The Cowgirl Gets The Bad Guy (Cowgirl Mysteries Book 1)

by Susan Lower

  She isn’t wrong. The gambler has this twinkle in his eye, and my belly flops in the best of ways. I shake my head, remembering what got us here. Earl threw my marital status in the pot. The gambler doesn’t seem the type who would tie himself down with a wife. He probably heard gold mine and saw dollar signs. Thanks to Earl, he might get his hands on it—the land, not the gold.

  I have to figure out a way to stop him.

  “There isn’t going to be a wedding today,” I keep my tone sharp, so he knows I mean business.

  The gambler sets those emerald eyes on me. I can see them calculating. A man who dresses to the nines and plays cards in the afternoons must do this for a living. What would he want with a mine claim, anyway? I try to imagine him hunched down, sifting through the dirt for precious metals, and all I see are those gorgeous green eyes of his.

  “Jo’s father passed,” Ella Mae explains.

  The gambler steps down from the church stairs and reaches for me. His eyes widen and his voice fills with concern. “That’s why you didn’t make it to the dress shop and why you’re late? Oh, darlin’, you should have said so. We can go get that dress now and have you looking prettier than a meadow by noon. We’ll have a celebratory lunch and I’ve reserved a room for us at the hotel.”

  Is he for real? “My father is dead.”

  I think I’m still numb with the news. My head pounds with one of those headaches you get after crying. Can’t the man see I’ve probably got tears staining down my cheeks? Maybe not since I wiped them all on the bounty hunter’s shirt. The thought of Chord with his arms around me makes my blood get warm. I shouldn’t even be thinking of him on a first name basis.

  “I know, darling. There’s nothing we can do now about that, can we? He’d want you to move on. We’ll talk to the good reverend and arrange for him to say a few words at the burial. Don’t you worry about anything, as your husband I’ll take care of everything.”

  “That’s awful nice, isn’t it, Jo?” Ella Mae sways and smiles. She’s fallen under a trance for those emerald eyes. Part of me wants to remind her about the guy who stole her heart, but I’ve got bigger concerns at the moment.

  “It should be, seeing as he’s the one who done it.”

  The gambler steps back, looking offended. “You don’t think I had anything to do with your father’s death, do you?”

  I cross my arms and level my meanest glare at him. “I don’t think. I know.”

  The gambler’s shoulders roll back, and his eyes harden. “You have proof?”

  “I don’t need proof. I know you did it.” Just like that, a few more tears slip free, and I reach up to swipe them away.

  “You ought to be careful accusing people of doing things without proof, isn’t that right, sheriff?” The gambler looks past me.

  Sheriff Bentely must have followed me when Ella Mae and I left his office.

  “You must be the gambler.” Sheriff Bentely straightens his gold star on his shirt pocket.

  “Gambler, huh?” He glances my way and winks. The man is totally incorrigible. Ella Mae giggles again. I cross my arms and roll my eyes.

  “Pierce Weston,” the gambler introduces himself.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your wedding plans. I promise I won’t keep you long, but I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Shoot,” he says, then realizes his blunder. “Sorry, Sheriff. Ask me whatever you wish. I have nothing to hide.” He holds up his hands to show he’s not armed. I have a feeling this gambler likes to keep a few cards hidden. No tricks are going to get him out of this one.

  “Anything?” Ella Mae dives right in, acting so coy. It makes me smile. Next, she’ll be batting her lashes at him and forgetting about the ranch hand on the Triple D.

  I give her a pinch to bring her out of it.

  “Ow.” She rubs her elbow and glowers at me. “Jolene Willow Dean, that’s just mean.”

  “Tell it to your cowboy when he comes calling on Sunday,” I hiss at her.

  She turns a little peaked, points that nose of hers up in the air, and marches off into the church. “I’m going to go tell Father what’s going on.”

  I hurt her feelings. As I think to go after her, I can feel the gambler’s gaze on me. I meet his stare. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face with dimples to boot. A girl could get lost between those dimples, which is why I snap myself out of it.

  I bet this man knows how to manipulate women. I sure am not falling for it, or him! He killed my father, and that one thought alone is enough to strike the flame of justice burning deep in my gut.

  “What?” I snap as he hasn’t stopped staring and the sheriff, too. An eyebrow raises as he says my name, “Jolene.”

  There ought to be a law against a man saying a woman’s name like that. Too bad my belly is already full of heat and it’s not the kind to go away soon.

  “Everyone calls me Jo. I prefer it that way.” There is something too intimate in the way it sounds when he says it.

  “Ah, but it’s a pretty name for the woman who’s going to become my wife.”

  “It will be hard to get married if you’re in jail,” it comes out as a low growl. “Arrest him, Sheriff. Take him down and put him in that cell and lock him away. Throw away the key.”

  “Come now, Jo,” the sheriff says. “What happened to your father was a terrible thing.” He addresses the gambler, “Why don’t you give the young lady a few days to bury her father and then see to the wedding? It’s not like she’s going anywhere soon.”

  The gambler’s lips flatline but he agrees. He steps close to me, tweaks my chin and says, “The sheriff’s right. We’ll take care of seeing to your father first, then make no mistake, my darling Jolene, we will be wed.” He pats his suit jacket. Some might have thought he touched his heart, but the crinkle of the paper under the fabric tells me he’s up to no good.

  He’s no different from Stands With Two Deer or any other man I’ve met, sans one. I haven’t made my mind up about the bounty hunter, Chord.

  Who knows if our paths will ever cross again? A bigger part than I wish to admit saddens at the thought.

  I watch the gambler walk off with the sheriff. From inside the church, Ella Mae returns and hooks her hand through my arm. “It’s just as well. Father says it was a bad day for a wedding, anyway. He’s going to head out to the Larson farm and check on their family. They caught some sickness and haven’t been into town for weeks to attend church.”

  Most folks haven’t been into church for weeks after that last spring blizzard we got. I say nothing as she goes on about needing a dress and borrowing a blue ribbon. I can hear in her voice the romanticism of it all as she envisions me marrying the gambler.

  Perhaps if circumstances were different. One man has already betrayed me, two if you count my father. I’m not about to let another man decide for me or treat me like second best. My heart feels heavier than ever. I can’t imagine having any more room in it for disappointment or loss.

  I head to the mercantile with Ella Mae. While Mr. Jensen is sympathetic to my recent loss, he says I can pick up my supplies when I’m ready to leave town. Thanks to my father, and now Jensen, I haven’t got a cent left to my name.

  Hank lets me stable the ponies and park my wagon out back. “It’s in decent shape. You could sell it,” he says.

  I politely refuse. I need that wagon to get those supplies back to the claim. Another thing I have to take care of seeing that Earl put me in this position. I should feel relieved he’s gone. Instead, I’m overwhelmed with how I’m going to get out of the mess he’s put me in.

  By lunch, Ella Mae needs to race back to her house to help her mother. She offers for me to come, and I think about the gambler’s offer. No doubt about it, I’d rather spend time with Ella Mae.

  Pearl Carter makes a mean stew, and she’s the one who taught me to make biscuits. We sit at the table waiting for her to finish her meal prayer. She’s a short woman with golden hair and she always twists up in the
back. She’s got on the same color gingham dress as Ella Mae, and I know the rest of the Carter sisters have them on, too. Ella Mae is one of five girls blessed in the Carter family. Poor Reverend Carter is going to have his hands full, trying to keep them all pure before marriage. The eldest Mary Sue ran off last spring with a young buck passing through. The news floated clear up into the mountain, seeing it was the good reverend’s daughter who disappeared into the night. She left a note and occasionally, a letter comes in the mail.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Pearl says, sipping her soup.

  “It will take the undertaker a day or so to get the coffin ready. We can bury him as soon as it’s ready.” Reverend Carter joins us before his journey.

  In the next room, Ella Mae’s three younger sisters work on their embroidery and sketches by the big picture window.

  “What will you do?” Pearl asks.

  I shrug.

  “Jo can’t leave town. Sheriff told her to stick around a few days while he tries to find out who killed her father and settle their claim,” Ella Mae says it loud enough for her sisters to hear.

  “That’s good. I feared you’d try to go back up to that claim of your father’s and be all alone. It’s not good to be up there alone.”

  What Pearl means to say is it’s not good for a woman to be alone without protection of a man. I can see it plain in her face and the way her eyes avert to her husband.

  “Oh, Jo, I just had a thought. You can stay here with us.”

  Ella Mae shares a room with two of her sisters.

  “Thank you, but I have a room at the boarding house.”

  Ella Mae taps her spoon on her bowl. “You paid in advance? Because didn’t Mr. Jensen keep your money for supplies and Earl lost it all in the card game yesterday?”

  Leave it to Ella Mae to pay attention and spill it all out in front of the reverend.

  He reaches across and pats Ella’s hand. “I believe Jolene has a beau who will see that she’s taken care of.”

  Pearl perks up and her eyes land on me. “A man? Is he calling on you?”

  Ella Mae’s sisters come pouring into the kitchen. It’s small and tidy, but they must eat their meals in shifts as there isn’t enough seating at the table for all of them.

  “He won her in a card game. Seems Earl ensured she would be taken care of after all.” Reverend Carter got up from the table. “We should move up that wedding before the funeral because of circumstances.”

  Circumstances? The gambler said he’d gotten us a hotel room. Oh my. Oh no!

  “A card game? You can’t marry off this girl because of a bet in a card game! Why that’s… That’s…” Pearl sputters to complete her thoughts aloud.

  I shake my head. “Oh, I’m not marrying him. He killed my father, and I’m going to prove it.”

  “It’s not right for a woman your age to be alone,” Reverend Carter frowns. Sometimes I wonder if the man is getting hard of hearing. Pearl said the same thing before him.

  While they might both agree, it isn’t right for a woman to be forced into marriage over a card game, but I can tell from the look on Pearl’s face and Reverend Carter’s frown I would be preaching to the choir.

  In the meantime, I have a father to bury, a claim to secure, and a killer to put behind bars.

  4

  Proving Pierce Weston, aka the gambler, killed my father is turning out to be harder than I thought. There are no witnesses to my father’s shooting, and as loud as it got in the saloon on a Friday night, no one heard a thing. Cowboys come in shooting it up at night with excitement and too much firewater in their veins.

  My only hope is Amaryllis. This time of day, I know I’ll find the woman sitting in her room above the saloon, putting on her paint and a different colored gown to prepare for the Saturday night crowd. I can’t imagine them coming back and celebrating again for a second night after all the whooping it up the night before, but they will.

  I check with the bartender; a stout fellow named Glen, who watches me with beady little eyes like a rat while he cleans glasses to stick under the bar.

  A few afternoon geezers sit at the end of the bar and another handful at a table. I know for a fact these cowboys are up to no good. Everyone knows the ranch bosses go to the hotel dining room to discuss business. I don’t care about their shady shenanigans. I rap my knuckles on the door again after a few minutes.

  Robbie lets me in, and Amaryllis shoos him off for us to speak. I notice a cot at the end of the bed, where Robbie sleeps when his ma isn’t entertaining guests.

  When she motions for me to sit on the edge of the bed, I prefer to stand. I meant no disrespect, but I have a good idea of what has gone on atop that mattress and can’t in right conscience sit on it.

  Amaryllis paints her eyelids and watches me from the mirror. “What can I do for you Toots?”

  “My father’s dead.” Those words sound so hollow coming out of me. An entire day has almost gone by, and I feel as if I have been going through the motions waiting to wake up from a dream since the scary part passed. Or has it?

  The gambler comes to mind and those emerald eyes of his flash in my memory sending a trickle down my spine. One shouldn’t like the way a man looks when he’s a murderer.

  “I thought it might be him this morning behind the saloon. Robbie found the body.” She pushes out her lips and smears a streak of red across them. “Poor kid. Good thing he’s getting older and will be off on his own soon.”

  I clasp my hands together. Sometimes I wish I’d been born a boy. Then Earl couldn’t have got me in this predicament. No matter, there are advantages to having a woman’s perspective on things. I feel bad for Robbie, but his mother is right. In a few years, he can apprentice with Jensen, or I know he spies on Hank like the rest of us. Only Robbie has different reasons. He actually wants to learn the blacksmith trade. As for the rest of us, we just want to watch the blacksmith at work.

  “Now I know you don’t have a momma anymore. Heard she ran off with some cowboy headed to Tucson a while ago. I’m guessing you came because old Ruby is a prude, and you want to know what to expect when that handsome gambling man takes you back to his hotel room and really makes you his wife.” Amaryllis winks.

  It sends a scarlet flare up my neck, hits my cheeks and burns clear to the tips of my ears. It hadn’t crossed my mind. Not one bit. Okay, maybe once, but I’d quickly shove any thoughts of what happened behind closed doors with married people aside. I can’t even consider the gambler for a moment in that way.

  On second thought, it made me wonder if he would kiss me gentle-like, or rough as I imagine the bounty hunter would. Not that I hadn’t been kissed by Stands With Two Deer. Oh Lord, did that make me a tainted woman?

  I slap my hand to my cheek, hoping to get my face to cool back down.

  Amaryllis chuckles and touches up the kohl around her eyes. She is beautiful, with a heart-shaped face and long sweeping lashes.

  Looking at myself in her mirror makes me feel plain. Why would the gambler insist on hitching himself to the likes of me?

  Amaryllis stand. “Well, I suppose we should get started.”

  “Get started?” An instant alarm tells me to run. I plant my boot heels on the floor as Amaryllis giggles again.

  “I’ll keep it simple. Did you get a dress? You have a dress, don’t you?”

  What was it with everyone wanting me to have a dress? I shake my head.

  Amaryllis taps her cheek and tilts her head. “I could put you in one of mine. Would you like me to look?”

  “No, I’m good. Ella Mae offered me a dress for church tomorrow, but I won’t be needing one.”

  “Oh, I see. You don’t think you’re that kind of girl, uh?” She pushes a lock of hair from her face. “Consider yourself lucky, Toots. Your father may have lost in the gamble, but at least he was looking out for you.” She tucks another lock of hair into place.

  “Hardly,” I mutter.

  Amaryllis gives me a long hard stare. Pressi
ng her lips together, they’re thin. Reaching for a brush to dust her cheeks, she shrugs. “Well, if it doesn’t work out with the gambler, you’ve got the looks. You could make a buck or two here with me, or the dancing hall over in Silver Valley.”

  “Thanks, but no.”

  “Got your sights set on the gambler? I wouldn’t go getting hitched in those pants! Not to a man like Pierce Weston.” Her eyelashes flutter. I could practically hear her heart thumping for the gambler. Or maybe it was mine?

  But she knows his name. A good sign as any. I push forward, feeling awkward where this impromptu visit on my part has gone. “I’m not planning on getting married.”

  She waves off my words. “A handsome devil as that? You are a lucky girl, Jo. You don’t want to end up dancing in Silver Valley, then take my advice and marry Mr. Weston.”

  She reaches around me to the bed, tugs a black lace shawl off the end.

  “I need to find who killed my father.”

  She wraps the shawl around herself and shivers. Not that it is cold inside the saloon. I could imagine all kinds of sinful things going on here to heat the place up.

  Amaryllis turns away. I watch for her reaction. “My father said the gambler cheated. You saw his cards, didn’t you?”

  “I saw him pull the ace, Toots.”

  “You were watching the game. Surely you saw more than that?”

  Amaryllis adjusts her bodice and heads for the door. She holds it open and motions for me to go out ahead of her. “I might have, but it wasn’t his cards I was most interested in last night. You know what I’m talking about?”

  What little heat cools from my face flares again. Amaryllis smiles, tucking her shawl back against her arms. Her assets are the first one notices when they look at her.

  My eyes drift down to the sisters, and I stop myself there. No comparison. I step out past the saloon matron.

  “You think he could have cheated?”