Texas Rose TH2

by Patricia Rice

  He was in immaculate brown today, his linen freshly starched and pressed, his boots polished to a brilliant gleam. He had the arrogant air of confidence only the very wealthy could afford, and Evie tingled in anticipation as they entered the building. She had never encountered a man quite so masculine and assured as this one. She wasn't particularly inclined to timidity herself. She certainly couldn't fault it in a man.

  "Monteigne! Haven't seen you around in a dog's age. That is you, ain't it? Last time I recollect seeing you, you weren't no more than a scraggly rag of a boy."

  The speaker was slumped in a wooden chair with his feet propped on the front desk, his chair tilted on its back legs. He didn't bother to rise as they entered. Tyler frowned and shoved his boot beneath the tilted feet of the chair, unbalancing it enough to send the man leaping for safety.

  "You haven't changed any, either, O'Ryan. The lady would like a room to rest from our journey. I trust you've cleaned one since Benjamin came by?"

  Of average height and skinny build except for the belly hanging over his belt, the proprietor looked aggrieved. "That boy didn't mention nothing about no lady. He just said to set up some rooms. This ain't no fancy parlor, you know."

  Before Tyler could take out any more of his anger on the innkeeper, Evie smiled and gently interrupted. "Why, I think this is a perfectly enchanting situation, Mr. O'Ryan. If you would just be so kind as to show us our rooms, I'll take care of everything. My nanny taught me all about traveling, and I'm prepared for just about anything."

  Since she had along enough trunks to furnish a small house, Tyler didn't doubt that. He'd had to hire a wagon instead of a carriage to carry them all. He probably should have made her leave them at the warehouse in Natchez, but she had insisted that they needed them while they traveled. For all he knew, they contained gold bullion. Who was he to argue when she was paying the way?

  With increasing impatience, Tyler assisted her in sorting out the trunks she wanted carried upstairs. He left her spreading fresh linens on the beds she and Daniel were using. The boy was entitled to a room of his own, but his sister was insistent that he not be forced to use the third floor attic that Ben had reserved. Since Daniel was sitting in the lobby with his head buried in a book, Tyler didn't question her decision.

  He left them to their own devices and set out to put a few of his own into action.

  * * *

  "This is a public accommodation. I see no reason why we should stay in this miserable little room while they're downstairs having fun. Even Benjamin is in there. I heard him. What if they gamble away our boat tickets? I think we ought to go down and watch."

  Daniel watched as Evie paced their room—which was considerably larger than their hole-in-the-wall in Natchez despite her description. Ever since Nanny had died and they had discovered the letters, Evie had been restless. She had always been the kind of person who never sat still. Even when she was little and came down sick, she would spend the time writing wild tales. Until Nanny died, Evie had taught a room full of young girls their lessons and spent her spare time tending Nanny's garden in the warm months and painting her walls with murals in the winter. It was a good thing Nanny had the patience of a saint.

  But Nanny was no longer here to calm Evie's fits and starts, as she called them, and Daniel was in no position to do so. He lived life vicariously through her escapades and was usually in the position of encouraging her rather than otherwise. But descending into the saloon of drinking, smoking, gambling strangers probably wasn't the wisest of choices for a little fun.

  Only Evie had made up her mind and was gathering her little reticule and shawl as if she were going to an afternoon tea party. Hiding a grimace, Daniel reckoned he better accompany her. He didn't think Pecos Martin was going to appreciate the presence of a female at this showdown.

  For Daniel was quite certain it was a showdown of sorts from things the men had let slip when they thought he wasn't listening. There was a man by the name of Dorset who had acquired something valuable whom Ben and Pecos were determined to fleece, one way or another. Daniel hoped Pecos Martin wasn't a cheat, but he and Ben had sounded mighty certain of themselves when they set up this game.

  The men in the saloon scarcely noticed their entrance. The man they were supposed to call Tyler scowled briefly, then returned to his cards and his wager. Daniel widened his eyes at the growing stack of coins in the table's center. They weren't even using greenbacks, but real gold. This was serious.

  Evie, on the other hand, was as enchanted as Daniel was horrified. The scene came straight from the Pecos Martin books. She was disappointed not to see any saloon girls livening the action. Perhaps she could catch a cheat for fun.

  There were more onlookers than participants in this game, but Evie wedged her way in to watch the action. Daniel leaned against the bar and accepted the beer the bartender shoved in his direction. Nanny had never allowed him to drink beer, but Evie supposed it was time he learned if he was going to Texas.

  Aware of Maryellen across the table from him, Tyler didn't allow her to break his concentration. He was fairly certain Dorset was cheating, but he had expected that. The other men at the table didn't have enough brains to cheat with any success, and he disregarded them as opponents. It was Dorset he wanted to break.

  He cursed as the hand went to Dorset, but he didn't allow his fury to show. Instead, he glanced toward Maryellen and surprised a frown on her face.

  It hadn't taken a day of traveling for Tyler to recognize that Maryellen Peyton's stunning beauty held a quick and altogether too-clever mind, although she occasionally inhabited a world all her own. He wondered what fantasy she had entered into now. She was whispering eager questions to Benjamin and enlisting the interest of every man around her, but she was up to something. He glanced at Daniel. The boy was easier to read than his sister.

  Daniel was well employed bending his elbow at the bar, but the frown that had been on Maryellen's face was now on the boy's. Tyler returned his attention to the dealer, but his concentration was divided. He caught Maryellen's ingenuous smile as she looked at Dorset's cards, and he noticed Benjamin had forsaken his place to her. That wasn't at all according to plan.

  Dorset threw out a pair of low cards of unmatched suits and drew two more. Maryellen frowned. Tyler folded. A few minutes later Dorset took the pot with a pair of knaves. Tyler ordered the lady a lemonade.

  "Hell, Monteigne, I thought you was a gambler." Dorset threw back a shot of whiskey, and winked at the lady behind him before turning back to the table and accepting the deck of cards. "Looks to me as if you're as piss-poor at gambling as you are at farming."

  Tyler grunted and picked up his cards, disregarding Dorset's insults. He knew more about the psychology of gambling than the other man would ever learn in a lifetime. He didn't look at Maryellen as he scanned his cards, then lay them facedown on the table.

  Dorset lost the next round to one of the other players, and he complained about Benjamin. Maryellen patted him on the back and whispered some joke in his ear that ended his complaint before Benjamin could be thrown out. Daniel limped over and put a beer at Dorset's fingertips, appeasing the bastard.

  In his thirties with thick raven black hair that the ladies adored and a jaw that stuck out and dared anyone to defy him, Dorset was accustomed to being pampered. He chucked Maryellen under the chin, and Tyler ground his teeth together.

  The little pestilence was going to hear about this later, but now wasn't the time. He needed to keep Dorset in this game.

  Maryellen smiled at every card that Dorset drew in the next hand. She told jokes to the men around them, evidently enjoying herself. Mostly her listeners were dirt farmers, and their limited means didn't allow them much entertainment. Maryellen took the haunted look of desperation out of their eyes and made them grin. They offered her more lemonade. One with a little more beer in him than sense offered her a cigar. She stuck it in her mouth and chomped on it like a licorice stick. Tyler won the round.

  Do
rset was still enjoying himself. Tyler took the deal, and Maryellen continued smiling when Dorset picked up his cards, a sure sign that the man's cards were bad. Tyler wondered if she knew what she was doing. He tipped her a wink, and she stuck up her nose at him. The men around her laughed and Tyler pretended to frown, but elation soared through his veins. The witch was damned good at this game. Benjamin had taken the sidelines for sound reason.

  The next hand was long and drawn-out, and money began to build again in the table's center. Benjamin gave him the signal that a card was floating in the game that shouldn't be there, but Tyler hadn't seen Dorset pull it. He ventured a quick look up and found Daniel leaning drunkenly on Maryellen's shoulder. Two beers didn't make even an eighteen-year old drunk. Tyler was beginning to feel as if this scenario was spinning out of control.

  Maryellen patted her brother's hand and sent Daniel back to the bar. But when she turned her attention back to the table, she spilled her drink down Dorset's coat. The planter roared and leapt to his feet. Benjamin grabbed him before he could swing, and Maryellen chirped and patted his vest with her lace hanky while Benjamin deprived him of his coat as neatly as any valet. Daniel brought the irate gambler another beer.

  As the source of Dorset's spare cards was neatly removed by a couple of striplings, Tyler wanted to laugh. He wanted to roll on the floor and hold his sides until he ached. He wanted to kiss Maryellen Peyton and even her brother if necessary. Instead, he grumpily ordered everyone back to the game.

  It was easy after that. Without the assistance of his coat pockets, Dorset's cards went steadily downhill. Maryellen's cheerful smiles and reassurances kept Tyler betting for as long as Dorset held out. Dorset lost every hand. Maryellen's frowns signaled bad hands for Tyler, and he folded every time she did so. Dorset won those rounds, but the pot was much smaller.

  The stack of money around Tyler mounted and began to include greenbacks as Dorset emptied out his pockets and ordered more whiskey. Several of the other men at the table dropped out to go home with their small winnings. Others stepped in to take their places. With every loss, Dorset grew angrier.

  Daniel hiccupped and slid from the bar to the floor. Benjamin lifted him up and carried him out. Tyler didn't miss either of them. Maryellen yawned and glanced at her nails. Tyler let the pot go to the man beside him. Dorset threw down a pair of deuces and swore.

  "Monteigne, if I didn't have a man watching you, I'd swear you were cheating. Take off your coat for insurance, and I'll go you one more round."

  Tyler gave his opponent a look that should have shriveled him in his seat. "Those are fighting words, Dorset. Gentlemen don't cheat. But since I'm winning this game, I'm prepared to be generous." He shrugged off his tailored frock coat and threw it at one of the men standing near him. The man searched it for hidden cards or devices and shrugged when he found none.

  "Now, put your money where your mouth is, Dorset." Tyler picked up the deck of cards and shuffled. The mound of money in front of him was enormous, sufficient to pay off almost every grudge he had against the man. But he wanted one thing more.

  "I want a new deck of cards. Henry, have you got a clean deck?" Dorset shouted to the bartender.

  The bartender obligingly threw an unopened pack. Someone caught it and passed it to the table.

  Tyler caught Maryellen's eye as Dorset's man took the old deck. She glanced at the man, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

  While the gamblers at the table broke open the new pack, Maryellen called sweetly, "Could I have those old cards, gentlemen? I'd like them for a souvenir of one of the most exciting nights of my life. Maybe you could autograph the aces for me when you're done playing?"

  Tyler hid his laughter as Dorset's accomplice scowled and surrendered the cards. The farmers were willingly scribbling their names across the old deuces and treys as he dealt the new cards. Tyler now knew where the spy was in the crowd, although he'd harbored the suspicion all along. And Dorset wouldn't have the advantage of the extra deck as he had hoped. Deprived of whatever was left in his coat, the planter would have to play an honest game.

  "What are you wagering, Dorset?" Tyler called as he examined his hand.

  "You'll have to take my marker, Monteigne. You know I'm good for it. After all, you ought to be more aware than anyone of what my crop brings."

  The room fell silent. Maryellen looked thoughtful as she placed another beer beside Dorset and glanced at the hand that he so carelessly displayed. This time she gave no evidence of laughter or frowns.

  Not high cards then. Reading Maryellen's deliberate expression, Tyler ignored Dorset's jibe and discarded one card and drew another. "I'll not be here long enough to collect your marker, Dorset. Wager that watch you're wearing."

  Feeling the currents of tension, the other gamblers quickly folded. Dorset frowned and put the intricately engraved gold watch on the table and took two more cards.

  Tyler dropped a stack of coins on the table. "I call."

  Dorset spread out a pair of tens. Tyler had two knaves.

  "Damn it, Monteigne, I know you cheated." Dorset reached to take back the watch.

  A click from Tyler's revolver halted Dorset's hand in midair. Tyler pocketed the watch without looking at it, then began filling his pockets with cash with his free hand. "I wasn't the one with cards in my coat, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an early appointment tomorrow." He made a slight bow to their audience. "Gentlemen." He swung around and started for the door.

  "Now, that's not nice," Maryellen's voice scolded at the same time one of the farmers shouted. Tyler heard a slap, then the sound of a shot.

  Swinging around, he noted the imprint of a hand on Dorset's thick jaw. A new hole gaped in the ceiling and a smoking gun lay on the floor. With a look of fire in her eyes, Maryellen stalked through the crowd. Tyler offered his arm. She gave him a pithy look and took it, gathering her full skirts in her free hand as she did so. A grin played at a corner of her lips as she whispered, "Do I make a good sidekick for Pecos Martin?"

  As they left the fury of the argument behind them, Tyler gave her an incredulous look, but her disarming grin swept through him on the wings of elation. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I think it's time Pecos and his partner gets the hell out of here."

  And Maryellen nodded a wide-eyed agreement as they raced up the stairs before the fight in the saloon could spill into the lobby.

  Chapter 4

  Benjamin looked up as Maryellen and Tyler dashed into the room and slapped the bar across the door. Daniel was sound asleep, fully clothed, in one of the beds.

  "Party's breaking up," Benjamin said laconically at a crash from below.

  "Is the boat in yet?" Shrugging his coat back on, Tyler grabbed one of the carpetbags he'd carried up for his traveling companion and threw it to Maryellen.

  "Heard the whistle coming 'round the bend not too far back."

  "Maryellen, pack whatever you need for tonight. Ben, you can get the trunks on the boat in the morning. I don't think they'll come looking for you or Daniel, but you might wait until the last minute before you head out so they can't follow. Use your own judgment."

  Holding her bag, Maryellen stared at Tyler as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "Pack what I need? I'll have to strip the beds and crush the gown I took out for pressing and..."

  Impatiently, Tyler pulled the garments she had left hanging on a hook and grabbing her bag, stuffed them in. There wasn't room left for anything else. He held out his hand to Benjamin. "Give us our tickets."

  Ben handed them over. "I'll keep an eye on the stairs. You take the back way."

  Clutching Maryellen's bag in one hand, Tyler grabbed her arm with the other and called to Ben, "See you in the morning."

  Before she could voice more protests, Tyler dragged her out of the room and toward the kitchen stairs. Maryellen dug in her heels, but she was too light for that ploy to stop him. He went down the stairs first as a gentleman should, but it wasn't a gentleman's hold that he had on her arm as
he practically jerked her after him.

  "Tyler, let go of me! Where do you think you're going?" she whispered furiously. "I can't leave Daniel."

  "Hush." Tyler stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the drunken roars from the front of the inn. If he judged his man right, after the brawl there would be a brief respite while Dorset slept off the alcohol. In the cold clear air of morning, he would realize what Maryellen had done. Tyler wasn't taking any chances between now and then.

  There was no sound of pursuit as yet. Throwing open the back door, he pulled Maryellen down the path toward the privy. He could hear her gasp of surprise, but she was keeping her mouth shut. He'd give her a few more points for cleverness.

  He wasn't giving her any chance to argue. Triumph rocketing through his veins, Tyler raced down the path, towing the creative little witch behind him.

  She jerked her hand away from him to hike her skirts up as far as she could as she followed.

  The paddle wheeler at the dock spilled light and music across the dark river, but the plank wasn't in place. Tyler cursed and hallooed the guard until the man leaned over the railing.

  "You've got to help us out, man!" Tyler caught Maryellen by the waist and held her close. "We just got married, and they're trying to chivaree us. We've got tickets for the morning. Could you let us on now?"

  The guard looked down and chuckled and called for help in lowering the plank. Tyler figured they looked harassed and mussed enough for newlyweds. He was just glad his companion didn't rip out his hair for the ploy.

  With the plank lowered, he swept her up to the boat and pulled the tickets from his pocket along with a handful of greenbacks. "They might come looking for us. Is there a stateroom vacant? You can handle the exchange with the purser in the morning and keep the change for your trouble."