him?”

“Not at first,” Brett said. “The problem was I couldn’t figure out how our friend here robbed the bank and managed to be on the scene afterward.” He held up the silent whistle. “This might be our answer.” He indicated the dog with a nod. “Let go of the leash, Kate.” She did as he asked, and he let the money clip fall to the floor. The dog immediate grabbed it with his teeth and ran to the door.

Kate’s forehead furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Ringo is the fourth Ghost Rider.”

“What?” Both Kate and her aunt exclaimed in unison.

“That’s right.” Brett said. “I suspected there were four, but I never imagined one was a dog. After Lucky Lou knocked your aunt down, his buddies took off. Since he tends to be a nervous type, he worried that your aunt might have recognized him. So he ran to the alley, pulled off the flour sack, and used the silent whistle to call his dog. Once Ringo took off with the loot, Lucky Lou then returned to the bank as a spectator. I guess he wanted to make sure your aunt couldn’t identify him as a Ghost Rider.”

Aunt Letty scoffed. “We should have known. Remember the day they replaced our window? Lucky Lou kept asking if you’d recognized the man who ran into the shop. I thought he was just curious. Now I know he wanted to make sure his identity was safe.”

Kate frowned. “So, what you’re saying is that he just hid in plain sight while his poor dog did the dirty work.”

Brett nodded. “That’s what the mutt has been trained to do. He grabs any booty dropped in front of him and runs. Probably hides things somewhere that Lucky Lou finds later.”

Aunt Letty brightened. “I just thought of something. Remember when Harvey Wells showed us that silly purse he invented?”

“And Ringo ran out the door with the roll of money that dropped to the floor,” Kate added.

“And Lucky Lou called his dog back with this,” Brett said, holding up the silent whistle.

“I can’t believe you were able to figure all this out,” Kate said. Her face softened in admiration, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Me neither,” Aunt Letty added. “I would never have put all those pieces together.”

“But what about the other one?” Katie asked. “You said there were four. But Lucky Lou, Flash, and Ringo only add up to three.”

“Thanks to you ladies, my job just got a whole lot easier. You two are experts at pulling taffy.” He tossed a nod at the unconscious man on the floor. “Me? I’m pretty good at pulling out information. As soon as Sleeping Beauty here wakes up, he’s going to tell me the name of the fourth Ghost Rider. Least he will if he knows what’s good for him.”

* * *

Brett sat Lucky Lou against the wall and slapped his face gently to bring him around. He then escorted his prisoner to the jailhouse. Lucky Lou did more groaning than talking, and Brett got nowhere with his questions.

Still, he kept hammering. There was no time to lose. Should Foster get wind that one of his men had been caught, he would take off, sure as shootin’.

“Got hisself a good bump on the head,” the sheriff said, yawning. “I say we get some shut-eye and try again tomorrow.”

Though it was well after midnight by the time Brett returned to the boardinghouse, he could hardly sleep. God, don’t let Foster slip through my fingers yet again.

At the first crack of dawn, Brett jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. In short order, he left the boardinghouse and raced to the sheriff’s office.

It wasn’t often that he got a warm welcome from Keeler, but today he did. The generous bonus the sheriff stood to gain for the Ghost Riders’ capture had done wonders for his disposition.

“Any luck getting him to talk?” Brett asked, indicating the upstairs jail cells with a nod.

Keeler shook his head. “Haven’t had time. Just got here.”

The sheriff said more, but Brett didn’t wait to see what it was. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time. Only two of the four cells were occupied. One cell contained a man curled up on the floor, snoring.

By the looks of it, Brett wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten any shut-eye. Lucky Lou didn’t look so good that morning, but Brett suspected it had more to do with the lump on his head than a lack of sleep.

Lucky Lou sat on a cot, back propped against the wall. He yawned and knuckled his droopy, red eyes.

Ringo suddenly appeared by Brett’s side. After sniffing the cell of the snoring man, the dog plopped on the floor and crossed his paws.

For several moments, Brett said nothing. He had no proof that Flash was involved, only suspicion. Without Lucky Lou’s cooperation, he didn’t trust the sheriff to arrest Flash with so little evidence. And even if he did, it would be too late. It was only a matter of time before news of Lucky Lou’s arrest leaked out. As soon as Foster One heard that his partner had been caught, he’d take off, and Brett could lose him for good. Without Lucky Lou’s confession, he had nothing.

Lucky Lou scratched his belly and cast a disapproving glance at the snoring man in the next cell before addressing Brett. “If you think you’ll get me to confess to somethin’ I didn’t do, you’re plumb loco.” He yawned. “Right now, I just want to sleep.”

“You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

“Like I told the sheriff, I don’t know nothing.” He felt the back of his head and winced. “I didn’t rob no bank, and I don’t know no Ghost Riders. The old lady’s brain is addled.”

Brett hung his thumbs from his vest pockets. Nothing was wrong with Mrs. Denver’s brain; of that he was certain. By the looks of the egg-sized bump on Lucky Lou’s head, there was nothing wrong with Kate’s arm either.

The problem was how to get Lucky Lou to talk. Maybe it was time for a bluff. If his hunch was right about Flash, his bluff would work. If he was wrong, Lucky Lou could clam up for good.

“That’s not what your buddy said.”

That got Lucky Lou’s attention, or at least he looked more alert. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talking about Flash. He’s downstairs now. Soon as the sheriff’s done questioning him, he’ll be occupying the cell right next to yours.”

Lucky Lou made a face. “So why should I care?”

“Thought you might be interested in knowing what he’s told the sheriff so far. Said you were the brains behind the whole operation.”

Lucky Lou sat up straight. “The brains?”

“That’s what he said. Said he and the other fella took orders from you.”

A gleam of suspicion shot from Lucky Lou’s eyes. “Why would he say such thing?”

“I don’t know.” Brett’s gaze fell on Lucky Lou’s hand-tooled boots and fancy Mexican spurs. “Maybe he’s getting back at you for spending the stolen loot before it’s time.” Flash could have lied about arguing with Lucky Lou about faro. The argument in the telegraph office could well have been about Lucky Lou’s spending habits.

“Maybe it was to save his own skin. The sheriff agreed to forego the necktie party in his honor if he named the leader of the gang. He named you.”

“Why, that danged fool. He’s lying through his teeth!”

Brett shrugged. “That may be true. But unless we locate the real leader, everything falls on your shoulders. Been my experience that juries favor hanging gang leaders. The same could be said about judges.” He let that sink in for a moment before adding, “Swing or sing. That’s your choice.”

Lucky Lou reached for the chain around his neck. Brett had never noticed it before, but Mrs. Denver was right; the bullets rattling together did make a jangling sound. A person not paying close attention could mistake the sound for keys.

Brett studied the man with narrowed eyes. “Tell me something. The bullet that almost hit you during that stagecoach robbery… Were you a passenger or a thief?”

Lucky Lou didn’t answer. He didn’t have to; his expression said it all. Kicking himself mentally for not figuring that out sooner, Brett shook his head. “Well, I’ll be a son of a gun.” Like everyone else, he’d assumed Lucky Lou had been an innocent bystander. Instead, he’d been the bad guy.

“Would it be safe to say that you lied about the robbery taking place up north? That it took place in San Antone instead?”

A flash of surprise crossed Lucky Lou’s face. “How’d you know that?”

“Let’s just say it was a lucky guess. So, what’s it gonna be? Sing or swing?”

“That sure ain’t much of a choice.”

“Maybe not, but your best bet is to tell me everything you know about the man who gave the orders. I knew him as Frank Foster. I need to know his current name and location.”

Lucky Lou dropped the chain. “You’re wasting your time. I don’t know nothin.’ I’m innocent as a newborn babe.” His ardent denial might have worked had it not been for the beads of sweat on his forehead and the shifty look in his eyes.

“Sorry to hear that,” Brett said casually. “Not much I can do for an innocent man, but I sure in blazes can help a cooperative one.” With that, he turned and walked toward the stairwell, Ringo at his heel. “If I were you, I’d make out my last will and testament.”

“Wait.”

Brett turned. Lucky Lou was now standing, hands wrapped around the iron bars.

He narrowed his eyes. “I told ya, I don’t know no Foster fella.”

“Oh, you know him all right. Maybe not by that name, but you know him. While you’re hanging from the gallows, he’ll be living high on the hog with the money you stole. Stick to your story and…” Brett shrugged. “Nothing I can do to help you.” He let Lucky Lou gnaw on that for a moment before adding, “So what’s it gonna be?”

Lucky Lou’s grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. Perspiration now ran down the side of his face. “I’m thinking.”

“Well, think faster.”

Lucky Lou groaned. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you what you want to know. On one condition.”

Brett hesitated. He was in no position to make deals. That was up to the prosecutor. “What?”

“While I’m in prison, you promise to take care of my dog.”