Devil's Gate Mine, December 1924 Will County looked up from his ledger book when his horse thumped the cabin wall with her hoof. Something or somebody was making the mare nervous. Will pulled on his hat and coat and grabbed his shotgun. He'd found puma tracks around the mine tailings yesterday and had no intention of losing his horse or the camp mules. He walked around the cabin to the lean-to stable. The buckskin mare looked relieved to see him. "What's got you spooked, Dixie?" he murmured, stroking her nose. Times like this, Will wished he could understand horses like his father. Then he would know exactly what was out there in the dark. The men on his crew should be in the bunkhouse, although Will couldn't hear them over the put-put of the camp's electric generator. He crossed the road leading to the camp. The ruts from the ore truck were frozen, coated with a dusting of snow. Will spotted a fresh set of footprints and knelt to study them with his flashlight. The tracks were small, like a child's. Will doubted that anyone on his crew, even the Cornishmen, would leave tracks that small. He stood and followed the tracks in the direction they pointed. Snow fell in large soft clumps. A figure stood at the storeroom door, attempting to finesse the padlock. Will crept up from behind and put the shotgun barrels between the thief's shoulder blades. "Put your hands up where I can see them and turn around slowly," he commanded, shining his flashlight at the thief. The thief turned, and Will nearly dropped the shotgun in surprise. "Birdie? What in the hell are you doing here?" His adopted sister was equally shocked. "Will! Don't shoot!" she whispered fiercely, hoping the generator would muffle their voices from the men in the bunkhouse. "I can explain. Is there somewhere warm where we can talk?" Will jerked his head towards his cabin. "Over there." When they entered the cabin, Will leaned the shotgun against the wall by the door and hung up his coat and hat. He pointed to the chair he'd just occupied. "Sit," he commanded, pulling off his fogged-over glasses and rubbing them on his shirtfront. Birdie did as she was told, pulling off her broad-brimmed hat. Will gaped at her, pulling his glasses back on to make certain of what he was seeing. "What did you do to your hair?" "I cut it off." Her red hair was shorn close, parted and combed on the top like a man's. "Why in hell would you do that?" Will simmered with anger. "It's part of my disguise." "Disguise?!" "What I'm about to tell you is top-secret," Birdie stated. She almost smiled when Will's mouth dropped open for the third time in ten minutes. "If you can't promise me that what I tell you goes no further than this room, then I'm walking out of here." "Top secret to whom?" Will asked warily. "The U.S. Government." Will blew out his breath in defeat. "Okay. You have my word that what you say stays here." "I'm working for the Treasury Department, looking for counterfeiters." "Counterfeiters? What's that got to do with breaking into the storeroom?" "Will you let me finish?" Birdie snapped. Her foster brother glared at her, but kept his mouth shut. "We've reason to believe that someone working here at Devil's Gate has been transporting currency plates from an engraver in Sacramento to a printer in Nevada." Will frowned. "How long has this been going on? Most of my men have been here six, eight months or more." "We first got wind of the engraver four months ago, but we suspect that this has been going on for some time." "So why were you breaking into the storeroom? Do you think the plates are in there?" "Yes," Birdie looked him in the eye. "You have to believe me, Will. If I'd have known you were up here, I'd have knocked on your door and asked you straight out to open the storeroom." Will crossed his arms and stared at the floor for a moment, digesting what she'd said. "How do you know it isn't me you're looking for?" he challenged quietly. Birdie gave him a condescending look. "Uncle Brisco and Aunt Kate didn't raise criminals," she said flatly. "Christ," Will said, shaking his head and smiling for the first time. "I'd hate to think what Dad'd do to me if I was." He pulled up a second chair and straddled it backwards, resting his arms across the back. "I wondered what you've been up to. I was in Placerville about six weeks ago, talking with the owner of this mine. I had to stay overnight, so I decided to look you up and take you to dinner. Funny thing is, your address is a letter box in a hotel you don't even live in." "I just stop in and pick up my messages from time to time." "So where do you live?" Will was curious. Birdie shrugged. "Wherever I need to work. I usually stay at boarding houses with nosy landladies. Hotels are too open for safety." Will frowned in concern. "Is it that dangerous, what you do?" "Uncle Brisco warned me," Birdie answered. "What a despicable lot these counterfeiters were. And I didn't believe him at the time. They've no morals whatsoever. They're so greedy, they'd kill their best friend before sharing the take-" "Dad knows about this?" Will interrupted. "He guessed right off," Birdie replied. "And I felt that someone in the family ought to know." She looked at the hat in her lap. She'd have the brim twisted off if she weren't careful. "In case something happened to me." An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Finally Will rose. "Do you want some coffee?" he asked. "I'd love some. I'm just about frozen through." Will filled the enamel coffeepot and set it on the small pot-bellied stove. "Did you walk up here from town?" "I rode my motorcycle as far as I dared, then I walked. I didn't want your mules giving me away." She scowled. "Just how did you get the drop on me anyway?" "My horse heard you," Will replied smugly. "That buckskin Uncle Brisco gave you?" "Uh-huh." "I don't suppose you'd consider selling her to me?" Will grinned wickedly. "You don't have that much money." "Can't blame a gal for trying." Birdie walked to the fireplace, looked around the cabin and rubbed her thawing arms. "This is a really nice place you've got here, Will. I can't believe how clean it is, though. You never kept your room at home this clean." "That's what the Army'll do for you," her foster brother shrugged. "Besides, it keeps me from tripping over things." A phosphorus bomb in the war six years before robbed Will of some of his eyesight. Without his glasses, he could barely see past his nose. Birdie pointed to the ledger and small notebook lying open on the table. "Can I look at these? See if I recognize any names?" "I don't mind," Will said as he pulled on his coat. "I just use the notebook to jot down figures for the ledger. I've got to bring some wood in." Birdie sat and perused the ledger. None of the names on the payroll page were familiar to her. She thumbed through the notebook. It was full of measurements and figures, but also doodles of birds and leaves and pinecones. Will returned with an armload of wood and dumped it near the fireplace. "Why do you have a recipe for cornbread in here?" Birdie asked, pointing to his notebook. "Our camp cook was killed in a bar fight," Will explained, poking a log into the stove. "And after eating tinned food for a week, the crew was about to mutiny. I wrote to Mom and asked her for some recipes to keep them happy. For a while there, I was both foreman and cook." Birdie laughed. "I should marry you, Will County. I certainly can't cook." Will nearly dropped the log in his hand. He looked up sharply, but Birdie had her back to him. He couldn't tell whether she was serious or not. From the day Birdie came to live with his family, she'd teased Will about one thing or another. But she'd never said anything like that before. "So what do these currency plates look like?" he asked, trying to ignore what she'd just said. If his voice sounded odd, Birdie didn't seem to notice. "They're a little larger than this notebook," Birdie said. "Engraved steel. And a set, of course. Front and back." "They could be anywhere around here," Will mused. "Does anyone on the crew leave camp for several days?" "The crew gets a four-day holiday once a month. They usually go down to town and blow their wages. No one has left camp other than that." Birdie raised an eyebrow. "So what do you do on your four days off?" "Babysit the mules." Will replied, refusing to take the bait. "If everyone leaves, I have to look after the stock or pay someone out of my pocket to do it. We're shutting down on Tuesday for a month so everyone can go home for Christmas. I'm leaving the mules in Caryville's livery and paying the sheriff to look after things here for two weeks so I can go home too. Here," he said, handing Birdie a steaming cup. "Thanks. Listen, Will," Birdie became serious. "Don't try to cross-examine your crew. You'll just scare the counterfeiter away. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Try to find out where everyone is going during the break." "What are you going to do?" Will asked, incredulous. "Follow seventeen guys for the next month?" "Well, not me personally. There are other agents." She scrubbed her thawing face and sighed. "I just want this to be over. I always seem to be one step behind these fellas, and it really makes me furious that I can't catch them with enough evidence to convict them." "You don't have to answer this if it'll get you into trouble," Will said. "But what would happen if you do catch them?" "Oh, I'd just get another case to work on. Other counterfeiters, or, God forbid, moonshiners." A rap on the door made them both jump. "Hey, boss!" Denis Eamon called. "I'm shuttin' the generator down for the night." "Okay," Will answered. "'Night." He looked at Birdie and found her chair vacant. He peered under the table to see her crouched beneath. "You can come out now." "I should go," Birdie said. "How long until everyone's asleep?" Will moved to the window and looked out. The ceiling light stuttered then blinked off. The fireplace lit up the interior of the tiny cabin. "Denis is headed back to the bunkhouse. The coast should be clear in about fifteen minutes." "Will, listen," Birdie said, dead serious. "I meant what I said earlier-" About marrying me? Will thought. "Don't try to find those plates. Concentrate on finding out where everyone on the crew is headed. Are you listening?" Will blinked. "Yeah. Find out where everyone is going." Birdie put a hand on his arm. "Be careful." Will nodded, pulled on his coat and opened the door. He leaned against the cabin wall and lit a cigarette. "Why don't you smoke inside?" Birdie whispered through the crack in the door. "It is your cabin, after all." "I fell asleep with a lit cigarette once and burned a plate-sized hole in the blanket." Will murmured, feinting nonchalance as he looked around. "Now I know why Mom always made us smoke outside. Okay, the coast is clear," he whispered after a few minutes. Birdie slipped past him and melted into the dark.
Will sighed and wondered for the thousandth time how Birdie did it. Yesterday, he trusted all the men in his crew. Today, he was suspicious of everything. Every furtive move, every sideways glance seemed to him an admission of guilt. It wasn't hard to ask his crew about their holiday plans: he was genuinely curious. But trying to sort the truth from the possible fiction was driving Will to distraction. It angered him that despite the fact that only one of the crew was the counterfeiter, he was forced to think that everyone was guilty.
"Hey, boss!" Ian Gryffd's voice startled Will out of his reverie. "Ho Tsu came up with a great idea." The small Cornishman was fairly dancing with glee. "He thinks Madam Eloise would look after the canaries while we're gone. D'you want me to ask her?"
"Hmmm," Will thought a moment. Madam Eloise ran the bordello in Caryville. The miners were her best clients; it was possible that she'd look after the birds while the mine was closed. Will had been wondering what to do with the canaries. They'd be warm enough in the mine, but they wouldn't be fed or watered. If he left them in his cabin, the sheriff could look after them, but the birds would probably freeze.
"Yeah," he said finally. "Stop on your way to Rainbow and ask her." Will frowned. "I thought Ho Tsu didn't go with you guys when you went to Eloise's."
"He doesn't," Gryffd replied. "He suckers fellas in the saloon into playin' poker. Guys see that moon face, think he don't speak English, and think he's an easy mark."
"And he isn't?"
"Hell no," Gryffd grinned. "Ho Tsu's made enough money to set two of his kids up in business. I've tried to get him to teach me how he does it, but he tells me I'm not yellow enough."
"When you get to Rainbow, ask Martin when he's gonna shut down." Will said. "I don't want to send you over with a load and find the place closed down." The company that owned Devil's Gate also owned the Rainbow Mine ten miles away. The owner decided that it was cheaper to truck the ore to the stamp mills at Rainbow than set up stamp mills at Devil's Gate. Will was glad he didn't have to listen to the constant thump of the stamp mills. It was a quick path to deafness.
Gryffd left with a wave, leaving Will to contemplate the rest of his crew. There were eighteen men working at Devil's Gate: three groups of five miners, one cook, Gryffd and Will. The cook was the newest crewmember, a large black man with a gruff demeanor. Will liked Amos Barton because he reminded Will of his Uncle Bowler. Ian Gryffd drove the ore truck back and forth from Devil's Gate to Rainbow. The miners were a mixed lot: one group was entirely Chinese, one group had two Cornishmen and three Welshmen, and the third all Americans. The Chinese, two middle-aged men and three young men, tended to keep to themselves. Ho Tsu was their spokesman, as he was the eldest and had the best command of English. The American crew consisted of Mac Henderson, a quiet Southerner named Spence, a talkative man named McGinty, and two burly brothers named Carson. They were suspicious of the Chinese crew, partly because they couldn't understand them and partly because the foreigners matched their daily production of ore. The Welshmen and Cornishmen seemed to be the glue that held the crew together. They got along with both the Americans and the Chinese, diffusing fights with their joking manner.
The light flickered above Will's head. He swore, rising from the table and pulling on his coat. The generator was in dire need of an overhaul, and Will hoped that it would hold out until after the crew left for the holidays. County planned to return to Devil's Gate two weeks early in order to work on the generator. He just had to baby the machine for three more days.
The generator coughed again as Will entered the shed. He left the door open in case the generator stalled. He checked the gauges; the oil pressure was too high. He'd have to shut it down. Will checked his watch. It was nearly lunchtime. The crews would be heading up to eat, so Will could shut off the generator and not risk anyone's safety. He entered the mine, following the tracks down. The crews met him on their way up, driving the six mules ahead of them.
"I saw the lights flicker down there and thought you'd want to shut 'er down," Mac Henderson said. "What's the problem?"
"The oil pressure went through the roof," Will replied as he took the reins from his lead man. "If I can just get the damn thing to hold out until Monday, life'd be great."
"D'you need some help?" Henderson asked. "Denis could help you. I don't know nothin' about generators."
"Yeah," Will said. "But let him eat first. It'll take some time for the generator to cool off."
Outside the mine, the crews headed for the cookhouse while Will and Ho Tsu led the mules to the corral. Then Will walked back to the generator shed, shrugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He crouched down and checked all the wires and pipes, looking for damage. There was a rag stuffed in beside the manifold. So that was the problem. The generator wasn't getting enough air and was overheating. Will tugged at the rag; it was heavier than it looked. He pulled harder and the currency plates clattered to the floor.
Denis Eamon appeared, grinning from ear to ear. "She won't cooperate, eh boss?"
Will popped up from behind the generator. "I found the problem. The manifold was clogged. It ought to run now." He tried the starter, and the generator roared to life.
"Purrs like a cat, she does," Denis shouted over the noise. "Temperamental old biddy."
"You got that right," Will agreed. He gently pushed the rag and the plates out of sight under the generator. After Eamon returned to the cookhouse, Will rewrapped the plates and slid them into his coat pocket, wondering where he could hide them.
"Will County!" Sheriff Ed Jenkins shouted as he leaned out of his office. It was Monday afternoon, and he was wondering when the mine foreman was going to drop off the keys.
"Sheriff," Will said, touching the brim of his hat and guiding his horse to the jail porch.
"You 'bout ready to leave?"
"Yes, sir. I've brought the mules down to the livery. The men have all left," Will grinned. "And the canaries are at Miss Eloise's. Now I'm going back to lock up and get my things." The crew left that morning for the holidays, and Will was anxious to go home himself.
The sheriff looked out beyond the porch roof. "Way this snow's coming down, you ought to take the train."
Will also looked at the sky. "I may have to. I'm hoping the snow will let up further south. My dad wants me to bring this mare home for breeding." His horse whickered, and Will patted her neck.
"Sounds like she's lookin' forward to it," Jenkins commented.
Will laughed. "Wouldn't you? I shouldn't be long. I'll drop the keys off to you before I go." He touched his heels to the mare and guided her back into the street.
Will led the mare around the cabin to the stable and loosened her girth. "I'm going to lock up and then we'll get going, Dixie," he said to her. "And don't you even think about rolling with that saddle on." The mare nuzzled his coat. Will had always thought it weird how his father talked to horses and they seemed to talk back. But since he'd been given this mare, Will found comfort in talking to her because she seemed to understand what he was saying.
He walked around to the door of the cabin, preoccupied by all the things he had to do before leaving the camp. "Shoulda made a list," he muttered. Will opened the door and stopped to stomp the snow from his boots. Someone hit him from behind with a shovel and he sprawled onto the cabin floor.
Icy water dashed in his face brought Will awake. Sputtering, he realized he was bound hand and foot to a chair. His glasses were gone, but he could tell that someone stood between him and the light off to his left. He was freezing; the water tossed on him sent icy needles down his chest.
"Where are they, Will?" The figure leaned close, and Mac Henderson's face swam into focus.
"Mac? What's going on?! Untie me!" Will fought all kinds of emotions at once, the worse being fear of the counterfeiter who stood before him. Birdie's words came unbidden to his mind. They're so greedy; they'd kill their best friend before sharing the take.
Henderson backhanded him, nearly causing him to black out again. "Answer the question!" he roared. "Where are the plates?"
"Plates! What plates? What are you talking about?" Will jabbered, letting panic show on his face. "Have you lost your goddamn mind? What's got into you?!" He hasn't found them! he thought triumphantly.
"You're a piss poor liar, County," Mac sneered. "It had to be you that found those currency plates. Anyone else would've wanted in on the deal, but no, you're too straight. And I know you still have them, 'cause the sheriff ain't bustin' down my door." Henderson circled behind the chair and rumbled in his other ear. "Maybe I'll just wait and see who shows up to meet you."
Will closed his eyes and tried to think of anything, anybody but Birdie. He must have failed, because Mac chuckled maliciously. "Yesssss, I think that's what I'll do. You're waitin' on someone to come and get 'em. Well, you can just sit here in the cold and dark and wait for 'em." Will heard the miner stomp off towards the light. A door thudded, and everything went black. Will heard the drip drip of water to his right and realized that he was in the mine. Henderson had shut the heavy oak door over the hole; just as Will planned to do before he left for home.
"Birdie, if you're coming up here," Will groaned. "Bring the cavalry with you."
"Now I know why you wanted me to meet you here," Brisco County, Jr. said as Birdie pulled up on her motorcycle. He leaned against the Ford, out of the winter wind. "Kate would have a fit if she saw you on that thing."
"It's not very lady-like," Birdie admitted, stripping off her goggles and giving the kickstand a nudge with her heel. She hugged her adopted father.
"So how's life with the underbelly of society?" Brisco joked, happy anytime Birdie showed up without a bullet hole in her. He wasn't happy about her vocation, but she'd done such a great job catching counterfeiters that he never told her how much he feared for her safety.
Birdie sighed, letting her shoulders sag. "I'm beginning to think that I should find another line of work. I spend so much time with criminals that I don't know any decent people any more." She looked up and smiled, "Present company excepted. Is Will home yet?"
"No."
"Oh." Birdie tried to keep her answer non-committal.
"I don't like the way you said that," Brisco frowned as he took the bundle she untied from the back of the bike. "Just what are you up to, Birdie?"
"I think one of the men on Will's crew at Devil's Gate is part of a counterfeiting ring."
Brisco gave her a sharp look. "Does Will know?"
"Yes," Birdie answered. "And now I'm not sure whether I did him a favor by warning him. I'm afraid he'll try to take matters in his own hands."
"When did you see him last?"
"Um, last Thursday. But he sent me a telegram yesterday afternoon and said he would be home this morning."
"It is odd," Brisco said, concerned. "Will said he'd telephone before he left Devil's Gate, just to let us know he's on his way. Maybe he called after I left the house. As high up as Caryville is, it's probably snowing up there. Maybe that slowed him down." County shrugged, but couldn't shake off the nagging fear that was festering in the back of his mind. He glanced up at the station clock. "Daniel's train will be here in twenty-five minutes. Let's go get some coffee while we wait."
Will rocked back and forth in the chair, trying to loosen the ropes. He rocked too far, and the chair toppled over sideways. Pain shot through his right shoulder. "That was smart, County," Will grumbled sarcastically. Something slid out of his trouser pocket and bounced off the chair. His pocket knife! Amazed that Mac hadn't patted him down, Will rocked the chair around until his hand brushed the knife.
"Okay, so far, so good," he muttered. "Now, how do I get it open?" He tried to wedge the knife between the chair arm and the floor, but when he tried to pull the blade free, the knife would wiggle loose. Swearing, Will tried over and over to open the knife. After what seemed like hours of trying, he was able to pull the blade up a fraction with his thumb. He carefully twisted the knife around and stuck the blade point in the chair. Will pulled the knife open and sobbed with relief. He sawed at the rope binding his right wrist and, when it was free, cut the bonds on his feet and other wrist. He put the knife back in his pocket and felt around him until he located the ore car tracks. Will sat on one of the rails, waiting for the circulation tingling in his limbs to subside. He considered his options. If he tried to open the door at the mouth of the mine, he stood a good chance of getting killed. If he moved further back in the mine, he might be able to locate one of the emergency caches. He'd have blankets, food and light, but he'd be groping in the dark trying to find the cache. Will shivered, rubbing his arms. God, I'm cold. His shirt was still wet, and his coat was gone. Will decided to take a chance and look for a cache. He stood and trudged down the tracks.
As soon as they reached the house, Brisco phoned Sheriff Jenkins in Caryville.
"Mrs. Jenkins?" he asked, sticking his finger in his other ear so he could hear better. "This is Brisco County down in Clark's Landing. Could I talk to Sheriff Jenkins?"
He frowned. "Really? Anybody hurt?" He paused, shaking his head at Birdie's questioning look. "No, don't wake him. My son Will works up at Devil's Gate and he isn't home yet. I wondered if the sheriff had seen him. No, that's all right, Mrs. Jenkins. We'll drive up that way. I'm sure we'll meet him on the road. Thank you, ma'am."
As he hung up the phone, Brisco said to Birdie and Kate, "They had a hotel fire up in Caryville late yesterday afternoon. Fortunately, no one was killed, but the sheriff helped fight the fire and didn't get to bed until dawn. His wife didn't know if he'd talked to Will, but she didn't think that the sheriff had Will's keys. We'd better drive up there."
"Take Daniel with you," Kate said, concern creasing her face.
"He can take the cart back to El Dorado to pick up James and Madeline when their train comes," Brisco said.
"I can do that," Kate said. "You three go find Will." She gave Brisco a shaky smile; he squeezed her hand in encouragement.
Will located the cache on the first level down. In preparation for possible cave-ins, he'd ordered a wooden crate of supplies stored on each level of the mine. The crates contained blankets, food, water, candles and a small medical kit. Will immediately pulled loose a blanket and wrapped it around him. The matches in his pocket were wet, but he located a box of matches in the corner of the box and lit a candle. Will wrapped his bleeding wrists with gauze from the medical kit and then curled up in the blanket to wait. As much as he wanted to go deeper into the mine where it was warmer, without the canaries he was unsure of the air quality. Plus, without his glasses he risked the chance of falling into a hole. His head throbbed and he was so tired. Will fought to stay awake, knowing that if he fell asleep, he could easily be recaptured. Try as he might, he couldn't get Birdie off his mind. A week ago, he thought of Birdie as any fellow would think about his sister, even if she was adopted. But after her comment about marrying him, Birdie was quickly becoming an obsession for Will.
"He'll be all right," Daniel said, glancing at the rear-view mirror. Brisco looked over at his son and realized that Daniel had aimed his remark at Birdie. He turned to look at her in the back seat. Huge tears rolled silently down her face. As much as Brisco wanted to share Daniel's optimism, he too feared the worse.
They stopped in Caryville to talk to Ed Jenkins. The sheriff was apologetic; he'd been fighting the hotel fire and had completely forgotten about Will. But he offered to guide them, so Brisco climbed into the back of the car and let Jenkins ride in the front with Daniel. Jenkins was surprised to be introduced to some of Will's family. Will was a younger version of his father but could the big blond fellow and the tiny redhead really be his brother and sister?
The ride up the mountain was bumpy and slow, the car sliding on the icy ruts. They all breathed a sigh of relief when Daniel finally guided the car to a stop near Will's cabin. Brisco looked around the camp. Everything seemed in order, but since he'd never been to Devil's Gate, he wasn't sure. The new snow covered up any tracks.
Birdie made a beeline for the cabin. Just as she reached for the doorknob, the door sprang open, and a large, black-bearded man ran from the cabin and around to the stable. He clipped Birdie as he passed her; she landed hard on her rump.
"Henderson!" Sheriff Jenkins shouted, charging off after the man. "Stop!" Daniel joined the chase.
Brisco helped Birdie to her feet. "You okay?" he asked.
She glared after the men as she brushed the snow off angrily. She and Brisco entered the cabin and stopped. The room looked like a tornado had hit it. Will's belongings were strewn all over the floor. Birdie made a mewling sound in her throat and dropped to the floor. She picked something up from the floor under the table and stood. Brisco saw Will's glasses in her hand. "He can't be very far, then," he said grimly.
Birdie stared at the glasses in frozen horror. Brisco grabbed her arm and shook her. "Don't fall apart on me now, Birdie. We've got to find him." She nodded dumbly, then began to sort through the mess for clues.
"Tell me what you talked about when you saw him last," Brisco suggested, looking through the wardrobe. "Maybe he left you a clue."
Birdie reached into her coat pocket and pulled out Will's telegram. It had been folded and refolded so many times that the creases were beginning to split. Brisco took it from her outstretched hand and read it.
"Can you read this book, Uncle Will?" James' four-year old daughter Beth plopped on the sofa beside Will. "I can't. The words are too big." She'd looked at the illustrations. There was a little pigtailed girl, a scarecrow, and a man with rivets on his body and a funnel on his head. And a huge lion. There was even a dog with spectacles just like Will.
"This is one of my favorites," Will said. He'd had no time to replace his Christmas presents, so he'd scrounged through his belongings for gifts. He gently took the worn book from her. "Do you want me to read it to you?"
"Would you?" Beth's eyes went wide.
"Sure," Will said. "Thanks," he said to Birdie, who handed him a cup of coffee and sat down on the other side of the sofa. He took a sip, set the cup down near his feet and opened the book. "Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas Prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife…"
Most of the family had gravitated to the parlor after Christmas dinner. James nodded off while Will read the second chapter; Daniel was asleep by the time Dorothy and Scarecrow found the Tin Woodsman. As Will got to the part where the adventurers fall asleep in the field of poppies, Daniel began to snore. Beth clamped small hands across her mouth and tried not to giggle. Will could feel Birdie vibrating with silent laughter; he elbowed her to make her stop before he started too.
After a particularly loud snore, Beth whispered, "He sounds just like the Lion!" The three finally burst out laughing. Kate and Brisco sat next to each other in their chairs; Kate squeezed Brisco's hand as he shook his head and laughed.
Daniel woke at the outburst. "What?" he mumbled, causing them to laugh louder.
"Keep reading," Beth pleaded. She loved the funny voices Will gave each character.
An hour later, Beth's mother interrupted Will. "Beth," Madeline said. "Time for a nap."
"Awww," Beth pouted. "Uncle Will is reading a story to me."
"Elizabeth," her mother repeated sternly.
The girl hung her head. "Yes, ma'am." She leaned over and kissed her uncle on the cheek. "Thank you, Uncle Will."
"You're welcome," Will replied. "We'll finish this later." Beth followed her mother out of the room.
"Thank God," Will breathed, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes.
"You okay?" Daniel was instantly alert.
"Take it easy, Doc." Will waved him off. "Nothing a nap won't fix." He stretched out his legs, folded his hands over his stomach, and closed his eyes.
"You could've let me read for a while," Birdie chided.
"What?" Will's voice was drowsy. "And break Beth's heart?" Birdie brushed his cheek with her fingertips. Will didn't open his eyes, although his skin tingled where she touched him. "Someday you're gonna have to tell me about chasing counterfeiters," he murmured.
Birdie blew out her breath. "That'll take days."
"I've got four buildings to clean up. And a generator to overhaul," Will said softly. "Can't you get old what's-his-name? Charlie? To give you a couple of more days of vacation?"
"Are you putting me to work?"
Will smiled, eyes still closed. "Least you could do."
Two weeks later, Brisco dropped Daniel, Will and Birdie off at the train station in El Dorado. "Aren't you going to buy a ticket?" he asked Will as Daniel went into the station.
"Birdie offered me a lift," Will replied.
Brisco grinned. "Have you seen that thing she drives? You might change your mind." As if on cue, Birdie pushed her motorcycle around the station.
"Oh God," Will breathed, eyes widening.
His father clapped him on the back and laughed. "You've only used up, what, three of your nine lives? You've got a few left to spare." Will hugged his dad, then shouldered his bag and walked towards the motorcycle with the tread of a man on death row.
"Hop on," Birdie said, patting the seat behind her.
"Hold it!" Daniel called, hurrying from the station. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a Brownie camera with a flourish. "I gotta get a picture of this." Brisco and Kate had given each of their children a Brownie for Christmas. The four of them spent the last few days taking pictures of the farm, the horses, and each other.
"Give me your bag," Brisco offered as his youngest son tried to juggle the camera and his satchel. Daniel passed the bag to him.
"You can take a picture," Birdie laughed. "As long as you promise never to show it to Aunt Kate. She doesn't know about my motorcycle. C'mon, Will. Hop on."
"Give me a horse any day," Will muttered as he sat behind her.
Daniel aimed the camera. "Smile for Uncle Dan!" His tone of voice was goofy enough to make them laugh for the shot.
Brisco shook his head and laughed. "You're certifiable."
"Who?" Will asked.
"All three of you," his father said. Birdie kicked the motorcycle to life. "Be careful," Brisco said.
"I'll try." Will looked apprehensive as Birdie pulled goggles over her eyes and steered the bike toward the road. He clamped a hand on his hat and muttered something that Brisco didn't catch.
"What did he say?" he asked Daniel as the motorcycle roared away.
"He said he must be nuts," Daniel shouted over the din. "I hope it works out for them."
Brisco's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Hell, Dad," Daniel rubbed his cold hands together. "They've been dancing around each other since the war. 'Bout time they did something about it."
"Are you going to put the horses in tonight?" Kate asked as she ran her hand across Brisco's shoulders. He flinched and looked up.
"Huh?"
"What's wrong, Brisco? You've been a thousand miles away tonight."
Brisco shifted in his chair and stretched. He looked at the clock above the mantle and did a doubletake. Is it really that late? he thought. "Did you notice anything about Will and Birdie?" he asked carefully.
"I'm pretty certain Will is in love with Birdie, but I don't think she realizes it yet."
Brisco frowned. "I missed that."
Kate laughed and sat on the arm of his chair. "You just have a blind spot as far as Birdie's concerned."
"She's his sister, for God's sake!"
"No she's not, Brisco. No more than that Annie you grew up with," Kate reasoned. "Besides, can you think of anyone else you'd rather see Birdie married to?"
"Married?" Brisco's eyebrows shot up. Then he shook his head and laughed. "Jeez, I'm just getting used to them being together, and you've got them married already."
Kate smiled sweetly. "You're not the only one looking for the 'coming thing', my dear."
"If it makes Birdie quit the Treasury, then I'm all for it," Brisco said. "She's been far too lucky. I worry that her luck's about to end. When I picked her up at the train station, she said something about finding another line of work."
"Hmmm," Kate mused, tapping her chin with a finger. "I wonder . . ."
"Don't," Brisco warned. "You know Birdie. Tell her to do something, and she'll do the opposite."
"I wasn't thinking about Birdie," Kate said. "I was wondering about Will . . ."
Brisco took her hands in his. "I think, just this once, we ought to stand back and let it happen without interfering."
Kate leaned over and kissed him. "I knew you'd see it my way."
Now I know why I never play poker with you," Brisco laughed.