Silver-Tongued Devil

by Lorelei James

  Warmth spread through her chest.

  “Getting kinda handsy for being in public, McKay,” Doc said as he wandered up. “I ain’t the only one who’s noticed.”

  Dinah briefly turned her head into Silas’s hand, placing a soft kiss at the base of his thumb before she stepped back. “Perhaps they oughta be more concerned with getting this picnic underway.”

  “It is underway—not that the pair of you noticed. Soon as I’m done eating, I plan to head home to check on my wife.” Doc tipped his head back to look at Silas. “Is your horse broke to a buggy?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Good. I’ll ride home and leave you two the buggy since I suspect you’d like to stay a while.”

  “That is thoughtful, Doc,” Silas said. “Thanks.”

  Dinah handed Doc and Silas each a plate, took one for herself, and they were the last three in line.

  The butcher had donated two huge pigs that’d been pit roasted. The grocer had donated potatoes, carrots and onions that had been cooked over open fires in cream canisters and then were dumped on the tables with the newspapers.

  After they’d filled their plates, Doc wandered off, and the only seating left was by Sarah White and Mary O’Brien.

  Pasting on a smile, Dinah sat across from Sarah.

  Silas set his plate next to hers and put his mouth on her ear. “Lemonade?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Be right back.”

  She adjusted her skirt, then her plate before she met the glowers she’d felt.

  Sarah scowled.

  Mary held her gaze and then laughed.

  Don’t ask. Eat so you can leave.

  Took an effort to tune out their whispers and giggles, but thankfully Silas returned quickly with two tin cups of lemonade.

  Sarah smirked. “It appears you forgot to bring cups with your picnic supplies, Dinah. I hope they didn’t overcharge you for those, Mr. McKay.”

  Shoot. He’d had to buy them?

  “Two for five cents. Not bad. I could always use a couple extra cups.”

  Dinah looked at Silas. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, darlin’.” He smiled and dug into his meal.

  Mary leaned across the table and addressed Silas. “I’m surprised you’re feeling up to being out and about, after your Friday night…mishap.”

  Silas squinted at her. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss…but do I know you?”

  “No, but I know of you. I’m Mary O’Brien. I believe you’re acquainted with my fiancée, Zachariah West.” She practically waggled her ring-clad finger in his face.

  He went still.

  “I heard about my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Zeke West, getting the best of you Friday night.”

  “Oh, he’s lucky he didn’t get the worst of me.” Silas’s smile was all teeth. “Funny, ain’t it, how much he brags about it when it ain’t ever a fair fight.”

  Dinah sent him a sharp look. Why wasn’t it “ever” a fair fight?

  Mary studied him, taking in the bruises, scratches and swelling on his face. “I’m honestly shocked you’re willing to show up at a public function with your face bearing the shame.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is hard bein’ here with the pocketful of Zeke’s money that I won and a shame there’s no place open to spend it all.” He cocked his head, studying her in the same condescending manner. “I’m surprised your fee-on-say ’fessed up to bein’ at Sackett’s on Friday evening. Funny though, I don’t remember seein’ him at the card tables. I wonder where else he might’ve been.”

  Dinah thought it was polite of her not to point out Mary’s face had turned the same color as the lettering on the Ruby Red’s Boardinghouse sign.

  “Where is your intended?” Silas asked.

  “He’s at work. The trains don’t quit running on Sundays,” she said haughtily.

  “God don’t give cattlemen a day off neither.”

  “When are you getting married?” Dinah asked.

  “In July,” was all Mary said.

  Uncomfortable silence lingered as they returned to their food.

  But the reprieve didn’t last.

  Mary shoved her plate until it bumped into Dinah’s and said, “Oops, sorry,” before stretching her arms above her head and sighing. “Lord, I’ve got such aches and pains from setting up housekeeping this week. I swear even civilized men would be happy living in a cave. But I told Zachariah that our house would be perfect before we lived there.”

  Spinster Sarah nodded as if she had a clue as to what “setting up housekeeping” meant. “It was sweet of Zachariah to surprise you and build a new house as a wedding gift.”

  “It is a blessing he has the means to support us.” Mary’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully on Dinah. “I’d just finished telling Sarah that I won’t be teaching in Sundance in the fall. So maybe if you apply, Dinah, you’ll get lucky and land a real teaching job.”

  Both Mary and Sarah laughed.

  And…Dinah had had enough. She grabbed her plate and her cup and said, “Excuse me,” rising to leave. Skirting the groups of people who’d already started playing games, she stormed to the buggy.

  Nasty, mean cow, saying whatever nasty, mean thing that popped into her small mind.

  She wanted to scream. Throw things. Challenge Mary to a fight to see how well a real teacher could defend herself.

  She froze. Fight her? Why had that jumped into her head? Fists never solved anything.

  It was that brawler McKay’s fault.

  “Dinah?”

  Speak of the devil. “What?”

  “What was that remark about you not bein’ a real teacher?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He spun her around and then stepped back. “Uh-oh, sugar pie, I don’t like the mean glint in them pretty eyes. So I’m gonna go get my horse and hook up to the buggy. Then we’ll leave.”

  “I have to get my picnic basket.”

  “Best be doin’ it then.”

  Maybe she acquired a small sense of satisfaction seeing that Esther’s fancy vittles sat mostly untouched while only a crust of bread remained of the food Dinah had brought.

  She packed up everything and returned to the buggy, still angry about the exchange Silas had witnessed.

  “Gonna make a suggestion. While I’m hitchin’ up, you go refill our cups. Might as well get our money’s worth.”

  “Silas. I don’t care about that.”

  “Trust me on this, okay? Look. There ain’t nobody over there so it ain’t like you gotta make nice. Now git.”

  She might’ve flounced off at his now git command. And she might’ve stood there and poured herself a cup and drank it before she refilled their cups.

  “I was hoping I’d see you!”

  Dinah turned and was enveloped in a hug and a cloud of peony perfume.

  Then Beatrice Talbot gawped over her shoulder at the man messing with the buggy. “Please tell me Deputy McKay is courting you.”

  “Silas McKay, the deputy’s twin brother, is courting me,” she said with a little pride.

  “Heavens, there are two of them? How is that even fair?”

  She laughed. “They may look exactly alike but they are different as night and day. Anyway, how are you?”

  “Feeling guilty that we haven’t seen each other since school let out.”

  “I know. But I heard you were visiting family in Billings for the summer?”

  “I was there for two weeks for my sister’s wedding. There’s so much going on with building this new house and the bank that I can’t be away for long.”

  “I would love to catch up with you,” Dinah said. “When would be a good time for me to ride over for a visit?”

  Bea tapped her chin with a gloved finger and then her face lit up. “Andrew has bank business in Casper, and he’s been fretting about leaving me alone since I can’t come with him. You should stay with me! That would kill two birds with one stone.”

  “When is Andrew leavi
ng?”

  “A week from Friday. You could ride over in the afternoon and we could do something fun that night. Andrew will be back late Saturday night.”

  That did sound like fun. Beatrice was the only real friend she’d made in the last year. “If Andrew’s plans change, let me know. Otherwise, I will be there.”

  Beatrice clapped and hugged her again. “Feel free to bring a bottle of that plum wine you made last summer.”

  “I will.” Dinah grinned and hugged her one last time. “I’m so happy we ran into each other.”

  “Me too. Ta-ta.” Beatrice flitted off.

  After she refilled the cups, she meandered back to the buggy, lost in thought.

  She noticed Silas had tucked the picnic basket and his saddlebag under the seat.

  “It appeared you saw at least one friendly face here,” he said.

  “That’s Beatrice Talbot.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “Last summer she twisted her ankle while at the hardware store in Labelle and Jimmy fetched Doc. I tagged along with him when he went to examine her. She’d just gotten married and had moved here from Casper, so neither of us knew anyone. We became fast friends.”

  “Who’s her husband?”

  “Andrew Talbot. He’s a banker. His family is building the new Settler’s First bank in Sundance.”

  “Competition’s always a good thing. Not that any of them bastards would lend me money.” He took the cups from her and placed them on the sideboard. Then he pulled out a flask and poured amber liquid into both cups, stirring them with the handle end of the spoon, and handed her one.

  “Whiskey. On a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Whiskey and lemonade on a Sunday afternoon. Try it, you’ll like it.”

  “You’ve had it before?”

  Silas granted her that devil-may-care grin. “Nope.”

  She wasn’t a fan of whiskey, but she swallowed a mouthful anyway.

  The lemonade softened the sting of the booze and masked the taste. She drained the entire cup and saw Silas still grinning at her.

  “That’s my girl.” Then he drank his down.

  “It’s your fault if I get drunk.”

  “On that little ol’ snort? Nah. It’ll just soothe you, that’s all, and darlin’, you need it.” He held out his hand. “Hop up.”

  After he’d climbed aboard and held the reins, he said, “Where to?”

  Dinah took off her hat and tipped her face to the sun. “Just drive, Silas, and get us out of here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Silas drove until they reached the rise that showcased the Belle Fourche River Valley.

  From this vantage point the land spread out in a carpet of green, with towering trees, rolling hills and the snaking curve of the river.

  Dinah didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then she sighed. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

  “This is what made me settle here. I don’t foresee a day when I’d ever get tired of callin’ this place home.”

  “Where’s your ranch?”

  He lifted her left arm up and said, “Point your finger.” Then he maneuvered her arm to the left. “Now look straight down your arm to the tip of your finger. That hill? Is about ten miles as the crow flies. That’s the start of my land.”

  “Have you stood on that hill?”

  “Yep. Too many trees to give me a view like this one. But that don’t really matter because I know the view is there…if that makes any sense.”

  “It does.”

  Gave him a warm feeling that he didn’t have to explain it to her beyond that. “If we’re gonna sit here a spell, I need to let my horse graze.”

  “I’d like to stay here, if you don’t need to get back.”

  “Got all day to spend with you.” He jumped down and winced because once again he’d forgotten about his damn ribs. He removed the harness and tied a lead rope around the horse’s neck, taking him to a grassy spot. The whisper of grass alerted him and he glanced up to see Dinah moving toward him.

  “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “He don’t have one.”

  “Is he new and you haven’t settled on a name yet?”

  “Nope.”

  She blinked at him. “How long have you had him?”

  “Two years.”

  “Two years without a name?”

  “Well, it ain’t like anyone is ridin’ him but me.”

  “Do you have other horses?”

  “Yep, and they don’t have names either. Neither do my oxen nor my donkey.” He cocked his head. “I s’ppose your horse has a name.”

  “Yes, she does. Although, I didn’t name her. Doc did. Her name is Folly because he thought it foolish for me to buy a horse when I could just borrow his or Mrs. Agnes’s.”

  Silas offered her his hand. “Can’t blame you for wantin’ your own ride.”

  With her hand clasped in his, he led her to another flat, grassy spot that caught a nice updraft from the valley below. “How’s this?”

  “Perfect.” She plopped down and stretched her legs out in front of her, giving him a glimpse of her button-up boots. Fancier than the plain ones she’d worn yesterday.

  He settled beside her, close enough to touch her if she gave him a sign his attentions would be welcomed.

  Time seemed to slow. Silas let himself be content, letting the guilt that he ought to be working float away on the crisp spring breeze.

  Finally, she spoke. “You’ve been a lot of places, haven’t you?”

  “Yep. But that don’t mean I remember ’em all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bein’ on a cattle drive…it’s the same thing every day. Up early, ridin’ across dry, dusty land or sloppin’ through a mud bog to find a place where the cattle can graze. Eat, sleep, or try to sleep if I’d been on herd watch the night before, get up and do it again. It’s months of that.”

  “But you must’ve liked it since you did it for so long.”

  He plucked up a couple of long stems of grass. “I was good at it. And because I’d been workin’ the trail for so long, the money was decent when I made it to trail boss. Not as eye-poppin’ as a job with the railroad, but better than I would’ve earned workin’ in a factory.”

  “The railroad dangles superior money at you until that job gets you killed, and then there’s no money.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, he bumped his shoulder into hers. “Dinah, darlin’, you know you can’t let them words just lie there.”

  “I know.” She started fiddling with the grass, as if nerves were getting the best of her.

  Silas placed his hand over hers. “I wanna know everything about you, sugar pie, so start at the beginning, like I did when you asked me yesterday.”

  “Okay.” She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I was born in Cheyenne and grew up there. My father worked for the railroad. He was a supervisor or something, which meant he was home most nights, not out in the railyard or on the tracks. My mother married him when she was sixteen. They lost a few babies before I was born. I think because of that, my dad did everything for her or hired people to do it for her. We had a day maid who did household chores as well as shopped for food. My mother did manage to cook most nights.”

  Silas tried to wrap his head around the fact she’d grown up with servants.

  “So I attended school, took piano lessons, horse-riding lessons, had friends and social activities. We lived in a nice house, with nice things. As a child you don’t know what your parents go through to keep up appearances. On the outside we seemed well off. Having hired help was an indulgence that in retrospect, we couldn’t afford. I knew none of this until after my father died.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen. There was an emergency at the trainyard. I never did hear the details, but my father was crushed by a runaway train car. My mother…went into immediate shock. She never really recovered.”

>   “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I was when I learned that we didn’t own the house we lived in; it was a benefit of working for the railroad.”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  “No. Neither did my mother. Although thinking back, everyone in our neighborhood worked for the railroad, so it should’ve been obvious it was company housing. Thankfully one of my father’s friends took me in hand because he knew my mother was worthless.”

  He sent her a sharp look when she used that term, but she kept talking.

  “I had to learn to do all those things that my mother should’ve known. We had to move. Mr. Jones found us a two-room apartment to rent. I sold all of our household furnishings, except a few pieces. It gave us more money to live on. Another task Mr. Jones taught me was how to run a household ledger to track our expenses, since we wouldn’t have any more money coming in with my father being dead.”

  “Did you have to go to work?”

  “Not like you, out riding the range. I continued to attend school only because…I know it sounds selfish, but it allowed me a break from my mother’s grief. By age fourteen I ran our household. I cooked, cleaned, budgeted, and cared for my mother. When she got sick enough to go into the hospital for two weeks, I sold all of her jewelry—not that she owned much—to pay that bill. Out of desperation I tried to sell some of her clothing since my father had indulged her need to flit around in the latest fashions. The dressmaker paid me a pittance for the dresses I knew cost ten times that new, but even a small amount of money helped us survive another month. When the dress shop owner asked if I could sew, I admitted to knowing only the basics. She hired me on the spot. I was able to do piece work for her from home. That saved us. But there was no saving my mother. She passed on shortly before my nineteenth birthday. Does it make me sound horrible if I confess I was relieved?”

  He reached for her hand. “No, darlin’, it doesn’t.”

  “Mama loved me in her own way. She just loved my father more. She once told me if it hadn’t been for leaving me an orphan, she would’ve killed herself after he died. But the truth was, she did kill herself; it just took her longer to die than she’d planned.”