Wild Roses Page 3

  Distracted from her own troubles for a moment, Ella closely studied Harrigan.

  Eleanor Templeton was a voluptuous blond, beautiful and haughty. It had astounded Ella when she had heard that the woman had betrothed herself to some unknown Irishman. When the wedding had been abruptly canceled, no one had been surprised, least of all herself. Gossip about the ill-fated match had been thick and constant. It was at that time, however, that Ella had discovered the perfidy of her relatives, realized her life was in danger, and fled to Wyoming. In the nearly three years since then, she had had far more important things on her mind than the whims and follies of Philadelphia’s elite. She supposed that was why the name Mahoney had roused no memory when she had first heard it.

  Now, however, memories flooded her mind, including the memory of a few suspicions she had had about Eleanor, as well as about her own cousin Margaret. The small crimes she had begun to suspect them of had faded into insignificance when she had realized her life was threatened. Both Eleanor and Margaret were society beauties and both had shown a tendency to become engaged to men their society considered unsuitable. Those engagements were usually short-lived as the young men or their families had suddenly had an unexpected turn of bad luck. At the time, she had begun to wonder if the two young women had had something to do with that bad luck, especially since their families had almost always benefited from the downfall of their betrotheds. Breaking a betrothal was also scandalous, and it had seemed curious that Margaret and Eleanor had risked their much prized reputations so repeatedly.

  “You are staring,” Harrigan said quietly, a little discomforted by her intense gaze.

  “Is Eleanor Templeton married now?”

  “I believe she might be in a month or two, as she is currently engaged to a man of her own standing. She was betrothed three more times between me and her current fool.”

  “And my cousin Margaret Carson? Do you know if she has wed?”

  “She is now engaged for the fifth time since you ran away. I do not believe you will be attending any wedding, however. The man is from a poor background, born of a poor Scotsman who began a business twenty years ago and has only recently turned the corner to prosperity.”

  Ella smiled faintly when she saw the curiosity he could not hide. “Does it not strike you as passing strange that Eleanor and Margaret make and break so many betrothals? That they risk their reputations and standing in the society they love with apparent callousness? Or that they keep promising marriage to young men who are taking their first steps into the society Eleanor and Margaret were born into, making matches that none of their family or friends could possibly approve of? Odd that they would be willing to brave ostracism and scorn for love yet flee when the man becomes poor again? I find it a little sad that, each time they choose a man who has struggled up from the bottom and finally has wealth in his grasp, he loses it all. One must wonder if those women carry some strange curse, or if they just choose unwisely.”

  “Or if they are working for their fathers.”

  Fury had whitened his features, and Ella wondered if she had stupidly given him yet another reason to distrust and dislike her. He had already revealed how easily he could condemn an entire group of people for the crimes of a few. It was possible that he could now think she was hand in fist with Eleanor and Margaret. She had hoped to enhance her standing in his opinion by revealing such deception, but may well have done just the opposite. After taking a deep breath to steady herself, she decided to persevere. Any other action might simply harden his suspicions.

  “That is what I was suddenly wondering. In truth, just before I left Philadelphia, I began to wonder what game they played. Margaret and Eleanor are not women given to whims and fancies. They are also very proud and aware of their place in society. I then began to wonder how they were even meeting these men, men who would never be acceptable to their friends and family. Even the objections of their families seemed weak, and, well, almost practiced.”

  “But you did not pursue it.”

  The strong hint of accusation in his deep voice irritated her. “At that time, Mr. Mahoney, something of far greater importance came to my attention—the threat to my life. I am sorry if you think it selfish of me, but I fear I decided that staying alive took precedence over all else.”

  Before Harrigan could reply, a short, plump man stepped up to his seat and, after nervously clearing his throat, said, “Sir, I do not know what crime this young woman is guilty of—”

  “The most foul,“ Ella said. “I ran away from home.” She met Harrigan’s angry glance with a sweet smile.

  Harrigan met the man’s gaze and inwardly flinched at the condemnation he could read there. There was no way to defend himself. No man would believe that the sweetly smiling Ella was such a threat she needed to be manacled, at least not until they had dealt with her. The concern and good manners of the people he traveled with could prove to be a real problem, especially since Ella was clever enough to take full advantage of it.

  “Sir,” he finally said in a firm, coolly polite voice, “her family hired me to return her to Philadelphia. She is a chronic runaway.”

  “A young woman should indeed be safe within the care of her family, but does she need to be taken there in chains?”

  “Chains? Hardly that, sir. A simple wrist manacle to ensure that she does not slip away again.”

  “Surely she cannot do so on a moving train with two grown men watching her.” The portly man glanced nervously toward two equally plump women at the front of the car. “The sight of a woman being treated in such a rough manner upsets the ladies, I fear.”

  Harrigan wanted to tell him that none of this was his concern and that he could keep his bulbous nose out of other people’s business, but he forced himself to smile. “Perhaps, while the train is actually in motion, I can relieve their distress.” He fought to ignore Ella’s small, triumphant smile as he undid the manacle around her slender wrist. “However, sir, safely returning this young lady to her family is far more important than the delicate sensibilities of strangers. I may need to act forcefully again, so I would strongly suggest that you speak to your female companions and impress that need upon them.”

  The way the man grunted, warily eyed the women he was traveling with, and shuffled back to his seat told Harrigan the man would do little to change their minds. They had pushed the man to interfere in another’s business once, they would probably do so again. He exchanged a look of irritation with George then turned his attention to Ella. Her expression was too smug to suit him.

  “This is no victory,” Harrigan said, “merely a reprieve.”

  “And now he accuses me of unbecoming gloating,” she murmured. “Is there no end to the insults I must endure?”

  “How dramatic. You were gloating.”

  “You misread me. My expression was not one of triumph, but one of amusement. I was but entertained by your display of mastery over your true inclinations. You were so polite when what you truly wished to do was tell the fellow to mind his own damned business and waddle back to his masters.”

  Harrigan dimmed George’s grin with one dark frown, then returned his gaze to Ella. She had judged his feelings perfectly, and that was a little disturbing. If he was going to successfully return her to her family, he had to be one step ahead of her at all times. He was now convinced that that was not going to be easy. Since there was no sense in denying what she had just said, he decided to just ignore it.

  “I believe we were discussing the perfidy of your relatives before the gentleman interrupted us,” he said, pretending he did not see her wry expression or delicately raised brows.

  “It is odd that you so readily believe that they would trick and deceive your family into ruin yet scoff at my claim that they wish me dead,” Ella said.

  “There is a vast difference between believing people are thieves and believing they are murderers. Many people do not blink an eye at stealing, but would never think of taking a person’s life. And your family
probably believes they acted in the name of good business, not thievery. A lot of people in their position do not realize that it can all be one and the same.”

  “If it involves trickery and deceit of the sort we think they employed, then they knew it was pure thievery. They have found a way to get what belongs to others without the poor fools knowing it is gone or even how it was taken away. That is thievery. Giving it a pretty, respectable name does not change that.”

  “You speak very harshly of your own family.”

  “They are only family because of a complicated series of marriages. And, it is easy to speak harshly of people who want you dead.”

  Harrigan slouched in his seat and gave her an exasperated look. “Are you planning to whistle that tune all the way to Philadelphia?”

  “Until you start whistling along.”

  “I might do so if what you claim made any sense. It does not.”

  “Considering the way you feel about the rich, I am quite surprised that you would doubt any accusation against them.” She studied him for a moment, wondering why she did not just give up. “What would make you consider the possibility that I am telling the truth?”

  “You want me to tell you how to convince me that your delusions are real?” When she just lifted one delicate brow and continued to stare at him, he muttered a mild oath. “I certainly need some reason of consequence, something more than the fact that you are an irritation to them.”

  “I am an irritation to them because I have a lot of something they dearly love—money.”

  Harrigan sat up a little straighter, a flicker of unease teasing at his mind. “You have your own money?” George’s dark frown made it all the harder for Harrigan to fight the doubt creeping through him.

  “Of course I do. If I was some poor, penniless relative living off their kindness, do you really think they would be so eager to get me back?” She smiled crookedly when he just scowled at her and did not answer. “My mother, father, and infant brother drowned in a boating accident seven years ago.” Ella idly stroked the silver, rose-embossed locket hanging around her neck. “They were not as wealthy as Uncle Harold, but they were far from poor. It all came to me, but my uncle had discretionary control over it until I am one and twenty, or married.”

  “So, he already has control over your money.”

  “Only a little. There is a whole pack of lawyers watching everything he does. He can only bleed the fund a little from time to time. Uncle watches me and they watch him.”

  “Then write a will and leave everything to your aunt or someone else.”

  “I have,” she said, failing to keep all the sharpness out of her voice. How stupid did the man think she was? “I do not believe it will hold firm. Uncle Harold has his hands on my inheritance. Because Aunt Louise left Philadelphia under a large cloud of scandal, and because Uncle Harold can afford to hire some very clever lawyers, the will I wrote could easily be cast aside. That is assuming that it is ever allowed to come to light, of course. No, Uncle Harold wants my money and he will stoop to anything to get it. Even to hiring someone to lead me to the slaughter.”

  Harrigan just muttered a curse. The situation was getting more complicated by the minute. He still was not sure he believed Ella’s claim that her life was in danger, but he could no longer treat it with complete scorn. He was caught firmly in someone else’s tangled web of deception, but was it hers, or Harold Carson’s? The hard truth of the matter was that he had no way of telling which Carson he should believe. The answers were all in Philadelphia, and would take time to ferret out.

  “You are trying very hard not to believe me, aren’t you?” Ella said softly.

  “No. I was just thinking that it might be wise not to believe you or your uncle and just wait until we get to Philadelphia to find out what the hell the truth really is.”

  “My death waits in Philadelphia.”

  “So does the truth. And there really is no other choice but to wait.”

  She smiled faintly and turned to stare out the window. “There is always Aunt Louise.”

  Chapter Three

  “The train has stopped.”

  George’s quiet but tense announcement almost made Ella open her eyes and look around. She continued to feign sleep, however, not wanting to expose the sudden surge of hope that warmed her blood. There were a dozen reasons for the train to stop. Once during the long night they had stopped for water. This time it could be for coal or wood or whatever they were using to fuel the engine. It did not have to be her Aunt Louise. Ella was not sure how her Aunt Louise could stop a train anyway.

  “Have we reached a town?” asked Harrigan as he stood up and stretched.

  “Not that I can see. Couldn’t see a water tower either. Looks like we’ve stopped in the middle of nowhere.”

  “There was supposed to be a stop soon. Let’s see if there’s anyone we can talk to.”

  Ella waited for a moment after listening to the two men walk away before she cautiously opened her eyes. A look out the window told her nothing except that it was early in the morning and that George might just be right. It certainly looked as if they were in the middle of nowhere. The same open, empty land could be seen through the window on the other side of the train car. Even if she was not shackled to the seat again, escape would be nearly impossible and probably very foolhardy. There did not look to be a decent place to hide for miles.

  Despite the apparent hopelessness of even attempting an escape, Ella slipped a hairpin from her hair. Her aunt had spent many long hours teaching her how to pick a lock. It had been great fun. It had also been intended to help her get out of a locked room, something her uncle was very fond of putting her in. Louise had never once considered the possibility of manacles. Ella briefly prayed that her uncle had not either.

  After several fruitless attempts at the lock, she cursed, then looked around nervously. She might yet have some use for the sympathy of her fellow passengers and she could not afford to lose it because they had overheard her talking like some dock worker. Ella was relieved to see that no one was near enough to hear her. It annoyed her, however, to discover that they were all covertly watching her, but not one of them offered to help. Their sympathy apparently extended only so far. The small hope she had nurtured that one of them would be moved to help her slowly began to die.

  “Aunt Louise, I pray that it is you who has stopped this train,” she muttered as she renewed her efforts to unlock her shackles. “It looks as if you are my only hope.”

  “This has got to be the stupidest plan you have ever thought of,” drawled Joshua, frowning at Louise.

  Louise brushed a stray lock of hair from her flushed face and glared at Joshua, who stood beside the railroad tracks and a safe distance from the outer rail. She too was beginning to have doubts about her plan to stop the train. Standing in the middle of the tracks, the train would soon come rolling over had caused her to question not only the wisdom of her plan, but her own sanity. She had struggled long hours to think of a way to stop the train without endangering it or the passengers it carried. If the engineer was alerted to trouble on the track he would slow to a safe stop. The least endangering and most easily removed difficulty she was able to think of was herself. Unfortunately, Joshua’s continuous complaints and insults were making her envision far too many things that could go wrong—horribly, fatally wrong.

  “If you do your part correctly, everything will be fine,” she said as she studied her small booted foot and wondered if it really looked wedged in the tracks. She could not afford raising the engineer’s suspicions too quickly.

  “He won’t stop for me. He’ll just roll right over you. Might even do it just because stupid women annoy the hell out of him.”

  “No man will run a train over a woman no matter how stupid he thinks she is.”

  “You have too much faith in your fellow man.”

  “Look, I am well aware that this plan has holes in it big enough to stampede a herd of horses through. However, it is th
e safest one I could think of.”

  “Safe for everyone but you.”

  “I will be safe enough. Now, go, and make sure the other boys know what to do.” When he hesitated, still scowling at her, she repeated, “Go, or we will still be standing here arguing this as the train thunders over me.”

  After muttering a few soft curses, Joshua left, and Louise breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that if Joshua had stayed any longer, he could have succeeded in talking her out of her plan. The idea of facing a speeding train was not only mad, it was terrifying. Although she had carefully considered all possible contingencies, there was no certainty that she would succeed in either stopping the train or getting out of the way if it was not going to stop. She cursed Harold Carson, the railroad, and Harrigan Mahoney as she wriggled her foot around in an attempt to make it look truly wedged even from a distance.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain ran up her foot and wrapped around her ankle. A cold knot formed in her stomach as she looked down. Not only was her foot definitely wedged but she could feel it begin to swell and something sharp was pressing dangerously into the top of her foot. She bent down and unbuttoned her high-top boot. One gentle tug on her foot brought a sharp pain and the sure knowledge that she would rip her foot open even if she was able to pull it free without fainting from the pain.

  “God help us, Joshua, you better be able to stop that train,” she whispered as she fought the urge to succumb to the panic tightening its grip on her. “I am now reduced to two grim choices—lose my life or lose my foot.”

  By the time George and Harrigan reached the front of the train, the engineer and his two fellow workers were already standing outside looking at something on the tracks. George immediately hopped down and started toward the other men. The moment Harrigan’s feet touched the ground he knew he had made a mistake. He cursed as he heard the distinct sound of a rifle being cocked. Very carefully, keeping his hands held out to the side, he turned his head just enough to glance behind him. The way Joshua grinned only added to his anger and frustration. The two other youths he had seen with Joshua back in Wyoming nimbly boarded the train.