Chapter 12

ARCHIE SAT ON THE DIVAN and watched Houndstooth pace.

“Cherie, you should ’ave a drink. Sit down. Something. You are driving me crazy with this pacing.”

“I can’t sit down. Not until we decide what to do with her.”

Adelia sat in the high-backed chair, bound by lashings of rope. Her head lolled to one side. A significant bruise marred her head where Archie had struck her with a well-flung hammer strike as she had attempted to run away from Hero’s still body.

Hero lay on the bed, their breathing ragged, their wounds packed with the torn scraps of one of Houndstooth’s silk shirts. The wounds had not been shallow, but Hero’s sternum had stopped Adelia’s knife from hitting their heart, and the blood pouring from their belly had slowed just enough to give Houndstooth a shiver of hope.

“You’re certain she’s been spying?” Houndstooth asked Archie for the hundredth time. Archie lifted a handful of papers she’d found in Adelia’s belongings: a contract, signed in Adelia’s loopy cursive and Travers’ delicate calligraphy.

“’Oundstooth? ’Oundstooth. Winslow Remington ’oundstooth, look at me,” Archie commanded. Houndstooth stopped and obeyed, staring at her with lost eyes, his hands limp by his sides.

“We ’ave to kill her, ’oundstooth. We ’ave to kill her and then we ’ave to run. Now. Tonight.”

“Leaving, are you?” came a low drawl from the doorway. They hadn’t heard Gran Carter enter, but there he was, leaning against the doorframe: six feet three inches of coiled muscle. His hands were nowhere near the two six-shooters that dangled from his hips, but Houndstooth and Archie both froze as though he were pointing the guns directly at them.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Mr. Houndstooth.” He extended his hand to Houndstooth, who shook it out of sheer reflex. “Gran Carter, U.S. marshal. You have something I’ve been looking for.” He tipped his black hat at Archie. “Good to see you again, Archie. How’ve you been?”

“I ’ave been well, Gran. I ’ave been . . . busy. I’m sorry I ’aven’t written.” Archie sounded like she meant it.

“Oh, that’s fine. I know how time gets away from you.” He took a small step toward her, a smile twitching at the corners of this mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

Archie looked at her hands, worrying at the contract that sat in her lap. “Now is not the time, Gran.”

Gran cleared his throat, looking to Houndstooth. “Mr. Houndstooth. I believe you’re in charge of this hippo caper?”

Houndstooth looked simultaneously pained and affronted. “It’s not a caper, Mr. Carter.” Behind him, Archie mouthed the words along with him. “It’s an operation, all aboveboard. We were hired by the federal government, I’ll have you know, and—”