What did Patterson know of guilt? What did anybody? Dietz could blame whomever or whatever he wanted—circumstances, improper upbringing, a mother who abandoned him, but, still, it all came down to personal accountability. Maybe the detective agency had taught him that; where else he could have learned it, he couldn't imagine. All he knew was that he had made a choice to leave her. And he missed her, longed for her, worried about her. Life would never be the same without her. Who could have known it would be this hard? If only he could have escaped without her ever discovering his identity. Left her with dignity and pleasant memories, maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so low. Or maybe he only kidded himself.

  "Does the ache ever go away?" Dietz spoke without thinking. He didn't want to appear weak and foolish before Patterson.

  Patterson snorted and shook his head. "You're talking about missing her?" He sounded sympathetic. "Is that a rhetorical question?" He took a long, slow sip of coffee. He looked miles away with his thoughts.

  "I have no right to, but I feel like a blasted widower myself. Like Blackbeard himself." Dietz fixed his gaze on the wall above Patterson's head. He couldn't look his fellow agent in the eye just now. "I killed her. Not physically, though God knows what will happen to her now. I killed something in her—something good and hopeful. Optimism, trust. Hell, I don't know what, just something I'd never experienced before. Something I had no right to." He stared vacantly, confronting the dark thoughts tormenting him.

  "I don't mean to sound egotistical. It's not like Keely won't survive. It's not like I think she can't ever be happy again. It's that she won't be the same, and I'm responsible." He took an absentminded sip of coffee gone cold.

  "Part of me, selfish bastard that I am, doesn't want her to forget me." He laughed at himself. "What a fool I am. It isn't likely she'll ever forget me, after what I've done to her. But that's not the way I want her remembering me."

  "Never is," Patterson said.

  "At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, Patterson. The only thing I could do. I held her hostage." He gulped. Her expression, the feel of her in his arms, haunted his thoughts. "I tried to make them believe I had duped her along with the rest of them, that she had no part in all this. That she was innocent.

  "Now, I can't be sure I did right. I was only trying to give her back her life, atone for messing things up." He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. "It was the hardest thing I ever did." Finally, he looked into Patterson's eyes. Maybe what people said was true. Maybe confession really was good for the soul. At that moment, he felt lighter, less burdened. "You lost your wife, but at least you have no guilt, no regrets to contend with."

  Patterson snorted again. "Don't I? I watched my Mamie die slowly, wither away."

  Dietz tried to interrupt, but Patterson cut him short with a gesture. "It wasn't the watching that I regret, nothing I could have done about that. It was the leaving her alone while I was off in the field. It's knowing that she waited faithfully for me while I consorted with all types of women in the name of the job.

  "Sometimes I imagine what my thoughts would have been had things been reversed. It's knowing I left her alone with thoughts and fears no wife should have to have, and that she loved me still and waited." Patterson took a heavy breath.

  The room felt close and hot around Dietz, weighted with Patterson's confessions and his own guilt.

  "My job and my love of it deprived her of my protection and company when she needed it most. The only comfort I gave her was my paycheck." Patterson shook his head. "I left her alone to raise little Viola. Now that Mamie's gone the poor little thing's being raised by her aunt and uncle. Still, it's a better life than I could give her."

  Patterson stretched. "Maybe you're lucky, Dietz. Being a detective is a life more suited to a single man. Didn't I warn you not to mess around with marriage?"

  He sure had. Why hadn't Dietz listened?

  Patterson paused. "No regrets, eh? Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought. Life is full of regrets. It's learning how to live with them that makes the man."

  ###

  Lunn sat in Keely's kitchen. She felt his gaze on her as she performed her chores by rote. Some things never changed. Or maybe they did, you just had to look beneath the surface. But she didn't want to look, because when she did, she saw things she didn't want to, things like the open lust in Lunn's eyes. Like his ebullience over the violence and the victory.

  When she pictured herself outside her body, looking in at the scene with the dispassionate eye of observer, she could almost believe that she had skipped back in time to just before the detective had arrived. But when she came back to herself she felt the hole John Dietz's absence had left, and the odd skew to her universe.

  "You still wearing his ring?" Lunn twisted in his chair, following her movements.

  She turned to stare at him. "It's valuable. I didn't know what else to do with it."

  Wear it for the rest of my life? Keep it to torment myself?

  Lunn frowned. "Give it to me for safekeeping."

  "Thank you, but no. As soon as things calm down, I'll take it to the bank."

  He shrugged. "Have it your way."

  She could tell he was unhappy.

  "What are you doing today?" Lunn's tone sounded too casual.

  "The wounded are mostly taken care of and President Waters has called in a mortician to take care of the dead. But I thought I'd check in over at the temporary hospital anyway, just to see if there's anything more I can do. Then I guess I'll come home and do what I always do."

  What I'll be doing for the rest of my life—mourning McCullough, as played by John Dietz.

  Lunn shoved back his chair and stood. In two strides he was beside her. Before she could back up he took her into his arms and pulled her face up to look at him.

  "Marry me, Keely Byrne. Marry me today in the midst of the victory, in the middle of the celebration." His words were less a question than a command. A manic light lit his eyes.

  His intensity frightened her. "I—"

  "You, what?"

  He drew himself up to his full height and puffed his chest like a randy peacock, daring her to defy his wishes.

  "I can't, Lunn. It wouldn't be fair to you… " She trailed off, hoping he would leave her alone.

  "You can't love him after all he's done." His words exploded into the room. He squeezed her chin in his grip so tightly it hurt.

  "The marriage," she said. "We don't know—"

  "Brown will take care of it." He leaned to within inches of her face. "Listen, Keely, you need me. I love you and am willing to protect you. There are those that don't believe in your innocence."

  She took a deep breath to keep from letting her fear show. He spoke the truth only too clearly.

  "I'll protect you with my life. I promise."

  "It's not that, Lunn." She needed to buy time. Tears stung her eyes, partly from the pain of his grip, partly put on for effect. She lowered her voice. "I didn't want to say. It's...so personal." She squeezed a tear out. "But of course we had...well, I might be carrying his baby."

  Lunn released his grip on her chin and took her by the arms and shook her. "Do you know something for sure?" His fingers bore into her. If only she could run.

  "No. But how could I come to you carrying another man's child?" She bit her lip. How to proceed?

  "It wouldn't matter to me. It would be all the better for you. I'd pass it off as mine and no one would dare argue."

  "I couldn't. I'd rather know for certain—"

  "How long till you'll know?"

  "A week and a half, maybe two." She couldn't hedge too long.

  "Pregnant or not, you're mine. I've gone through too much to get you to lose you now to a baby. You understand?"

  She nodded dumbly. Poor Lunn, what could he imagine he'd done? Did mere longing count?

  "Good." His mouth came down on hers hard and ugly.

  She fought shivers of revulsion. Even empty and numb she could not enjoy Lunn's kisses. His mouth was a cavern swallowing her whole, slobbering over her lips. When he released her, his eyes glimmered with excitement. She resisted the urge to wipe off his kiss with the back of her hand.

  ###

  After being on the run and hiding out in the woods for two days doing what spying they could while waiting for the militia to get control of the territory, Patterson and Dietz presented themselves just before dusk to General Carlin at his headquarters at the Carter Hotel.

  "Thank God, the cavalry has arrived." Dietz smiled as he spoke to the General, who laughed at his remarks.

  The boy could still joke, but Patterson worried about him. Any man jilted in love was a loose cannon, and one carrying Dietz's burden qualified as a whole wall of cannons.

  "Who might you two gentlemen be?" the General asked.

  Patterson extended his hand for a shake. "Charlie Patterson and John Dietz, sir."

  "Oh, hell," the General said. "I just sent two dozen troops out looking for you two."

  Patterson smiled. He liked nothing more than being known for his stealthy moves. So they'd slipped in past the union and past the militia.

  "A fellow friendly toward the owners warned me the union had sent men out after you," the General continued.

  "Appreciate your concern, sir." Dietz sounded too polite, like his own personality had gone on vacation and now he operated on manners long ago drummed in.

  "No time for jawing, General. We've seen President O'Brien and his henchmen hiding out in Mrs. Hollihan's cellar. You better get them before they move out."

  The General smiled with genuine delight. "What I've heard about your agency appears to be true—you are the best damned detectives in the world." The General called for one of his aides and dispatched a company of men to bring in the rabble-rousers. Then he turned his attention back to Patterson and Dietz. "Can I get something for you fellows? You look tired."

  "Oh, hell, we are, but that's nothing new." Patterson looked at Dietz. The boy looked more than tired. He looked empty and defeated. "A rest sounds good, but not before I offer my services. I was recording secretary for the Gem Union for nearly a year. I know most of the men involved in the action by sight, whereas your troops don't. Let me help finger the fugitives."

  The General nodded. "I accept your offer."

  "Just part of the job."

  "Count me in, too." Dietz broke his silence. "I haven't been in the Valley as long as Patterson, but I know a few villains myself."

  Patterson couldn't let the boy do it. He couldn't let the boy stay. If he did, the agency would lose one of its best detectives. Patterson knew all about loss. The boy had to mourn and not in plain view of Keely Byrne. Why add salt to the raw and bleeding wound? Besides, Patterson liked the girl. She needed her own chance to recover.

  "No," Patterson said. "I can do all the fingering. Dietz needs a rest. I'm sending him back to the main office as soon as we can arrange for a ticket to Denver."

  "The hell you will." Dietz spat the words out and gave Patterson a look meant to intimidate. The boy looked ready to swing at him. Fortunately, the kid knew better. Patterson watched him clench his fist next to his side.

  "I'm the senior agent on this assignment. I make the decisions." He had to phrase this carefully. "You've done some fine detective work, risked your life for the job. I'll make sure McParland knows what a fine job you did. But there's no cause for the agency to pay two men to do the job of one. There's nothing but cleanup left here. I'll handle it."

  Dietz swore under his breath. The boy looked haggard and beat.

  "What are you afraid of, Dietz? That you'll be written out of the history books on this one?" Patterson smiled. Hell, he liked the kid.

  Chapter 20

  October 1892

  Dietz collected his mail and retired to his hotel room, his "home" in Denver. He'd just returned from his latest assignment—"testing" conductors on the western railway system through Colorado, Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa, and Missouri. Though the agency assigned half a dozen operatives to it, the job was a piddly one and not to his liking. While an interesting study in human nature, riding the rails left too much time for solitary thoughts and introspection, two things he tried hardest to avoid. Not to mention testing conductors was boring as hell.

  Superintendent McParland either intended it as punishment or rest, Dietz couldn't figure out which. To say McParland had not been happy about his "marrying" Keely Byrne would be to understate the case. McParland had been a hornet.

  As Dietz opened the door to his hotel room, he scanned the letters in his hand. Ah, one from Patterson. He recognized the handwriting. Patterson had been a regular correspondent these last tortured months, sending news of the proceedings, carefully omitting any mention of Keely, or any other upsetting personages. Not that it did a damn bit of good—Keely Byrne never drifted far from Dietz's thoughts.

  Admit it—Dietz had been despondent. Still was. He'd even been too depressed to sample the wares of the whores who regularly traveled the rails, though God knew he probably needed a good lay. But he needed Keely more. Damn it all anyway!

  Dietz never knew what he felt about Patterson's letters. Patterson wrote in a humorous, entertaining style. His letters sounded like the man. But the information Patterson conveyed was not always pleasant, certainly not funny.

  Dietz kicked his boots off and plunked down onto the bed before ripping the letter open with his fingers.

  Dietz,

  Thought you might like to be apprised of the goings-on up here. Our good friend Geo. Brown has recovered from the injuries he suffered when he lit the fuse that blew up the Frisco Mill. I guess the silly fool never went to school, or if he did he slept through class the day they taught about concussions. Anyway, seems though he can mete out union justice with the best of them, he couldn't scent out a boomerang in the making.

  After he lit the long fuse they'd sent into the mill, he stayed in the flume with his ear to the penstock, listening for the joyous sound of an explosion. Course, you and I know that the shock of the explosion would come back up the penstock. I guess he found out. His companions pulled him from the flume he'd fallen back into after being blown out. Lucky fellow to suffer only a fractured wrist and a few other minor injuries, all, as I said, now on the mend. Too bad some of the others, the scabs killed in the mill, weren't so fortunate.

  John Monihan has returned now that the military has taken over the Valley. He escaped the massacre at Cataldo Mission, where the scab hostages were taken, by swimming to a small island in the middle of the river and hiding out. Last count the missing scabs, most presumed dead, totaled fourteen. Bill Black is in prison for leading the bloody attack and mass robbing. I doubt some of the scabs will ever be found. One scab witness reports Black and others robbing bodies after the shootout, then slicing their stomachs open so they'd sink when dumped into the river.

  I've made numerous trips to local hospitals trying to identify more perpetrators of the violence, and encouraging the victims. Seeing men with their heads split open, beaten to jelly and fighting for life makes me want to fight this kind of union terrorism to the end. It makes the threats I've received seem worth the risk.

  Several occasions I've had to use my old Colt's 45 to get me out of scrapes. I've been trying to avoid taking any lives, but I tell you, at times it's tempting. When I went to the bullpen, the big temporary jail compound where they're holding the miners, the prisoners rushed me. The miners aren't forgiving types, I guess. Many of them are still angry with me, guess they always will be.

  As you know, I've been in Murray giving testimony in the trials of some of the terrorists. That in itself has been an adventure. I've got me a nice bed in the local hotel, but I haven't slept there one night. The local deputy has been worried over rumors that 300 unionists plan to take over the town to stop me from testifying against the union leaders. He's warned me many times that he can't protect me. There are no soldiers in Murray. I don't feel particularly safe there myself. Which is why I don't sleep in my bed. Every night I act like I'm going to my room, then I sneak out the back and up the mountain and sleep under the stars. At least that way I'm fairly confident I'll see daylight.

  Dietz chuckled. Clean up indeed. The assignment still called for courage, honor, and cunning. Dietz owed Patterson a big debt for sending him away. Dietz turned back to the letter.

  That brings me to the main point of this correspondence. I regret to inform you that Lunn Gaffney has been cleared of all murder charges.

  Dietz nearly dropped the letter. It began shaking in his hands so violently that for a moment he couldn't read it. They let Gaffney go? Much to Dietz's relief, Gaffney had been arrested just after the soldiers took possession of the Valley and charged with the murder of Ivory Bean. He took a deep breath, forced his hand to still, and took up the letter again.

  Though we got numerous indictments against the union rioters, no one believed we'd have a chance of a fair trial or a conviction here in the mining district. To test their theory, the prosecutors tried the most conclusive case in Murray, with the stated result. We had many witnesses who testified that they saw Gaffney shoot Bean. If I would have thought your testimony would have made a difference, I would have summoned you. But I don't think any amount of proof would have swayed the jury, so biased were they.

  Because of this debacle, the trials for the union leaders have been moved to Boise City. Lunn Gaffney walks free now, but...

  Dietz swore beneath his breath using every curse and oath he knew. Would Keely marry Lunn now? He could hardly believe she would marry a known murderer, but if she believed he was innocent, that the trial had been fair...

  Terrible doubts assailed Dietz as he remembered former reports he'd received from Patterson. Before Gaffney's arrest, he'd held off a mob that threatened to kill a local newspaper man for his part in writing inflammatory articles about the union and accompanying the General on his missions to seek out rioters. Dietz wondered when Gaffney had become so particular about other people's rights. Had it been to impress Keely? Had she been present at the scene? He swore again and returned to the letter.