area of the Station House, Gage watched her frown and hurry past Sergeant Henderson, then rap sharply on his closed office door.
"Miss Bailey, wait." Henderson's deep voice boomed through the walls. "You can't see the Marshal without an appointment."
Bailey rolled her eyes and blew a strand of black coal off her forehead. "Oscar Henderson, how long have you known me?"
Henderson suppressed a smile. "Too long by far. You'd think I'd be tired of your wild shenanigans by now."
A smile of satisfaction crossed Bailey's face. "Then you should know that I'm helping Tucker Gage on his latest case and I'm quite sure he's expecting me."
Without another word she twisted the door knob. Gage shook his head at the nonplussed look on Henderson's face. The man wasn't alone in having no idea how to handle Meghan Bailey. Gage wasn't sure many people did.
He stood and prepared for the onslaught.
She merely examined him thoughtfully.
"What now, Bailey?" He gestured her impatiently towards the chair opposite his desk. "Did you find any more clues up in Nell's bedroom?" His tone was mocking, but he wouldn't underestimate her sharp mind.
"Like I told you yesterday, I did find something, as a matter of fact," she said, sinking into the chair.
"I seriously debated whether or not to share my findings with you, but ... " She pulled a piece of paper from her purse, "I decided withholding information would be childish and irresponsible. So here."
"What's that?" Gage reached for the paper she'd tossed on his desk. He quickly recognized what it was, however, and thought maybe this time Bailey really had lost her senses.
"A dance card. You've come to me with an old dance card, presumably one of Nell's." He paused and read the names on the card aloud. "With five, no that's six, names on the card. Congratulations, Bailey, I believe you've cracked the case."
"Don't be silly, Gage. I'll explain where I found the card in a moment. Which is much more interesting than what's written on it, at least I think so." She frowned prettily and bit her bottom lip in a familiar gesture he recognized from her childhood.
Suddenly Gage had a flash of memory.
#
Eight-year-old Meghan Bailey bawled like a new-born calf, her face pale and her nose and lips dripping snot, her dark strands of hair tangled around her shoulders and across her forehead.
"Hey, Bailey-girl," the almost-eighteen-year-old Gage said softly, picking her up off the wet lawn. "What are you doing out in this storm?"
The girl jumped in his arms as another flash of lightning preceded a clap of thunder as loud as a cannon shot. He laughed and held her tight, striding with long legs to the front porch that stretched across the ground floor of the Bailey house.
"Where's your father?" he asked.
Her teeth chattering, her clothes sopping wet, she clutched him as if she were drowning and he her lifeline. He rattled the front door knob, but found it locked and the house dark and unfriendly.
"Don't worry, Bailey-girl. I'm here to rescue you. I'll bail you out of trouble again." He laughed and gathered her small body against his chest, sank into a corner of the porch where they were somewhat sheltered from the storm.
"Shhhh, don't cry." He draped his coat around her and rocked her as he listened to the howl of the wind and the roar of the rain and waited for Dr. Bailey to return from his surgery.
#
Gage stared at Bailey. He'd forgotten that moment. Forgotten how he'd called her nothing but Bailey from that moment on. Not Meghan or Meggie, like her father, but Bailey. He'd made a huge joke of it so she wouldn't be embarrassed for crying like a baby in the storm.
Bailey because he'd bailed her out of trouble.
"Gage, are you paying attention?"
When had she ceased calling him Tucker, he wondered?
"Before I tell you about Nell's dance card," she continued, once she'd got his attention, "I want you to tell me about Michael Gage."
She gestured with her head towards the front of the Station as if Hayes
"Miss Bailey, wait." Henderson's deep voice boomed through the walls. "You can't see the Marshal without an appointment."
Bailey rolled her eyes and blew a strand of black coal off her forehead. "Oscar Henderson, how long have you known me?"
Henderson suppressed a smile. "Too long by far. You'd think I'd be tired of your wild shenanigans by now."
A smile of satisfaction crossed Bailey's face. "Then you should know that I'm helping Tucker Gage on his latest case and I'm quite sure he's expecting me."
Without another word she twisted the door knob. Gage shook his head at the nonplussed look on Henderson's face. The man wasn't alone in having no idea how to handle Meghan Bailey. Gage wasn't sure many people did.
He stood and prepared for the onslaught.
She merely examined him thoughtfully.
"What now, Bailey?" He gestured her impatiently towards the chair opposite his desk. "Did you find any more clues up in Nell's bedroom?" His tone was mocking, but he wouldn't underestimate her sharp mind.
"Like I told you yesterday, I did find something, as a matter of fact," she said, sinking into the chair.
"I seriously debated whether or not to share my findings with you, but ... " She pulled a piece of paper from her purse, "I decided withholding information would be childish and irresponsible. So here."
"What's that?" Gage reached for the paper she'd tossed on his desk. He quickly recognized what it was, however, and thought maybe this time Bailey really had lost her senses.
"A dance card. You've come to me with an old dance card, presumably one of Nell's." He paused and read the names on the card aloud. "With five, no that's six, names on the card. Congratulations, Bailey, I believe you've cracked the case."
"Don't be silly, Gage. I'll explain where I found the card in a moment. Which is much more interesting than what's written on it, at least I think so." She frowned prettily and bit her bottom lip in a familiar gesture he recognized from her childhood.
Suddenly Gage had a flash of memory.
#
Eight-year-old Meghan Bailey bawled like a new-born calf, her face pale and her nose and lips dripping snot, her dark strands of hair tangled around her shoulders and across her forehead.
"Hey, Bailey-girl," the almost-eighteen-year-old Gage said softly, picking her up off the wet lawn. "What are you doing out in this storm?"
The girl jumped in his arms as another flash of lightning preceded a clap of thunder as loud as a cannon shot. He laughed and held her tight, striding with long legs to the front porch that stretched across the ground floor of the Bailey house.
"Where's your father?" he asked.
Her teeth chattering, her clothes sopping wet, she clutched him as if she were drowning and he her lifeline. He rattled the front door knob, but found it locked and the house dark and unfriendly.
"Don't worry, Bailey-girl. I'm here to rescue you. I'll bail you out of trouble again." He laughed and gathered her small body against his chest, sank into a corner of the porch where they were somewhat sheltered from the storm.
"Shhhh, don't cry." He draped his coat around her and rocked her as he listened to the howl of the wind and the roar of the rain and waited for Dr. Bailey to return from his surgery.
#
Gage stared at Bailey. He'd forgotten that moment. Forgotten how he'd called her nothing but Bailey from that moment on. Not Meghan or Meggie, like her father, but Bailey. He'd made a huge joke of it so she wouldn't be embarrassed for crying like a baby in the storm.
Bailey because he'd bailed her out of trouble.
"Gage, are you paying attention?"
When had she ceased calling him Tucker, he wondered?
"Before I tell you about Nell's dance card," she continued, once she'd got his attention, "I want you to tell me about Michael Gage."
She gestured with her head towards the front of the Station as if Hayes
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