Scandal at the Cahill Saloon

by Carol Arens

  “You startled me!” Leanna paused to consider what answer to give. “We aren’t in love, is why.” Leanna rested her chin in her palms. “Is it any cooler down there?”

  “Not a whit, unless you’re sitting in the stream.” Which she clearly had been doing. Her flannel gown dripped water from the modest neck to the hem. “In my experience love and marriage don’t necessarily go together, anyway. Life with Cleve Holden wouldn’t be half-bad for you. And Cabe needs a father.”

  “If I married him,” Leanna said in a loud whisper, “he’d find out I’m not Cabe’s mother.”

  “And what would be so horrible about that?”

  “He’ll want to know who the father is.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so all fired set on keeping that secret. Your life would be a whole lot easier if folks knew you’re not ruined.”

  “I promised Arden, and there was a good reason for it.”

  “May the poor lamb rest in peace.” Dorothy twisted her hair, wringing a stream of water from it. “I’ll give you the advice your mother would if she were here. Marry Cleve.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Dorothy shrugged, then disappeared from Leanna’s line of view. The kitchen door opened, then closed with a click.

  “Mama, would you tell me to marry a man who doesn’t love me?” A star shot across the sky but Leanna wasn’t sure if that meant yes or no.

  Cleve would marry Leanna. Dashing up the back stairs of the saloon in an early-morning downpour, he set his mind to it.

  It was true that the proposal had been impulsive, but over the past couple of days he had resolved that it was the only course of action that would do.

  If Leanna turned him down a dozen times he would propose a dozen and one times.

  Walking through the back room, Cleve heard men’s voices in the main saloon.

  “Move it that way an inch, Marvin,” a voice ordered. “No…back this way a little… Wait…too far! Too far! Balance the top or it’s going over!”

  “I’ve got two hands, is all!” came the agitated response. “Move back, Miss Cahill, you’ll only be in the way.”

  Cleve rushed into the saloon in time to reach over Leanna’s head and steady the brand-new stained-glass window an instant before it would have toppled over.

  “Cleve!” He took the weight from her, helping the carpenters with the balance. “By now I shouldn’t be surprised that you show up when I need you the most.”

  “I’m handy to have around.” Marry me is what he meant.

  The carpenters hammered several nails into place. The window held secure in its frame.

  It was a piece of art as much as a window. Horses and cattle grazed on green meadows and in the distance smoke rose from the chimney of a home that looked very much like Quin Cahill’s. Leanna must have paid a pretty price for the thing.

  This morning Leanna had dressed for work in men’s pants and a striped cotton shirt. She crossed the big saloon, passed through the small room behind it and out to the back porch. He followed, admiring the stretch and pull of the worn denim covering her pretty, round backside.

  “What are you doing here this early?” she asked without looking at him, her attention given to a stack of crates waiting to be unloaded.

  “I’ve come to ask for your hand.”

  She spun about and braced her arms across her middle.

  He got down on one knee. “Marry me, Leanna.”

  “Don’t be silly, Cleve.” She yanked on the shoulder of his shirt. “Get up before someone sees you.”

  “This is an honest proposal and I don’t mind who sees it.” He got up but only because he couldn’t kiss her from the bent-knee position as he intended to.

  She looked relieved until he put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the stack of crates. Eye to eye, she had no place to look but at him.

  “This reminds me of the first time we met, with the rain and you looking so appealing in those trousers.”

  “I had work to get done then, too.”

  “You were crying that night.”

  She glanced down briefly, then back up. “Well, I’m not now.”

  “Walk down the aisle with me and I’ll do my best to see that you never cry again.” A stray raindrop glistened in a curl at her temple. He looped the curl around his finger to rub the moisture away, then traced the curve of her cheek. “I’ll do all of the chores—you can write that in the vows if you want.”

  “My recollection of what’s written in those vows is that you will love me and only me. You don’t love me, Cleve…and I don’t love you.”

  He leaned forward. Heaven’s mercy if she didn’t meet him halfway. He kissed her tenderly, sweetly, but for a long time.

  “You know plenty of good people marry with a lot less. Give me a chance.” He kissed her again. This time there was nothing tender or sweet about it. Something ignited between his mouth and hers that went far deeper than a meeting of lips. “Marry me.”

  “Mama! Where’s you?” Small footsteps tapped across the saloon floor, then through the back room.

  Cleve lifted Leanna off the crates.

  “Here comes the very reason I can’t marry you,” she said.

  “Or the reason you ought to.” He kissed her one more time, brisk and quick. “You might just as well say yes here and now.”

  “Don’t use that smile on me, Cleve Holden.” She scooped Cabe up and marched toward the saloon. She spun about in the doorway and scowled at him. “I know a snake charmer when I see one.”

  This coming marriage might be for convenience, but he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

  The morning storm had blown out leaving behind a balmy wind and a sky that sparkled with stars. Leanna was pleased to see the saloon swelling with patrons. This would be her most successful night by far.

  The regulars were all in attendance. Massie’s young beau watched her move about the room, smiling and clearly as smitten as ever. Willem Van Slyck along with Don Fitzgerald sat in their customary chairs, drinking and talking. Glen Whitaker, Bowie’s deputy, set down his money at the poker table. He wasn’t one of her favorites, or even a regular customer, but a patron was a patron, after all.

  Of course there was Cleve, dealing cards and looking more distracting than ever in his finely cut black suit and his stylishly knotted tie. Had it only been his clothes and easy smile that made him so appealing, she might not have glanced his way every ten minutes.

  The trouble was, under the suit moved the hard, lean muscles of a rancher and beat the heart of man used to getting his way, be it herding a willful cow or urging a crop out of stubborn ground. Cleve was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

  And he wanted her.

  Just why, she had yet to understand. Cahill Crossing was full of pretty, respectable women he could choose from. Her dear friend Ellie would top that list, although her mother, Minnie, would probably faint dead away to have a gambler as a son-in-law.

  Somehow, the picture that came to mind of Ellie and Cleve giving each other loving glances and tender touches made her heart squeeze.

  She shook off that tug to her soul and sat down at a table to deal cards to five men who waited impatiently to begin a game of blackjack. Whoever Cleve married was none of her business. The fortunate woman he chose to spend his life with would not be her.

  It was very likely that the only men in her life would be the ones she dealt cards to, so she smiled at them, congratulated them or consoled them and collected their generous tips.

  Even with her attention so occupied it was difficult not to notice Cleve at the next table. Simply listening to the low tones of his voice conducting business made her imagine things that could not be hers.

  Things that could be hers, an inner voice reminded her, if she would say yes to them. She wouldn’t, of course…she couldn’t. The problem of her sexual innocence was not one she could see her way around.

  Truthfulness in a marriage was all important, even one that was not bas
ed on love. She could not go to her marriage bed a virgin…and a liar.

  She could admit the truth to Cleve beforehand, but she wasn’t certain she ought to. Even though she liked Cleve—more than liked him, truth be told—she didn’t know if she could trust him with the secret that she had guarded, even from her brothers.

  The hum of activity in the saloon fell quiet for a second and then started up again.

  Leanna glanced up to see Bowie standing in the doorway. He crossed the room toward her with long strides and the sweet scent of the night-blooming jasmine that grew beside the front door clinging to his clothes.

  He scanned the room while he walked, apparently weighing the patrons and their behavior to see if all was conducted in a legal manner.

  Brother Bowie would find no fault with Leanna’s Place. She and Cleve had been diligent about keeping the saloon respectable. In the event that a patron made a disrespectful move toward one of the ladies, Cleve escorted him outside with instructions not to return until his behavior was more considered. The card games were fair and the whiskey not watered. Her brother was welcome to look high and low, he would find no fault.

  “Gentlemen,” Bowie greeted the men at her table. “Good evening, Annie. I’d like a word when you have a moment?”

  “Make yourself at home, big brother, just until I deal my gentlemen a couple more winning hands.” She gave the men a wink, then smiled at her brother.

  Between dealing hands she watched Bowie move about the room, stopping to chat with Glen Whitaker, then Doc Lewis.

  When Bowie approached Cleve’s poker table, Cleve stood and shook his hand. After Cleve sat down, Bowie strode over to chat with Willem Van Slyck and Don Fitzgerald.

  Leanna stood and excused herself to the gentlemen at her table. Bowie met her halfway across the room.

  “Looks like I won’t be making any arrests here, Annie. You’ve done a fine job.”

  “I appreciate that, Marshal Cahill.”

  “Is there some place we can talk in private?”

  “The back porch?” Leanna led the way.

  Outside, summer air, soft and blossom-scented, touched her face. From across the tracks the muffled sounds of drunken revelry met her ears.

  “Any luck winning over the ladies across the tracks?” Bowie asked.

  “Not much yet.” She sighed. “Do you know Aggie Holt?”

  “She’s a timid thing, brings to mind a scared mouse?”

  “Aggie is scared. She wants to get away from that life.” Leanna nodded her head toward the lights across the tracks. “But Preston and those Fitzgerald boys intimidate her.”

  “I need a favor of you, Annie.” Looking down, Bowie tapped his boot toe against the porch rail. “It has to do with Ma and Pa.”

  Everything went still. The noise from the red-light district blurred to a distant hum. In spite of the warm evening her arms chilled with goose bumps.

  “Do you know something?”

  “Maybe.” Bowie skimmed his hand down her arm, smoothing out the chill. “You recall Marshal Hobbs?”

  “He’s as much the talk of the town as I am, I suppose.”

  “Then you know that he’s the one who shot Merritt’s friend.”

  “And that he was killed by the same sniper who shot your Merritt. I’m happy about the two of you, by the way. From what I recall, she is lovely.”

  Bowie smiled. “She’s quite a woman, Annie.”

  “Do you think that Hobbs knew something about Mama and Papa and that’s why the sniper shot him?”

  “That’s likely, but it’s something that Merritt’s friend, Saul Bream, said before he died that’s got me puzzled.”

  “Sure are a lot of people dying.”

  “The secrets surrounding what happened to Ma and Pa go pretty deep. Yeah, Annie, we’ve got people being silenced left and right and only one clue for all that.”

  “It’s something, at least. What do you need me to do?”

  “Just before Saul passed, he said that he had heard Hobbs mention Van Slyck. I don’t know what that means, if anything at all, but I notice Willem is a customer of yours.”

  “Regular as sundown.”

  “Can you keep your ears open? Stay safe, mind you, while you’re doing it. I don’t want you to take any risks.”

  The very last thing she wanted was to take risks around the Van Slycks.

  Mama and Papa, though… Leanna bit her lip. They deserved justice.

  “If the Van Slycks are connected, I’ll find it out.”

  “Be careful, Annie. I don’t know that they are. Who knows what Saul even meant by what he said.”

  “Deathbed confessions ought to carry some weight.”

  “That’s what I think and that’s why I’m asking you to listen in on Van Slyck.” Bowie cupped her face in his hands, looking her hard in the eye. “I’m also asking that you don’t do more than that. Just tell me if you hear anything unusual and I’ll take over from there. You said you wanted to be involved, but it’s dangerous, Annie.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised her brother.

  What she promised herself was to stop at nothing to discover who had murdered her parents.

  Standing in the shadow of the back room, Cleve had overheard enough of Leanna’s conversation with her brother to make his gut fist up in a knot.

  He hadn’t been listening long enough to understand the why’s and how’s of things, just long enough to know that Leanna was to spy on Van Slyck for some reason and that she had promised not to put herself in danger.

  Surely her brother knew better than to believe her.

  It was more important now than ever to get Leanna to marry him. Whatever she did would have a direct impact on Cabe. Never mind that marriage between them would be good, protecting his nephew from whatever danger the Cahills might be involved in was what mattered.

  He strode out of the shadows onto the back porch.

  “Good evening, Marshal Cahill,” he said.

  “Holden.” Bowie nodded his head.

  Cleve stood beside Leanna. It was a bold move to make in front of her brother, but he circled his arm about her waist. He squeezed it.

  “I’d like to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage.”

  “What…you?” Leanna wriggled away. She rounded on him. “I told you I won’t marry you!”

  “When the time comes that you change your mind, I’d like to have your brother’s consent.”

  “Sounds like a respectable idea to me,” Bowie declared, grinning. “Honor binds me to warn you, Cleve, that you’ll have your hands full.”

  “Keep out of this, Bowie.” Leanna turned on her brother with a hiss.

  “Can’t rightly do that since I’m the one he was speaking to.”

  “As I’ve pointed out to Mr. Holden time and again, he doesn’t love me…and I don’t love him.”

  To that, Bowie tilted his head, and arched his brows. He hugged his sister, then walked down the back steps. His shoulders shook with the laughter he suppressed.

  “Now that I have your brother’s blessing, Miss Cahill, may I come calling tomorrow morning?” he asked with no little humor suppressed of his own.

  “No, you may not!”

  “I’ll be along at nine sharp. We’ll have a picnic in the country.”

  “Cleve! No,” he heard her call as he walked back inside the saloon and took his place at the poker table.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning at five minutes until nine Leanna sat on her front porch watching for Cleve. She didn’t like being corralled into going with him, but if she didn’t go he’d only pester her until she did.

  The fact that she had spent the better part of an hour dressing, and in one of her most fetching gowns at that, did not mean that she was eager for this outing. It was simply her way of getting back at Cleve. At besting him.

  Wouldn’t it serve him right to see her at her best and then have her turn down his proposal…yet again?

  Mother would p
oint out that her reasoning was vain and childish, but Cleve had it coming for refusing to accept her decision.

  No doubt he imagined this little excursion would be one where he kissed her. No doubt he meant to fondle her in some forbidden way in order to make her come around to his point of view.

  What he didn’t know was that she was bringing along protection against his charm. At this very moment Cabe and Melvin hopped up and down in anticipation of the picnic.

  That would nip the flame of Mr. Cleve Holden’s plans! The look of disappointment on his face would be worth all the extra trouble she had taken to look her best.

  A moment later, Cleve pulled in front of the house driving a pretty rented buggy, its fringe swaying to the gait of the horse that pulled it.

  The grin on his face when she announced that Cabe and Melvin were coming along was a big disappointment. The man did not seem a bit sorry to have the boys as chaperones.

  She certainly would not give him a kiss today…probably not tomorrow, either.

  The buggy ride passed with Cleve telling Melvin fishing stories and Cabe babbling “fis” over and over again, even though he had no idea what “fis” was.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t fault Cleve for his choice of a picnic area. It was a grassy spot only steps from a stream where, yes, fish were bound to be plentiful. There were trees for shade and open areas for sun. Birds sang in the branches overhead while grass bent and sighed on a gentle breeze.

  If a couple were truly courting, love would find a way this perfect, peaceful day.

  Love, in fact, did seem to be blooming. Cabe and Melvin couldn’t get enough of their new hero, Cleve. With lunch eaten and out of the way the boys were free to play. Horseback rides, and piggyback rides, hide-and-seek and tag were only warm-ups to fishing.

  Cleve wouldn’t know it, but his clear enjoyment of being with the boys had ruined her hard-won resentment of his high-handed behavior of last night.

  Still, she would not kiss him, on that she remained firm.