Chapter 17

Kat tried to get a full sense of the house as she stepped inside. The more she got to know Seb, the more she realized she didn't really know him.

All of their first months together, from his injury to his decision to stay with them as they headed west to their time in the valley, the Seb she got to know first, she knew now had been completely out of character. His true character was the man who spent all his days in his laboratory.

The house, pretty as it was, had held little of his attention. By the look of the dusty but otherwise tidy house, he was a man of order, a man with deep roots. She guessed the pretty flowery paintings and pillows and the old but finely made furniture were all left from when his parents were alive. This wasn't the home of a rootless, obsessed inventor.

Except for the obsessed part.

The mantel above the brick fireplace was lined with framed tintype pictures. Those would be Seb's brothers and sisters. There was one of him as a young man, possibly from when he graduated from high school. There was one of the whole family with a very young Seb sitting on his father's lap.

Had Seb even noticed them there? She'd asked about pictures, and he'd acted like they'd need to look around. This house must hold a lot of things from his past. Kat wanted time to explore but, as Seb had already said, not today.

"Let's go upstairs," he said. "My notes are ... well, they were hidden in my room."

Kat followed him up the stairs. "You hid your notes even though this was your own home? Where you lived alone?"

Seb glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish look. "At the time I felt like I was being overprotective of my work. Now it seems I was being careless with it instead. There are ruthless thieves in the world of inventors. I'd met men who pretended to want to share my enthusiasm. They came to visit and wanted to talk to someone of like mind. Several times, though, I caught them snooping around my house when I went to get them a drink of water or a cup of coffee. More than once I interrupted a break-in. Which is what made me invest in high-quality locks for the house—locks I invented myself and got patented. I've had to sue on two different occasions to stop someone from using one or another of my patents without paying for it. Along with those measures to protect my patents, I hid my notes."

"How many patents did you say you have?"

"I've got quite a few now. Some have expired. A few have been widely used and are very profitable. I have a battery that is enough different from Leclanché's wet cell battery to be granted a patent—that is, if I can just finish it. That's the first step of what I'm working on in Cheyenne."

Kat had heard him talk about Leclanché before. Her mind tended to wander when he went into detail. She vowed there and then to listen more closely, no matter how boring he was.

"And I had one earlier than Leclanché about a specific small change to batteries that he improved enough to earn a patent. Beyond that, I invented the locks. They're quite secure and have sold well. I've worked on pottery containers that won't absorb acid, kerosene lamps and coal oil improvements, and I've used electricity for a few things but with limited success because I can't find a steady supply of power. A good battery would provide that. There's so much out there that's possible with oil and electricity."

He was getting excited about inventions again. She forced herself to pay attention.

"Any new invention you see is usually the product of dozens of small changes that make it better each time."

He led the way into his bedroom, still talking, but she'd lost the thread of his explanation once she was in his room.

She saw a spartan life. A dark blue bedspread, an iron bed frame, no rugs, no pictures on the walls or bric-a-brac anywhere, no curtains on the single window. He'd said he'd banished his mother's more decorative flourishes from the room. Smiling inside, she wondered if maybe he'd locked the door against her with one of his patents.

He had a chest of drawers, a small desk, and a wood chair. There was a closet with its door closed. Seb went straight to the closet, opened it, and dropped to his knees. He worked over something she couldn't quite see. She leaned sideways to see what he was doing at the same time he shifted aside just enough. She saw a plain floor that swung open on a hinge with no latch she could see. It was a sneaky hiding place.

Packed between the floor joists were packets like the one he'd had tucked inside his shirt when she'd found him bleeding in the alley. His hidden papers had survived his year away.

Lifting the packets from between the floorboards, he set them aside until he'd gathered a stack of them. He closed the little door with a firm snap. He gathered up the papers in his arms. Kat opened her mouth to ask him about them when they heard a window shatter in the back of the house.

Kat's mouth slammed shut. Seb, wild-eyed, closed the closet door, stuffed his papers inside his tucked-in shirt, and moved to close the bedroom door, quickly but silently. He manipulated the doorknob, and she heard what must've been the snick of the lock. He grabbed the single chair in the room and jammed it beneath the knob. He jerked his head toward the window, and she was on his heels as they tiptoed across the room. They moved quietly, but apparently not quietly enough. The intruder must have heard them because they heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.

Seb fiddled with the lock on the window and raised the sash. Kat saw a roof that topped the front porch. She remembered the gables—they were going out of one now.

He climbed out, then reached in for her. She had no idea how they were getting down, but he clearly had it all planned. She followed along, heart pounding but trusting Seb. He guided her to a corner, then turned and scrambled down a few feet.

The bedroom door shook under an assault.

"You're cornered, Jones," a voice shouted. "I've finally got you."

Kat, trembling, crawled outside just as Seb had. He guided her feet, then went down another step as the door to the bedroom rattled and a man roared with gleeful anger. He truly believed they were trapped.

The rest of the way down would have been simple if she hadn't been shaking. But she tried not to let the terror she felt slow her down.

At last her feet hit the ground, Seb grabbed her hand, and they ran. Seb saw Mrs. Gundersen peering out her front window and made a motion to shoo her out of sight. She ducked away as Seb and Kat ran straight for the trees in the park. They could still barely hear the furious battering of the bedroom door, followed by a crash, just as they dodged behind the trees. Seb didn't stop, but scrambled deeper into the safety of the woods, Kat following as best she could.

"Jones, this isn't over!" a man screamed from the bedroom window.

Seb never let up his running, and neither did Kat.

Finally he slowed but continued to stride all the way across town in a maze of turns, and she worried they might be lost until suddenly she knew where they were as he led her up the steps of the boardinghouse and straight on up to their room.

Aunt Vivian called from the kitchen, "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes."

"We'll be down." Kat did her best not to let Aunt Vivian know she was gasping for air and riddled with fear.

They stepped into the room. Kat was glad to see the door had a lock. Seb went to the curtains and pulled them closed.

Then he turned, dragged a chair away from the window, and sank onto it. There were two chairs. Kat made sure hers was out of sight from someone below searching, then sat to face him.

"We should go to the sheriff," she said.

"Will whoever is after me be watching to see if that's what we do next?"

Kat stood and began pacing. "He predicted we'd go to your house."

"I don't know about the sheriff, but at least we know one thing." Seb ran a hand over his face, then rested that same hand on the papers he'd brought along.

"What's that?" Kat hesitated to suggest they run all the way back to Hidden Canyon.

"The man hunting us in Wyoming was after me."

Thaddeus settled into his private car, ready to write notes he'd need to send back to Chicago to keep his company running. Sykes and two others had their own car, complete with sleeping quarters. This was an overnight trip. But they'd reach Independence early in the morning.

Because of that, Thaddeus hadn't brought his diner car or a cook and maid along. They'd be in Independence for breakfast.

His usual string of seven cars, including baggage and livestock cars, wasn't necessary. Only the sleeper cars, one for him and one for Sykes, and Thaddeus's private passenger car. Wadsworth had arranged for the private engine and his own set of cars, and the only passengers were those Thaddeus and Wadsworth had brought along.

Thaddeus sat reading business reports and drinking a glass of brandy laced with laudanum, his usual cocktail and the only hope of a halfway decent night's sleep.

A knock at his door surprised him.

"Come in?" It was easier to call out than get to his feet.

Wadsworth entered.

Since it was the rear door of Thaddeus's private sitting car, he wasn't surprised when Wadsworth came in. Thaddeus's three cars had been hooked on before the three Wadsworth had brought.

It was late, and in the rush to make arrangements for his business to operate without him, he'd yet to see Wadsworth. It stood to reason there were details that should be discussed. Then Dr. Maynard Horecroft came in behind Wadsworth.

What was he doing here? In company with Wadsworth? How could Wadsworth trust the man? Katherine had escaped over a year ago, and Horecroft hadn't informed Wadsworth, even while Wadsworth paid a hefty monthly fee to contain the madwoman.

Horecroft must've spun some sort of tale. When Thaddeus had found out about Eugenia's escape, Horecroft had claimed he was searching for them, and searching cost money. So the monthly fees had continued. Thaddeus knew a cheat when he met one. And for all his costly searching for his wife and daughter, Thaddeus's men had yet to report back that they'd found a second search being conducted, one that could be tracked back to Horecroft. Thaddeus distrusted the man and considered him a liar and a thief, but somehow Wadsworth had been convinced the man could help when they found his niece.

"Sit down, gentlemen." Thaddeus gestured toward his blue velvet chairs, which faced his own specially made chair, which had a footrest so he could lift his leg. It tended to swell, and his doctor had suggested he elevate it.

The walls in the car were paneled with burnished black walnut. The furniture was walnut and teak. He had kerosene lanterns, patterned with floral-painted blue chimneys, in sconces on the walls, carefully set so they wouldn't fall if the train ride became rough. That included one behind his left shoulder to provide light for his reading.

There was carpeting underfoot and a table on the far side of the room for when he took meals in the car.

Horecroft went straight for the nearest chair. Wadsworth, unsurprisingly, began to pace.

Wadsworth began, "Dr. Horecroft has had agents searching for my niece ever since she went missing from the asylum. He has been instrumental in finding her."

Thaddeus sincerely doubted it, but didn't say so.

Wadsworth went on. "I want her returned to the asylum with the minimum amount of fuss, and of course I don't want her injured. He's agreed to assist me in retrieving her."

"You understand my position in this, Wadsworth." Thaddeus had yet to consume enough of the laudanum to ease his pain. He took a deep draught of it, then set it and his reports on the table beside his chair. The table was also made of walnut, inlaid with teak in an intricate pattern. There was a holder for his drink, fashioned with ledges all around to prevent papers and other objects from sliding due to the motion of the train.

Thaddeus was surprised that Wadsworth seemed to genuinely feel concerned for Katherine. The man seemed intent on getting her back into supervised care. He seemed to hope she could be cured.

Well, she was a woman, wasn't she? In Thaddeus's experience most women needed to be supervised and probably locked away. Thaddeus regretted he hadn't just locked Beth up right from the moment she'd demanded her mother be returned to the home. Insolent, rude, ill-mannered girl. Just like her mother, she'd betrayed him after he'd given both of them luxury all their lives.

"I am searching for my wife. Your niece will have information that will assist me in my search. I have every reason to believe she spent the winter with Eugenia and knows precisely where to find her. I know your motive is to get her back to the asylum, but I need to talk to her before she's locked away."

"I will make sure she talks to you, Thaddeus." Horecroft spoke when Thaddeus wanted Wadsworth to answer. It was imperative to gain the man's cooperation.

"I did, after all, grant you access to Yvette Hannon last year. She took you to your daughter." Horecroft took a quick glance at Thaddeus's leg, then averted his eyes instantly.

Thaddeus didn't want to talk about Yvette, not in front of Wadsworth. Horecroft's methods to get the madwoman's cooperation had been cruel in the extreme. Long stretches without food. Locked away in a solitary building on the asylum property. Horecroft had never admitted to acts beyond that, but Thaddeus couldn't be sure. The woman responded to being touched with explosive, violent rage. Thaddeus's leg was proof of that.

Everything had taken too long. They had been weeks getting information out of Yvette and then the weeks for the trip and recovering from his injuries. Thaddeus didn't have weeks anymore. The stock market and the Chicago financial climate were volatile, and Thaddeus knew his investments were overstretched. The time was coming when his wife's money was going to be crucial. Any delay, considering the harsh Idaho winters, might put off Thaddeus finding his wife and bringing her home for yet another year.

"Wadsworth, I want your word you'll let me talk to your niece. I want to know where she spent last winter. I've had men exploring the area where I found my daughter last fall, yet none of them have been able to locate her. And where my daughter is, my wife will be. My daughter is a married woman now, and as such she is beyond my reach. But my wife is still mine to guide and control. And I want her location."

Wadsworth nodded. "We'll be riding back to Chicago together. I will insist Katherine allow you to question her. Running off as she did is, to me, sufficient evidence she can't be allowed to wander free. Dr. Horecroft assures me he's been searching, too, including in many of the same areas you have. His efforts finally ran her to ground. Yes, I agree you can interview her, and I'll insist she give you answers."

Thaddeus had to wonder if Wadsworth's idea of insisting would be the same as Horecroft's or as effective. Would they glean the desired information or just break the woman, as Yvette appeared to have been broken?

Perhaps Katherine Wadsworth was a bit more fully in control of herself and would therefore be more easily dealt with.

Thaddeus felt his heart speed up to match the chugging of the train's turning wheels. Tomorrow might see the end of his year and a half of searching.