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

by Susan Lower

  “Now, wait one minute, darlin’.”

  He says, “darlin’ with a roll of the ‘r’. The man is a player, and it makes my knees a little weak. Of course, if my dress got any shorter above the boots, folk might think I took a job at the saloon.

  “I told you. I’m not marrying you!”

  Ella Mae, along with the posse of Hannah, Lottie, Lincoln, and the bounty hunter, head our way.

  “I missed you last night.” Pierce’s expression changes. “I left an invitation for dinner with the woman who runs the boarding house.”

  Lottie and Hannah have stars in their eyes, and I can’t help noticing how Lottie has snuggled up close to the bounty hunter. She’s got no right getting close to the man.

  “I didn’t get it.” I don’t owe him an explanation. Nor is it Ruby’s job to deliver messages.

  “Then you won’t mind having lunch with me over at the hotel. Of course, we could go talk to the preacher and make it a wedding lunch. I still have a room reserved for us at the hotel.”

  “The woman’s father isn’t even in the ground yet.” The bounty hunter stands beside me. Lottie puts a fist on her hip. Hannah whispers something about my dress. All I catch is “pink” and “look at her boots.”

  “And who are you?” Pierce puffs up his chest. He yanks on my arm and keeps me close.

  “Chord Townes.” The bounty hunter tips his hat up. His voice doesn’t cease to make my heart thump a little harder.

  “He’s a lawman,” Lottie says. She’s dressed in green, and her dark hair is twisted up in the back beneath her floral bonnet. She’s slim and the shortest of us three women.

  “He’s a bounty hunter,” I correct and smugly add, “Go ahead. Leave town. He’ll hunt you down and drag you back here for killing my father.”

  Pierce barks a laugh. “The only one doing any killing around here, darlin’ is you.”

  Everyone around us gasps.

  “Me?” I point to myself.

  “You are making me wait to marry you. You’re killin’ me, darlin’.” He presses his hand to his chest and winces. Now all three ladies look as if they’ll swoon at his declaration.

  It’s by the scent of sweet tobacco that I keep from rolling my eyes.

  “You wound me,” he says. “I won you fair and square in that card game. I had no reason to wish your father ill.”

  And just like that, Pierce has everyone’s vote of innocence. He invites folks to join us at the hotel for lunch. Surprisingly, the bounty hunter comes along.

  As we pass Grace’s shop, I pause a moment to check out the dress she’s got in the window. It’s dark blue with a waistcoat. Far too fancy for anything I’d ever wear.

  Lincoln sits by the bounty hunter, and I hear him talking about his latest bounty. I try to remain ladylike when the server comes to take our orders. I’ve got my mind made up on the fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, except Pierce doesn’t give me a chance. He orders for both of us. Fresh trout caught from a nearby stream this morning. The nearest stream is twenty miles away. I wrinkle my nose and exchange looks with Ella. Lottie and Hannah sit between the bounty hunter and the gambler on the other side of the table. They’re so enamored by the bounty hunter; they don’t even notice they’ve got their elbows on the table.

  Throughout lunch, I pick at the trout. The limp greens beside it aren’t any more appealing. Ella Mae and Lincoln are the first to go, and when it comes time to pay the bill, the bounty hunter is the one to pay.

  Pierce stands when I do. He places his arm out for me to take. “What’s the matter? I don’t bite.”

  “Maybe she’s a little wary of taking the arm of a man who might have killed her father,” Chord, the bounty hunter, says. Lottie and Hannah on either side of him.

  Hannah grins at him, laying her hand on his arm and teeters out a fan of giggles. “Oh, please. Everyone knows Jo isn’t afraid of anything. Living out there on that claim alone with her father. Surely, a man like Mr. Weston doesn’t scare you?”

  I guffaw at the thought. While a quiver starts down in my belly. More than a quiver, it’s like that time I got trapped down in the mine and Earl took way too long to get me out.

  “Is it hot in here?” I wave my hand to fan myself. Taking a deep breath to get out of there.

  “How about we take a ride out and you can show me that claim I now own?”

  “It’s a day’s ride,” I say.

  The bounty hunter pulls back his duster, and I wonder if he ever sheds it. “You’re not to leave town.”

  “You the sheriff?” Pierce challenges.

  “Don’t make me track you.” And with those words, the bounty hunter turns and takes Lottie and Hannah with him. What I wouldn’t do to have positions reversed.

  “Well, then…” Pierce clears his throat. “A walk then around town?”

  The last thing I need is to strut around town anymore in this getup. The sisters have been begging to breathe for at least an hour. I shake my head. “I need to return to the boarding house. You can walk me there.”

  And he does.

  At the door, he takes my hand and looks deep into my eyes. “I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but if it makes you feel better about me and about our upcoming nuptials, then I’ll prove to you I had nothing to do with your father’s murder.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  He squeezes my hands, leans in, and my breath catches in my throat. “I’m going to talk to the sheriff. I’ll offer a reward in order to find out information that can help find the killer. I hope that will ease your mind.”

  Isn’t that what a guilty person does? I’m convinced even more that the gambler has an alternative motive. I’ll have to spend more time with him if I’m going to discover what card he plans to pull next.

  6

  My father’s burial is a silent affair. Reverend Carter reads from the Bible. Above us, the sky is a dark gray and judging by the view toward the mountains, it’s even darker in that direction.

  I swapped my pink dress for my pants. Ella Mae has my arm as we stand in front of my father’s grave. I’ve got no more tears to shed. I’m numb, standing there, holding a handful of dirt in my hands.

  Ella Mae rests her head against me. “I’m sorry, Jolene. But you got to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to go back up that mountain. You can stay here. So what if the killer is found or not? It won’t bring your father back.”

  No. It won’t bring my father back. And as ornery as Earl was, he still deserves justice. Plus, once I prove the gambler is guilty of murder, then I won’t have to worry about losing our claim. Stands With Two Deer will be safe and so will Tail Feathers and the rest of his people. They’re counting on me to return. It’s about time I focus on the task at hand. I don’t want to be stuck in this dead-end town any more than I want to marry a man with alternative motives. A man I hardly know. It breaks my heart. My father would throw me away in a card game as easily as he threw away our claim. There has to be another reason.

  Firewater makes people do stupid things.

  “There is more to this.” I turn and look at Ella Mae. “I have to know.”

  “Welcome to Deadwood. Saturday night shoot outs are a thing.”

  “They took his boot.” And I tell Ella Mae everything I know, leaving out about Stands With Two Deer and the agreement my father made with Tail Feathers. How long are they going to wait for their promised supplies?

  “You don’t know what happened, Jo. You need to leave this to the sheriff. Lincoln says that bounty hunter guy, Townes, he’s brought in the worst of the criminals. He always gets his guy. You should hire him to find your father’s killer. That way you’re not putting yourself in danger.”

  “That’s just it,” I tell her, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t got nothing to offer. Thanks to Earl, I’m broke.”

  “You can’t be that broke. You’re staying at Ruby’s, and you paid for those supplies.”

  “Yeah, with the mo
ney I got from the gambler. He told me to buy a dress.”

  Slowly, I see Ella Mae put it all together. She gives me a hug. “It’s all going to be okay. Mr. Weston seems to have taken a fancy to you. Maybe you’ll find out he’s not so bad and marry him. Then you won’t have to worry about being taken care of, you know?”

  Soon, Ella Mae is walking home with Reverend Carter, leaving me there to watch the men throw dirt on my father’s coffin. I still have dirt in my hand, squeezing tight.

  I can’t let it go.

  I have to know.

  Someone killed my father. And for what?

  But the bigger question in my mind and weighing on my heart is… by who? I need proof to put the gambler behind bars and stop this marrying nonsense. But I’m not a fool, either. I can’t deny I’m attracted to the man. Any warm-blooded female with eyes wouldn’t be able to look away from the gambler and his fancy duds. It’s the eyes, the appeal, and I know deep down he’s all for show.

  Little by little, I let the dirt drop from my hand. “I’m going to find who did this.”

  Overhead, the sky rumbles in agreement. The darkness comes rolling in and I am not afraid of a few raindrops. As they grace my hair and my face, I consider who else would want Earl dead? I spoke to Amaryllis. Buck is back at the Triple D, and I can’t flee town, so that leaves Warner at the hotel. Maybe I should reconsider the gambler’s offer for dinner and get to know him better.

  There is a rattle in my chest, and it sounds a lot like thunder. The storm is coming down from the mountain with a vengeance. The air is thick and pungent, and the rain smells of dirty laundry.

  Getting soaking wet, and all I can think about is I don’t even have the money to buy a headstone.

  Another rumble comes from the sky. This time it opens, and the rain pours down.

  The men shoveling shouts they’ll finish later and disappear.

  With the rain pouring down, I head for the hotel. By the time I get there, I look like a drowned rat. A woman with a burgundy hat and a matching umbrella steps off the stage. Another man in a fancy suit keeps his hat tilted to avoid the rain as he helps her off. Not far behind her an overweight gentleman, with pinstripe pants and a long curly mustache, follows. Half his head is devoid of hair.

  “You there, fetch my bag.” She points around as if trying to figure out where it is.

  “I’ve got it, ma’am,” The bounty hunter has her bag. He’s quite the gentleman, opening the door for her. Inside, the bounty hunter leaves the woman’s bag at the counter. The clerk greets the men with her, and one of them inquiries about rooms.

  The woman’s got her hand on the bounty hunter’s chest and fluttering her long lashes at him. Why I ought to…

  My blood boils at the sight.

  Then I hear raised voices from the stairs. Moving a little closer, I spot Amaryllis coming down the stairs with Pierce Weston, a.k.a. The Gambler. Her eyes narrow, and she lets him have it about something, until he catches sight of me and nods in my direction. Amaryllis pauses, looks at me, then says, “You owe me!”

  She marches the rest of the way down the stairs. “Good luck with that one.” She waves her hand up at the gambler as she goes by me.

  He reaches behind his neck and tries to smile away whatever that was. Like his smile could distract me. “Jolene, darlin’. Where have you been? I was looking for you.”

  I try not to snort. “My father’s funeral was today.” Some son-in-law he is going to make. What kind of man doesn’t show up at his future wife’s father’s funeral? The guilty kind whispers in my thoughts.

  “That was today. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Believe me, I would have been, but business ran long and the rain, I was on my way to check on you.”

  “Drag you to the chapel, more like,” comes a mutter from behind. The bounty hunter catches my gaze.

  “I’m not insensitive to the death of my bride’s father.” The gambler puts his arm around me. “We’ll marry in the morning, spend the night here at the hotel, then take the stage to Brisbee. I’ve got some business there before we head out to that claim of ours.” He winks.

  “Good luck with that.” The bounty hunter is off, and I shrug out of the gambler’s hold.

  “I had hoped we could spend some time together later.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’. Why don’t you run along to that boarding house of yours to freshen up a bit and I’ll meet you in the dining room here at the hotel. We can have tea and stay dry from the rain.” His smile wavers, those adorable dimples disappear as his eyes take in my soggy clothes and my hair dripping with rain.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

  The overweight gentleman walks around me. He nods to the gambler and doesn’t give me a second look.

  “You would be wise to dress for supper. The hotel frowns upon riff raff coming in off the street. They have a certain decorum in which they like to uphold.”

  I turn to find the bounty hunter and the classy woman on his arm. “Oh, Mr. Townes, you are a fine man indeed, to have a heart for those less fortunate. You know, the cafe down the street might better suitable for someone like yourself.”

  She’s pretty, with dark hair twisted up in that hat and curls by her face. Her eyes are so blue they're almost purple, and she’s petite. Even the gambler can’t resist introducing himself.

  While they all seem to get to know one another, I learn the woman’s name is Daphne Davenport. She holds her gloved hand out for the gambler to kiss.

  I leave the men to their new acquaintance and head back out of the hotel. I have half a mind to find Amaryllis first and ask about that argument she had with the gambler, but I don’t have to head to the saloon to find her. Soon, I spot her inside Grace’s dress shop.

  “Can I help you?” Grace hasn’t gotten over the remark at church about my dress coming from her shop. I’m sure it did. Although, it wasn’t intended for me.

  “I thought I spotted Amaryllis.”

  Grace has an apron on over her white blouse and black skirt. She presses her thin lips together and crosses her arms.

  Amaryllis must have stepped behind a screen to try on a dress. I sigh, “May I come in?”

  “Paying customers only,” she says.

  I glance to the window, notice the navy dress missing and without a penny to my name, I turn away. I go to offer an apology for the misunderstanding after church, but Grace is gone and the door to her store slams shut.

  Inside the boarding house, I spot Ruby, who waves me to the kitchen. “I’m sorry again about your father, Jo. I would have come, but I had laundry about to get caught up in the storm. Don’t mind the long underwear hanging from the banisters. I put a rope across in the washroom, too. I’m going to need your help with supper tonight, so be back here at four o’clock.”

  “Of course,”

  Ruby keeps an orderly kitchen. She has a few regular boarders throughout the week, and a ton on the weekends. I see the sack of potatoes by the door and the vegetables laid on the counter. I’m not shy about peeling a few spuds or getting my hands dirty. But my time is wasting if I want to keep in the company of the gambler and glean any information from him, or a confession.

  “Be sure to hang up your wet things. You’ll catch your death running around like that.” Ruby returns to her household duties, and I head for the stairs.

  The last thing I want to do is catch my death. On the other hand, I think I’d rather get caught dead than in that pink dress of Mary Sue’s. The sisters ache in agreement, not wanting to be put in a compromising position again.

  On my bed lies a package, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with string. Inside is the navy travel dress with jacket.

  Obviously, someone delivered it to the wrong room.

  7

  There is a constant chill in the air since my father’s burial. The rain froze in the night. A mist clings to the air and a damp drizzle comes with the drifting of the clouds.

  Last evening, I spent an entire hour in the gambler�
��s company. He taught me to play poker, but I beat him in blackjack. My father liked to play card games on the days the weather shut us in for the winter. We’d drink black coffee and bet with biscuits.

  I know it’s not really something a girl should do. I doubt Reverend Carter would approve, but sometimes we played rummy. I’m good at rummy and slap jack. The gambler has the upper hand on me when it comes to poker. Twice, I attempted to check out the edge of his coat sleeve. Twice, he took it as me making a pass at him. The third time, he switched it up on me by taking my hand and staring into my eyes. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. His eyes alone are a dangerous prize.

  By the end of our afternoon together, he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to deal. No hidden cards there. I don’t believe for a moment the man doesn’t carry a gun on him.

  I am going to have to up the ante to figure out how to prove he killed my father. The entire rest of the evening, I peeled potatoes for Ruby and hinted about the package on my bed.

  If the gambler was disappointed, he said not a word. Even when Ms. Davenport and an overweight gentleman came into the dining hall later, the gambler kept his eyes on me.

  He walked me back to the boarding house and held both my hands. “The preacher had to make some visits to folks outside of town and said he could marry us Wednesday morning. I’ll come calling tomorrow evening for dinner again.”

  Oh Lord, those eyes of his were killer.

  My reservations almost cracked a little and part of me wants to believe he is innocent, and I should take the leap and marry him. But there is something to be said about the way he walks and how carefully he speaks. Most of that afternoon, while we played cards, all he wanted to discuss was me, my father’s mine, and how he was the luckiest man alive.

  Or the deadliest.

  I know no more about Pierce Weston, the gambler, than I do on the day he won my hand in marriage in a card game. However, I learned the man came from down south and rode a steamboat on the Mississippi during a weeklong card tournament.