Chance stood there taking it all in, reflecting on what he knew for sure and what he only suspected. Grimmer, Wild Bill’s lawyer, was here again tonight, sitting at his regular table with the marshal. He still hadn’t crossed the rotund little man off his list.
Nor was he sure about Tom or Jim, or even Delilah. He watched as she herded a couple more girls toward Lee Hargus’s table. For some reason she’d taken those Southern boys under her wing, and he didn’t like it. It occurred to him that in all these months he’d never been able to find out Delilah’s last name. It had bothered him from the first day he met her. It bothered him more now as he watched her swoosh across the saloon toward the piano and fawn over Lee’s older brother.
“Get you a drink, Chance?” Jim leaned across the bar to catch his attention.
“No, not tonight.”
“Staying sober from now on, huh?”
“Ever seen me drunk?”
Jim looked at him funny. “You know, come to think of it, I never have.”
That was because he’d been sober for the past year, ever since Wild Bill Fitzpatrick had saved his life by hauling him out of that opium den in Fairplay. Bill hadn’t known him from Adam, but he knew a man with a death wish when he saw one, and Bill was too good a Samaritan to let another man do himself harm.
“I’m going upstairs,” Chance said.
He climbed the spiral staircase, surveying the scene below one last time before turning toward his room, which was near the corner and not visible from the saloon.
He fished out his key, but didn’t use it to unlock the door of his room. He used it to unlock the door of the room next to his, the room in which Lee Hargus had taken up residence.
A few minutes later he found what he was looking for, and his suspicions were confirmed. The train-ticket stubs he held in his hand revealed that Lee and Dickie Hargus had left Texarkana for Colorado Springs nine days ago, two days before Chance had announced the high-stakes card game.
The Hargus boys could count, after all. They weren’t stupid, they were lying.
“I don’t believe it,” Dora said.
“It’s true.” Delilah sorted through the old gowns in the back of her walnut clothes cupboard as Dora plopped onto the bed, more confused than ever.
“You mean to tell me that Chance has never…not with any of the girls? Not even Lily?”
Delilah shot her a look. “Especially not with Lily. The woman grates on him. I can tell.”
“Yes, well, she grates on all of us, doesn’t she.”
“Here,” Delilah said, and waltzed toward her bearing an evening dress of dark blue silk. “You’ll look dandy in this one.”
“I told you. I’m not appearing in the saloon. Especially tonight.” It was half past nine, and the high-stakes poker game had already begun. It was quieter than a Sunday church service downstairs.
“Like it or not, you own this place. It’s a big night for the Flush and for you. For all of us. You should be there.”
Dora held the gown up in front of her. It wasn’t nearly as scandalous as the violet velvet she’d worn for her evening with John Gardner, but it was still a bit sensational. She decided she liked it.
“Why hasn’t Chance been with any of them?” she asked as she looked at her reflection in Delilah’s oval mirror.
“Beats me. That’s for you to find out.”
“Me? What makes you think I’d ever ask Chance Wellesley something so personal?”
Delilah snorted. “If you ask me, you two ought to be gettin’ a lot more personal with each other.”
“Oh, stop.”
“That man wants you. He needs you. I can tell.”
Now it was Dora’s turn to snort. “Yes, I’m sure he does. Like an incorrigible boy needs a good ear-twisting. Besides, you’re wrong. That night in the hallway…” She recalled their kiss for the thousandth time. “He went upstairs with Lily. You were there. You saw them.”
“I saw that Lily was madder than a hornet when I went up directly after. Chance sent her to bed. Alone.”
“She told you that?” A thrill curled inside her.
“She didn’t, but Susan did the next morning.”
Dora held the blue silk up in front of her again. It was very sophisticated, perfect for a woman of her age. In fact, looking at the cut of the gown more closely, she didn’t think it was too daring at all.
“You know,” she said to Delilah, “I think I will make an appearance tonight. Why not? I do own the place. I might as well enjoy it—just this once.”
“Now there’s your pa’s girl talkin’.” Delilah beamed her a smile.
“You really think so?” She’d like to believe there was something of him in her.
“I do. Now, get dressed and get on down there. You want to see Chance whip those Hargus boys at cards, don’t you?”
She did. The more she got to know Lee and Dickie Hargus, the less she liked them. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll be right down.”
All eyes turned to Dora as she glided down the spiral staircase into the saloon. The first thing she noticed was that the painting of the nude woman had been resurrected from the basement storeroom and was hanging above the bar. Someone—likely Jim—was going to get a piece of her mind, but later.
The second thing she noticed was Chance’s expression, a tense fusion of worry and desire. Her gaze locked with his. All that she’d discovered about him over the past few weeks forced her to view him in an entirely different light.
She knew he didn’t want her here, not tonight. He’d made it clear he was concerned for her safety, given the heated emotions that accompanied this kind of event. But she didn’t entirely buy his argument, and had the nagging feeling he had other motives for wanting her gone. That afternoon he’d made one last effort to send her to town, but she’d refused to leave.
John Gardner had also come out to the ranch that afternoon to plead his case—that she should be nowhere near the Royal Flush tonight. Anything might happen, he’d said. As her gaze drifted over the crowd, she noticed that nearly every man in the room wore a gun.
Despite her momentary anger about the painting and her muddled feelings about Chance and John, she forced a smile and nodded politely at her customers as she descended into the throng.
Every man in the room who hadn’t already removed his hat, did so now. Well, at least she was respected, if not entirely respectable.
“Shall we continue?” Chance said, and turned his attention back to the game.
Tom sat at his piano, but wasn’t playing. Susan stood nearby. The rest of the girls, including Delilah, were working the crowd. Rowdy and Gus were busy outside tending to customers’ horses, and Jim, as always, was behind the bar.
She wondered if this was the way things had been the night her father was shot. That’s how Chance had described it—a packed house. Everyone who was anyone in Last Call had been there. Everyone except John Gardner.
“Hello, Dora.”
She turned at the sound of his voice. “John!”
He’d been waiting for her behind the staircase in the doorway leading to the hall. The three young girls she’d hired from town were busy in the kitchen behind him.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you alone out here tonight, did you?”
She hadn’t really given it any thought. “I, um…”
To be honest, she hadn’t given him much thought since their evening together a few nights ago. Just this afternoon he’d renewed his proposal of marriage, and again she’d put him off, asking for more time to consider his request.
He smiled and took her arm, stood there with her as if they were already married and he owned the place. Chance glanced up from the game and for a chilling heartbeat locked eyes with him.
“I, um, need to check with Jim to make sure he’s got things in hand.” She unwound her arm from John’s and hurried behind the bar.
“Miss Dora, you look pretty as a picture.” Jim looked her over appreciatively and smiled.
“Now don’t go blaming me. I had nothing to do with it. I went out to the kitchen about an hour ago to see how the girls were getting on, and when I came back it was just there. Honest.”
She arched a brow at him, unconvinced. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Dora took charge as men clamored for more drinks, the girls fell behind in the kitchen, and the lines outside the upstairs bedrooms dwindled. Even Lily’s charms couldn’t sway much interest away from the high-stakes game.
The hours flew past. Men joined and eventually left the table after they’d “busted,” as Jim put it. By midnight only five players remained: a politician from Denver, a rancher from Fairplay who’d apparently been very lucky, the Hargus brothers and Chance.
For the first time all evening, Dora dispensed with her busywork and decided to watch. John leaped from his chair and offered her his seat as she approached the nearby table he shared with a couple of local merchants, Mr. Grimmer, and the marshal.
Chance dealt another hand, and the crowd fell silent. Dora held her breath, counting over ten thousand dollars in bills and coin on their table. Lee Hargus looked at her and smiled. She watched the muscles in Chance’s face tighten.
“Heard a rumor this afternoon,” Lee said to her, after glancing at his hand.
Dora couldn’t imagine why he’d address her during the game. Uneasy under his scrutiny, she remained silent.
“Folks say your daddy was a swindler.”
“What?”
Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd.
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on,” John said. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Dora stood fast, refusing to leave with him.
Lee pushed a short stack of hundreds to the center of the table, nodding to Chance that he was in. “Heard he was taking in currency and giving change in counterfeit. Right here in this saloon.”
Dora had never heard anything so ridiculous. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked to Chance for an explanation, but he didn’t even acknowledge her. He stared at Lee, his hands clenched into fists under the table.
“Heard the real money was stashed somewhere here.” Lee glanced around the room.
For a chilling moment no one said a word.
Then Chance laughed. It was the last thing she or anyone else expected. He slapped his cards down, rocked back in his chair and reached for his watch fob. “Wild Bill a swindler? He wouldn’t know how to begin. Hell, it was a miracle he was able to keep this place running on his own.”
What an odd thing for Chance to say about her father. Dora looked at him, confused.
The Denver politician tossed his cards into the center of the table, folding his hand. “I heard Fitzpatrick had some kind of business partner, helped him keep this place afloat.”
Partner? Her father’s letters had said nothing about a business partner.
Lee eyed the politician, interested in this new piece of information.
“Is this true?” Dora looked to Jim and Delilah for confirmation.
The two exchanged glances. Delilah shrugged.
“Well?” she said to Jim.
John placed a shaky hand around her waist and tried, without success, to draw her away from the table. She removed it, then shot him a look. His frustration was evident, but that didn’t concern her now.
“I’ve got news for you, Mr. Hargus.” She straightened her stance and looked down her nose at Lee. “My father never would have swindled anyone, least of all his customers.”
“She’s lying,” Dickie said.
It was the first time in two days Dora had heard Dickie Hargus utter a word. The Southerner sat statue-still, blue eyes cool, his expression unreadable.
The marshal’s hand slid toward his gun belt.
Chance flashed him a look, and he backed off.
For what seemed like an eternity, the only movement in the room was the lazy swirl of smoke curling off Lee’s cigar.
Placing his cards facedown on the table, the Denver politician said, “Maybe she’s in on it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She noticed the tic at the edge of Chance’s mouth. Lee’s smile faded. The rancher pushed back his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. At any moment Dora thought he might bolt from the room.
Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the pewter watch fob Chance wore each day, suspended from a chain attached to his belt. It was an unusual shape, not like any fob she’d ever seen before. It struck her as odd that a man like Chance would wear such a decoration. He didn’t even own a watch.
“There’s nothing to be in on.” With his usual self-assurance, Chance began to twirl the pewter fob.
Dora stared at it, mesmerized, its motion hypnotic. Chance toyed with the object incessantly, yet tonight she had the strangest feeling she’d seen it elsewhere, out of context. As the revolutions accelerated, the room felt suddenly overwarm. Dora’s head began to pound.
Of course!
“Miss Dora, look out!”
Dickie Hargus drew his gun, so fast it was in his hand before the piano player’s warning registered. With a shock, she realized Chance had drawn his, the watch fob abandoned on its chain. The marshal reacted next, then every man in the room was on his feet.
John grabbed her hand. It occurred to her that he was the only man there who wasn’t armed. He tried to pull her to safety toward the bar, but she dug her heels into the Persian carpet.
A heartbeat later, Chance moved in front of her, directly into the path of Dickie’s aim. “Hold up, Hargus.”
In those inscrutable blue eyes, Dora read the Southerner’s intent and braced herself for the outcome.
Chapter Twelve
If he could have relived the past few weeks, he’d have done a lot of things differently. To start he would have sent Dora Fitzpatrick back to Colorado Springs the very first night he met her.
Chance locked eyes with Dickie. Lee moved into line with his brother, flaunting one of his .44s. No one breathed.
“Boys?” the marshal said.
Chance felt Dora’s hands light on his back, her warm breath tickled his ear. “Don’t.”
He’d lied to her and used her, manipulating her into keeping the saloon open to give him more time. Worse than that, he’d endangered her life. The end justified the means. That’s what he’d made himself believe the past year. Now he wasn’t so sure. Staring into Dickie’s cold eyes, he realized he’d become as ruthless as the men he was hunting.
“Chance?” Dora said.
Wild Bill’s partner was here. Chance could feel it.
Earlier that week as men arrived from all over, Chance had discreetly spread the rumor that Wild Bill Fitzpatrick had been cheating his customers. Only it wasn’t a rumor, it was the truth.
For nearly a year Bill had been taking in real currency at the Royal Flush and making change in counterfeit. Coins were heavy, and distances far, and in recent years more and more men were paid in bank notes instead of gold. Bill had capitalized on that fact and had squirreled away a fortune in the process. A fortune he’d kept secret from his silent partner, a counterfeiter and money launderer with whom Chance had unfinished business.
The marshal narrowed his eyes at each man circling the table. “The card game’s over.”
For a heartbeat no one moved.
Lee was the first one to put away his gun. “Suits me,” he said, then smiled. “I was losing, anyway.”
Chance squared off with Dickie.
“I mean it,” the marshal said.
It occurred to Chance that, for gamblers, the Hargus brothers weren’t very good at cards. Together, he and Dickie holstered their guns, but continued their stare-down. As Lee and Dickie raked their remaining money into leather pouches, and the crowd dispersed, Chance wondered, not for the first time, if he was looking into the cool blue eyes of a murderer.
There could
be no mistakes, not this time.
This time he had to be sure.
The marshal cleared the saloon, and by eleven o’clock that night the Royal Flush was closed.
“Don’t seem fittin’, seein’ as it’s Saturday night and all.” Lily pressed her lips into a pout.
“Get your feathered behind upstairs and go to bed.” Delilah shooed her up the staircase, then followed with the rest of the girls.
A few minutes earlier, under the marshal’s watchful eyes, the Hargus boys had packed their bags and gone. Dora had a bad feeling they’d be back.
“Come back to town with me. Now, Dora.” John was insistent.
Chance was more than insistent, he was unbending. His resolve both thrilled and frightened her. She’d never seen him like this. “No,” he said. “She stays here.”
“With you?”
Chance locked gazes with the banker, and the fierce determination shining in his eyes convinced her he’d never let her leave tonight, even if she wanted to go, which she didn’t.
“I’m not an idiot.” John took a step toward Chance. “I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching.”
Chance didn’t respond. She could tell from his tight expression he was considering John’s accusation, as if until this moment he’d not been aware of his own behavior—or at least that anyone had noticed it.
“Only an idiot would take her back to town tonight,” he said. “They’re out there. Hell, Gardner, you’re not even armed.”
They referred to Lee and Dickie Hargus. Dora was still unclear as to why the notion of her father passing counterfeit currency to customers had triggered so emotional a response from the two brothers. To her knowledge, they’d never set foot in the Royal Flush before.
Why would two Southern gamblers care about the alleged crimes of a dead man? She knew they weren’t lawmen. The idea was too far-fetched. Besides, despite the appearance of a few manufactured bank notes, she refused to believe her father was a counterfeiter.
I heard the real money was stashed somewhere here.
And what was this nonsense about a silent partner? No one here at the saloon knew anything about it. Neither did John. She supposed someone could be lying, but to what purpose? If her father had had a business partner, why hadn’t the man stepped forward and declared himself?
Rocky Mountain Marriage Page 16
