by Susan Lower
There’s not a wrinkle by his eye showing he believes me. “Then don’t wear it.”
I’ve still got my other clothes tucked under my arm. They could use a good laundering.
“You don’t mind a woman wearing pants?” I ask.
“I’m not easily intimidated like other men.” The bounty hunter stops. His eyes hood as he looks at me. My heart does this pitter patter and I’m sure he’s sent many a woman swooning with those sinful eyes of his. There’s an invisible lasso between us, slowly roping us in, closer and closer.
He reaches behind him, opens the door, and holds it for me.
I take a moment to get my bearings and realize we are at the sheriff’s office. I go inside to find Sheriff Bentely drinking coffee and finishing a piece of upside-down cake from the diner we passed.
“Chord.” He nods. “And who might this be?”
I reach up and touch my hair. Did a bath, new clothes, and a hairdo change me so much the man can’t recognize me?
“Jo Dean,” I tell him. “My father was the one shot behind the saloon.”
His eyes bulge, and he chokes on his cake.
Chord, I mean Mr. Townes; you know the bounty hunter, twitches his lips as we watch the sheriff straighten in his seat.
“You’ll have to forgive me. You look different from when I saw you last.”
I reach up again to pat my hair. A habit I soon see forming. Not that I can afford to have Minnie do my hair like this every day. I suppose I could take more time with it while I’m in town. My enclosed legs beg to differ from getting around in this dress all day. I do not know how the other ladies in the east manage it, or maybe I need to take some lessons from Daphne Davenport, the eastern belle from off the stagecoach.
“Nothing to forgive.”
“I suppose you got your father’s claim all squared away. I feared we’d have more trouble over it in the coming of days. Your husband is a mighty lucky fellow.”
“Oh, I’m not married.” Yet. “I wanted to check on how the investigation was going to find my father’s killer. You have enough evidence to put away the gambler for cheating my father and killing him, don’t you?”
I hear wedding bells chiming in the back of my mind and wince.
“Deadwood is a town filled with murderers and thieves. I don’t have enough manpower to track down every killer. Sure, I do my best, but sometimes in cases like this, you never know who done it. Your father had a lot to lose and a lot of people who were after it.”
“Are you saying you’re not going to keep looking for the killer? I told you, I know it was the gambler. He cheated and coerced my father into losing the deed to our claim.”
“And throw you in the pot to boot.” Sheriff Bentely leans forward on his elbows. “I’ve talked to Buck out at the Triple D, and I’ve talked to Jed Warner over at the hotel. No one held a gun to your father and made him put his claim in the pot. He threw you in for good measure.” Bentely shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you are of age, you could go to the judge when he comes in town next Tuesday to refute it, but in cases like this, you are better off getting married, enjoying a life of ease with all that money and forgetting about the killer.”
“Marry the gambler? Have you forgotten he’s the one who could have murdered my father? You can’t let him get away with this! You’re the law! What about justice? You have to arrest him.”
The bounty hunter rests his hand on my arm and the shock of his touch pulls me back from slugging the sheriff. My insides are on fire and my fingers clench in a fist. The bundle of clothes under my arm is on the floor.
“Easy, Dimples. The sheriff is right. There is no evidence against Weston other than cheating.”
“Ha!” I yell. “You admit he cheated!”
“There might be a witness who will testify he did, but it doesn’t prove he killed anyone.” Sheriff Bentely scratches the back of his thick neck.
“Amaryllis.” I knew she knew something.
“I can’t reveal the names of my sources.”
“And you can’t find my father’s killer. What good are you?” I spew.
“Dimples,” the bounty hunter warns.
“Don’t you Dimples me.” I whirl around on him, gritting my teeth as this atrocious skirt tightens around me as I swivel. “You’re not being forced to get married or about to lose your home and your life.”
A little muscle in the side of his jaw ticks. Those grey eyes cloud, paler than before, and I bite back against letting anymore words out. There’s a pain in his expression. Then he blinks, and it’s gone.
“No one is forcing you to marry anyone.” The bounty hunter looks at the sheriff.
Bentely raises his shoulders. “It’s rough country, little lady. We have a code here in the west. Your father tossed your hand in marriage in the pot, you’re expected to honor it.”
“Honor it?” I choke back the injustice of it all.
“Well, I suppose if you haven’t gotten married, would it be safe for me to assume with the way you're dressed, you’re on your way to meet your future husband?”
“No.” Both me and the bounty hunter say at the same time.
“I’m not marrying anyone until my father’s killer is brought to justice.”
“Chord?” Sheriff Bentely looks at the bounty hunter.
“I’m headed out of town on another bounty.”
He must have gotten the rest of his bounty money. It makes sense. The man got a bath, and all cleaned up. He’s hitting the trail again on another mission to track down a notorious outlaw for the reward. But there is a murderer running loose right here in Deadwood.
“You can’t leave. You have to catch my father’s killer.” My chest feels tight. It’s getting harder to breathe and I press my hand against my chest. The sisters are heaving while my lungs are squeezing for air.
“Sheriff Bentely has it under control. I don’t go solving crimes, Dimples. I know who I’m after and I go get them.”
“He’s all but said he’s giving up,” I cry.
“Not giving up, just letting you know there’s a chance I won’t find who did this right away.” Sheriff Bentely says.
If ever. I can see it written across his face, plain as day.
“Did you find the boot?” I ask.
“The boot?” Sheriff Bentely frowns.
“My father’s missing boot. Someone stole the boot off his foot after he died.”
Both the sheriff and the bounty hunter exchange a look.
I huff and wave my hands like a madwoman. It’s clear they don’t think the boot is important. “So does this mean I can leave town and go back to my place?”
Once I tell Tail Feathers and Stands With Two Deer what has happened, they’ll send a war party out to take care of the gambler. On second thought, maybe I’ll leave the part out about the gambler and let them figure out he’s the killer on their own. But I’ll have an entire posse to help protect my home and bring justice to my father.
“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to wait until the judge comes to settle this marriage business and claim on your property. Besides, I haven’t ruled out you may have been the one who killed your father for promising you to Mr. Weston or wanting the claim he holds up in the mountain for yourself?”
“It’s already half mine,” I blurt.
Again, both the sheriff and the bounty hunter exchange a look.
“It’s safer if you stay in town.”
The bounty hunter gathers up my clothes on the floor and I snatch them from him.
Outside the sheriff’s office, the bounty hunter stares out in the distance. “You want me to put you up on my horse and give you a ride to the church on my way out of town?”
I grab hold of the bounty hunter. “You can’t leave. You have to help me.”
“I’ve got a reward poster calling to cash in.” He pats his pocket. He’s back to wearing his long leather duster. It looks good on him. Maybe too good, for Hannah calls to him and waves. He tips his hat politely, neve
r taking his eyes from me.
The gambler strolls out of the diner. Not far behind him is the bank owner, Mr. Campbell. Turning away, I hope the gambler doesn’t spot me.
“I’ll pay you. Whatever that reward is.” I point to his pocket, desperate.
The bounty hunter goes to step off the walk and I grab onto him and hold tight. “Please. I’ll double it.”
His eyes level with mine. “That’s a big promise and a lot of cash, Dimples. How do I know you’ll pay up?”
“I’ll give you a percentage of my claim’s worth to hold as collateral.” It’s the last thing I have left. Plus, I’m going to have to find a job while in town. I have a feeling my stay keeps getting extended longer and longer.
The bounty hunter steps back up on the walk. “Who else have you made that offer to?”
“Just you.”
His eyes get that hooded, sultry look again. It opens a pot stove of heat in my belly.
“I’ll help you on two conditions,” he leans in. “One, you don’t make that offer to anyone else but me.”
I lick my lips; the heat bisecting my belly. “Second?”
“You hold off on any matrimonial plans until after we’ve settled.”
It’s hard to judge a man’s intention when he looks at you as if you’re his only meal of the day.
“I’ve got one condition of my own,” I pant.
“Who said this was a negotiation, Dimples?” His voice rumbles and my hand is right back on his arm.
“I can’t leave town, but you can.” This is a bad idea. A terrible idea, but what else is a girl to do?
“I’m not sneaking you out of town.”
“There are some families in the mountains waiting on supplies. They’ll get angry if they don’t get them soon.” It’s half the truth. I don’t mention they’re native descent and they may or may not be living off the reservation.
“I’m not a delivery boy,” he says.
“You deliver bodies,” I counter.
The bounty hunter isn’t one to smile easily. He tilts his head back. “There is only one body I’m interested in at the moment.”
I’m on fire everywhere, thanks to this man.
“Let’s step back inside the sheriff’s office, Dimples. I want it in writing before I go tracking down a killer.”
And just like that, it’s a done deal.
When I come back outside, the gambler is waiting for me with a smile as wide as the whole Dakota Territory.
Those sparkling green emeralds in his eyes, tell me he’s up to no good. I keep the promissory note tucked away from sight. I’ll have to file it with the claims department another day.
For now, there is something wicked in the gambler’s gaze. I’m over my head and getting deeper in trouble by the minute.
I leave my rolled-up clothes with Sherman, the clerk, at the hotel desk. Inside the dining room, Miss Daphne Davenport stands beside the portly fellow, whom I am introduced to as her father, David Davenport. Beside him is a tall gentleman with a wily mustache by the name of Thomas Conway. He looks down his nose at me as the gambler places his hand on my back and pushes me into their little group.
Daphne has her hair twisted and in curls. Her pink lips turn up in a smile in the gambler’s presence. Before I know it, he leaves me to get us drinks and Daphne is leaning in towards me. “Your husband is a fine gentleman. It’s too bad our stage got delayed in Silver Valley. Rumor has it he won you in a card game.”
“An unfortunate event,” I say, my eyes on the gambler’s back. He must feel my eyes boring into his shoulder blades. He turns his head and winks my way. Daphne’s eyes widen and she places her gloved hand over her lips and giggles. “Oh, you are a lucky woman.”
“I hardly call it luck.”
Daphne reaches up to fix her hair as Jed Warner comes into the hotel’s lounge. He’s tugging on his tie and heading our way.
“Daddy says this town is lucky for the railroad coming through. If it wasn’t for him and Thomas.” Her cheeks pinken at the faux pas of calling Mr. Conway by his first name. “Mr. Conway and Daddy are connecting the east to the west. Why, with all that new abundant wealth and your husband, you’ll be able to travel back east.” Her attention is no longer on me but divided between the hotel’s owner and my gambling man.
Well, not my gambling man. He’s not even my husband. “You’ll love it back east. Daddy says I can take the train back any time I want. You won’t have to wait for the latest fashion.” Then she points to my bustle skirt. “I hadn’t realized how long it took things to reach the west. Thomas—Mr. Conway was right to talk Daddy into investing in the railroad. And as soon as they bust right through the mountain, we won’t have to wait for last season’s fashion to arrive. I will be on the same timeline as all of my friends back east.”
The gambler arrives with offerings of wine. Daphne is the first to accept. I take the glass from his hand. The gambler’s fingers brush against mine and a bloom of heat bursts in my belly. Husband. Mountain. Railroad.
I take a deep gulp of red wine and try to smile as Mr. Davenport and Mr. Conway turn their conversation our way. Mr. Conway hasn’t stopped looking at me, or maybe it’s Daphne the man can’t take his eyes off. Nope, it’s me. He’s looking at me, and those hollowed eyes of his put a chill in my bones. I step closer to the gambler on reflex.
“Weston, I see you found your beautiful wife to join us.” Mr. Davenport holds out his hand. I give him my free one and the man lifts it to his mouth and kisses the top. He’s laying it on thick, those fat lips of his press hard against my skin. I snap my hand back quick.
“My wife is not accustomed to other men handling her.” The gambler grins and Davenport, along with Conway, match his expression.
“No worries, my dear.” Davenport waves it off. “My Daphne here will be happy to help you fit back into society. It must be a great relief to you after spending so much time up in the mountains away from civilization.”
“Is it true what they say?” Daphne ask. “Are there really Indians up in those mountains?”
Jed Warner steps into our little conversation by saying, “Don’t you worry, Miss Davenport, the only natives around here are the miners. The Indians are all on a reservation.”
“But isn’t there one here in the territory?” Daphne’s eyes round out, and I can tell she has got all the men’s undying attention.
“Don’t you worry.” Warner worms his way closer to Daphne. “They leave the reservation, and the army will put them right back.”
“What about rogues?” Conway asks.
The gambler slips his hand around my waist. It’s nice, but my mind is on Stands With Two Deer and Tails Feathers. Standing Rock is close to our land claim in the mountains. If the army finds them, well, I don’t want to think about what will happen to all those precious people.
“No Indian would dare try to come down into town. A fine woman of your status has no worries,” Warner assures her.
If only I had the same reassurance. “Mr. Conway,” I cringe at having to address my attention toward him, but I must know. “I’m told you’re bringing the railroad to Deadwood. You’re coming through the mountain?”
Beside me, the gambler stiffens.
“Why, yes I am. We’ve got track going down outside of Silver Valley and headed this way,” Mr. Conway confirms.
“Soon we’ll have a rail running through the entire Black Hills.” Mr. Davenport, hooks his thumbs in his vest pockets and boasts out his wide girth. He’s a pleasant sort of man, with a plump face and turning a little bald on top.
The entire Black Hills. The wine in my mouth turns another degree more bitter. What will happen to the people at Standing Rock?
“Your husband is about to become a very wealthy man. That must please you.” Mr. Conway glances around. He holds his finger up and catches the attention of one of the hotel staff.
“He’s not my husband,” I blurt.
Davenport and Conway exchange a glance. Daphne chatters
away with Warner.
The gambler dismisses my outburst.
“Technicality, I assure you. We’ll be married by morning. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
“Not until we find my father’s killer,” I inform them all.
“Well, that is unfortunate.” Mr. Davenport looks at the gambler.
“I assure you, gentlemen. This will not affect our deal. The judge will be here on Tuesday.” The gambler is sweating. Come to think of it, I believe it’s getting too stuffy in here for me. Or perhaps it’s the dress. I’m tempted to ask Daphne to borrow the fan hanging from her wrist.
“Deal?”
“For the land.” Mr. Conway pauses for a moment, ordering a drink.
I look at the gambler. “What land?”
“Why our land, darlin?”
I’ve got a drop of wine left in my glass. I swirl it as things click together in my mind.
“You mean my land? My father’s land?”
“The land that’s now mine. Ours.” He hitches an eyebrow. He doesn’t want me to make a scene. I take a deep breath. There is no way I am letting him get away with this.
“You’re a no good swindler,” I seethe in a low whisper.
“And look what it got me.” He leans in. “You’re a treasure, Jolene Dean. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”
“Why wait?” Davenport moves and comes between Warner and his daughter. Warner frowns, but steps aside like a gentleman. He must have seen him getting too close. I feel the same way about the gambler. He tightens his hold around my waist.
“We could have a wedding dinner right here at the hotel.”
I glare at Warner.
Daphne’s lips turn into a pout. I’d gladly trade places with her. It’s obvious she’s pining after my man. Gah! I have to stop thinking of him in this manner.
“No.” I put my foot down, a little harder than I intend, as it causes the gambler to jump back and scowl at me.
“Now, Jolene, darlin’—.”
“Don’t you Jolene me.” I shove the wineglass in his hands, and he winces, still trying to find his footing. “It’s Jo, and I’ve got a killer to find.” I march off, stumble and am about to trip when the gambler reaches from behind to steady me. I leave out a huff and say to them all. “Stay off my land.”
