by Susan Lower
The Cowgirl Gets The Bad Guy
Cowgirl Mysteries, Book 1
Susan Lower
Copyright © 2021 Susan Lower
Time Glider Books
All rights reserved.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has sued them fictitiously.
Cover by Beck and Dot
Contents
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Wait! It’s not over!
What’s Next?
SNEAK PEAK OF THE COWGIRL TAKES THE BOUNTY
More from Susan Lower
About the Author
CONNECT WITH SUSAN
Giddy Up!
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Give a man a deed, a daughter, and a bottle of firewater, and before you know it… he’s dead.
Before he died, Ole Earl went and wagered me and our mining claim in a card game. Now, the gambler who won thinks I’m going to marry him, and the bounty hunter I ran into is only sticking around because I promised him a percentage of my mine profits.
Everyone’s out for a piece of my claim. I can’t leave town until my father’s murder is solved, and my days of being a free woman are numbered. When the judge comes to town, the gambler is planning to take me to court, whether I want to say ‘I do’ or not.
Deadwood isn’t usually such a lively town. With the railroad coming, it’s got all sorts of folks rallied up. I know one thing for certain: I’m going to have to find a way to leave town, secure my assets, and cover my father’s debts.
The gambler can pull all the tricks he wants out of his sleeve to try to charm me into marrying him. But the bounty hunter can step out onto the street with a six-shooter in hand and take a girl’s breath away. What’s a cowgirl to do?
If I don’t find my father’s killer, prove the gambler did it, and protect our family secret from getting exposed, the railroad will come barging through the mountain and no cavalry is going to stop the war from breaking out.
Sometimes a woman must pick up her rifle and take matters into her own hands. Watch out, bad guys, Jolene Willow Dean, cowgirl-extraordinaire, is out to get her man.
1
There is nothing a girl looks forward to more than putting on her Sunday best and heading to town after a long winter in Deadwood’s gulch. Except I haven’t worn a dress in years and the good ladies of the town have no problem stopping to stare as I walk into the mercantile with my list.
There is no shame in a hard day’s work and if these town ladies knew the things I did out at our claim, they’d never survive to break a sweat. Well, maybe Ruby, who runs the boarding house. She’s a widow and I’ve already checked in with her for a room tonight. It’s been too long since I caught up with my best friend, Ella Mae. I could kill Earl, my father, for insisting we could last a few more days. And that was until he traded his last bottle of firewater to Chief Tail Feathers. Gambled it more likely, but our indigenous neighbors see no value in the bits of silver and gold we mine from the mountain. Tobacco, rifles, and firewater are more valuable than women, and that is saying something.
Old Man Jensen clears his throat and I slap my list down on his counter. His eyes are on the side of my face instead of on my list. I tuck a long curl of hair behind my ear that’s slipped out of my hat, which tips my hat and lets the whole mess of waves fall down my back.
I sigh, knowing it came loose on the ride into town. I reach up to fix it as I hear the bell and someone calling my name.
“Jo! Jo!”
Jensen grabs the list, and I turn. Robbie, an errand boy in town, comes running up to me. “There you are,” he huffs, trying to catch his breath. “You’d better come quick.”
I haven’t been in town for more than a few hours. Nobody knows I am here, and what could be so important for Robbie to come to fetch me? I spot Lottie Larson and Hannah Baker with their baskets hanging off their arms and leaning a little too close to one another. They’re whispering and I have a feeling it has more to do with Robbie coming in after me than the fact I’m wearing pants.
“What? Where?” I’m trying to process what I should do.
“Earl is in the saloon and gone and tossed you in the pot.”
I blink, taking a second to comprehend what this young boy is saying.
Jensen pulls the list away from the counter. “You’d best go see what this is about, Jo. I’ll take care of this and have it ready for when you get back.”
There’s a cramping in my belly and it isn’t from lack of food. I take a glance at Hannah and Lottie and that feeling twists deeper. Lottie lifts an eyebrow and I avoid her gaze. Dear Lord in heaven, I pray silently, please don’t let it be so. I turn on my boot heel and hightail it out of there as quick as I can. I’m all but running down the wooden sidewalk to get to the local watering hole.
Robbie runs ahead, stopping me before I push through the swinging saloon doors. “On second thought, you shouldn’t go in there.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “And why not?”
He’s a cute kid with hazel eyes and dark brown hair that splits at the side because of a cowlick. Poor kid is stuck in that in-between age—he’s not old enough to be treated like man, but still young enough, he’s got that softness to his face. Everyone knows Robbie is Amaryllis’s son, even if no one knows who his father is. I’m not even sure Amaryllis does, but it’s not for me to judge on what Amaryllis does for a living or who she does it with.
I shudder a little and, reach to grab hold of those swinging doors when Amaryllis shoves them open for me. She’s wearing a deep red skirt with a black corset. It’s late in the afternoon, and judging by the paint on her face, she has been hanging out in this hot box for a while.
“Good job, Robbie.” She pats the boy on the head. “Now you get before there is trouble.” She hands him a coin, and he takes off.
She ushers me through the saloon. There are a few men at the bar. One tips his hat at me, and I avert my eyes. It’s early yet, and I wager it won’t be long before the ranch hands and the Friday night crowd show up.
Amaryllis has a feather in the back of her hair with lace and ribbon. She’s tied up her curls and let her neck bare. Although her appearance is daring, it doesn’t attract as much attention as I do.
There’s something about a girl in pants men seem to drop their jaw over. I am about to tell Amaryllis she should switch to pants when I spot the table in the far back. My gut burns clear up my throat as I march over to Earl.
He’s sitting with three other men, and sure enough, I
see the written note on top of the cash and coin on the table. I don’t even bother checking out his hand. Two of the players I recognize. It’s Jed Warner from the hotel and Buck Dawson from out at the Triple D Ranch. The fourth guy is a stranger. He glances up at me, not at all shy to check me out from head to toe. It turns that twist in my stomach into something downright unladylike. Dressed in a fancy suit with dark lapels, this man has got a silver striped vest beneath and a watch chain in his vest pocket. I’d almost think he was a banker, but Campbell Reed runs the bank in Deadwood. No, this man is too clean cut. He’s not wearing a hat and there isn’t one hanging on his chair either. He’s holding a hand of cards at ease, and I watch as he tugs at his sleeve.
I catch the emerald glint of his eyes, and Amaryllis moves closer to him. Taking a step behind Earl, I notice he’s not got any coin left, and my breath hitches. Curling and uncurling my hands, I stare down at him.
“Don’t you gooo looking at meeee like that, girl,” Earl slurs and waves his hand. “I told youuu I had a daughter, didn’t I?”
The stranger tilts back, his eyes doing a slow sweep of me. “You call that a girl?”
My jaw falls a little. I glance down at my chest, and yep, a man would have to be blind not to notice these sisters. I cross my arms, hefting them up a little, then let my arms fall away. What in the world am I doing?
I glower as Amaryllis slides an arm around the stranger’s shoulder, leans down, and gives her head a slight tilt as if she’s trying to tell me something.
“Why don’t you buy me a drink after this round?”
Buck is chewing on a toothpick and gaffs at the stranger’s remark. “I can see why he keeps her locked away in that mine of his.”
A lock of hair falls across my eye. Pushing it back, I fix my hat to keep the stray contained.
“I’m out,” Jed tosses in his cards. “I got nothing.”
“You got something other than that girl of yours?” Buck taps his cards, his eyes on Earl.
“Just my mine.” Earl clutches his cards, and my lungs tighten as I spy his hand. He’s put our claim and me on those cards. There is no way anyone is going to beat his hand unless they’ve got an ace up their sleeve.
“Then I’d say it’s time to show those hands, gentleman,” the stranger declares.
“Wait one minute,” I step between my father and Buck. “Don’t you got to raise the stakes or something?” My heart is beating fast. “Please tell me you didn’t bet our mine on a card game!”
“Oh no, darlin’,” the stranger grinned. “He went and bet you first.”
I gasp and glare down at Earl. “You what?”
“At least the mine is worth something.” Earl reaches out and shoves me aside. “Now mind your business.”
My father has one thing right. The mine is worth something, a whole lot of some things or should I say someones? There is no way I’m going to remind him here in front of these folks exactly what our claim is worth and why it’s so important we keep a hold of it.
Looking down at the pile of coins and cash, I can’t help thinking Earl has put every red cent we have on this game. I should have known better than to leave the old man to his own devices. I growl, frustrated, and Buck glances up at me. Amaryllis sucks in her breath and the world feels a little shaky.
Mr. Fancy Pants shows his cards. Earl drops his hand. The ace is out of the hole and Mr. Fancy Pants has the better hand. Earl jumps to his feet, his face turning beet red and fuming. Frozen with shock, I watch as the stranger pulls the pile of cash and coin toward him.
Buck grabs his hand. “Hold up there.”
Earl reaches for his gun, but he left his rifle hidden on our wagon.
Buck tosses his cards, leaning in and stares at the stranger. “How long you been holding that ace?”
Amaryllis’s eyes widen. Maybe what I took for a signal to me had been for Buck. Jed’s gone from the table, leaning over by the bar, and grabbing a drink.
“Apparently long enough,” says the stranger, scooping up his winnings. Before he can snatch the I.O.U. made out by Earl. I reach for it. The stranger is quicker. He plucks it right from under my hand. He winks at me and nods at Earl. “It’s been a pleasure playing with you gentlemen.”
“You’re a cheat,” Earl bellows.
The stranger pales for a moment. Swiftly, he gathers up his cash and tucks it in his pocket. He folds the promissory note, aka I.O.U. entitling him to my father’s mine and me. Smugly, the fancy pants gambler pats it in his pocket. “Is that anyway to speak to your future son-in-law?”
“Pfft.” I blow at him. “I’m not marrying you.”
Buck stands, stretches his arms and motions for Amaryllis to join him. “Good luck with that one.”
“Wait. You’re gonna walk away?”
Bucks shrugs, puts his arm around Amaryllis and heads for the bar. She tilts her chin up, looking down at Earl, and makes a sound in her throat. You’d think she was the one whose hand in marriage he gambled away.
But Earl is shaking. His pointing finger wavering. “You take the girl, but the land is mine. You cheat!”
Mr. Fancy Pants Gambler keeps his hand over his money pocket. For a moment, he might even look a little sympathetic to our plight. Pitying himself, more likely. In the shadows of the saloon, I can tell he’s not from around here. There isn’t a callous on those hands or a stench of sweat coming from his body. I can smell lavender and it makes me think this gambler has been bathing over at the Swanson Sisters’ place. For a dollar, a man can get a bath and then some.
“I think I’ll take them both,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “Pierce Weston. I believe my future bride should at least know my name before we wed.”
The gall of this man. Tight-lipped, I take his hand, only to find him slapping a few paper bills in my hand. “You take that and buy yourself a dress now. Something pretty and maybe a new bonnet, too. I’ll meet you at the church.” He looks around and I feel my face turning hot.
Earl goes to snatch the cash from my hand, and I close my fingers around it. “What are you doing?” If I were any other female, I’d cry. My voice raises and a group of cowboys having sauntered in from off the range glance my way.
“Give me the cash, girl. I’m getting my money back,” Earl demands.
“Oh, no you don’t.” I walk right up to my father and put my finger in the old man’s chest. Behind me, I hear the gambler call for Robbie and tell him to fetch the preacher. “I’ll see you at the church,” he says and heads out of sight.
“You give meee that money, girl!” Earl demands.
It’s the drink talking. Whenever my father is deep into the firewater, his words slur and his brain slows.
“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” I hiss at him.
“Got rid of you.” He snorts and reaches again for the cash in my hand.
“You lost our claim. What about Tail Feathers and the rest of them up on Standing Rock?” I keep my voice low for Earl’s ears only.
And that’s when it hits him. My father pales. Instantly, he ages by a decade. Then he wobbles like a woman about to pass out. He clutches onto me and the years flash in his gaze. He sags and my heart softens to the spot where it aches for my old man. It’s the firewater. It does it to him every time. He’s mean and ornery as they come when he’s drinking that stuff. It robs him of his sanity, and I can see the chill of sobriety coming through.
“You give me that money, Jo. Nobody cheats Earl Dean,” he proclaims it so loud even the dust busting cowboys who are lining up at the bar take a moment to glance our way again.
Grabbing my hand, Earl tries to take the money when Amaryllis steps between us. “Heard Robbie took off for the preacher. I’d get down to Grace’s place before she closes for the night. If she doesn’t have something of your size, I can pull out something of mine. We can probably hold him off until morning seeing for the arrangements and all.”
“You saw him, didn’t youuu?” Earl turns, still flushed, toward Ama
ryllis. “He cheated. You watched it happen. You saw his hand.”
“And there was an ace in it,” Amaryllis says. Her eyes zero in on Earl. She motions for me to go as she attempts to console my father.
He’s having nothing of it. “I’m going to the sheriff.”
Jed slaps his hand down on my father’s shoulder. “Sure, you are, Earl. We all lost tonight. Let me buy you a drink.”
“He’ll geeet away. We can’t let him geeet away!” My father storms out of the saloon, stumbling over his feet and leaving Amaryllis with her hands planted on her hips.
Buck comes up beside me, holding out a drink. “You might need this.”
Some help he is. I’ll need more than whiskey to clean up this mess. I look down at the paper bills in my hand. It’s not quite enough to cover the list of supplies at the mercantile. Tail Feathers won’t be happy not to get his portion of tobacco my father promised him.
I can’t help feeling as if a war is about to break loose.
It’s probably better if I keep my pants on for when it does.
2
One must be prepared if they are to go to war.
I’ve got no one to blame but myself. I should have known better than to leave my father to his own devices. In the past, Earl would have headed to the claims office, got his money, and then gone to the bathhouse run by Emma and Eve Swanson. The twins had migrated their southern charms to the west and making a fortune from it.