"No, you don't," Lee contradicted her. "But you're going to after I explain what happened."
"You don't have to explain," Mary said, suddenly sure she didn't want to learn the depth of Lee's involvement with Tabitha Gray.
"Please stay," Lee said. "I want to explain." He scooted over in the bed, shoved a feather pillow behind his back as he leaned against the brass headboard, then patted the empty place beside him. "You might as well sit down. It's a long story."
Mary eyed the empty space on the bed. The thought of sitting in bed beside Lee seemed so inviting, so warm and cozy—so married.
Lee saw the look in her eyes and discerned the reason for her hesitation. "It's all right," he assured her. "I promise not to bite."
She smiled. "I wasn't worried about your biting me."
Lee grinned as he pulled the sheets and the wool blankets to his chest, then tucked them tightly around him before propping one of the feather pillows, beside him, up against the brass poles of the headboard. "You can sit on top of the blankets and pull the top quilt over your lap for warmth."
Mary continued to waver.
"Even if I promise to keep my hands where you can see them?" He held the top quilt open, inviting her to enter the warmth of the bed. "Come on, Mary, be adventurous. Take your shoes off and climb in. It's wanner."
She sat on edge of the bed, then stretched her long legs, and toed off her deerskin moccasins. They fell to the floor with a soft plop.
"No wonder I didn't hear you come in," Lee said. "You were wearing moccasins." He flipped the heavy quilt back over so it covered Mary's legs up to her waist.
"You didn't hear me come in because you were snoring too loudly," she replied.
Lee shrugged. "I guess there's a first time for everything."
"Sleeping that soundly and snoring that loudly can get a man in your line of work killed," Mary reminded him.
"I'm at home."
"Yes," Mary retorted dryly, "I can tell that from the family pictures."
Lee reached over and gently tucked a stray lock of her straight black hair back into place, then let his fingers graze the line of her jaw. Mary shivered in reaction. "Ah, yes," he said. "The family pictures." He lifted the silver-framed picture and looked at it once again. "Her name was Tabitha. Tabitha Gray. But I always called her Tabby for short. Allan Pinkerton assigned me to work with her in Denver that December." Lee paused for a moment, remembering. "Counterfeiting was a lucrative operation. There were only two chartered banks and way too much paper money floating around. Paddy Carnahan, the owner of Paddy's Saloon in Denver asked Pinkerton to investigate. You see, Paddy's Saloon also provided banking services for its boarders and tavern customers, and the counterfeiting was interfering with Paddy's banking business. The Agency tried several times to infiltrate the ring but failed each time. At first, Pinkerton thought the counterfeiters were tavern owners themselves, one or two of Paddy's rivals, but the operatives sent to investigate the taverns couldn't find any evidence of that. And the paper money flooded the saloons, threatening their very existence. So Pinkerton looked elsewhere. He began to suspect that the counterfeiters were from a higher level of society than the tavern owners. Someone working in one of the town's two banks; someone who mixed with investors, bankers, and businessmen from different areas of the country. Tabitha posed as a wealthy widow from St. Louis and I became her escort, a rich investor from back east."
"What happened?" Mary couldn't help but be caught up in the story.
"The territorial governor invited us to his home and in a matter of days, Tabitha and I were receiving invitations to all the Denverites' social gatherings. The doors of the inner circle opened. All at once, The Pinkerton National Detective Agency gained access to all kinds of information it hadn't been privy to before."
"But you were outsiders."
"Yes, we were," Lee agreed, stroking one side of his mustache. "But we were rich outsiders. And Denver, like all frontier towns, was desperate for cash. The city government needed investors, very wealthy investors, and the city fathers welcomed potential financial backers with open arms. Tabitha attended all the society ladies' functions, contributed to numerous charities, and became, in a very short time, an intricate part of Denver society."
"Were you accepted as well?"
Lee smiled. "Of course. I dran
k and gambled with the cream of society, and gained memberships to the most exclusive gentlemen's clubs. I was accepted completely. And while Tabitha garnered bits of information from the wives and daughters, I picked up all sorts of investment and financing ideas—some legal—some not so legal from the men. Eventually, we were able to send evidence to Pinkerton, who contacted Treasury officials. They arrested everyone involved in the forging, except the pen man."
"Pen man?"
"The pen man is the actual forger—the artist or engraver who alters bills, bonds, or drafts, or copies real currency. The pen man in the Denver forgery ring slipped out of town before the federal marshals arrived to arrest him."
"And the Denver businessmen never suspected you?"
Lee shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I still maintain my membership in several of the clubs."
"I knew you were good at your job, but I must admit, I'm as impressed as I am concerned."
"Concerned about what?" Lee asked. He shifted his weight on the bed so he could see Mary's expression.