“Why?” I asked. “Thought there wasn’t any law in this town.”
“Not any official law, but Calhoun was in cahoots with a lot of sidewinders who may not take kindly to his death. Gunshots at night are a common thing in Six Shooter Siding. No one’s gonna investigate till morning, but we need to get a move on. Besides, I don’t want my girls or the White Dove implicated in any of this. Bad for business.”
Huh. I could well imagine. Knowing the woman ya paid good money for could shoot a hole plumb through ya might make a fella think twice before he crawled between the sheets with her.
A rustling noise came from the back room.
Wide eyed and tense, I glanced at Peg. Debbie Ann flew from her hiding spot behind the bar and grabbed the shotgun off the floor. Even though my pistol was empty, I cocked the hammer anyway and turned.
Lin Chow scampered into the room like a curious little mouse—a mouse with a meat cleaver clutched in its paw. Relief flooded through me, and I let out my breath.
“Dammit, Chow. Ya scared the liver out of me.”
On silent feet, Lin Chow crossed the room and stared at Calhoun’s body. He tilted his round face up to meet my gaze. “Lin Chow help Missy Dixie bury the dead.”
“Bury?” Peg snorted. “Don’t intend on burying nothing that could be dug up later. To my way of thinking, we’d be better off carting the bodies up into the mountains and throwing them over a cliff. Let the vultures and coyotes finish the job.”
Lin Chow shook his head and looked at Peg. “Must go home. Missy Fancy berry upset.” He eyed all three of us. “Missy Fancy need all of you. Go. Lin Chow fix mess.”
Suspicious, I looked at the small man standing so calm and sure. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Chow family not be alive if not for Missy Fancy. Chow owe her. Now is time to repay debt. No one find bodies. No one ever know what happen.”
“How’s that?” Peg asked.
Chow carefully ran his thumb down the edge of the cleaver. “Berry sharp.” He glanced at me with a mischievous glint in his almond eyes.
“Choppy. Choppy.”
I know blood rushed from my face to the soles of my boots in a split second because the room spun like a top. Rooted to the spot, I watched Sassy and Debbie Ann move toward the back door like they hadn’t heard a word Chow had said.
Peg found her lost shoe and crammed it on her foot. “Come on, Dixie. Let’s get outta’ here.”
My mouth opened, but no words came. The touch of Lin Chow’s hand on my arm made me jump.
“Missy Dixie. You brave rady.”
“Yeah?” A nervous giggle made my voice shaky. “And you’re one crazy Chin-ee.”
The four of us melted into the night, and like ghostly shadows, we slipped back to the White Dove and into the kitchen.
Becky Sue, Mary Lou, and Cinnamon sat gathered around Fancy. All of them looked up when we bolted through the door. Fancy jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. “Dixie,” she gushed. “I owe you my life. Thank you. Thank you.”
Embarrassed, I pried loose from her grip. A low woof sounded from under the table. Fear stabbed my heart with a frosted dagger. I grabbed a butcher knife from the counter and whirled, ready to plunge the thick blade into Fang’s big throat before he chewed my leg off. How the hell did he get into the kitchen anyway?
“Dixie. Wait,” Fancy yelled. “He won’t hurt ya.”
In disbelief, I watched Fancy call the big dog to her. He lumbered over, head low, tail wagging like a goofy hound dog pup. Knees weak, I leaned my back against the wall. My nerves shot higher than Mexican jumping beans in a hot skillet.
Sassy collapsed into a straight back chair. “Mother of God, Fancy. I about peed down both legs. What’s that…that…animal doing in here?”
“I need a drink,” Peg said.
“Coffee is a good idea,” I said.
“Coffee, my hind leg. Need something stronger than that.”
Peg fixed Fancy with a stern frown. “Explain why that killer dog is in my kitchen. And it better be good.”
“He was Calhoun’s, although I don’t know why he wanted a dog. Kept him tied up most of the time. Hardly ever fed him. Jimmy Ray…” Her voice caught. “Jimmy Ray kicked him ever’ chance he got. Should’ve known then what a mean cuss he was.”
She looked up at me. Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. “He slapped me. Hard. Never did love me, did he?”
“No,” I said, feeling lower than dirt.
“Calhoun was right. I am stupid.”
“No, Fancy, that isn’t true.” Debbie Ann put her arm around Fancy’s shoulders. “You’re just blind to the bad in people. Nothing’s dumb about that.”
“What about the dog?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I guess Calhoun forgot to tie him up. When he caught Jimmie Ray walking through the door, I reckon he saw his chance to even the score for all them kicks.” A deep breath. “Jimmy Ray’s dead, ain’t he?”
“As Judas Iscariot himself,” Sassy said.
“Amen to that.” Peg shoved a bottle full of amber looking liquid into Fancy’s hand. “Take a swig. Make ya feel better.” She glanced at Fang lying peacefully at Fancy’s feet and sighed. “I suppose the next thing you’ll be asking me is if you can keep this hunk of fur.”
“Oh, Mama Peg, can I?”
Fancy’s voice sounded so much like a little girl’s that all of us smiled. I looked at Peg and shrugged.
“I ain’t never had a pet before. He’s really sweet if’n you treat him right. Besides, dogs are loyal.” Her small back straightened in her chair. “I’m never gonna trust a man, ever again. From now on I’m going to be just like Dixie—hate every man I see.”
Whoa. My head jerked up, and I gawked at her like she had six ears. Why did she say that?
“I don’t hate men,” I said. “Just don’t have much use for most of ’em, that’s all.”
“Anyways,” Fancy babbled on. “This dog loves me. I can tell by the look in his eyes.”
“Mother of God,” Sassy groaned. “Break out another bottle, Peg. This has been one hell of a night, and it ain’t over yet.”
Mouth dry as baled cotton, I took the bottle from Fancy, tipped it to my lips, and took a giant gulp.
Peg gasped. “Dixie. I wouldn’t…”
Her warning came too late.
Good God Almighty! I’d done swallowed liquid dynamite. A hole burned through my gullet, and my innards exploded.
Chapter Seven
Doubled over, spitting and hacking up everything but my toenails, I struggled for breath. “What is that stuff?”
Reared back in the chair, long legs stretched in front of her, dainty feet propped up on the table, Cinnamon raised her bottle. “Tequila. Golden elixir of the handsome, bronzed Aztec gods. Is good. No?”
Didn’t know any Aztec deities. Probably because their magic cure killed them all.
“No, is not good,” I mimicked. “Is nasty.”
“Ah, Dixcee, don’t be so hasty. You must try again.”
“Cinnamon’s right,” Sassy chimed in. “You’re one of us now, and…”
“What do you mean, one of you? I’m not a Dove.”
“Ohhhh, but you are, hon.” Peg took my hand. “Dixie, no one in this town was willing to help us tonight. No one. Except you and one crazy Chinaman.”
“And you didn’t think twice about it,” Debbie Ann said.
Peg smiled. “It took a lot of guts to do what you did. Bravest thing I ever did see.”
None of them understood. It wasn’t bravery so much as it was survival. Had a bad habit of acting first and thinking second. Papa’s Irish temper didn’t help, neither.
“Peg, stop. Most of the time, I’m scared of my own shadow. I get into messes before I realize then have to fight my way out. Courage doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m only scrambling to save my own neck.”
Peg chuckled, poured a shot of honey-colored lava into a small glas
s, and handed it to me. “That’s what every hero says.”
She glanced around the table, and her features softened. “You saved my girls tonight, Dixie. That makes you one of us. From now on, you’re living here. You may not be a Dove in flesh, but you are in spirit. Now drink up.”
Black stocking legs hit the floor. Cinnamon reached across the table, grabbed my hand, and sprinkled salt on the back of my palm. “Lick first, then drink. It cools the fire.”
This time only one eye watered and twitched like a fish on a string. Warmth slid down my throat and spread across my belly smooth as melted candle wax. Not bad. I giggled.
“Voila!” Cinnamon laughed.
I pushed the glass toward Peg. “Hit me again.”
“Now you’re talkin’,” Sassy said.
I gasped at the cigarette dangling on her painted lips. “Oh, my God. Are you smoking?”
“Can’t drink without a smoke. They’re called cheroots. Have one.”
Another giggle rippled from my throat, followed by a hiccup. I placed the cigarette between my lips and puffed. The sweet tobacco circled my head and made the perfect companion for the tequila, like coffee and cream.
I cowered in my chair and waited for a lightning bolt to zig-zag through the door and strike me dead. Drinking and smoking. Somewhere Papa laughed while Mama rolled over in her grave.
My mood sobered. Tears sprang up out of nowhere and stung my eyes. Poor, pitiful, Mama. If she’d only had the gumption to stand on her own two feet, she’d be alive today. By God, I wouldn’t make that mistake.
I swiped at the tears. Damn Aztec joy-juice. It did funny things to my head. One minute I was flying high, the next, wallowing up to my knees in sadness. Maybe another drink would chase the blues away.
“Dixie,” Sassy shouted. “I’m talking to ya. Can’t ya hear?” Laughter circled the table. Why was everything so funny all of a sudden?
“I hear fine.” I drained my glass and slammed it down on the tabletop. “This stuff bucks like a wild bronco.”
“Yep.” Peg laughed. “It’s thrown many a good man to his knees.”
“Damn good thing we ain’t men then, ain’t it?” Sassy slapped the table with her hand.
Becky Sue and Mary Lou brayed like lop-eared mules.
Fancy giggled.
Debbie Ann twittered.
Cinnamon grinned like a possum.
Peg almost fell off her chair.
I gawked at all of them.
The liquid in the little crystal glass called out to me. I said hello and tossed it down.
“I got a bone to pick with you.” Sassy pointed at me with her smoldering cheroot. “You can’t shoot worth spit.”
Debbie Ann came around the table and draped her arm around my shoulder. “There isn’t anything wrong with the way Dixie shoots.”
Thankful for her support, I puffed out my chest and gave Sassy a smug look.
“It’s just hitting what she’s shooting at that’s the problem.”
Again, Becky Sue’s hee-haw joined with the other guffaws and shook the floor.
Dear, sweet Debbie Ann. How could she betray me so?
“Where you’d get that pistol anyway? Belong to your daddy?” Peg asked.
McCullough’s big brown eyes swam in front of me. McCullough. Tall. Strong. Sinfully charming, Jackson McCullough. Wonder where he was? Melancholy pulled a chair up beside me, and I sighed. “Belongs to a man who doesn’t want to be burdened with me.”
Cinnamon’s eyebrow arched. “A past lover, perhaps?”
Not liking where the conversation was headed, I changed the subject. “Peg, what happened in that barroom tonight? How did you lose your shoe?”
“I yanked it off and threw it at Calhoun.”
The mental picture made me giggle. Or maybe it was the tequila. “Why?”
“Because of me,” Debbie Ann said. “Calhoun never intended on letting Fancy go. It was a trap. He was going to kill all of us. I panicked and showed the shotgun too soon. He ripped it out of my hand and then grabbed me. That’s when Peg threw her shoe at him.”
“It was the only thing I could think to do,” Peg said
I laughed so hard tequila squirted out my nose. Burned every hair to a crisp.
Peg’s voice lowered, and she looked hard at me. “Do you really think that loco Lin Chow hacked Calhoun and Jimmy Ray up into tiny pieces?”
I swallowed another drink to drown the thought. Pretty red roses on the kitchen wallpaper danced and twirled.
“Let’s put it this way,” I said. “If Chow Chow serves anything in the next couple of months smothered in loads of gravy, I ain’t touching it.”
Laughter bounced off the walls so hard, dishes rattled. This time, I about fell on the floor.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Even though my brain was pickled, I recognized the velvet smooth voice. I jumped from the chair and whirled. The room spun like a roulette wheel. My eyes crossed.
“Dixie Belle?”
Jackson McCullough, all three of him, stood a step inside Peg’s kitchen. Broad shoulders filled the door frame. He pushed his Stetson back off his forehead, and a slow grin spread from dimple to dimple. “Howdy, darlin’.”
“Ooo-la-la!” Cinnamon’s exclamation sounded a mile away.
Whew! Shouldn’t have stood up so fast. My stomach bucked and pitched.
Ears ringing, heart pounding, head spinning, I took a step toward him.
Big mistake.
Never made the second one. Passed out cold into the arms of an Aztec god.
Chapter Eight
If it wasn’t for the herd of horses thundering through my head, I’d swear I’d died and gone to heaven.
Everything was blue. Like bows on Christmas packages, sky-blue curtains wrapped around three floor-to-ceiling windows. Three. Not one. Didn’t know how much I’d missed the sun’s golden rays until I saw them spill cheerfully across the thick, dark blue rug. Pictures of wild flowers—instead of Jesus bleeding from the cross—graced the turquoise walls. I snuggled into sheets that were cloud soft and stared at the creamy-white lace canopy above my head. Where was I?
“About time you woke up.”
The blankets flipped back, and Peg sat on the edge of the bed. With a firm hand she forced me to a sitting position and pushed a cup into mine. “Drink this.”
Had to admit the coffee’s strong, rich aroma smelled wonderful. A small sip stripped the buffalo robe off my tongue. Eyes closed, I sighed and leaned back against billowy pillows.
“Am I dead?”
“No. You’re in your new room. Hope you like it. Fancy insisted you have the Peacock Suite because the colors matched your eyes.” Her tongue clicked. “That girl thinks you hung the moon. Made a friend for life with that one.”
Above the rim of the china cup, I gazed at the rest of the room. Fragile glass oil lamps, a rocking chair, dressing table, mirrors, and my very own fireplace. Maude’s place looked like a mud hut compared to this little slice of paradise. I ran my hand over cool cotton sheets. A canopy bed? Didn’t know such things existed. “This beats anything I’ve ever seen.”
Peg laughed, got up, crossed the room, and opened the window. Fresh breeze flavored with pine drifted through. “Well, a good bed is a must in our business. I see the color come back to your cheeks. Feel better?”
I nodded. Owed Arbuckle’s my life.
“Good. I had the maid fill the tub with hot water. Get washed and come downstairs.”
A tub in my room? Impossible. “I have a bath tub? Here? Don’t have to go to a bathhouse? Don’t have to share water with others?”
“Or pay a quarter for it, neither.” Peg laughed. “All my girls have tubs in their rooms.” Her back straightened, and a pinch of pride seeped into her voice. “You think The Dove is some seedy, run down, south of the border chicken ranch? I take good care of my girls and clients. The White Dove has the reputation of being a clean, luxurious, pleasure palace with classy elegant girls.
I can afford the best, and I only serve the best. Now hurry up, you got a visitor downstairs.”
“Me? Who?”
“That long tall drink of water by the name of Jackson McCullough.”
Coffee spewed from my mouth. McCullough?
A teasing look crossed Peg’s face. “He carried you up the stairs as easy as if you were a gunny sack full of feathers. Put you in bed. Pulled your boots off. Even smoothed the hair back off your face, nice and gentle, like you were a baby.”
I’d made a complete ass of myself. “Peg, send him away. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again. Tell him…tell him…”
“I ain’t telling him nothing except you’ll be down shortly. Fancy went through her wardrobe. Found a pretty meadow green dress for you. It’ll go good with your scarlet hair.”
“What?”
“Well, ya can’t parade around a man looking like a dusty cowpoke all the time.” She took my hand and pulled me from the bed. “God gave ya curves in all the right places, hon. Show ’em off.” A quick swat on the butt sent me toward the closet. “Get a move on. I think that cowboy is sweet on ya.”
Stunned, I walked to the little room off to the side of the dressing table and eased into the tin tub. Thought about drowning myself in the warm, lavender-scented water. I picked up the soap instead and started to scrub. My mind whirled like an Oklahoma twister. Why did she think he liked me? And why did it matter if he did? He’d left me high and dry to face Whitaker alone. But he’d left Joe for me. Or did he? And if he liked me so damn much, why was he just now showing up? Where’d he been for the past few weeks?
By the time I was dry and dressed, anger had squashed the butterflies in my stomach. Didn’t care if I’d drunk too much and fell dead in his arms. Served him right. I marched down the stairs to the kitchen ready to fly all over him.
“Howdy, darlin’.”
Oh hell. How could I stay mad at a man with a voice smooth as butter and dimples the size of dimes?
“Good morning,” I mumbled and sank into the kitchen chair. Never seen him without his wide brimmed hat pulled low across his face. Tried not to wonder how good it would feel to run my fingers through his thick, chestnut hair. Didn’t succeed.
The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion Page 4
