He pulled her closer in response.

  The icy, gasping feeling returned. "Be careful, McCullough. Be careful. I love you." Would the trouble never end?

  That night the miners packed the union hall.

  Everyone seems to know Dallas intends to unveil the spy, Dietz thought. He sat in the back near the door, calculating the odds of escaping unharmed. The Derringer rested in his coat pocket. He fingered the cold metallic Colt's 45 at his side. Hundreds of men filled the room, most of them armed. If they convicted Patterson of being the spy, Dietz would have to defend him. He couldn't let the mob lynch a fellow agent. But the odds of his own escape were practically nil.

  He could shoot into the crowd and create some confusion. To date no one suspected McCullough of spying. With hope, he could distract enough men so Patterson could sneak out while Dietz broke for the door. It was a long shot. He hoped that tonight Patterson lived up to his cool-headed reputation. Could he possibly lie himself out of this one? Dietz had no idea. He'd been unable to meet with Patterson and make plans. He knew only what Murphy had told him. Patterson must have had some plan.

  Patterson sat onstage with President Waters, Eaton, Judge Brown, and Dallas.

  Waters called the meeting to order. Patterson, in his role as recording secretary, then stood and read the minutes of the last meeting. If he trembled inwardly with fear, he didn't show it. Nothing gave him away, not a tremble, a stutter, a wayward gaze, or a bead of perspiration. Patterson sat and Dallas got up to make a speech. Suddenly silence echoed off the walls, and reverberated in Dietz's ears in time with his own frantic heartbeat. Time for the games to begin. Thoughts of Keely pounded through his mind. It was too soon. He didn't want to leave yet, not without being certain that Keely would be safe. He willed Patterson to remain calm, to show the wily spirit he was renowned for.

  "Brothers!" Dallas shouted.

  He thinks he's running a revival meeting, Dietz thought, only without the hope of God-fearing results.

  "You have allowed a spy in your ranks and he now sits within reach of my hand," Dallas continued.

  Such drama. Dietz was reminded of the Last Supper in the Bible. Christ offering Judas the bread and then bidding him on his way. So this is the way Dallas chose to play it. What an actor, an orator, Dallas the hyena was. If he offered Patterson a sop of bread, Dietz would have to shoot on principle.

  "He will never leave this hall alive." Dallas punctuated his speech with podium pounding and hand waving. "His fate is doomed. You know your duty when it comes to dealing with traitors to our noble cause for the upbuilding of true manhood."

  The room thundered with applause. Patterson clapped as wildly as any. Dietz put his hands together, imitating Patterson. What did he have planned? Waters pounded his gavel on the podium, calling for order. He called for a ten-minute recess. The union boys surrounded Patterson and pulled him off the stage.

  Dietz, keenly aware of the weapons he harbored, pushed through the crowd toward him. Every exit crawled with union boys, jumpy, excited, out-for-blood men with too much idle time and too little to occupy it. A good killing might liven things up. Dietz had no doubt that with this incident, the union leaders hoped to incite the boys into real war. Give them a taste of blood and they would want more. A cause, every man needed a cause, and an enemy.

  Waters saw Dietz coming and motioned for the crowd to let him through. "McCullough, you're just in time for the trial."

  Poker face, Dietz reminded himself. Poker face. Now's the time to earn those big bucks they pay you. Dietz couldn't remember ever having been this nervous on the job before, and he'd been in situations as tight. Usually excitement and adrenaline overcame him. Nothing compared to the heady rush of a good job, a tight squeeze, and a fine escape. But Keely made all the difference. He had a reason to live, a reason to keep his cover a while longer, if only to protect her. Damn, this nervousness could foul him up. He forced himself to concentrate. There had to be a way out.

  "We've got you now," Dallas said, still on the stage, glowering down at Patterson. Like a cat, he leaped agilely down.

  Patterson stepped up. "What's the matter, gentlemen? You seem puzzled."

  Dallas held up the union's book of minutes and screamed at Patterson. "There's a leaf cut out of this book. We want an explanation."

  "Waters ordered me to do it." Patterson stood supremely still, acting calm and almost confused.

  That's it, Patterson, Dietz thought. That's why Patterson was almost legendary in his own time. What an audacious accusation to make. Dietz hoped it stuck.

  Waters cursed. "Liar!"

  "You'll remember back a while when we voted to flood the Tiger and Poorman?" Patterson drawled, Texas style, his old cowboy days evident in his lazy speech. "I wrote down the full facts of our resolution and read it at the next meeting. After that, Waters ordered me to cut it out and burn it, as nothing of that sort should be on record in case the book fell into enemy hands."

  Every face turned toward Waters. Dietz thought the slimy bastard might deny it. Clever Patterson. Dietz remembered the incident well enough. Patterson had not burned the page. He'd had Dietz mail it to their contact in St. Paul.

  Waters nodded. "He speaks the truth."

  Dallas looked ready to explode. He wouldn't be letting up on Patterson. Waters called the meeting back to order and made a conservative little speech. "Men, it is my recommendation that we sit on this matter a while longer, that we do nothing tonight. The time is coming, and will soon be at hand, when we will act and move on to greater things."

  The men cheered. Dallas scowled. Dietz's heart settled back down to its normal trot. He had time, but not long.

  Back at the boardinghouse Keely fell into his arms. "Mr. Allison?" He didn't have to ask to know what she meant.

  "Found innocent."

  "Thank goodness."

  "Like I said, Keely, an innocent man has nothing to fear." But a guilty one? He had to get Keely out of town. But could he bear it, knowing he would never see her again?

  "Oh, McCullough, the terror. The town was too quiet, and then the union hall would just shake with applause." She paused. "Though it was still light outside, I closed the blinds. I, I couldn't face a lynching. I found myself waiting for gunfire. I don't know what I expected. Could I have had so little faith?" Her eyes misted up. "You have more faith in the union than I do. Oh, I don't deserve you." She pressed into him again.

  Holding her like that created torture pure and simple. His heart stretched tight on an emotional rack with no escape. Every word she spoke only convinced him further of their differences. He was no union man. He was a union buster.

  "Keely," he said. "I have something I have to show you." Her gaze met his, completely trusting. He led her upstairs to his room. Separate rooms, separate lives, he thought. If only he'd kept it that way. But they didn't sleep apart, and he no longer lived apart from her, in his heart or elsewhere.

  He stifled a sigh. He had needed this room. He had convinced Keely by claiming that he needed an office, some place private to think. That was certainly true, but he also needed a place to hide his secrets. He pulled his saddlebag from beneath the bed, then seated Keely on the bed while he opened the bag. He handed her a bank account ledger. "That's yours. I set it up for you when we went to Spokane. Do you remember? I was late that night. I stayed out taking care of business. You were angry—"

  "I remember." She looked about to cry.

  "It doesn't matter now." He kneeled at her feet, next to his bag on the floor. "There's enough money there to see you through for quite a while." A lifetime? He hoped she'd at least get a good start on it. "If something happens to me, you use it. Do you understand?"

  "Oh, McCullough." A tear slid down her cheek.

  He reached up and brushed it away, fighting a damned lump in his own throat. "My will's on deposit there as well, for safekeeping. I saw a lawyer that day." He couldn't face her sad eyes. He fumbled in his bag for the final item longer than he needed to. He pulled the drawstring bag out and set it in her lap. "Gold pieces. Eagles and half eagles. A small fortune that. Had to sell one of my best horses on the way here." He tried to sound light. Actually, he'd sold McCullough's only horse. Well, it was one truth at least.

  Keely didn't laugh. "Why? Why now? Why are you so certain?" Her voice broke with emotion and grief that Dietz could barely face.

  He hadn't meant to, but he was hurting her, and only more lay ahead. "Did I say I was certain? I'm just preparing."

  "You don't have to and you're not!" She ran her fingers through his hair. "What makes you think you're going to leave me?"

  Damn, her choice of words was fatal. Did she have to hit so close to the truth? "Ever have a premonition?"

  "Never!" She was too adamant.

  "I have. Sometimes a man knows things and can't say how." The truth, but gilded. He felt ashamed of himself. She started to sob. He pushed off the floor and sat beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms. "Hide the money someplace safe."

  Two days slid by. Keely felt herself being hurtled toward some unalterable destiny. On one occasion she said as much to McCullough. He laughed and said she'd been influenced by her Irish superstitions; would she be looking for little people next?

  "You're Irish, too, you and your premonitions!" she had shouted back.

  He masked his expression again. "Half," he said. "Fortunately my Scottish side has better sense."

  She'd been angry, but she realized now fear had driven it. They had made up and made love in the wild, reckless manner they'd become accustomed to.

  Standing in the kitchen, remembering, she felt caged. Like the small wild bunny she'd caught as a girl, she wanted to throw herself against the walls, to rail at a fate that robbed her of what should have been the most joy of her life. She had not left the boardinghouse in over a day, not even to set foot on the front porch. Filled with drunk, angry men, the streets reeked of danger and alcohol. Lust, for anything, women or violence, shone in the eyes of the miners. Keely didn't dare leave her sanctuary, her prison.

  She had been staring sightlessly out her window, but suddenly a man seated on a crate outside the post office caught her attention. She'd noticed that man following Mr. Allison all morning. Blast these miners. They proved Mr. Allison innocent, couldn't they leave him alone?

  Mr. Allison emerged from the post office, whistling and heading back toward his store. Keely had had enough. She meant to warn him. She stepped outside, happy to be outdoors, happy that indignation had set her free. "Mr. Allison!"

  He stopped, turned, and smiled at her. "Don't mind my impertinence, Mrs. McCullough, but it isn't safe for a lady to be out on the streets." He laughed in a gentle, kindly manner. "For anyone."

  "I don't disagree, but I need coffee. I hope you have some stocked. With all the drinking going on, there's been a lot of coffee drinking, trying to overcome the effects of excess."

  Mr. Allison held the door open for her. "Let's ask Mrs. Shipley what she's got."

  Kate Shipley, the only other person in the store, stood behind the counter, looking out the window behind them with a concerned expression. Her little five-year-old boy played near her, running and darting between the barrels of dry goods. Keely grabbed Mr. Allison's arm and leaned in to speak to him.

  "Mr. Allison. I know all about the accusations made against you earlier in the week. I also know you were exonerated. I must tell you how relieved I am. I couldn't believe you would be so low as to be a spy, a hideous private detective!" She paused, feeling Mrs. Shipley's gaze on them. "That's why I feel I must warn you. There's a man sitting on a box in front of the post office. He's been following you for the last day."

  Mr. Allison looked in the opposite direction of what Keely expected, toward Mrs. Shipley, and frowned. Mrs. Shipley's gaze fixed on the post office.

  "He has," Kate Shipley said. "I've been waiting for you to return so I could warn you myself."

  "Either of you ladies recognize him?"

  Keely shook her head. So did Kate. Mr. Allison turned, and made like he wanted to examine something on display in the store window, but his gaze focused on the man outside. Keely watched him closely, but no recognition flickered. A puzzle—why would someone be following a nice man like Mr. Allison? He smiled warmly and turned back to the ladies. "Must be a case of mistaken identity." He led Keely from the window. "Do you still want that coffee, or was that just an excuse?"

  "Both. Please put the coffee on the boardinghouse account for me, Mrs. Shipley." While Mrs. Shipley wrapped up the purchase, Keely took the opportunity to speak with Mr. Allison. "Do you believe in premonitions, Mr. Allison?"

  "No, can't say as I do. Why do you ask?"

  No one seemed to, no one but McCullough. "McCullough does. He has this notion that something is going to happen to him, something to take him from me."

  Mr. Allison gave her an oddly sympathetic look. "Does he now? Well, I wouldn't worry. So far as I know, he isn't a prophet."

  "But he's been making provisions for me in case..." She couldn't finish.

  "Likely he's just being cautious. Taking a wife will do that to a man. Just be glad he loves you enough to care about your future." Mr. Allison's hard expression sat at odds with his sentimental words. As so often lately, Keely felt like she witnessed a play where everyone had roles but her.

  "Times are dangerous. You heed your husband's warnings, Mrs. McCullough."

  "I will, Mr. Allison. And you watch out for yourself, too."

  Panic pulsed through Dietz's veins, ripe and biting. Sweat dripped from his forehead, not from fear, from fighting. He wiped the salty sweat away with the back of his hand, then tenderly felt his jaw, his mouth. The rusty taste of blood met his tongue. He took a blow to the mouth. No teeth broken, just a fat, split lip. Didn't the scab understand it was a mock fight? Evidently not.

  The scab lay just downhill from him, doubled over with pain, concealed in the underbrush out back of town, uphill as close to the Gem as Dietz could manage. Dietz saw him clearly. With luck, the union crowd cheering at his back, the bunch of jackals, couldn't see a thing.

  Dietz cursed under his breath, then whispered heavily. "I'm going to create a distraction. Then you run like hell for the mine."

  Dietz staggered back to the road and the waiting union boys, shaking his head, clutching his ribs as he emerged from the heavily forested hill. One good deed done. One scab who might live, provided the boy made it back to the Gem.

  Shit. Half a dozen scabs beaten nearly to death in an afternoon. And Dietz had to walk in on this fight on his way back to town. The panic coursing through him had little to do with the scab. Patterson had been fingered as a private detective. Dietz needed to get through the brawling and get back to warn him.

  "McCullough!"

  Dietz didn't recognize the voice.

  "I lost the coward in the brush."

  A volley of curses erupted as the union men crowded around him. "Shall we go after him?"

  "You boys do what you want. I'm going home to nurse my wounds before the big meeting." Dietz looked around at the faces rimming the circle around him.

  "Yeah, you bet." "Good idea." And similar sentiments echoed around him. The boy would be safe, for the moment.

  Dietz stopped by Dutch's on his way home and begged a basin of water and a towel off Dutch. Dietz didn't need Keely fussing over him. Dutch seemed to understand. Back at the boardinghouse, looking reasonably normal, Dietz begged off from Keely's attentions and questions, claiming he needed a rest.

  The General Assembly of the union would meet later in the evening, like always on their regular night. They were going to kill Patterson there. On Dietz's way past Keely to the bedroom, she grabbed his arm and told Dietz about the man following Patterson.

  "Not to worry, lass. I'm sure it's nothing."

  Keely saw his mouth then. He knew by her expression. Cold water hadn't been able to totally quash the swelling and bruising of his lip.

  "McCullough?"

  "I was in a fight, lass. Jumped by a scab but not seriously hurt. You should have seen him."

  She reached out and gently stroked his face. "I'm sorry."

  He winced. "They're fighting all over town. It's been a banner day for fat lips and black eyes. Stay in the house where you're reasonably safe, lass. Promise me."

  As soon as Keely stopped fussing over him and left him to rest, Dietz sneaked out the back window of the boardinghouse, circled behind in the woods, met up with the road and crawled through the empty culvert under the street. He crept back of the buildings and crawled through the board Patterson kept intentionally loose in the high, tight privacy fence he had constructed around the back of his store. Dietz felt like a kid playing an obnoxious game of hide-and-seek. Moments later he let himself into Patterson's store and found Patterson in his rooms.

  When Dietz pushed the door open, he met Patterson drawing a bead on him in the sight of his Colt's 45. "Didn't your mama teach you to knock?"

  "Knocking is a little too obvious. My mama didn't teach me a damned thing. She threw me out at age five."

  Patterson dropped the gun to his side. "You're looking pretty today."

  "I've been fighting scabs and saving scabs. What mixed lives we lead." Time ticked too short for niceties. "Let's get down to business. I sneaked out of the house and need to get back before Keely misses me. I know you know that you're being followed. Keely told me," Dietz said. "Your tail has been consorting with Dallas." Patterson didn't appear surprised. "His name is Black Jack—"

  "He's from Nevada," Patterson interrupted. "Where he blew up the Prinz and Pelling Mine when I was on assignment there. We heard he skipped to Africa. I guess he's back. I've been wondering all afternoon if he recognized me or if I just looked familiar. I guess now I know."

  "He's union. A regular member," Dietz said.

  "Yeh."

  "You have to get out of town, Patterson. He recognized you and told the union brass. They'll kill you for certain this time."

  "I'm not leaving, Dietz. Not until the operation's over and I've done what I'm paid to do." Patterson smiled. "Don't expect there's much chance of me escaping anyway. Billy Flynn was here earlier. I always liked Billy. I used to room with his brother-in-law John Day. Well, I'm rambling. I've known what you're telling me all afternoon.