Lasso the Moon: Book One in the Wild West Romance Series

by Beth Ciotta

“Just one. I caught him sneaking out of the tack room. He was big as a bull and smelled as strong as a sheepherder’s socks.”

  Paris wrinkled her nose. “From what I witnessed last night at the Lucky Lady, that could be about anyone.”

  Seth braced his elbows on his knees, leaned forward. “Can you be more specific, Tom?”

  He swiped a gnarled hand over his clammy face. “He hovered in the shadows. Hard to say. Oh, wait. He had a beard.”

  Josh scratched his stubbled chin. “That describes three-quarters of the men in these parts.”

  Tom shook his head in disgust. “Chance is goin’ to hell in a hand basket.” He bolstered himself with a gulp of coffee and grimaced. “Who made this?”

  Paris blushed. “I did.”

  “Oh.” He looked up at her and smiled.

  Seth cleared his throat. “Well, at least we know it wasn’t personal. With all the saddles stored in the tack room—”

  “Oh, it was personal,” Tom said, setting aside the mug. “Just before he buffaloed me, he said, Sheriff owes me, and this is only the beginning.”

  Big, smelly, and bearded. Paris’s stomach turned as an image of an odious bully came to mind. “Do you think … could it be Mr. Riley?” Josh had punched him twice, not to mention she’d done her share of damage.

  “Burgess Riley?” Seth asked.

  “He was on the stage to Florence,” Josh said.

  Seth shook his head. “I met the stage. One man disembarked. A flighty salesmen by the name of Hinklemyer. Tried to sell me a sewing machine. Can you imagine?”

  Paris wasn’t surprised. Probably recited his sales pitch to Mr. Riley too. She could imagine the pea-brained bully stealing a relief horse just to escape Mr. Hinklemyer. Although it didn’t explain what he was doing in Chance, it confirmed the possibility. Well, heck. “That cinches it, I guess.”

  Josh took her hand and pulled her down on his lap. “Cinches what?”

  If their two guests thought the action improper, they didn’t show it. They merely raised their eyebrows waiting for her to answer. Josh squeezed her waist, signaling her to get on with it.

  Fighting a bout of nerves, she nabbed her hair and wove loose strands back into her long braid. “I thought I saw Mr. Riley last night.”

  “Where?” asked Josh.

  She winced. “The Lucky Lady.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was afraid you’d want to investigate.”

  “So?”

  She laid her ribbon on the table, loosened her braid and started over. “The last time I asked you to interfere, you almost got shot. I was afraid … I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  Seth coughed.

  Josh smiled. “Slim chance of that.”

  She abandoned her disheveled braid, and caressed his cheek, her heart pounding with fret. “But what if he caught you unaware?”

  Eyes brimming with tenderness, he covered her hand with his own then kissed her palm.

  Seth laughed. “Josh was raised with a gun in one hand and a milk bottle in the other. I’ve yet to see a man get the drop on him.”

  Paris failed to see the humor. “You don’t know Burgess Riley.”

  “Every lawman north of Phoenix knows Burgess,” Seth said. He looked at Josh. “You two butt heads recently?”

  “I ridded him of a few teeth.”

  “Must be more to it than that,” Tom said.

  Josh glanced at Paris. “There is.”

  Her stomach pitched. “Maybe we should let the law handle this.”

  Seth rose. “Good idea.” He cast an enigmatic look at Josh. “Good thing I swore you in. Seems a criminal element has infiltrated Chance.” He tugged on his hat and hitched back his duster to adjust his holster. That’s when she spied the badge.

  She blinked at Josh. “Your friend’s a sheriff.”

  “County Sheriff,” he clarified, rising and setting Paris on her feet.

  Seth ushered Tom to the door then tipped his hat on the way out. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  Josh brushed his lips across her cheek, spoke close to her ear. “I don’t know how long I’ll be out. Do me a favor, honey, stick close to Oscar today.”

  Her thoughts spun with the fury of a cyclone. Seth was a lawman? Is that why she couldn’t dispel the image of him toting a shotgun? What if he knew her brothers? Why had he sworn in Josh? Didn’t he know about his uncle’s dream? Had Josh taken one look at the flagging opera house and given up on his new life?

  Agitated, she unwittingly dragged her fingers through her hair causing what was left of her braid to unravel. “But I have things to do.”

  He caught up her long locks and started weaving. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been trying to finagle time with a piano. Spend the afternoon at the Moon, get a few songs out of your head.”

  She had every intention of doing just that, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. She couldn’t help but feel that his uncle’s and her papa’s dreams were somehow entwined. Somehow, someway, she aimed to make them both come true. She couldn’t do that with her butt glued to a cushy stool. It occurred to her then how easy it had been to take refuge behind the piano. Rather than participating in life, she’d merely observed.

  Life experience inspires passionate prose.

  Emily, she decided, was a genius.

  “I’m serious, Paris.” He snagged the ribbon off of the table, tied off her braid, and gave it a tug. “Don’t wander off.”

  She glanced down at the tight weave, his thoughtful handiwork causing her heart to swell. “I do know how to defend myself,” she reminded him with a grin.

  He stroked his jaw, no doubt recalling the first night they met. “Be that as it may … ”

  “Oh, all right,” she grumbled, hoping to appease him. “I’ll stick close to Oscar.”

  He leaned forward, grazed his mouth across hers in a whisper-soft thank you. The hypnotic sounds of a heavenly choir reverberated in her ears, leaving her dazed and dreamy-eyed when he eased away.

  He scrunched his brow. “You haven’t sniffled or sneezed lately.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and returned the gentle kiss, aching for much, much more. “I’m feeling one-hundred percent.”

  A slow smile spread over his handsome face. “We’ll pick this up tonight,” he promised with a wink.

  Seduced into a stupor, she gushed, “I have something to tell you.”

  “I have something to tell you, too, but it’ll have to wait. I need to get over to the livery before the trail turns cold.” He gave her a quick, unsatisfying peck then hurried to catch up with Seth.

  Weak-kneed she crumpled into a chair. Lord have mercy, she’d almost declared her love. Did he aim on making the same confession? If he loved her then maybe they could live together in harmony. Just like Victoria Kensington and her paramour. No marital ties. No promise of disaster.

  Her life suddenly resembled one of Emily’s romantic stories. A satisfying, heart-tripping adventure. She’d traveled hundreds of miles to lasso the moon. To perform her original compositions. To learn, to grow, to succeed.

  Falling in love hadn’t been part of the plan. Yet she was learning and growing in ways she’d never imagined. By experiencing life, she was bettering her art. Lyrically, her newest compositions possessed depth, something, according to the music publishers, her former submissions had lacked. She intended to try them out on the public. As soon as she completed them. As soon as she worked up a sufficient act. As soon as she could convince Josh that it was safe to allow her on stage. Yes, that was the solution. She needed to create a safe working environment within the Desert Moon.

  She’d make sure to keep that in mind while winning back Josh’s clientele. The mere notion of making his business a success catapulted her spirits. Her body tingled with the thrill of the challenge.

  Home-cooked meals, discounted drinks … if only they had a gimmick.

  Like a random bolt of lightning, inspiration struck fast and fierce. Ins
tead of shying away, she surprised herself by embracing the crazy notion.

  Giddy with confidence, Paris doused the fire in the stove and scrambled out the back door in search of her carpetbag.

  Miracle of miracles, she no longer felt like a freak.

  It was sundown by the time the lawmen returned to Chance. After exhausting all leads at the livery, Josh had borrowed a saddle from Tom. Soon after, he and Seth had ridden out to interview every prospector and rancher in the region. Their badges and some harmless arm-twisting loosened a few tongues and by mid-day they had reason to believe that the robbery and Sprite shooting might be related. They’d never known Burgess to murder a man, but they’d known him to cheat at cards, and when riled, known him to draw quicker than you could spit and say howdy.

  Stories were conflicting at best. Most claimed they hadn’t witnessed the actual shooting. The few that had still called it an accident. Everyone agreed the offender wasn’t one of their own and that they didn’t want any trouble. Two men braved a description that pretty much pegged Burgess. No one knew where he was staying or if he was even still in town.

  “I say we pay a visit to the Lucky Lady,” Seth said, as they sauntered up the sole, deserted street of town. “It’ll give me an excuse to badger your snake of a cousin.”

  Josh recoiled just thinking about the venomous man. “He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by Mason’s death. My old man hurt me to the quick but I still grieved his passing.”

  “That’s because you have a heart.”

  “And Niles doesn’t?”

  “Are you forgetting some of those stories you told me? The man drowned a sack full of kittens, for chrissake.”

  Josh flinched at the memory. “He was just a boy then.”

  “Yeah, well, imagine what he’s capable of now.”

  He stopped in his tracks, his stomach tied up in a passel of knots.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Last night. Niles was wearing a pinkie ring crudely fashioned out of a gold nugget.”

  Seth braced his hands on his hips. “So?”

  “Where do you think he got the nugget?”

  “Hell, he could’ve won it in a game of poker. You know how these prospectors are. Half the time they don’t even bother exchanging ore for cash.”

  Josh shook his head, sick at the direction his mind was taking. “He wore it like a trophy. Flashed it around like he wanted me to notice.”

  Seth stood akimbo. “You think Mason revealed the location of his find?”

  Josh nearly choked on his words. “I think he’d die first.” Mason had been tracking a notorious stage robber through the Superstitions when he’d happened upon the skeletal remains of a pack burro and a portion of a disintegrated packsaddle. The saddlebag contained gold concentrate. Fanning out, he found the remains of five other burros—five more saddlebags filled with gold. He’d stumbled upon a legendary fortune. Thinking it was a gift from above he’d left half behind for the next deserving soul. Niles was far from deserving.

  “Mason kept the first nugget from his find in his pocket,” Josh said. “Called it his lucky charm. When I inspected his belongings, the nugget was missing. Didn’t think much of it at the time, figuring either he lost it or maybe left it in another pair of trousers. But now … ”

  Seth shifted his weight, glanced at the saloon. “Much as I’d like to jump on your train of thought, according to sources your cousin was in Phoenix the night of the accident.”

  “Double check your sources.” Josh marched toward the Lucky Lady, a hundred scenarios flashing through his mind, all of them ugly. He near about knocked the door from the hinges breaching the threshold. The place was empty aside from two barkeepers, four lounging doves, and a troupe of rehearsing actors. Josh eyeballed a barkeep. “Where’s Niles.”

  “Same as everyone else,” he said, polishing a row of glasses. “The Desert Moon.”

  They were out the door and up the street in two minutes flat.

  They topped the steps to the opera house just as Oscar pushed through the doors. The bear of a man looked as nervous as a prostitute in church. “Where in tarnation have you been?”

  Josh tried to sidestep him. “Where’s Paris?”

  Oscar gripped his shoulder, anchored him to his spot. “In the kitchen. She’s fine. Loony, but fine.”

  “What about Niles?”

  “Sittin’ at a corner table. Don’t worry. Told him I’d boot him out if he so much as looked crossed-eyed at your woman.”

  Josh shrugged off the barkeep’s hand. “If everything’s fine, why don’t you want me to go in.”

  Oscar jammed his hands through his wiry hair, making him look like a crazed sheep. “I just wanted you to know that I was not a willing participant in your wife’s harebrained, half-baked scheme.”

  Josh clapped a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed.

  Seth mimicked the action.

  The barkeep folded his beefy arms over his chest, and lowered his voice to a frustrated growl. “She wanted to visit every mining camp in the vicinity. Wanted to extend a personal invitation to dinner. And get this, she told ‘em their meal would be free-of-charge!”

  “Her coffee’s belly wash,” Seth said. “And her flapjacks tasted like—”

  “I know what they tasted like,” Josh said. It was all he could do not to bust through the doors and shake the living daylights out of her for taking such an asinine risk. “Go on, Oscar.”

  “I asked her what she aimed on accomplishing with that noodle-brained offer. Here we’re already losin’ money and she wants to give stuff away? What kind of sense does that make?”

  “I’m sure it makes perfect sense to Paris,” Josh said. The thought of her visiting desolate places, fraternizing with lonely men, set his teeth on edge. At least she’d kept her promise by sticking close to Oscar, or rather, having him stick close to her.

  Seth plucked a cheroot from his vest pocket and lit up. “You must have hit those camps after we’d come and gone.”

  “Yeah, well, we only managed three—Miss Paris is a might timid rider—still, you know how word spreads. Now, here’s where it gets peculiar.”

  Like the situation wasn’t peculiar enough.

  “She introduced herself to every man on site, making a point to reveal a little about herself, but mostly she got the men to talk about their own personal lives. They was pleased as punch jawin’ with a woman as pretty as your missus.”

  “I’ll bet.” Josh cringed at his jealous tone. “So what you’re telling me is that we’ve got a house full of men expecting a free meal. An edible home-cooked meal.”

  “You’re doomed,” Seth said.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Josh pushed through the doors. He expected ten, fifteen bodies. He was greeted with at least thirty, including Niles. He acknowledged the man’s cocky wave with a curt nod. He itched like hell to question him about that gold nugget, but now wasn’t the time. Reining in his emotions, he headed for the bar.

  “Evenin’, Sheriff,” several men chimed.

  “Evenin’,” Josh and Seth answered.

  “They bathed,” his friend said, pointing out the difference between these men and the ones they’d interviewed scant hours before.

  “And groomed,” Josh added. Their hair, though still greasy, had been combed and all of them, each and every one, had a napkin placed on their laps. He turned to Oscar.

  “There was a catch to your lady’s free food offer. The men had to clean up or clear out. They ain’t had an honest-to-gosh home-cooked meal in who knows how long, and I suspect they ain’t never been served by someone as pretty as this gal, so they slicked up.”

  “But she can’t cook,” Seth said as they bellied up to the bar.

  “They don’t know that. Yet.” Oscar rounded the bar. “Oh, and another thing.” Reaching down, he produced a .45 and a Winchester. “She made ‘em check their guns. I got pert near forty pieces under here.”

  Despite his edgy mood, Josh smiled.
“That’s my girl.” He scanned the room. “Why are they so quiet?”

  “They’re waiting for the next rhyme.”

  Seth swiped off his hat and set it on the bar. “She’s reciting poetry?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What exactly?” Josh asked.

  “Everyone’s impressed.” Oscar poured them a whiskey. “Myself included. She’s in the kitchen. She should be out any second.”

  On cue, she floated into the room as cheerful and bright as the radiant summer sun.

  Seth’s mouth curved into a slow, appreciative smile. “She’s wearing a dress.”

  Tongue-tied, Josh ogled the lemon-yellow confection. Lace-trimmed neckline. Fitted bodice. Full skirts. Stylish, yet simple. The gown must’ve been rolled up in her carpetbag. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried not to drool. He’d never seen her in a dress. The transformation from tomboy to sophisticated woman was unsettling. She looked feminine, fragile, and too damned appealing to be circulating with these yahoos. She’d twisted her hair into a loose knot, a wasted effort since several tendrils had escaped, the wispy strands cascading down her back. Then again, when had her silky hair ever cooperated? He gawked in wonder as she flitted about the room, distributing baskets of bread to the moony-eyed miners.

  He froze when they locked gazes, her sweet smile damn near knocking him off balance. His heart slammed against his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs, clean through his skin. He’d been away from her all day. He’d missed her. “I’ll be damned.”

  “We’re ready for the next ditty,” someone shouted.

  Several voices rang out in agreement.

  She flinched, tore her gaze from Josh’s. “I thought I did everyone.”

  Seth choked.

  Josh downed his whiskey in one fiery swallow, hoping the miners had the good sense not to jump on that suggestive statement, otherwise he’d have to break some noses.

  “Over here,” someone called. “You ain’t done Big Amos Rind!”

  All eyes shifted to the back of the room. “Do Amos Rind! Do Amos Rind!” they chanted.

  What the hell was she supposed to do to that two-hundred-and-fifty-some pound grizzly? Josh clenched his jaw and tapped his glass to the bar, demanding another shot.