Kisses With KC (Cowboys and Angels Book 11)(2)
This time, KC rubbed two fists into his eye sockets. He was sure there hadn’t been any tack on the donkey, but there it all was—reins, a pack saddle, and saddle bags off both sides. There was a mining pick and a sluicing pan tied together. And—guardian what? As he answered his own question, a chill ran from his scalp to his toes. He said guardian angel.
The miner continued his story as he walked the donkey to the wagon and tied her to the back. “No, siree. I ain’t lost one person yet. Well—there was that one time the feller got roughed up a mite before we showed up. He was laid up for quite a spell, but he rallied eventually and got better.”
The donkey brayed and pranced in place.
The old miner turned back toward MayBelle and said, “I said better. I knowed he wasn’t fit as a fiddle, but he weren’t dead.”
The donkey nodded her head at that.
The old prospector jumped aboard the outlaws’ wagon. “And you won’t be the first to die, neither.” He pointed his aged finger toward KC. “Not on my watch, anyway.” He waved at KC to board the wagon, but KC stayed on the ground. “We gotta go get your horse. Then we’ve got some miles to travel. They’s a traveling judge expected in Del Norte tomorrow. Just in time to meet these boys, I’d say. A couple of witnesses are going to show up by chance, too.” He laughed loudly at that. “That’s a miracle, ain’t it?”
KC could only nod, knowing that it sure would be if it happened that way.
“Let’s get this load o’ scum to the sheriff in Del Norte.” He shook the reins and began moving the wagon backward into the clearing. “You just going to stand there, or are you gonna to get collecting on that reward money?”
KC picked up the valuables left in the camp, arranging them in the wagon. He took out a notebook from his saddle bag and made a note of the inventory and the men’s condition. Then they moved out, turning back toward Del Norte. He wanted to be as far away from the route the Holmans had been on as possible just in case these robbers were intending to meet up with someone.
Dense forest squeezed on each edge of the trail. KC watched warily off to the sides, at the ready for trouble. Rumor was that there were five Holman brothers, each looking so much alike that the wanted posters could apply to any one of them. And from the list of crimes the Holman gang was racking up, they were of the same mind about breaking the law. The three brothers in the buckboard had different builds and maybe different colors of brown hair—it was hard to tell in the dark. Their faces had slightly different features, but he could sure tell they were brothers right off. It seemed to make sense that there were more brothers since the gang was robbing a new freight line before they had time to ride there from the last.
It took the rest of the night and until the next day at noon to reach Del Norte and deliver the bound men and stolen goods. It had been a good assignment all in all. The Western Rockies Freight Company had hired the Pinkerton Agency to investigate and put an end to the heists crippling their business. KC had received that assignment and would have a nice payday as a result. He also collected the reward for the return of the dynamite. The bonus had been that the criminals were “wanted,” so he could also collect three bounties. Yes, it was a good day. He made a few notes in his book about the money collected and the loot he’d delivered. He supposed he should wire Pinkerton and get a new assignment.
KC stepped out of the sheriff’s office to a piercing heehaw from MayBelle.
“I seen him,” the miner scolded the donkey. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, handing it over to KC.
“So, miners deliver the mail now?” he asked.
“Sometimes, when the situation calls.” He tipped his hat up. “And I’m an angel, not a miner.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?” KC waved the letter in the air.
“Open it. Read it. That’s how mail works, De-tec-tive.”
MayBelle kicked up her back feet and brayed.
KC rolled his eyes, then noticed it was addressed to the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. He was sure it was against the law to open a letter intended for someone else. His finger slipped into the side anyway, but then he stopped.
The angel watched him. He thought the donkey leaned around the angel’s side to get a better look. She nudged her nose in the air like she was encouraging him to read it.
If he opened that mail, he’d be no better than the lawbreakers he’d spent his life chasing. If he opened it, he’d have no self-respect at all. How could he consider himself an honest man ever again?
“If you don’t open it, folks will die,” the angel said as if reading his mind. The man’s face had never looked serious, but now it was grim, severe. “If you send that letter on to Chicago, we’ll wait for someone to decide that this is important enough to send an agent here. Which they might not—there’s no business backing the requested investigation, so no one will pay for an agent. But if they did send one, it would take time before they got to Creede to start an investigation.” The angel walked toe to toe with KC. “And in all that time, Death will be awfully busy ’cause many more will die.”
KC looked at the letter in his hand. He had taken up as a detective to help people. There wasn’t any other reason. It was why he’d given up hope of home and family. The price had been high, but he knew in his heart it was the right choice. If there was a way to spare lives by acting on the contents of this letter, he’d do it. Sometimes “right” and “legal” weren’t the same thing.