“That’s not what I meant, Ike. If you let the marshal know and Schofield has a legitimate buyer for the guns, what’s that do to you?”
“Nothing,” he said. “But if Schofield weasels out of any charges I bring, that makes it easier for him to deny he ever kidnapped you and your mother.”
Lily sighed.
“Mama’s back in San Antonio. Even if she sent a telegram with all those charges listed, it hardly seems evidence enough against him. She ought to be here to accuse him in person.”
Ike’s mind raced. The same objection cropped up if Lily presented her evidence—her word—against Schofield and the local marshal didn’t buy it. The evidence carried in the three freight cars would be disputed far too easily. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and spoke softly to the woman.
“We need more evidence.”
“More than Kinchloe tossing you off the train to die?”
“It’s his word against mine.”
“Your clothes,” she said. She rubbed her nose. “Being so very dirty and smelly is hardly the picture of a man with truths to tell.”
Ike tried to brush some of the dust and dirt from his coat and stopped when he saw the way it piled up around his chair. Adding to the café owner’s chores in cleaning up wasn’t a polite thing to do.
“I’m at a loss as to what evidence will be enough. Perhaps we should let the train go on and—”
“No!” Lily pushed back her chair and stood. She tapped her foot angrily. “There is no way I will give up. He deserves to be brought to justice for what he did to Mama and me. Him and all his railroad detectives! And Zachary!”
Ike tried to calm her. Others in the restaurant stared at her. If he was filthy from his misadventures in the desert, Lily presented an even more disreputable picture. The makeup turning her into an old woman was almost all gone. Curious patches of wrinkled skin contrasted with her smooth cheeks and unlined forehead.
She heeded his warning to sit again and stop being the center of attention. With a quick scoot of the chair, she moved forward until their faces were only a foot apart. She spoke rapidly.
“I will trap him. I’ll apply more makeup so he won’t recognize me and engage him in conversation. He is sure to tell me everything we need to know.”
“That’s too dangerous,” Ike said.
“Why do you say that?” She moved an inch closer.
“If he got so much as a hint you weren’t who you claimed to be, your life would be in danger.”
“You care?”
“Of course I do,” Ike exploded. He calmed down when he realized she was baiting him. “It’s my duty to care.”
“So protecting me is only a job?”
Words failed him. He struggled to find a way to regain some semblance of dignity to go with what he’d thought would be seen as honorable. An unexpected break came his way.
“There. Outside. Schofield and Kinchloe are going into the saloon. And someone’s with them. If I find who their partner is, I might be able to take a whole package of crimes to the marshal.”
“They do seem to be quite friendly,” Lily said.
He heaved a silent sigh of relief. She veered away from accusing him of looking out for her only because it was his duty. Ike wished he’d never picked up Yarrow’s badge—and assumed his identity.
“I’ll see if I can eavesdrop.” He stood, but Lily reached out and caught his arm.
“We can go together.”
A flare of amazement robbed him of speech again. Then he said, “But you can’t go into a saloon. You’re a lady!”
“Why, thank you, sir, only Mama and I have performed in more bars than you have even ordered a beer at.”
“A woman as attractive as you would draw attention. And you need to refresh your makeup. Otherwise spying on them will be quite dangerous for you.” He saw she was determined. Ike rattled on, “Every man in the saloon will gawk at you. This is the one time you don’t want to be the center of attention.”
“Little old-lady me?” Lily touched her face. Her fingers came away smudged with the days-old makeup. She stared at the runny cosmetics and made a face. “You are right. I’ll find my case and reapply and—”
“And nothing,” Ike said. “You’ll draw even more attention as an old woman entering a bar than if you proclaim yourself an entertainer and hop up onto a stage to sing.”
“Oh,” she said, scowling. “I see why you are a marshal. You are a clever fellow, aren’t you? You’re used to being undercover and no one knowing. It’s my job to always be seen.”
“It comes with the badge.” Ike hated himself for saying that, but if it chased Lily away to a safer place, the lie served its purpose.
“So how will you find what they’re talking about?” She smiled innocently.
“What’s your idea for how I can do that?”
Lily grinned broadly and said, “I was completely right. You are a very clever man.” She took him by the arm and guided him into an alley beside the saloon. “A few smudges, a bit of change here and there and you don’t—quite—look the same.”
He protested when she tried to shove tiny pieces of wood up his nose.
“This causes your nostrils to flare. It gives you an entirely new appearance.”
“And I can’t breathe. What if I sneeze one of them out?”
“Don’t. That’s the first thing you learn when you perform. The show must go on.” She took his hat and popped up the crown, giving it more the look of a top hat. “You’re so dusty, you look very little like you did before being thrown from the train. There’s nothing I can do to change the style but the color.” She shook her head. “It’s a uniform brown. It’ll have to do.”
When Ike tried to scratch his nose with the nostril expanders, she slapped his hand and shook her head like a stern schoolmarm. Then she gave him a quick kiss.
“Go and spy or whatever you intend. You look different enough that Schofield won’t recognize you.”
Ike silently finished her thought. The railroad owner might not recognize him, but Kinchloe had a better chance, having seen him up close more than once. The best Ike could do was keep away from the railroad bull.
He hitched up his gun belt and tightened it higher around his waist. Walking slightly bowlegged changed his appearance as much as anything Lily had done for him—to him. It took real willpower not to blow out the wood braces in his nose, but when he stepped into the saloon and caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar, he knew Lily’s skill would serve him well. He hardly recognized himself.
Ordering a beer proved a chore since his upper lip quivered as he held back a sneeze. The barkeep looked at him curiously, then hurried down the bar to another customer after serving him. Ike took the beer, turned and put his elbows on the bar so he could look around the room.
Schofield, Kinchloe and the sheriff sat at a table toward the rear of the long, narrow room. Ike screwed up his courage, hoped his fake bowlegged walk wasn’t too obvious and swung around to sit at a nearby table, his back to the trio.
He sipped the beer and almost choked when some of the foam came out his nose. A quick move covered his face and repositioned the wood spacers in his nostrils. With his disguise once more settled into place, he leaned back to get a tad closer to the trio. Even then he caught only snatches of their conversation.
One thing became apparent right away. The sheriff and Schofield were friends. Good friends. They joshed each other in a way that’d cause mere casual acquaintances to grab angrily for their six-guns.
“Good that you’ve got a layover, Martin,” the sheriff said. “It gives you a chance to buy me another beer.”
Ike missed the response, then caught “. . . a shame your brother’s not here. I could turn over the . . . merchandise without going all the way to El Paso.”