Whitney's leg ached terribly from the fall. Why hadn't she been more careful where she was walking?

She sat on the edge of her bed with a cloth full of ice resting over the twelve-inch scar on her leg. Usually, when the weather changed or she overworked her leg, this was where it ached terribly. She should be used to the pain by now. But it wasn't the pain that had her mind spinning and questioning the events from earlier. What was he doing here? Out of all the people to run into, why did it have to be Marshal Sterling?

The beating of her heart increased, making her head throb with worry. Was he chasing her? If so, she was certainly going to jail. It wasn't until Whitney said his name, when she realized how much she had messed up. He had called himself Starling, yet her mouth blurted out his real name without thinking.

Of course, now she wondered why he had used a different name. Did the man actually think she wouldn't notice him?

Connie hadn't got back from running errands, so Whitney had no one to complain to. Maybe it was best to forget returning the Liberty Bell statue and just go into hiding until Marshal Sterling left town. Thankfully, Connie had picked a different hotel for them to stay in, so there would be no way she would accidently run into the marshal again. Her hotel was on the other end of town.

Whitney had been watching the marshal after he left her on the bench. She had quickly hobbled into the nearby shop and watched out the window to see where he went. No doubt he had noticed her mistake by calling him the correct name. There was no way she wanted to explain to him how she knew him, especially if he couldn't remember.

Groaning, she rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. Jake Sterling was going to ruin everything. A year ago while she was recovering from her accident, she had thought of the marshal quite often. Although she had just met him at Mrs. Crowley's birthday party, Whitney had wished they'd met under different circumstances. But he was a law enforcer, and she... well, she had been breaking the law.

The way her leg was hurting, there would be no way she could return the statue tonight without getting caught. Should she leave Connie to do it? No, Whitney's friend would never go for that. Connie was best as a lookout and found the quickest ways to get out of the areas without them being seen.

But staying locked up in this hotel room would be unbearable. She had already spent months locked up, in bed, recovering. That was torture.

The ice had melted, so Whitney tossed the wet cloth into the basin, and pulled out her dark men's clothing for walking at night. There was something going on, a shipment that Cora, the mayor's wife mentioned. Whitney needed to find out more about it, and since Connie hadn't returned, Whitney needed to be the one to check it out.

She changed into the men's clothing. She pulled back her hair into a tight bun, then slid the cowboy hat on her head. A few months back, she fashioned a fake mustache, too, and found that when she wore this outfit, she looked like a weak older man, but a man, none the less. That allowed her to mingle in bars and look for the rich man who was gambling his life away. Men who had consumed too much alcohol made it easy for her to relieve them of most of their winnings.

A soft knock came on her door. It was the coded knock that alerted her to Connie's presence. Whitney limped to the door and opened it, letting Connie inside.

Connie's gaze ran up and down Whitney. "Why are you dressed to go out already? It's not after midnight yet."

"I discovered something," Whitney replied. "In a couple of days, a shipment will arrive at the docks. Something of great importance is on one of the steamboats. I also found out that the mayor's wife is taking more than she needs from these people who work an honest living."

"I thought you said you were going to stop taking from the rich and giving to the poor."

Whitney grimaced, knowing she should stop, and yet... How could she when she saw so much injustice in one town? "I will. But this woman is doing rotten things to the people in Fort Benton. She needs to be taught a lesson."

"Well, not everyone in this town is good." Connie nodded. "I was being followed. It was all I could do to make sure I wasn't caught. I had to hide at the docks for a while, then he followed me clear into town. That's why I'm late. I needed to make sure it was safe to return."

"Do you think the man suspects you of something?" Whitney asked.

"Not a clue. But he made me nervous, so I hid for awhile."

"Speaking of making us nervous, I found out Marshal Sterling is in town. We need to make sure we steer clear of him."

Even though the U.S. Marshal was amazingly handsome with his unshaven face and dark hair, Whitney had to keep far away from him. By that quick look he gave after crossing the street, she felt pretty sure he didn't recognize her from the party a year ago. However, his memory might be better than she thought. Especially now that she messed up on his name. If their paths crossed again, she was certain he'd ask her questions. But how could she tell him that his presence at the party has been forever imprinted in her mind? How she wished she could have had that dance with him. Then again, being in his arms would have only created different memories.

"What is the marshal doing here?" Connie panicked, pacing the floor. "We've got to leave."

"No, let's not leave yet. I don't know why he is here, but if we just make certain he doesn't see us, then we should be fine."

"So, is that why you're dressed this way?" Connie motioned toward Whitney's outfit.

"Yes, partly."

"What is your plan for tonight?"

"To not get caught." Whitney pressed the sticky mustache above her lip. She lifted a pair of round spectacles and put them on her face, hoping to hide her long eyelashes. "I want to go into one of the saloons and see if I can hear about what's happening at the docks. Are you coming?"

"I suppose I'd better, to make sure you don't get caught." Connie grabbed the gun holster and checked the guns inside. "I hope we don't have to use these."

"We've never had to before." Whitney hoped that they kept their safety record.

* * * *

The smoke from the saloon was so thick when Whitney entered, she held her breath several times, trying not to cough. Her eyes stung, and she blinked them rapidly. She needed to get used to this awful smelling place or nobody would believe she was a man.

She leaned on her cane to make her costume look more complete as a crippled man, even though her aching leg made it easy to rely on the support. Once she reached the bar, she leaned against it and glanced at the man next to her. The poor lout appeared to have had a few too many drinks. Connie moved toward the poker table to observe the game.

Whitney slowly glanced around the busy saloon. This wasn't her first time in one of these rat holes, and she wasn't sure it would be her last. However, she couldn't recall the saloons she had entered before being this busy. All four of the card tables were full with men drinking and losing their hard-earned money. The other tables around the stage were also full as disgruntled men drank their worries away.

She had never understood why men did this. Her father had been one of them. Every time he'd been upset at her mother, he went to the saloon. Whitney remembered her mother crying often because they had no money. Pa's drinking habit had literally killed him, giving him a bad liver. Ma remarried and moved out of Montana. Of course, that was after Whitney had married Alan, but at least her mother was happy now.

The man next to her pounded on the bar. She jumped and swung her gaze toward him. The middle-aged man leaned over his empty cup, frowning as he glared at the bartender.

"Do ya work here or not? I need another one," the man shouted.

The bartender hurried over and filled the man's cup with more whiskey. He slid a cup in front of her and filled it to the rim before turning to help another man at the end of the counter who was complaining about his empty cup, too.

"Did you get the notice, too?" Whitney deepened her voice to try and sound manly. She was pretty sure it wasn't convincing. But then, these men had probably been drinking awhile, so they wouldn't notice. She brought the tin mug to her lips but didn't partake of that vile drink.

"Twenty men in my group." The man gulped down the drink then pounded on the bar for yet another refill. "If she keeps taking the jobs away from everyone, Fort Benton will be a ghost town."

"Are you certain it was her?" Whitney asked, pretty sure she knew who the her was in this conversation. "Why would she do that?"

"Of course, it was Madam Mayor." The man's lip curled in distaste. "She's the Sheriff of Nottingham, don't ya know. She'll tax us till we die just to make herself rich."

"But the docks need people. I wonder why the sudden change."

The man looked around, then leaned in closer to Whitney. His breath smelled like he had consumed the whole bottle of whiskey. She backed away slightly to keep from gagging.

"I heard that a special shipment was coming in a few days. The cargo is from South Carolina. Some rich guy in Wyoming has sent for it. I don't think they trust the people on the docks."

"Shipment? Of what?" Whitney's interest was piqued.

"Not sure, but if a rich guy has ordered it, then it's got to be worth a lot of money."

"But that's no reason to lay off people from their jobs," Whitney said.

"Madam Mayor wants people to suffer. She thrives on it. She'd been like this since her husband was put in as Mayor. In fact, Paul Johnson's wife will die if she can't get the proper doctors. Now Cora has taken away Paul's job, and if'n ya ask me, Cora has practically committed murder. That woman is evil."

Whitney's mind spun in circles with so many possibilities for her to help this town. The first thing that needed to happen was to get rid of Cora. But that would be difficult since she was the mayor's wife. Maybe if Cora had something taken from her that was valuable, she might understand what she was doing to this town.

If Whitney and Connie could steal what's coming on that steamboat before it gets transported to Wyoming, maybe they could use whatever the shipment was to give back to the people. The blame for the missing shipment could be on Cora. Hopefully, that would teach the woman to ruin hard-working people's lives.

Whitney turned and leaned up against the bar so she could look at the patrons. She had enough information so there here was no need to stay any longer. She needed to get Connie's attention so they could return to the hotel and plan out the interception of the delivery.

The doors to the saloon swung open and she looked at the man entering. Whitney's heart sunk to her stomach. Marshal Jake Sterling ambled in with his self-assured walk. He had changed his clothes from earlier, and now wore a white shirt and a beige duster hanging low, which covered his gun holster. His attention moved to the back corners of the saloon, as if he were looking for someone. Her heart hammered hard as he headed to the long counter where she was leaning. She needed to get out of here.

Whitney grabbed the handle of her cane and limped toward the door, trying not to make eye-contact with tall, dark, and handsome. A saloon girl carrying some whiskey slinked closely to Marshal Sterling. Before Whitney knew it, he had stepped away from the saloon girl to get out of her way, and bumped into Whitney. Her cane dropped from her hand and she stumbled. Her injured leg screamed from the sudden contact, but she gritted her teeth against the pain.

"Excuse me." Marshal Sterling's deep voice tickled her stomach and send chills of awareness down her spine. He bent and retrieved the cane.

Whitney kept her head low, not wanting to look him in the face. This couldn't be happening again.

The marshal handed the cane to Whitney. She snatched it quickly and cleared her voice, hoping to speak in a man's deep tone. "Thank ya kindly, sir."

She hurried her step, but the marshal's hand grasped her arm, stopping her. She grumbled under her breath. What had she done to deserve this kind of punishment?

"I was wondering if you could help me," the marshal said. "I'm looking for a man who asked me to meet him here. He has dark red hair and he's about my height. By chance, have you seen him?"

Her mouth suddenly went dry. She shook her head, pulling away from his arm. "Sorry, sir." Her voice squeaked and she groaned silently.

The marshal didn't move. Even though her gaze was on his boots, she could feel his eyes were on her. Heat crawled its way through her body, and she wanted to curse her weakness while in this man's presence.

A chair tipped over in the back corner, causing both her and the marshal to look toward the sound. Connie rushed out the back way of the saloon.

"Excuse me," Marshal Sterling said as he pushed past her.

Whitney panicked. Why was Marshal Sterling chasing Connie? Unless, he had picked up on Connie being her partner and he doesn't quite know yet that Whitney is the real thief. These thoughts made her sick to her stomach. Another man rushed out of the saloon, right before the marshal reached the back door.

Whitney hurried out the front searching for Connie. The horse that Connie rode in on was gone. Whitney grasped the reigns of her horse and pulled herself onto the horse. She removed the itchy mustache and tucked it inside her pocket. Her hat slipped from her head as she moved the horse into motion. Suddenly, a man jumped into her path, stopping the horse. Whitney gasped as she looked down on Jake Sterling.