by Gem Sivad
“Don’t play innocent,” Lydia said coldly. “I have a steady customer who enjoys the safety of the Pleasure Dome when he’s in town. His horse is in the stable but he’s not in the house.”
“He’s not in here either.” Deacon shrugged and pulled a clean shirt from his saddlebag. “And I wasn’t bounty hunting last night.”
“Was Calvin in here?”
“Excuse me?” That gave him pause. Why the hell would Lydia think her butler had visited him? She answered before he asked.
“My butler as well as my customer is missing. Melanie says she was on her way to your room yesterday afternoon when Calvin rerouted her to another room.” Lydia looked with interest at the wrinkled sheets. “You obviously didn’t spend the night alone.”
Deacon didn’t argue about Calvin or try to convince Lydia that her butler hadn’t visited his room. Nor did he disclose the real occupant of his bed the night before. The two security men in his suite remained by the madam’s side, setting off alarm bells in Deacon’s head.
They were bruisers who kept the brothel’s working girls in line as much as the Pleasure Dome visitors. He concentrated on convincing Lydia he hadn’t poached in her territory by nabbing one of her customers. She lost interest in him and left. Before the door was completely closed, she peeked around the edge.
“Robert, I had no idea you favored that persuasion.”
Alone again, he searched the room, including flipping back the bed coverlet. His memory hadn’t been false. He removed the bottom sheet, folded it and put it in his saddlebag, then left enough money on the nightstand to cover the cost of the expensive bedding.
He had no desire to discuss her with Lydia but he intended to talk to his companion from the night before. No butler was on duty when he descended the steps but Lydia appeared and walked beside him toward the door.
“I take it I’m not having breakfast,” he said wryly.
“I’d prefer that you leave without a fuss,” Lydia said when he stopped in the foyer.
“I’m not leaving without talking to the woman you sent to my room last night. She was as tall as most men, slender with a full bosom and had pale-blonde hair falling long and straight.”
“I don’t know who you spent the night with. I’m sure my elusive butler Calvin could explain if we could find him. I think he was busy kidnapping one of my guests.” Lydia glared at him, anger marring her usual serene composure. Deacon frowned back.
“I have no interest in the peculiarities of your doorman. He’s well gone if he escaped your snare.” He focused on Lydia and said grimly, “But I do care about the young woman who came to my room.”
“If I knew who it was, I’d drag her here right now.” When she continued to deny knowing the name of the girl, Deacon opened the front door and started down the steps.
It was obvious Lydia wanted something from him as she walked with him to the street below. When they reached the bottom tread, she laid her hand on his arm to stop him.
“Robert, I’m telling you the truth. Melanie is my tallest girl. If I can find the Amazon you’ve described, she’ll be worth—”
Deacon’s hand wrapped around Lydia’s throat and he resisted the urge to throttle her. She gaped at him fearfully.
He dropped his hand, stepping away from the madam. The security guard aiming a gun at him was a chill reminder of the violence he’d almost unleashed.
He needed to find his night’s companion. He had proof in his saddlebag that she’d not been a prostitute in her past. He intended to see to it she never was. The frustration of having no name and no way to find her again left him gritting his teeth.
His long strides carried him away from the Pleasure Dome and down the street toward the stable. It was a shock when Lydia’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she hurried beside him, trying to keep up.
“Robert,” she panted, urgently demanding his attention. She grabbed his arm, whether to secure his interest or keep from toppling over, Deacon wasn’t sure. Since he’d choked the woman moments before, he stopped to see what was so important she braved his presence.
“I need you to go visit the Fort Worth sheriff’s office and see if any prisoners were brought in this morning.” White lines of tension showed around her mouth and her nails bit through the thickness of his shirt where she held on to him.
“Who am I asking about?”
“He goes by a lot of names.” Lydia’s answer spilled from her lips in a deluge of panic. “One of them is Ned Jackson. He was on his way here. He should have arrived yesterday. This morning, his horse is in my private barn but he’s not in the house.”
“And why should I care?” Deacon shrugged. He had no reason to help Lydia Lynch. On the other hand, here was Ned Jackson handed to him on a platter. He didn’t bother telling her that her friend was a counterfeiter.
“You need to help me because Annie was my friend and she’d want you to do this for me.” Lydia’s voice took on the petulant sound of a young girl.
“I seriously doubt that, Lydia.” But he had his own missing person to find. Since his quest began at the Pleasure Dome and he might need Lydia’s help to find the mystery woman before it was done, he agreed to visit the law office.
“And if your friend is in jail and I get him out?”
“Bring him here.”
* * * * *
Deacon’s visit to the Fort Worth law office bore fruit. He had no trouble getting the sheriff to talk. The town merchants had protested his crackdown on crime in the area. It was cyclical. After enough murders took place and too many whores committed suicide, the merchants would want him to get busy again. Meanwhile, Harold Tully spent more time polishing his gun than using it.
“Yep, that youngster Beauregard hauled Ned in this morning. Said he was a counterfeiter and government agents would be interested in talking to him.”
“You pay Beauregard?”
“I don’t keep money here, Deacon. I gave the kid a promissory note. He can cash it at any bank as soon as the US marshal comes in and confirms Ned is the man on the wanted poster.”
Well damn. The mouthy brat, a constant point of irritation, had tracked Jackson to Fort Worth and caught him. Deacon admired the kid’s skill at the same time he enjoyed putting a spoke in his wheel.
“You know he nabbed Jackson at Lydia’s place? She’s fit to be tied and sent me over here to see about it.” As expected, Tully was so riled he was ready to slap Beauregard in jail and release Ned.
“No respect, Deacon. I’m telling you these young’uns coming up aren’t like me and you. They’ve got no respect for the rules.”
Deacon winced when the sheriff aligned their ages since Tully was sixty if he was a day and Deacon was thirty-three. Nevertheless, he let the image of old comrades fighting against insolent youth stand without comment.
Ned Jackson was duly brought out from the cell where he’d been sleeping. For having arrived only hours before, he looked pretty rough and smelled worse.
“You keeping pigs back there, Harold?” Deacon coughed and backed away from Jackson.
“Evidently, he rolled in his own filth for a while after the butler caught him.” Harold wiped his eyes and then held a thick handkerchief over his nose.
“I thought you said Beau Beauregard brought him in.”
“He did. But after Beauregard left, this one kept talking about the butler. He didn’t make sense and smelled so bad I didn’t spend a lot of time listening.”
“I’m an innocent citizen.” When it looked as if he was getting out based on the misdeeds of the bounty hunter, Ned offered a new version of the story and claimed he’d been attacked and dragged off the street by a crazy kid with a wolf.
Harold waved his hand at him, indicating he wanted him gone.
“Hope the Eclipse Bank doesn’t jump the gun and pay that promissory note,” Deacon drawled.
“I’ll wire ’em soon as you leave,” Harold assured him.
“I’ll give your regards to Lydia.” Deacon tipped
his hat to Harold and followed Jackson out the door. As soon as the counterfeiter’s foot hit the Fort Worth sidewalk, Deacon grabbed him from behind and nudged him toward the horse. “Lydia sent for you.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Your job’s done. Turn me loose, you fool.”
“Can’t do it. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Lydia. That was a fine story you were telling inside. How about telling me now what really happened? Did the butler catch you or did Beauregard?”
“The squirrely bastards are one and the same. The butler was on the street when I arrived. He marched me behind the building, knocked me silly, tied me up like a Christmas turkey and shoved me under the porch.”
Heat prickled under Deacon’s skin, racing up to burn his face with a deep blush. He’d rather not have had Beauregard witness his visit to a whorehouse.
“What business did you have at Lydia’s place?” Covering his discomposure, he questioned Ned.
“Same business every man has when he visits a whorehouse.”
The brothel owner’s outlaw friend wasn’t forthcoming with more information and he needed a bath before Deacon was getting close enough to question him in depth. Until that happened, Deacon mounted his horse and walked behind Jackson, herding him down the street toward the Pleasure Dome.
Once there, Lydia smelled Ned and sent him to her private apartment to bathe. Deacon ordered breakfast and ate in the dining room. Clean and hungry, Ned wandered in with a plate stacked high with food.
“Still here, McCallister?” The counterfeiter was a banty rooster of a fellow and it seemed clear he wanted Deacon gone from Lydia’s dining room. “You fetched for her. You can leave now.”
He looked as if he had more to say but Lydia joined them for coffee. Ned suddenly had more interest in eating the crepes than talking to Lydia. She, on the other hand, demanded answers.
“You will tell me right now what you’re involved in this time.” Lydia demonstrated impatience rather than affection toward the outlaw.
“Siblings?” Deacon finished his coffee and set the cup down. His guess wasn’t that outlandish since once he was cleaned up, Ned proved to be a masculine version of Lydia.
“Twins. I’m the respectable one,” the notorious madam of the Pleasure Dome admitted grimly. “I’ve been trying to keep him out of jail all his life.”
Ned didn’t deny it and Deacon didn’t doubt it. But he didn’t waste sympathy on her. Ned’s cutlery hit the plate as he finished his meal and Deacon laid his napkin on the table and stood.
“Ready to go, Ned?”
“Where?” brother and sister asked in unison.
“Eclipse, to jail. You were pretty ripe this morning. I just brought you here to clean up and grab breakfast before we hit the trail.”
“No.” Lydia wasn’t having any of it. Ned didn’t seem concerned at all about Deacon’s intentions. In fact, before he hid his expression, he looked almost smug.
“I haven’t been to Eclipse in years,” he murmured lazily. “It will be just like old times visiting the MC3.”
“When did you visit the ranch?” Deacon frowned, staring hard at Ned whose expression had become almost feral.
“Ned, let it go.” Lydia groaned.
Ned shrugged and didn’t let it go. “I visited Annie on the McCallister ranch to pay my respects after you married.”
“I don’t recall being introduced.” Deacon stared at Lydia’s twin. He’d never seen him before.
“That’s because I didn’t come to see you. I came to see her. Annie Ross was supposed to be my bride. I’d been away for a while. When I got back, you’d married my intended.”
“You were gone and she changed her mind,” Lydia defended her friend. “She wanted a respectable life, not the harum-scarum disorder you lived.”
“She was mine long before you met her, McCallister.” Ned’s snarl was aimed at Deacon, implying that more than just a childhood friendship had existed between him and Annie.
Deacon considered Ned’s claim. He sighed, resisting the urge to plant his fist in the other man’s face. Deacon didn’t think about those days often. But he remembered them. “Ned,” he drawled, “if you visited Annie at the MC3, no wonder I didn’t meet you. We didn’t live there during our marriage. All in all, it sounds as if Annie was well rid of you.”
“She loved me but married you and look where that got her.” Ned ignored the fact that he’d been caught in his lie, continuing his attempt to needle Deacon.
“If you loved her so much, why didn’t you settle down and marry her?” Deacon continued to let Ned bait him, but turned so that he faced both sister and brother. He couldn’t be certain that their quarrel was even real.
“Because he was in jail,” Lydia hissed.
“Then it will feel like home when he returns.” Deacon slapped the cuffs on Ned and prepared to leave.
“That’s not necessary,” Ned protested.
“There’s a wanted poster in the Fort Worth sheriff’s office that says you’re a counterfeiter and there are some government men who want to talk to you. Yep. The cuffs stay on.”
“Counterfeiter?” Lydia screeched. “You swine. You’ve risked all I’ve built. I’m coming too.”
“Lydia, I’m not hitching a buggy up for you and this isn’t a pleasure trip into the country. Your twin’s business is his business. Let it be.” His wife had been a friend of Lydia’s but as far as Deacon was concerned, Annie’s reach didn’t extend from the grave to protect Ned.
“Keep your mouth shut and maybe I’ll be able to keep you out of jail this time too.” Lydia glared at her brother. “I‘ll hire the bounty hunter who disguised himself as my butler.”
“The one who shoved me under the porch and left me to die of thirst?” Ned was outraged.
“He fooled me and caught you. That means he’s smart. I’ll hire him to find the plates and the paper. The law will be so happy to have this business resolved, they’ll thank me and forgive you.”
Deacon didn’t doubt that the madam would be able to keep her brother out of jail. One way or another she’d been manipulating men all of her life. Generals would have envied Lydia’s ability to make plans in the midst of battle. She already had her scheme in place but that didn’t change his.
“Suit yourself. But you’re not traveling with us.” Deacon considered both twins and knew without a doubt that Lydia was the more dangerous.
“Need some help, Lydia?” One of the bouncers in the shadowed area behind the stairs offered his assistance. She glanced his way and opened her mouth.
“If I have to fight my way out of here, I’ll shoot your brother first and you second,” Deacon murmured his warning before she could respond. He let his hand rest on his holster, ready to draw and fire if necessary. But as he’d hoped, Lydia did have affection for her brother and believed Deacon’s threat.
“We’re fine, Benjamin. Ned is leaving with Mr. McCallister.”
Deacon ignored Lydia and her goon and jerked Ned out the door and to the barn. Nobody followed or attempted to stop them. He attached one end of Ned’s cuff to an iron hitching ring while he saddled the animals and then gave Ned his choice.
“Cuffs stay on. You can ride in the saddle or across it. It makes no difference to me.”
“Lock ’em in front so I keep my balance.” Ned spoke agreeably.
“They’ll stay locked behind. Fall off and you’ll go across the saddle.”
Deacon and Ned rode out of Fort Worth together. The prisoner’s hands were cuffed behind his back and he wore a scowl on his face.
The better part of the morning was gone before either man broke the silence. Travel gave Deacon the time to mull over Ned’s claim. He’d just learned that he’d been Annie’s second choice. He’d courted her during the years he was at seminary and they’d developed a strong friendship. As though knowing where Deacon’s thoughts lay, Ned decided to reminisce out loud.
“We were close as three peas in a pod growing up, Lydia, Annie and me. Sometimes Annie a
nd me were closer than that. She lived on the ranch next to the played-out patch of ground our family squatted on.”
Deacon remembered Annie’s place with affection. There wasn’t enough land to farm or ranch, but it had a nice view of the river. After they’d married, he and Annie had lived there for the six months before they moved to Abilene. He and his young bride had sat together on the porch steps thinking they’d have a lifetime together.
“Ned, it doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen before Annie and I were wed.” Deacon figured Ned was trying to provoke a fight, looking for a way out of his current fix. It’s what Deacon would have done. “During our marriage, my wife wasn’t untrue to me. Since you’re a crook, a thief, a swindler and a liar, it’s no surprise she chose me instead of you. It shows her good sense. Don’t dirty Annie’s name again. If you do, I’ll kill you.”
Ned didn’t look frightened. “You’ll not hear mean words from me about Annie,” he agreed in a thick Irish brogue. “She was a fine colleen. Now as for the miscreant she married, I’ve no such hesitation in naming him a swine.”
“What’s your real name?” Deacon asked gruffly.
Ned smirked at him and then straightened in his saddle, tilting his head arrogantly.
“Edward Donovan Tolliver, one generation transplanted from Calgary County in the Old Country, fifth in the Tolliver line to carry me name. There’s many a fine Irish lad who’s trod the boards and been forced to use his wits to find a meal,” he delivered his introduction and excuse for being a reprobate.
“You’re an actor?”
“And a fine one,” Ned answered proudly. If he could have taken a bow, Deacon was sure he would have. As it was, even with his arms cuffed behind and riding a horse, he conveyed majestic arrogance.
“Beauregard picked up your trail. Where did you slip up?” Deacon made his question sound casual. Half the lawmen in the state were looking for the men passing bad money and the kid had found one of them.
“I saw Beauregard in the tent show where I performed as a traveling minister.” Ned dropped his pose and grimaced. His expression changed to piety.
