Kit Carson, hair dishevelled, jaw unshaven, pale eyes alight with an unholy look that might’ve been fury or glee, stalked toward him. “Skeeter, you lunatic! What possessed you to pull a bone-headed piece of insanity like that?”
Skeeter grinned. “Got rid of ’em, didn’t it?”
Kit’s mouth thinned. “Yes. And I could be piling rocks over what was left of you, too.”
“Well, hell’s bells, Kit, I never yet met a bully who wouldn’t back down when confronted.”
One corner of Kit’s lips twitched. “Next time, wait for instructions.”
Skeeter sketched a sloppy salute. “Yessir!”
“Huh. Thank God you were never in the army, Skeeter, you’d have ended in Leavenworth inside a week. All right, let’s go find out what that Time Tours guide is doing out here by himself with Paula Booker. Besides playing bait for every outlaw in the territory.”
Wordlessly, they headed down into the rocky defile.
Chapter Six
Time Scout in-training Margo Smith was so keyed up she was very nearly shaking as she and her fiancé—freelance time guide Malcolm Moore—eased open the gate beside the International Workingmen’s Association. A lively concert was underway, spilling Russian music out into the streets. Malcolm held the gate as Margo slipped into the long alleyway leading back to Dutfield’s Yard. The Ripper Watch Team followed silently, carrying miniaturized equipment they would use to film Long Liz Stride’s brutal murder. Their satchels were heavy, carrying three times the equipment needed for the previous two murders. This was only the first stop of three the team would make tonight, placing low-light cameras and microphone systems in Dutfield’s Yard, on a certain stairway landing in Goulston Street, and in Mitre Square.